Chapter 511: Future Policy of the Ferry Port

Ji Bai stood on the open ground at the deepest part of the Ferry Port. This place had originally been a warehouse for emergency supplies; now dozens of Fierce Ghosts sit or lean, packed under the dim yellow light. Most of them are misshapen, their spirits dim, like dying candles in the wind.

His strength hasn't recovered. The last time he forced his way into Qiu Ce Yuan, to cover him and Hong Jie Lin Zhi, the Ferry Port's old reserves were almost completely spent.

"Ji Bai......"

Meng Wan leaned against a pile of rusted oil drums; her spirit had become a bit more solid than before, but the left side of her body still emitted an unhealthy gray‑white hue. That is the permanent damage left after being eroded by Lu Yu's domain.

She lifted her head, her gaze uneasy: "Outside... something is crashing into the wall."

It's not "something".

It's "several things".

Ji Bai turned around, facing the long corridor leading to the main area of the Ferry Port. At the end of the corridor, the gate reinforced with thick steel plates and engraved with the protective runes that Meng Wan later added was emitting a heavy, repetitive thudding sound.

Dong. Dong. Dong.

With each impact, dust fluttered down from the wall.

The few emergency lights in the Air-raid Shelter flickered on and off with the impacts, stretching, distorting, then pulling back the Fierce Ghosts' broken Shadows.

"Damn..." the one‑armed old ghost, only its upper body floating in mid‑air, muttered, "The wild dogs outside, smelling the scent, are coming."

Not wild dogs.

It's sharks that smell blood, and hyenas that sniff weak aura.

The Ferry Port had previously been obscure, hidden deep, and a group of fairly powerful Fierce Ghosts banded together; no one was willing to provoke them lightly.

But now it's different. After the battle at Qiu Ce Yuan, the news couldn't be fully concealed. Those high‑rank Fierce Ghosts roaming the gray zones, following jungle law, surely heard— the Ferry Port suffered severe damage, and the leading young man left heavily wounded.

Survival of the fittest.

This is the oldest and most effective rule in the Weird world.

"Dong—!!!"

The final impact was especially violent. The door hinge let out a strained groan, and the welds cracked open in several fissures. Immediately followed a harsh metallic screech. The door was ripped open from the outside, creating a gap.

A claw covered in bluish‑black scales, with thick, deformed finger joints, latched onto the edge of the door gap.

Then came a second, then a third claw.

A thick, unbreakable stench of rancid death surged in through the gap first. It wasn't ordinary resentment; it was a blend of greed, brutality, and the despair emitted before countless lives were slaughtered, boiled into a lethal toxin.

Meng Wan coughed sharply, her spirit rippling. The other Fierce Ghosts also showed expressions of pain and terror. Such high‑concentration malice erodes their spirits directly.

The door was torn completely open.

It wasn't pushed; like tearing paper, several huge, twisted claws ripped it from both sides, the metal plates emitting a screech of distortion, then crashing loudly against the side walls.

Dust billowed.

Three figures blocked the entire corridor entrance.

The one at the front was abnormally massive. It stood upright, roughly three meters tall, its body covered in thick bluish‑black scales, like a crude hybrid of a deep‑sea armored creature and a human. Its head was a barely human outline, lacking facial features, only a huge mouth stretched to the ears, constantly dripping viscous saliva. Hanging from its shoulder was a half‑chewed, cloth‑tattered limb.

The one to its left behind was relatively "slim", a little over two meters tall. Its whole body was cloaked in a layer of viscous, constantly writhing Shadow, from which countless slender, forked Tentacles protruded like living veins. It had no fixed shape, but at its center sat a huge eye streaked with blood vessels, its pupil fixed on the Fierce Ghosts in the warehouse.

The one on the right was much "quieter". It maintained an almost perfect human female form, wearing a tattered dress, its features pretty, even delicate. It tilted its head, a serene smile at the corners of its mouth, barefoot, hovering a few centimeters above the ground. Yet every Fierce Ghost that saw it felt a chill in their spinal joints—because the malice it exuded was denser than the other two combined, and... icy cold.

"Ho... found the nest." the scaled‑maw monster croaked, its voice muddy, mixed with the crackle of chewing cartilage, "So fragrant... so many... I'm hungry..."

The giant eye within the Shadow slowly turned, sweeping over a trembling, child‑shaped little Fierce Ghost; the Tentacles danced excitedly: "Infant... whole infant... rich nutrition..."

The dress‑clad woman kept smiling, her voice gentle as if humming a lullaby: "Everyone, don't be afraid. Become part of us, and you won't feel pain anymore. We will... stay together forever."

"Your mother together!" the one‑armed old ghost spat, its soul‑fire flaring, "Where did that wild‑dog trickster come from, daring to run amok at the Ferry Port!"

"Ferry Port?" the scaled monster chewed more merrily, "Never heard of it. A gathering place for the weak... scum. Perfect... to devour!"

It said nothing, its massive body lunged forward violently, cracking the ground beneath. A giant claw covered in scales, wrapped in a fetid wind, slammed toward the nearest few crippled Fierce Ghosts!

Quick! Too heavy! Can't dodge at all!

The Fierce Ghosts' faces showed despair. Their strength hadn't returned; facing a monster that was at least a B Ji peak, even brushing the A Ji threshold, they had no room for resistance.

At the instant the scaled claw was about to strike solidly.

A hand, steadily, grasped the wrist of that giant claw.

The five fingers slipped into the gaps of the scales, making no extra movement, just holding.

The scaled monster's massive forward thrust suddenly halted. Its leaning body quivered slightly from inertia, while the seized giant claw remained motionless.

All the Fierce Ghosts' gazes froze on the figure that abruptly appeared beside the scaled claw.

A black waterproof coat, its zipper pulled to the top. He/she wielded a worn Old Black Umbrella with frayed rim. The figure looked overly slight before the scaled monster. The face, half‑lit in the dim yellow light, bore youthful contours and a pair of eyes as still as ancient wells, now chilling to the bone.

Ji Bai.

When did he arrive? No one saw clearly.

The scaled monster froze for less than half a second, then erupted in fury, another claw screaming as it tore through the air, slashing toward Ji Bai's crown! The Shadow monster's Tentacles also jabbed from the side! The dress‑clad woman's smile remained, but the surrounding air turned sharply cold, an invisible psychic strike piercing Ji Bai's mind!

Threefold attack descended simultaneously.

Ji Bai didn't raise the umbrella.

He grasped the scaled claw's wrist and moved.

It wasn't a swing, not a smash. It was an extremely terse, even somewhat physics‑defying—twist.

Accompanied by a tooth‑aching, rapid chorus of bone cracks and the crisp shatter of scales, the scaled monster's giant claw—like a hydraulic plier—along with its thick wrist and forearm bones, was twisted by Ji Bai around his wrist as an axis into a tangled, twisted heap of fragments!

"Ugh—!!!"

The scaled monster let out a discordant wail, its massive body staggering backward from the excruciating pain and sudden imbalance.

Ji Bai released his grip.

The claw, now a mush of rotten flesh, sagged limp, its bluish‑black blood mixing with bone fragments and dripping down.

He turned sideways, letting the side‑incoming Tentacle, exuding a strong venomous resentment, brush past the edge of his coat, lifting a few threads of fabric.

Then, he raised his other hand.

It wasn't a fist nor a palm. He simply spread his five fingers, reaching toward the massive floating eye, grasping the void.

That eye, streaked with blood, brimming with greed and ferocity, together with the ring of constantly writhing shadow tentacles around it, was like a rotten tomato clenched by an invisible giant hand.

Pfft.

No explosion, no thunderous roar. Only a dull, wet squeezing sound.

The eye burst open. The shadow tentacles stiffened, then quickly lost vitality, turning into viscous Black Water droplets.

At the heart of the shadow monster, the Core that sustained all its forms was crushed. The remaining shadow twisted violently a few times, then completely sagged, becoming a bubbling pool of filth.

Less than five seconds in total.

One encounter. One arm twisted to pieces. One Core crushed.

At the tunnel entrance, only the woman in the dress remained, still wearing a sweet smile, barefoot, hovering there.

The warehouse was dead silent.

All Fierce Ghosts widened their eyes, even their spiritual fluctuations halted. They watched the slender figure standing between the corpses (?) of the scale monster and the shadow monster, watching him leisurely brush away non‑existent dust from his coat cuff.

The woman's smile showed a hint of stiffness for the first time.

She tilted her head, sizing up Ji Bai. The hand that had been hidden behind, its Nail sharp as a blade, twitched slightly.

"You…," she began, her voice still gentle, "so strong."

Ji Bai lifted his gaze.

His eyes swept over the woman's delicate yet lifeless face, landing on the deeper darkness of the tunnel behind her. There, more writhing, watching presences lingered—not just the three before him.

"Get out," Ji Bai said.

Just one word. The volume was low, even flat, yet in each "listener's" ear it carried a different weight.

The scale monster dragged its twisted arm, rose from the ground, terror the only thing left in its eyes. The puddle of filth left by the shadow monster fell completely still.

The woman in the dress stared at Ji Bai for a full three seconds.

Then, she smiled.

Not the hollow sweet smile before, but a… smile as if she'd seen an amusing toy, genuine, with a cruelly interested gleam.

"Good."

She replied softly, drifting backward, merging into the darkness.

"We have recorded it. 'Ferry Port.'"

Her voice came from deep within the tunnel, echoing, laced with unabashed greed and threat.

"When you grow weaker… we will return."

"Then, we'll devour you, along with this nest… together."

The voice faded.

The tunnel fell back into dead silence, only the heavy scent of blood and a mess on the ground remaining.

Ji Bai turned around.

He looked toward the Fierce Ghosts in the warehouse who still hadn't fully recovered from the shock. His gaze swept over each broken, terrified, bewildered, yet faintly hopeful face.

Meng Wan steadied herself on an oil drum and rose, her spirit violently fluctuating; she stared at Ji Bai, lips moving but no words came. The one‑armed old ghost opened his mouth, ready to utter some grand boast, but upon seeing Ji Bai's eyes, swallowed his words.

Ji Bai stepped in front of them.

"The three just now were scouts."

His voice wasn't loud, yet it rang unusually clear in the silence.

"There are many more outside."

He paused.

"They're right. In these times, weakness itself is the original sin."

The Fierce Ghosts' eyes dimmed. Indeed, weak… they are already very weak.

"But—"

Ji Bai's voice suddenly sharpened; in his well‑like eyes burst a fierce, undeniable light.

"This isn't a jungle. This is 'Ferry Port.'"

He raised his hand, the one without an umbrella, and pointed at the four walls of the Air‑raid Shelter, the pipe overhead, and the floor beneath his feet, stained by countless Fierce Ghosts.

"Those standing here are neither prey nor monsters that only kill."

His gaze again swept each face—those broken, those dim, those filled with fear and uncertainty.

"We are humans. People who have died once. We remember pain, we remember hatred, and we also remember… those who don't want others to endure this again."

Ji Bai lifted his hand, reached into his close‑fitting inner pocket, and pulled out something.

A coin.

Ordinary, even its edges slightly worn, the kind you'd get as change on the street. Yet this very coin, in the most desperate moment at Qiu Ce Yuan, was slipped into his hand by that youth.

The youth's voice seemed to linger at his ear.

Ji Bai curled his finger and forcefully pressed the coin into the wall.

It wasn't embedding, it was a "press." His finger drove, the wall skin flaked off, the coin's edge cut into the concrete, emitting a sour‑tinged grinding sound.

In the end, the coin, still bearing a trace of Lin Fan's lingering aura, lodged firmly at the exact center of the wall. The surrounding wall skin naturally peeled away, forming a neat circular dent; under the dim yellow light the coin reflected a faint yet stubborn metallic sheen.

Like an eye. A silent eye watching the entire Air‑raid Shelter.

"This is a token," Ji Bai said, turning his back to the coin, "and also a promise. Ferry Port isn't a rootless duckweed. We have our own path, and also… a spine to lean against."

He picked up the Old Black Umbrella again, the tip of the canopy gently tapping the ground.

"From today onward, Ferry Port has Regulation."

His voice was decisive, bearing undeniable force.

"First, do not harm the innocent. We have seen too much injustice, dying from it. So on this line, whoever steps on it, I will personally send their soul to fly and their spirit to scatter."

"Second, conceal your tracks. We are not heroes, we don't want headlines. Living low‑key is the greatest skill. Whoever exposes, is responsible."

"Third," Ji Bai's gaze swept over those Fierce Ghosts, finally landing on Meng Wan, "We watch each other's backs. Once we enter the Ferry Port, we are companions. If a companion is in trouble, we cannot turn a blind eye. Strength may vary, but resolve must not be lacking."

He spoke word by word, slowly and clearly.

Silence.

In the Air-raid Shelter, only the faint hum of the ventilation ducts remained, along with the subtle vibrations of the Fierce Ghosts' spiritual forms unintentionally emitted.

The maimed, the weak, those Fierce Ghosts that had once been filled with anxiety and despair looked at me, and I looked at them.

Then Meng Wan was the first to bow deeply toward Ji Bai. Her spiritual form trembled slightly from emotional agitation, but her posture was utterly solemn.

Next came the One-armed Old Ghost. He controlled his maimed body, awkwardly yet earnestly completing the same motion.

One, two, three...

Dozens of Fierce Ghosts of various forms, under the dim yellow light, amidst the pervasive smell of blood, bowed toward that thin figure holding an old umbrella.

No vows. No slogans.

Only the silent action, and the heavy trust conveyed within that action.