119: Chapter 119 The Headless Scholar

Chen Zilong, Ye Xishui, Lu Bingyun, and even Tu Shan Xiaoxiao, whom he held in his arms, were all cultivators who had embarked on the path of immortality.

They were well aware that this world was not only filled with pure spiritual energy but also harbored sinister schemes, ghosts, and evil cults.

Ghost cultivators were among the most troublesome and bizarre existences.

"This is no place to linger,"

Chen Zilong said in a low voice, firm and decisive. "Let's return to Yingxian Pavilion first."

"We must join forces with disciples from other sects and go question that female Village Chief, Su Yueniang, to get some answers!"

"Right now, she might be our only potential source of a breakthrough."

As he spoke, Ye Xishui and Lu Bingyun nodded slightly.

Though frightened, their years of cultivation had forged a mental fortitude that allowed them to maintain basic composure.

However, their slightly tense jawlines and the wary glances they kept casting around betrayed that they were far from as calm as they appeared.

Just as the group cautiously turned, preparing to leave this well area shrouded in heavy resentment along the path they came, an extremely faint rustling sound—definitely not the wind—came from behind a nearby bush.

"Someone's there!"

Lu Bingyun whispered urgently, her voice tense.

The expressions of all four changed simultaneously. Without a word, their figures instantly darted like phantoms behind a nearby massive rock covered in moss and vines.

The dense shadow cast by the rock perfectly concealed their forms.

Chen Zilong held his breath and peered cautiously through a crevice in the rock.

Ye Xishui and Lu Bingyun also found angles to look out, focusing intently.

Tu Shan Xiaoxiao clung tightly behind Chen Zilong, her small hands gripping the hem of his clothes, her breathing so light and slow she feared drawing attention.

What met their eyes next sent a chilling, bone-piercing numbness shooting from their scalps to the soles of their feet, as if their very blood had frozen in that instant!

A figure stumbled out from behind the bushes.

The clothing it wore was unmistakably the distinctive Confucian robe of a Haoran Academy disciple!

Yet, this attire, originally symbolizing purity and scholarly elegance, was now stained with mud and dark brown stains resembling dried blood.

But judging by the tattered state of its clothes, it must have been some time.

What was most soul-shaking was—this figure had no head!

At the neck was a jagged, torn stump, as if ripped apart by brute force, with flesh curled outward. Little blood flowed, only a decayed, dark red hue.

Its walking posture was extremely strange, limbs stiff, joints seeming rusted, each step dragging on the ground with a rasping, scraping sound.

This headless corpse, like a mindless zombie from legend, moved with a clear sense of direction, lurching crookedly toward the Compassionate Mother Well.

Even more horrifying, from the empty neck stump came a continuous, low, muffled murmur, as if from the depths of the underworld:

"Bald head... bald head... bald head..."

The sound didn't come from a mouth but seemed a direct resonance of some lingering resentment, carrying endless hatred and obsession, echoing in the silent twilight, drilling into everyone's ears.

Oblivious to its surroundings, the headless corpse went straight to the well mouth.

Then, without any hesitation, it pitched forward like a puppet with cut strings—

"Splash!"

A heavy splash broke the brief dead silence, sending up a spray of murky water from the well mouth.

Immediately, everything seemed to return to normal, only the lingering ripples in the well water proving it wasn't an illusion.

Yet, the "bald head... bald head..." murmur didn't vanish with the corpse's fall. Instead, as if amplified by the well walls, it drifted up more clearly, more persistently from the well's depths, lingering around the mouth, refusing to fade.

Chen Zilong's breathing suddenly became rough and rapid, his chest heaving violently.

He felt as if an icy hand had gripped his heart, nearly stopping its beat.

Is this how it's going to be?!

What the hell is this so-called 'Fate Usurpation' instance?!

This is supposed to be a world of immortal cultivation, seeking eternal life and moving mountains!

How did the tone suddenly shift into such a terrifying, bizarre survival challenge?!

For a moment, Chen Zilong even began to doubt whether the world he had transmigrated into was truly an ethereal cultivation continent or a mysterious world shrouded in endless terror!

Damn it!

Ever since stepping into Tianji Village's territory, he felt his adrenaline had never been stable, always in a state of high alert.

Every inch of air in this village seemed saturated with a maddening aura.

Tu Shan Xiaoxiao was utterly terrified, trembling like a leaf in an autumn wind, clutching Chen Zilong's waist tightly, her face buried in his back, not daring to make a sound.

Ye Xishui and Lu Bingyun could no longer maintain their usual aloof, composed immortal demeanor.

Ye Xishui's lips trembled as she instinctively raised a hand to cover her mouth and nose, as if to suppress a scream in her throat.

Lu Bingyun closed her eyes, her long lashes fluttering violently, her face pale and nearly translucent, fine beads of cold sweat even appearing at her temples.

One hand pressed tightly against her violently heaving chest, as if her heart might leap out at any moment.

Yet, the horror was not over.

Just as Chen Zilong thought the headless corpse had sunk to the well bottom and was planning how to leave quickly—

"Gurgle... gurgle..."

Strange sounds came from the well mouth again.

Under the four's horrified gazes, a pale, bloated hand, its fingernails caked with black mud, suddenly grabbed the well's edge!

Then, another hand!

Next, that headless corpse that had just fallen in actually began to climb out of the well, wet and dripping, bit by bit, with an extremely slow yet unyielding motion!

Murky well water streamed down its tattered Confucian robe, pooling into a filthy puddle at its feet.

Its empty neck stump remained stubbornly pointed toward the direction where Chen Zilong and the others were hiding.

"!"

Chen Zilong felt his heart truly stop beating at that moment!

His blood ran cold, his limbs icy!

It...

Had it discovered them?!

The headless corpse, now on all fours like a deformed spider, began crawling slowly toward the large rock where they were hiding.

Its movements were stiff and eerie, joints emitting faint, grating "crack-crack" sounds.

"Holy shit! This instance is pulling a 'Ringu' on us!"

Chen Zilong cursed wildly in his heart, a chill shooting from his tailbone to the crown of his head. "Damn Author, trying to kill us! Making this instance so creepy and terrifying! How are we supposed to survive?!"

The thoughts flashed through his mind like lightning.

"Run!"

Chen Zilong almost roared, alerting the other three who were also petrified.

He grabbed the nearly limp Tu Shan Xiaoxiao, turned, and sprinted desperately toward Yingxian Pavilion!

Ye Xishui and Lu Bingyun snapped back to reality instantly, suppressing the screams threatening to burst from their throats, and followed closely behind.

As they ran, Chen Zilong stubbornly tried to fly, hoping to escape this terrifying place faster.

However, he was horrified to find that while his internal spiritual power circulated unimpeded and his Nascent Soul Stage foundation remained, his feet seemed chained to the earth by invisible bonds, utterly unable to leave the ground!

"What's going on?!"

Ye Xishui exclaimed, her usually cool voice now filled with panic and confusion.

Her running posture still held a rhythmic grace, but her rapid breathing and slightly disordered steps betrayed her disarray.

"Don't think about it now! Just run!"

Chen Zilong yelled without looking back, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, almost breaking his ribs.

He tried again, with the same result. No flight!

This bizarre restriction, combined with the strange phenomenon of the headless corpse and the Female Corpse in the well showing no detectable cultivation aura yet withstanding his Nascent Soul Stage attacks, intertwined into a massive, suffocating web of mystery.

Possessing the power to move mountains and overturn seas, yet forced to flee in the most primitive way—this sense of powerlessness and contrast added another layer of despair.

They had to return to Yingxian Pavilion as soon as possible!

They had to meet up with disciples from other sects and exchange information!

Alone, or even as a group of four, their strength was far too insignificant in this eerie village!

The four didn't dare stop until they saw the solitary, dilapidated pavilion named "Yingxian" standing at the western end of the village. They slowed their pace slightly, but their hearts still raced wildly, their backs soaked in cold sweat.

They stumbled into the first-floor hall of Yingxian Pavilion.

The hall was dimly lit, only a few oil lamps casting a faint yellow glow, barely dispelling a small patch of darkness.

The air was thick with an oppressive, despondent, even desperate atmosphere.

Scattered around the hall sat a few figures.

Each was dejected, faces filled with anxiety, mirroring the panic Chen Zilong and his group had just experienced.