Mysterious Revival

The fourth floor of the Ghost Post Office, the time was just shy of six thirty-five.

The lights had been out for only a little over half an hour, yet the supposedly safe Room 402 had already been invaded by supernatural entities. What’s worse, signs of ghostly intrusion were evident in three different locations: the bathroom, the room itself, and the front door—where a corpse hung suspended in mid-air. Three places in total.

In the face of this imminent peril, Yang Jian chose not to stay inside the room to fend off the approaching specter. Instead, he willingly opened the door and stepped out.

The seemingly safe room was abandoned by Yang Jian. Not only that, but he took Li Yang and the others with him.

Even Leuk Qingqing and the Old Eagle ultimately decided to trust Yang Jian and followed him outside.

The hallway plunged into utter darkness.

At the same time, from another direction came a series of hurried footsteps.

The footsteps were heavy, as though someone were sprinting in that direction. The sound was deeply unsettling, because it seemed impossible for any living person to linger in such a pitch-black hallway.

It was yet another ghost, steadily approaching.

Yang Jian used his Ghost Eye to scan, hearing only the footsteps without catching sight of the ghost itself.

But he distinctly saw a string of footprints left behind on the ground—footprints smeared with soil, starkly clear, even revealing the tread pattern.

“Go this way.” Yang Jian refused to approach the side where those pressing footsteps stemmed from, instead leading toward another direction.

Li Yang heard the sound and followed behind, unable to see the surrounding scenes but listening to Yang Jian’s voice ahead and focusing on a faint, lingering red glow in the darkness.

That red glow came from the Ghost Eye.

The square-loop hallway was interconnected, and Yang Jian hadn’t walked far before he stopped near Room 401.

Behind him was Yang Xiaohua, walking briskly to keep up, though in her haste, she bumped into Li Yang in front of her.

“Stop here. You don’t need to move forward anymore,” Li Yang said.

Yang Xiaohua shuddered all over and hurriedly halted her steps. “Aren’t we moving to another room?”

She guessed Yang Jian was abandoning Room 402 to seek refuge in a different room.

“The captain has already stopped. If you want to live, don’t ask too many questions,” Li Yang replied in a low voice.

Yang Xiaohua’s heart tightened. Though panic surged, she stiffened her resolve and stopped as instructed, refraining from any further steps forward.

She reached out to touch the wall beside her as waves of dread began overwhelming her.

Unable to see Li Yang or Yang Jian ahead, nor anything around her, she could only hear faint sounds in the air. She had no clue what else might lurk nearby.

The consuming sensation of being swallowed whole by darkness filled her with unspeakable terror.

“Who’s there?”

Suddenly.

Yang Xiaohua heard a noise from behind, as if someone were steadily approaching.

“It’s me, Wang Shan. I ran out too.”

Wang Shan followed suit, feeling his way along the wall. Like Yang Xiaohua, he was consumed by fear and unease, unsure whether this choice was right or wrong and terrified of getting lost in the darkness.

“Yang Jian stopped moving, seems like he intends to remain in the hallway. This behavior is strange,” Yang Xiaohua observed, her rationality intact despite the fear.

After all, she was a messenger who had lived through supernatural events.

“We don’t have a choice. If the ghost enters the room and we don’t have Yang Jian’s protection, we’d die for sure. Coming out might give us a better chance,” Wang Shan muttered after a pause, clenching his teeth.

“You’re right, and that’s why I followed Yang Jian,” Yang Xiaohua echoed within the darkness, steadying her nerves to remain calm.

Further behind.

The Old Eagle and Leuk Qingqing also hurried out, carefully avoiding the cold, lifeless corpse dangling by the door before they rushed to catch up with the others. But their steps had barely left the room when an urgent set of footsteps rapidly approached from the opposite side of the hallway.

By borrowing the faint, yellowed lights within the room, the Old Eagle noted something peculiar with his peripheral vision—the ground suddenly bore footprints smeared with dirt.

At this moment, the ashes scattered by the doorway played their role. The forefront footprint appeared to step onto the white ashes and eerily vanished halfway through, leaving only the heel behind.

The forefoot of the print had disappeared.

The ashes did not reveal a trace of the print either, as if the eerie force within the ashes had erased it.

The hurried footsteps halted abruptly at this moment.

The ghost.

Stopped moving.

But this situation didn’t last long. The footprints reappeared.

A complete set of footprints suddenly materialized at the doorway of Room 402.

These were the final footprints—with no new ones emerging within the vicinity.

It seemed these were the ghost’s last movements.

The ghost lingered at Room 402’s door, neither entering nor leaving, standing motionless as if rooted there.

But no one could see the ghost.

Even Yang Jian’s Ghost Eye couldn’t detect it.

“That was close…”

At this moment, the Old Eagle exhaled in relief, grateful to have narrowly escaped disaster.

Had he delayed those two precious seconds, he would have collided directly with the muddy footprint on the ground.

If that had happened, it would almost certainly have meant death at the hands of the ghost.

Yet even narrowly avoiding a ghost offers no solace but rather evokes an uncanny terror.

After everyone left, a ghostly shadow emerged within the room.

The corpse suspended mid-air had somehow entered the room without anyone noticing and now hung from the living room lightbulb.

The corpse blocked most of the light, rendering the space chillingly dim.

The rigid, icy cadaver swayed slightly inside as if reenacting the scene of a hanging suicide.

“Creak!”

At the same time, the bedroom door produced a peculiar noise as it repeatedly opened and closed, over and over again.

The bathroom remained devoid of sound—the eerie thuds against the wall ceased, as if the ghost inside had quieted down.

Yet it was certain the ghost had broken through the wall and entered the bathroom.

The bathroom was another perilous location.

It appeared Yang Jian’s decision to leave had proved wise; he had successfully avoided the encirclement of four ghosts. Had they stayed in the room, many would have been slain.

“Did it not follow?” Yang Jian squinted, keeping his gaze fixed on the doorway of Room 402.

The corpse suspended above the door hadn’t drifted over.

Nor had the footprints followed.

These signs confirmed his calculations were accurate.

“Li Yang, light the Ghost Candle. Gather everyone here so no one gets lost,” Yang Jian ordered.

“Now?” Li Yang asked in surprise.

Could he really use the Ghost Candle so casually?

Yang Jian replied, “Yes. Don’t hesitate. Consumable supernatural items should be used when necessary to ensure safety and maintain order.”

Li Yang, hearing this, did not delay and immediately ignited the red Ghost Candle.

The moment the red Ghost Candle was lit, its eerie green glow spread outward—resembling the Ghost Domain of Li Jun, sharing some degree of similarity.

Once the Ghost Candle’s light appeared, the oppressive darkness around them receded like retreating tides.

The chilling, stifling tension abruptly dissipated.

“Its burn rate seems manageable,” Li Yang remarked while observing the Ghost Candle, noting that its consumption appeared slow enough to last for half an hour if no disruptions occurred.

As the light emerged, Yang Xiaohua, Wang Shan, the Old Eagle, and Leuk Qingqing immediately felt a sense of security and hurried to the safety of its glow.

Seeing everyone alive and gathered around the candle brought relief, restoring a semblance of safety amongst them.

“What kind of candle is this, capable of warding off the darkness of the fourth floor after the lights go out?” The Old Eagle’s gaze locked onto the red candle, burning brightly yet ominously.

The candle resembled those used in rural wedding ceremonies, but with an exceptionally vivid red color and unsettlingly eerie flames.

“This is the Ghost Candle, a supernatural item. Once lit, its glow offers immunity against ghost attacks. In other words, as long as the Ghost Candle stays lit, everyone within its illumination is absolutely safe,” Li Yang explained.

Though it was his first time using the Ghost Candle, he had a thorough understanding of its properties.

“Such a useful thing… Is there no cost to using it?” Leuk Qingqing asked.

Typically, supernatural items demanded a price—often involving risks of spiritual erosion.

Li Yang replied, “There’s no cost.”

“If something this powerful has no downside, it must be incredibly valuable,” Yang Xiaohua remarked, glancing at the ghostly flame of the candle as she subtly moved closer to Yang Jian. Observing the candle’s unusual, accelerated burn rate, she doubted it could last long.

Ultimately, survival would depend on Yang Jian.

Li Yang added matter-of-factly, “More than mere value—this Ghost Candle could easily fetch at least one billion on the market.”

“That… That’s incredibly high,” the Old Eagle murmured, visibly stirred.

In his shoes, he’d sooner sell the Ghost Candle than burn it, finding the cost hard to justify.

“Ghosts have all entered Room 402 and haven’t followed us. The burn rate of the Ghost Candle is stable, further proving my guess is right,” Yang Jian said calmly.

The candle’s burn rate was undeniable evidence.

“You opened the door and led us all out so suddenly. You must have noticed something, right? Care to share?” The Old Eagle hesitated before asking.

Yang Jian responded, “It’s the lights. Pay close attention to the lights on the fourth floor, particularly the corpse hanging under one of them earlier.”

The lights?

Some turned their gaze upward, others back toward Room 402.

“Captain, is something wrong with the lights?” Li Yang asked while holding the Ghost Candle.

Yang Jian explained, “On the fourth floor, the hallway lights shut off at six, and the room lights turned on. This is a shared pattern from the first floor through the fourth. On the first, second, and third floors, as long as the room lights are on, anyone inside is in a safe zone.

“Exactly—that’s why illuminated spaces are trusted areas,” said Leuk Qingqing. “What’s wrong with that?”

“On the fourth floor, things aren’t that simple. During the day, the hallway lights work, yet that corpse hung beneath one of them. If the area lit by the lights were safe, that corpse shouldn’t have ended up there. Considering the ghosts moving closer to us within the room, I came to a conclusion,” Yang Jian remarked.

“What conclusion?”

“The lighting pattern on the fourth floor has been altered.”

“The lights on the fourth floor not only don’t protect the messengers but possess a terrifying trait—they attract ghosts toward the illuminated area instead.”

With measured composure, Yang Jian revealed a haunting truth.

“The lights attract ghosts!”

“That’s—That’s not possible!” Yang Xiaohua exclaimed in horror, her complexion pale.

“No—No way. If that’s true, the moment we stayed inside the room, wouldn’t that mean…?” Wang Shan trembled all over as dread consumed him.

If true, staying in the room was akin to inviting an attack.

“You’re acting on mere observation to draw conclusions and proceed straight to action?” Leuk Qingqing questioned, her eyes fixed on him.

Yang Jian responded, “Remember the black envelopes plastered across some room doors? Those envelopes covered every seam of the doorway. Black envelopes, as I recall, don’t have the ability to prevent supernatural intrusions, correct?”

“Right. Black envelopes can only guide the messengers out of supernatural locations when burned. They don’t block entities from entering,” Leuk Qingqing nodded.

Yang Jian explained, “Then the purpose of the envelopes becomes obvious. Their opaque material effectively blocks light. By sealing the door seams, they prevent any light from leaking out. Whoever plastered those envelopes clearly suspected something about the lights—and acted to counter it.”

“If this is correct, the messengers in Rooms 406 and 407 could be in trouble,” the Old Eagle exclaimed in alarm, his belief in Yang Jian’s theory solidifying.

Lights on the fourth floor might indeed draw ghosts toward them.

“Who knows?” Yang Jian remarked, casting a faint glance in their direction.

The doors of Rooms 406 and 407 remained closed, undisturbed, with no visible signs of danger. Everything appeared normal.

Yet this semblance of normalcy was the very anomaly.

If occupied by messengers, the rooms would hardly lack some kind of safeguarding preparations.

Moreover, with ghosts clustering around Room 402 earlier, bypassing those other rooms entirely was peculiar.

“I suspect those two rooms are empty—vacant spaces. The real messengers likely slipped into other rooms to hide. There are seven rooms in total. Exclude 402, 406, and 407, and four remain as options,” said Yang Jian.

“But aren’t the other rooms occupied by ghosts?” Yang Xiaohua questioned.

Yang Jian replied, “Ghosts merely signify danger? Let’s not forget: during the daytime, ghosts in the post office remain inactive. The supernatural events begin after lights-out, a clear rule that the fourth floor hasn’t deviated from.”

Room 401—the eerily silent room.

Room 404—missing its door.

Room 403—its entry encased in black envelopes.

And Room 405—with muddy footprints at the door.

These rooms appeared bizarre, yet paradoxically, they offered viable temporary refuge.

The more precarious, the safer they might be.

“Captain, the Ghost Candle’s burn rate is becoming abnormal,” Li Yang suddenly reported, alarmed.

The group turned to inspect with astonished expressions.

They discovered the Ghost Candle in Li Yang’s grasp now burning at a visibly accelerated rate.

At this rate, forget holding out for half an hour—it would struggle to last five minutes.

“There’s a ghost approaching,” Yang Jian remarked grimly, his tone heavy. “This burn rate—it’s no ordinary ghost. Under these circumstances, if there’s another ghost in the post office, there’s only one possibility…”

“The Door-Opening Ghost, roaming the post office at night, has appeared,” he concluded ominously.

In the depths of the hallway, Yang Jian’s Ghost Eye discerned an eerie sight: a previously untraceable staircase materialized along the corridor wall.

On that staircase, a spectral figure—a gaunt silhouette clad in black garments and shoes—descended slowly, its posture unnervingly rigid. Although its face remained obscured, it exuded the aura of a corpse emerging from a coffin.

“Extinguish the Ghost Candle. Don’t waste it. Everyone stick to the walls and avoid obstructing that entity’s path,” Yang Jian ordered decisively, and with one sharp exhale, he extinguished the Ghost Candle.

The ghostly flame vanished suddenly, plunging the surroundings back into unbroken darkness.

Yet in those final flickers of light, the group saw with mounting dread the horrifying apparition adjusting its direction—to approach them head-on.

Why? Why is it heading our way? Couldn’t it have taken a different path?

Such thoughts were absurd.

In a square-loop hallway, regardless of its starting point, the ghost would inevitably cross paths with them—an unavoidable truth.

The fourth floor’s configuration resembled the second floor’s layout. At its center lay an open atrium rather than the platform seen on the third floor.

There was nowhere else to go.

“I might be able to resolve this,” Yang Jian murmured, his Ghost Eye radiating its ominous crimson glow.

Faced with the specter advancing steadily toward them, Yang Jian felt a sudden impulse to act.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com