18: Chapter 18 Departure

Just as the sky began to brighten, Chen Mo woke up.

He lay on the bed in the Farmhouse Basement, staring at the concrete ceiling above, listening to the sounds outside.

There was the wind, the chirping of birds, and some indistinct rustling—the sounds of small animals moving in the wilderness.

The Ghost Night had ended, and the world had returned to the tranquility of daylight.

He sat up and checked the items he had organized last night once more.

The cleaver, sharpened, was keen.

Rifles, five of them, with two hundred rounds of ammunition.

Compressed rations, enough for half a month.

Water, enough for a week.

Medical kits, two.

And that "Shadow Core," the little black ball the shadow had left behind last night, was still sitting on the workbench.

He picked it up to examine it, his Pupil of the Sequence sweeping over it.

【Item: Shadow Core】

【Usage: Can be used to refine the D-Class item "Shadow Guard"】

【Refinement Requirements: Requires the blood of an E-Class Ghost Shadow as a catalyst】

【Current Status: Unrefined】

It needed the blood of a Ghost Shadow.

Chen Mo put the core into his pocket, waiting for an opportunity to deal with it later.

He put on his backpack and walked out of the Basement.

The pickup truck was parked in the yard, and Old Li's truck had also arrived, parked on the road outside the Farmhouse.

Old Li was sitting in the driver's seat, chewing on something; seeing Chen Mo come out, he waved at him.

"Get in."

Chen Mo walked over, pulled open the passenger door, and sat inside.

There was a strange smell inside the truck, like motor oil mixed with the scent of something molding.

The back seat was piled high with miscellaneous items: oil drums, toolboxes, and a few large objects covered in cloth.

"What are those?" Chen Mo asked.

"Weapons," Old Li said. "For dealing with big things."

He didn't elaborate, and Chen Mo didn't press for details.

The truck started up and drove onto the highway.

"How far is the Source of the Sequence from here?" Chen Mo asked.

"Hard to say," Old Li said.

"In the Ghost Realm, distance isn't measured in kilometers, but in time. If things go smoothly, we can arrive before nightfall; if not..."

He didn't continue.

Chen Mo understood what he meant.

If things didn't go smoothly, they might never arrive.

The truck traveled along the grey highway, the scenery on both sides unchanging: abandoned vehicles and the occasional road sign.

The sky remained that hazy, grey color, making it impossible to tell if it was day or dusk.

"How many times have you been inside?" Chen Mo asked.

"Once," Old Li said. "Just that one time, and I almost didn't make it out."

"What's it like inside?"

Old Li was silent for a moment, as if recalling the memory.

"At first, it's a road," he said.

"A very long road, with nothing on either side but fog. Then the fog clears, and scenes appear—things from your childhood, people you've known, things you've done. But it's not a normal appearance; it's twisted, like someone shattered your memories and pieced them back together."

Chen Mo listened.

"I saw my daughter at the time," Old Li's voice dropped a little.

"She was standing by the side of the road, calling me over. I knew it wasn't real, but I still wanted to go. I walked a few steps before I remembered that my daughter had died long ago."

He paused.

"If I had walked over then, I might not have come back."

The truck fell into silence.

After a long time, Chen Mo spoke.

"How did your daughter die?"

Old Li didn't answer.

He just gripped the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Chen Mo didn't ask again.

After driving for another two hours, some strange things began to appear on the side of the road.

Not abandoned vehicles, but... sculptures.

Sculptures of people.

Various poses, various expressions—some standing, some kneeling, some lying on the ground.

The material looked like stone, but the surface had strange patterns, like blood vessels.

Chen Mo's Pupil of the Sequence activated automatically.

In his golden vision, those sculptures contained faint golden lines—very faint, almost invisible, but they definitely existed.

"What are those?" he asked.

"Losers," Old Li said.

"People who wanted to enter the Source of the Sequence but couldn't. They got trapped halfway and turned into this."

Chen Mo stared at the sculptures.

Some faces were young, some old; some wore modern clothing, others wore attire he didn't recognize.

The one furthest away was even wearing armor, holding a rusted sword in its hand.

"When did the earliest people come?" he asked.

"I don't know," Old Li said.

"I've heard a theory that the Ghost Realm has existed longer than human history. Those ones in armor might be from hundreds of years ago."

Hundreds of years ago.

Chen Mo looked at the sculptures, imagining what they were like when they were alive.

Perhaps just like him, suddenly arriving in this hellish place, struggling to survive, and finally dying not far from their goal.

The truck drove through the middle of the sculptures, their hollow eyes watching them, as if bidding them farewell, or perhaps warning them.

After driving for another hour, fog appeared.

Not ordinary fog, but that grey, thick, viscous fog that felt like it could be grabbed by hand.

It surged from the end of the road, quickly swallowing everything in front of them.

Old Li slowed the truck down and turned on the fog lights.

"Hold tight," he said. "The entrance is just ahead."

The truck rushed into the fog.

Instantly, Chen Mo couldn't see anything.

Outside the windows, there was only grey—a grey so thick it couldn't be dissolved.

Even the light from the headlights was swallowed, leaving only the faint, blurry outline of the hood in front.

He looked at Old Li.

Old Li's expression was calm, his hands steady on the steering wheel.

"Can you see the road?" Chen Mo asked.

"No," Old Li said. "But I know it's there."

The truck continued forward.

Chen Mo's Pupil of the Sequence operated at full capacity.

In his golden vision, faint lines occasionally appeared in the fog—the outline of the road, the guidance of direction.

But those lines were too faint, almost impossible to discern.

Suddenly, something appeared ahead.

Not a sculpture, but a person.

A real person.

He was standing in the middle of the road, facing the truck, motionless.

Old Li didn't slow down.

The truck drove straight through, passing right through the person's body.

Nothing happened.

The person vanished.

"Hallucinations," Old Li said. "The first test."

As soon as he finished speaking, more people appeared on the side of the road.

Men, women, old, young, wearing various clothes, making various expressions.

Some were crying, some laughing, some reaching out their hands as if pleading for help.

Chen Mo stared at them.

In his Pupil of the Sequence, there were no golden lines on those people.

They were all fake.

The truck drove through the crowd; the people dissipated like smoke, only to re-condense behind them.

"Ignore them," Old Li said. "As long as you don't believe them, they can't hurt you."

Chen Mo nodded.

The truck continued forward.

The fog grew thicker and thicker, so thick that even the hood of the truck was no longer visible.

Old Li simply stopped the car and killed the engine.

"We're here," he said.

Chen Mo was stunned. "Where?"

"The entrance to the Source of the Sequence," Old Li pointed ahead. "Get out, walk a hundred meters forward, and you'll see it."

Chen Mo looked at him.

"You're not going?"

"I can't see the road," Old Li said. "It's useless for me to go. You go yourself."

Chen Mo was silent for a few seconds, then pushed open the car door and stepped out.

The fog instantly engulfed him.

He couldn't see anything, only the solid road beneath his feet. He adjusted his backpack, gripped his cleaver, and walked forward step by step.

Ten steps, twenty steps, fifty steps.

Sounds began to emerge from the fog.

Very faint sounds, like someone talking in the distance. He couldn't make out what was being said, but he could feel it was directed at him.

Chen Mo ignored them and kept walking.

He didn't go much further.

The fog suddenly cleared.

He was standing in an open space, facing a door.

A massive door, at least ten meters high, entirely golden, covered in complex patterns.

Those patterns were flowing, like living blood vessels.

The door was closed.

But there was a line of text on the door, written in a language he could understand:

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."

Chen Mo stared at the line of text.

Abandon all hope.

Dante's Divine Comedy, the inscription on the gates of Hell.

He smiled.

"I've never had any hope," he said. "So there's nothing to abandon."

He reached out and pushed the door open.

Golden light surged from the crack in the door, engulfing him completely.

Behind him, the door slowly closed.

Old Li sat in the truck, smoking a cigarette, looking in the direction of the door.

He couldn't see anything, but he knew Chen Mo had gone in.

"Come back alive," he whispered.

Then he started the truck, turned around, and drove back the way he came.

The fog closed in behind him, swallowing everything.