33: Chapter 33 Haunted by a Hanging Ghost

"Wu Xi!"

Wu Xi froze all over. He turned his head and saw Yuwen Shou arched on the stone slab, his eyeballs half-rolled back, the other half still retaining a glimmer of clarity. His ten fingernails were dug deep into the cracks of the stone, his knuckles strained white, the crisp crack-crack sounds setting one's teeth on edge.

"Heart! Stab it in! Now!"

His roar was raspy and shredded. Wu Xi's mind went blank for a split second with a buzz, and he gripped the short blade with a reverse grip.

He took a step forward.

Yuwen Shou's body was suddenly yanked forward by invisible steel strings. With his toes touching the ground, he swept across, lying flat against the floor, moving so fast that he was nothing but a black blur. His five fingers were splayed wide, his greenish-black nails curled back into hooks, wrapped in a fishy, sweet, rotting wind as he lunged straight for Wu Xi's crown.

Too fast.

Wu Xi felt a blur before his eyes, and the foul wind was already upon his face. Without thinking, he jerked his head sharply to the left, and the claws brushed past his right ear. His earlobe first went cold, followed immediately by a burning, searing pain. A line of hot blood splattered onto his shoulder, the wet, sticky sensation spreading instantly.

Before he could steady himself, the second claw arrived, aiming straight for his throat.

Wu Xi leaned his upper body sharply backward, his spine almost touching the ground. The claws swept past his chin, the wind they stirred up making his Adam's apple numb, causing even his breathing to hitch for half a beat.

He used the momentum to roll, his right shoulder slamming hard into something behind him with a dull thud. The pain made his vision go black instantly, and he nearly lost his breath.

In that half-breath of hesitation, Yuwen Shou, possessed by the Grave Ghost, had already closed in, his knee pressing hard against the area above Wu Xi's lower abdomen. The third claw struck down with a sharp, wind-tearing sound—if this strike landed, it would tear his entrails right out.

He couldn't dodge it.

Wu Xi braced his left hand hard against the ground, and with his right hand, he used all his strength to upward parry with the short blade. With a dull clang, the blade struck the Grave Ghost's wrist. A massive shockwave of recoil exploded along the blade, instantly splitting open the web between his thumb and index finger. Hot blood gushed from between his fingers, and the short blade nearly flew out of his hand.

In the gap created by this block, the Grave Ghost's left hand had already been raised, its greenish-black claws aimed at his heart.

A dead end.

But at that moment, Yuwen Shou's body suddenly stiffened.

That left eye, which still retained clarity, widened to the extreme, the edges of its socket strained with bloodshot veins, and beads of blood rolled down from the corner of the eye. The right hand, which had already hooked in front of Wu Xi's throat, stopped dead in mid-air.

The five fingers spasmed open, then clenched tightly again, the fingernails digging deep into his own palm. Black-red blood dripped down from between the fingers, landing on Wu Xi's lapel.

He was struggling. Using the last bit of his remaining human soul, he was locking the body controlled by the Grave Ghost firmly within his own grasp. That right hand trembled like a withered leaf in a gale, his knuckles cracking loudly, as if they were about to be twisted apart by two opposing forces.

He didn't speak again, but the look in that left eye pierced into Wu Xi's eyes like a knife.

Just two words: "Now."

Wu Xi saw it; beneath Yuwen Shou's violently struggling lapel, the outline of that bronze key was clearly visible.

He gasped sharply, his lungs filled with the smell of blood, choking his throat tight, his windpipe burning as if scorched by fire.

The next second, he flipped over, pushed off his knees, and sprang up like a taut bowstring, the short blade still held in a reverse grip, its tip angled upward.

Without a moment's hesitation.

Wu Xi took a step to stand before Yuwen Shou, his left hand pressing hard onto his right shoulder. His right hand had already thrust forward.

The blade tip, aimed precisely above the outline of the key, stabbed in fiercely. Hot blood surged out instantly, flowing along the guard of the blade and onto the back of his hand.

Yuwen Shou's body jolted violently.

That murky, yellowed right eye rolled sharply upward; the bloodshot veins on the whites of his eyes seemed to have been doused with boiling water, instantly bursting and then fading away. But that clear left eye blinked gently, the corner of the eye, previously strained to the limit, instantly relaxing. The last bit of resolute light in his pupils slowly dispersed, turning into a very faint, gentle warmth.

As if he had finally let out a sigh of relief, "Finally... released..."

The Grave Ghost's sharp, shrill screeching abruptly ceased within Yuwen Shou's chest, cut in two. That body, which had been as taut as iron, buckled at the knees and slid down along Wu Xi's arm.

He fell heavily onto the stone floor, face down. Blood continued to well up from the wound in his heart, pooling into an eye-catching red on the dark, greenish-black stone slab.

Wu Xi used his left hand to slowly turn over Yuwen Shou's corpse. His lapel had long been soaked through with blood and hung open. At the heart, a bronze key was embedded deep in the flesh. The handle of the key was wrapped in three loops of red thread, the ends of which had long been soaked through with blood, turning a dark brown.

Wu Xi pulled out the short blade and tossed it aside. Holding the key that still retained body heat, he slowly stood up.

He saw Mr. Xiangli had just arrived, leaning against the wall at the corner, turning a bronze key in his hand.

Beside him crouched Niu Fei, his build as sturdy as a wild bull, also gripping an identical key in his hand, his knuckles white from the pressure.

"Are they all dead?" Mr. Xiangli asked, his voice extremely hoarse.

"Yuwen Shou is dead." Wu Xi raised his hand and took out the bronze key.

Niu Fei's Adam's apple bobbed hard. He stared at the key for a long time without speaking. After a good while, he spoke in a muffled voice: "The illusion array is ahead. Are we going in now...?"

"The chance of not coming back out is high." Mr. Xiangli stopped turning the key, tossed it up, and caught it steadily. "But we don't have the luxury to gamble."

Niu Fei stood up abruptly, his sturdy frame blocking half of the tomb passage: "What do you mean?"

Mr. Xiangli took two steps forward, his voice lowered extremely low, like thunderclap against the ear: "The Cave Master is indulging these three ghosts; it shouldn't be to kill us, but to stall." His gaze swept over the two of them, enunciating each word: "The Cave Master should be inside, performing a resurrection ritual."

"No time to think!" Mr. Xiangli slammed his palm against the tomb wall, gravel falling down with a rustle. "For every extra breath we delay, the danger increases by a point. If the evil ghost successfully resurrects, all three of us will die here. We must go in now!"

Wu Xi raised his eyes and glanced at Niu Fei.

Niu Fei cursed fiercely, shoved the key into his waistband, and spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva: "Let's go! If we die, we die! It's still better than waiting to be crushed to death by someone!"

The three of them quickly headed toward the mist illusion array at the lakeside manor. Three grooves were carved into the ground, just right for inserting the three keys.

The three of them exchanged glances, wasted no words, and simultaneously raised their hands, pressing the keys in their hands precisely into the grooves.

"Click."

With a soft sound, the mechanism turned. The churning gray mist before them instantly parted, revealing three paths, with three different colors churning wildly at their ends.

"One for each."

Mr. Xiangli said only those four words and walked toward the path on the left, the gray mist instantly swallowing his figure. Niu Fei grunted, clenched his fists, and strode toward the stone bridge in the middle.

Wu Xi looked up at the path on the right, which was covered in stairs, took a deep breath, and stepped onto it. The gray mist instantly surged in from all directions, swallowing his figure.

The scene before him changed abruptly.

It was a dilapidated old house. A snow-white silk ribbon hung from the rafters, and at the end of the ribbon, a person was hanging.

The Hanged Ghost.

It hung its head, hair covering its face, its body swaying gently with an invisible wind. There were no green faces or fangs, no stench of rot, only a bone-chilling cold and a despair so thick it couldn't be dissolved, instantly wrapping around Wu Xi like a tide.

Wu Xi's body tensed instantly. He had heard of the Hanged Ghost—a vengeful spirit that died by hanging, having suffered endless misery and injustice in life. After death, its soul refused to dissipate, attaching itself to the rope that hanged it, repeating the suffocation and pain of its death day after day. The most vicious aspect of this kind of ghost was never the killing, but the trapping.

Without a moment's hesitation, Wu Xi gripped his short blade in reverse and lunged forward, the blade's edge cutting through the air with a sharp whistle as he slashed straight at the white silk ribbon.

But as the blade slashed through, it was like cutting into thin air. The white silk ribbon instantly dispersed, turning into countless strands of white thread that wound past both sides of his blade.

Wu Xi's heart sank; something was wrong.

The next second, countless white threads emerged from the gray mist in all directions, like living snakes, winding straight toward his limbs. Wu Xi reacted extremely quickly; the two Tentacles at his left and right elbows instantly sprang out, sweeping fiercely toward the white threads with a sharp, air-piercing sound, their tips instantly tearing through the silk ribbons that were winding around him.

But he didn't expect that as soon as the Tentacles touched the white silk, those white threads would act like maggots on a bone, instantly wrapping around his Tentacles and tightening more and more. Wu Xi felt a sharp pain from his Tentacles, as if they were being constricted by steel rings, and the bones felt like they were about to be broken. He used all his strength to try and retract the Tentacles, but the white silk seemed to have grown onto them; the more he struggled, the tighter it constricted.

In that half-breath of hesitation, more white silk flooded over.

The two Tentacles on the left and right of his chest instantly sprang out, fiercely biting at the white silk winding over, their sharp teeth snapping one strand of white thread after another. But those white silk ribbons seemed endless; for every strand broken, ten more surged up. In the blink of an eye, both of his arms were bound tightly by the white silk, and even the short blade in his hand was wrapped securely, rendering him unable to move.

A flash of ruthlessness crossed Wu Xi's eyes. The two Tentacles at his tail end sprang out, sweeping fiercely toward the Hanged Ghost's main body on the rafters with the force of a thousand jun.

But the Tentacles swept straight through the Hanged Ghost's body. Its body was like smoke, instantly dissipating.

Immediately after, Wu Xi felt a sudden chill on his neck.

A white silk ribbon had silently wrapped around his neck and instantly tightened.

A feeling of suffocation surged over him like a landslide. Wu Xi's eyes instantly turned red, and he exerted all his strength, trying to break free from this white silk ribbon. But the harder he struggled, the tighter the silk ribbon on his neck constricted, until even the air in his chest was squeezed out completely.

What was even more terrifying was that as the white silk tightened, an extreme sense of despair and injustice drilled into his brain along the silk ribbon—the extreme torment of suffocating bit by bit, and watching his life slip away bit by bit.