CHAPTER 417: CHAPTER 175: THE FAKE GHOST, WHEN THE MOUNTAIN COMES TO ME (5K)_3

"Isn’t it already obvious now from the experiment?" Wen Yan sat in the chair sipping tea, sizing up the twisted, sharp-mouthed Ghost writhing in the flames. "What the hell are you exactly? You’ve already devoured this guy, haven’t you?"

"If you won’t come to me, I’ll come to you. A living human with flesh and blood—heh heh, that’s a rare treat here. I’ll give you a chance: run. Let’s see how far you can get. This place is too lonely, it’s too easy to catch you, and that would be boring."

Wen Yan looked the other up and down, honestly a bit speechless.

"You really are boring—after all this, you still can’t say a single sincere word.

Now you want to con me, scare me, drive me to run.

Let me take a wild guess.

Either, if I try to escape from here, I’ll get lost, wander around forever.

You know I’m alive after all.

If I get lost here, I probably wouldn’t last long.

Or maybe you can’t do anything to me, or find me a pain in the ass.

You’re just trying to frighten me away, leave this manor to you. Maybe there’s something here you want, or maybe the manor itself is what you want.

As for a third possibility, I can’t quite think of it yet. So which is it? Care to tell me?"

The sharp-mouthed Ghost flickering in the flames looked a bit dumbfounded, then burst out laughing.

"Then you’d better wait right here. I’ll be there soon. I can’t wait to eat you."

The twisted sharp-mouthed Ghost got more and more excited as he spoke, eyes drooling.

"Steamed young Taoist, tender and fresh; old Taoist, stewed for a long time, falls right off the bone.

But someone like you—a martial artist—you’ve got some chew to you, best served raw and gulped down, nice and slow. The longer I chew, the better the flavor.

You better not run off. I’d hate for you to get lost.

If you died out in the wild, I’d have a hell of a time finding you.

You..."

With a pop, another Incense Stick shot straight into the sharp-mouthed Ghost’s mouth. Instantly, flames surged up, and the twisted figure vanished in the fire.

"So much bullshit—if you could actually kill me, would you really need to babble all that just to scare me?"

The moment the sharp-mouthed Ghost dissipated, Wen Yan sensed the faint vibration again. He glanced north—still nothing to see. But he could feel something was drawing closer.

He blew out the candle, slung the Incense Candle Crossbow at his side, and headed back out to the courtyard.

Lin Jue and the Grave Walker were watching from a distance inside.

"Brother Su, should we run?"

"Run my ass—we eat, drink, do what we gotta do. Don’t give it another thought, just wait."

Talking big, but Wen Yan still turned and asked the Paper Man Butler where Lord Zhu’s treasure vault was hidden.

Too bad: the answer was, the treasure vault hadn’t come with them, neither did the armory.

After a circuit of the place, Wen Yan circled back to Old Zhu’s spirit tablet, lit three sticks of incense, and bowed to the memorial.

"Old man, someone’s trying to kill me—and eat me. So I gotta arm myself any way I can. I left in a hurry for your birthday, didn’t even bring my own weapons, so let me borrow yours for a bit. If you don’t object, I’ll take that as your agreement."

Pushing the incense into the burner, Wen Yan took the rib bone from in front of the tablet.

This thing was dense as hell, hard as a rock. After hacking at it with a file for ages, you’d only get a few shavings off. Good enough as a makeshift weapon in a pinch.

He kept rummaging, pocketed some of Lord Zhu’s fancy incense sticks—top-shelf stuff, should work as arrows.

Unfortunately, two days rifling through Lord Zhu’s library turned up zero methods for contacting people in the living world from the Netherworld.

If there had been, he could’ve asked someone what that thing might be.

Another day passed. As usual, Fourth Great-uncle Master passed him a message, plus some moral support.

By now, north of Virtue City had completely become a Ghost Forbidden Area. On the edge of the city, surrounding the villa district, every one of more than a hundred streetlights had new ’decorations’ hanging—truly impressive from afar.

That deterrence factor was higher than even Tuoba Martial God. At least so far, Tuoba Martial God hadn’t managed to butcher over a hundred Evil Ghosts and Fierce Ghosts...

In fact, nobody from the Scorching Sun Department over decades had ever racked up a score like that.

After all, Evil Ghosts and Fierce Ghosts used to be rare as hell. It’s only picked up in the last decade. Ten years ago, anything labeled as an Evil Ghost was rarer than a giant panda.

No one could manage to kill an Evil Ghost and keep it from dissipating, let alone turn it into a hangable trinket for everyone else to not see, stuck up on a streetlight.

Fourth Great-uncle Master specially told him—nothing comes out of the back of your house anymore, no need to worry about your family.

Wen Yan felt a bit bummed he couldn’t see that in person. Must’ve been quite the sight.

After another day, Little Thief Fu Guangfei hadn’t shown up again. Must be because it’s Monday, and the little thief had to go to school.

Things stayed quiet for a few more days. Word about the Scorching Sun Department losing a dozen Professionals in three minutes—total wipe—got quietly leaked, with amazing effect.

Three days later, he could feel the vibrations again, this time much stronger.

He walked outside the yard, looked north. The wind seemed to sweep away some of the fog, haloed light trickled down from the sky.

Wen Yan could see, in the distant darkness, a long, hazy silhouette slowly taking shape.

Looking closer, he could make out it was a mountain ridge—beneath the outline, pure black, thanks to the mountain blocking out even the faint light. Above, though, a little glow spilled down, making that ridgeline stand out clearer than ever.

Staring north, Wen Yan muttered to himself.

"If I don’t go to the mountain, the mountain comes to me, huh? Fine, fine, you wanna play? Let’s play."

The trembling stopped, and that flickering contour blurred back into the fog, then disappeared altogether—everything was black again.

About an hour later, in the darkness up north, a few shadowy figures moved toward the manor, drawn by its light.

Once they crept close enough, circled to the front gate, and crossed into the manor’s warning zone—whoosh!—a spark landed at their feet.

They tried to step back, but a spark landed behind them too—a red-hot incense stick stuck in the earth at an angle.

"Run forward, die. Run back, die. If you don’t wanna die, stay put. If I don’t ask, you don’t speak—open your mouth, you die."

Wen Yan gripped his Incense Candle Crossbow, watching the Nether Souls in front of him coldly.

He couldn’t tell if the one who controlled the sharp-mouthed Ghost was here too—the Natural Enemy Profession didn’t react—so he had no choice but to play dumb.

Everyone waits here. If they’re players, their stamina runs out, then they’ll leave. The last one standing—that’s gotta be the imposter.

Even if they’re players, he’s not dropping his guard.

That guy last time—probably not everything he said was a lie.

For example, players who end up here probably aren’t the fuzzy-hearted type. Most of them, yeah, wouldn’t bat an eye sacrificing someone else.