Mysterious Revival

Entering the bedroom of room 404, Li Yang’s Ghost Door Blocker supernatural power came into play, providing everyone with a temporary safe haven.

But the danger was far from over.

Because in the living room separated by just a door, the ghost was still pacing back and forth, its footsteps urgent and unsettling.

Though everyone knew the ghost couldn’t kick the door open at the moment, the sound of its movements was enough to push their nerves to the limit. No one dared to relax even for a second, as if the ghost would break through the door the moment their minds wandered.

“Will we even make it through tonight?”

Yang Xiaohua and Wang Shan shared the same thought. They felt despair and exhaustion, even with someone as capable as Yang Jian on their side, their confidence was minimal.

After all, there were too many supernatural entities, and far too many ghosts.

One small mistake would cost them their lives.

The fourth-floor messengers were truly unlucky. Delivering letters here felt more like delivering themselves to death.

The earlier analysis had been spot-on.

The post office was targeting the ghost that had snuck into the group of fourth-floor messengers, initiating a purge to kill everyone until the ghost was exposed.

As for the messengers’ lives, they were completely expendable.

Moreover, given the abilities of the fourth-floor messengers, it was almost impossible to survive in such an environment. As long as the delivery task remained, the messengers were inevitably doomed to be killed by the post office sooner or later.

“Rest for now. The night is still long. If all goes well, you might just make it to dawn,” Yang Jian said as he touched the crack on his forehead.

The wound inflicted by the cursed Firewood Knife was now in the process of healing.

But the recovery wasn’t as quick as he’d hoped.

Evidently, the cost of that slash from earlier had been too steep.

“Even if we survive tonight, once tomorrow’s delivery task comes, we’ll still end up dead,” Yang Xiaohua said, curling up on the floor against the wall, her tone filled with despair and a sense of resignation.

She felt drained.

Might as well just die here and now.

Yang Jian glanced at her, expressionless: “We’ve made it this far. What’s the point of saying that now? Are you planning to kill yourself? If you want to, you’ll need my permission first.”

“I don’t even have the right to die?” Yang Xiaohua asked.

“No, you don’t even have the ability to die,” Yang Jian replied. “If you don’t believe me, you can try.”

Yang Xiaohua’s eyes flickered as she pondered the meaning of Yang Jian’s words: “I don’t think I hold much value to you. If I die, wouldn’t it mean you’d be rid of one more burden? Surely that’s a good thing for you.”

“That’s true. If you agree, I’ll throw you out right now,” Yang Jian nodded, admitting it without hesitation.

“You…” Yang Xiaohua didn’t dare to say another word.

She could tell Yang Jian was serious. If she uttered another word, she’d unavoidably be thrown out of the room.

“Completely useless garbage. You should’ve died back in Dachuan City. With your level of competence, you think you can work for me? I wouldn’t take you even if you paid me,” Yang Jian stated coldly.

“Yang Jian, come take a look… there seems to be a dead body on this bed,” Wang Shan suddenly pointed to a bed nearby.

The bed was covered with a white sheet, but when he lifted the corner, he discovered a highly decomposed corpse hand sticking out from underneath.

Not just Wang Shan—Old Eagle and Leuk Qingqing also saw it.

“It’s not a ghost, just a corpse. Probably one of the fourth-floor messengers, likely killed by a ghost,” Leuk Qingqing observed.

“This corpse looks familiar,” Old Eagle remarked, furrowing his brow as he pulled the sheet down further.

A heavy stench of decay wafted out, enough to make everyone gag.

The severely rotted corpse was fully revealed before them.

The corpse’s hand held a photograph and a handwritten letter.

“It’s my missing friend, Zhu Lei,” Old Eagle examined the body and his eyes narrowed.

“He died peacefully and even left behind a letter and photo, which means he wasn’t killed by a ghost. It was likely suicide,” Leuk Qingqing concluded.

Old Eagle frowned: “Zhu Lei wasn’t the kind of person who’d take his own life. He wasn’t that weak.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s been dead for some time now,” Yang Jian remarked indifferently, showing little interest in the corpse.

Old Eagle didn’t say anything further. Instead, he took the photo and letter from the corpse’s hand.

Without hesitation, he unfolded the letter to read it.

It was indeed Zhu Lei’s handwriting, explaining a few final wishes. The photo was a family portrait—evidence that he had been thinking of his loved ones until the very end.

“After everything he’s done to become a fourth-floor messenger, he still couldn’t make it,” Li Yang said, glancing at the scene with a note of melancholy.

Having followed Yang Jian all the way to this point, Li Yang fully understood the immense difficulty involved in becoming a fourth-floor messenger.

If they could just hold on a little longer and make it to the fifth floor of the post office, there was a real chance to escape this cursed place entirely and gain freedom, without having to complete the delivery tasks.

“Hmm? Do other fourth-floor rooms have furniture like that?”

Yang Jian’s attention shifted to the corner of the room, where a large wooden wardrobe stood.

The wardrobe was substantial in size, yet unassuming because it blended seamlessly with the room’s decor. It appeared as though it belonged there, drawing hardly any attention, even when noticed.

“No, the other fourth-floor rooms don’t have such wardrobes. The 402 room I stayed in earlier only had a bed and a nightstand—nothing else. Each room is decorated differently, but large furniture like this is highly unusual,” Old Eagle reasoned.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with it?”

“Hopefully not, but let’s not take any chances,” Wang Shan quickly moved back, putting distance between himself and the wardrobe.

Yang Jian approached it: “It’s hard to say. Better to check it out. We’re going to be stuck here until morning, after all.”

“Leuk Qingqing, are you planning to stand there all day?”

“I get it. I’ll go check,” Leuk Qingqing replied, understanding Yang Jian’s implicit criticism.

She had followed the group throughout their journey and hadn’t contributed anything. All the danger had been handled by Yang Jian, and even Li Yang was busy blocking the door. As a ghost manipulator herself, refusing to help would be indefensible.

She had no reason to refuse, nor was she in a position to.

Leuk Qingqing approached the wardrobe.

Even with her tall, 172 cm build, she appeared comparatively small next to its imposing presence. She took a careful look, then cautiously opened the wardrobe door.

But as soon as she opened it…

Something lunged out and struck her head violently.

In an instant.

Leuk Qingqing’s head was knocked off, falling to the floor with a dented section and rolling to the side, her wide-open eyes filled with shock.

Her body, however, remained upright, frozen in the act of opening the wardrobe.

“What?”

Everyone was stunned by the sudden development.

“Attacked?” Yang Jian’s expression darkened as he noticed what was inside the wardrobe.

A hand holding a blood-stained old wooden mallet emerged from amid the hanging clothes.

“There’s someone inside. I was attacked by a living person.”

Leuk Qingqing’s severed head spoke—she hadn’t died. Her neck contained no flesh or blood, instead revealing wooden segments like a puppet. Everything but her face was artificial.

Despite the terrifying assault, Leuk Qingqing had determined she wasn’t hit by a ghost, but by a human.

“A supernatural object?”

Yang Jian’s eyes remained fixed on the bloody old mallet, his lips curving into a cold smile.

It seemed the night wasn’t entirely devoid of gains.

“Come out, whoever is hiding in there.”

The person inside the wardrobe offered no response, not speaking or acknowledging him. Instead, one arm extended through the pile of clothes, clutching the wardrobe door to try and shut it.

“Deaf? Or just ignoring me?”

Yang Jian raised his hand, sending the cracked long spear flying forward. The coffin nail embedded at the spear’s tail pierced the arm, pinning it firmly to the door.

There was still no response from within.

But Yang Jian didn’t care. He strode over, grabbed the pinned arm, and yanked.

A person inside the wardrobe let out a muffled scream as they were pulled out.

He was no longer holding the bloody mallet, and it was clear he hadn’t been the one who attacked Leuk Qingqing.

“It’s one of the fourth-floor messengers. I recognize him—his name is Qu Hongtao,” Old Eagle said, staring intently as the figure emerged. He identified him immediately.

“Old Eagle? It’s you?”

Qu Hongtao gritted his teeth, glaring at him fiercely.

Old Eagle’s reaction was neutral, letting out a heavy scoff: “No wonder other rooms had no trace of messengers. You sure know how to hide—running off to room 404’s wardrobe. Aren’t you afraid this room’s ghost will smash the wardrobe door and kill you inside?”

“Of course I was afraid, so earlier we aimed directly at the ghost’s head and managed to hit it once. That kept us safe. But I didn’t expect things to turn out this way,” Qu Hongtao muttered, pinned under Yang Jian’s foot. He glanced at Yang Jian carefully.

Just one newcomer?

No.

Several newcomers.

He noticed Li Yang, Wang Shan, Yang Xiaohua, and other unfamiliar faces.

Yang Jian asked, “Anyone else hiding inside? How many?”

“Including me, there are three of us,” Qu Hongtao replied.

“Quite a number,” Yang Jian remarked. “This wardrobe seems unusual—possibly able to isolate all sounds and activity.”

“This wardrobe was acquired during a previous delivery task. It had a ghost hiding inside at the time. Some of its supernatural energy seeped into the wardrobe, triggering certain bizarre changes. If you have questions, let’s talk this out. Put that thing down first,” Qu Hongtao said.

Observing Yang Jian’s long spear poised to strike his skull at any moment, he didn’t dare move.

This guy was ruthlessly decisive.

One sign of refusal or resistance, and his head would be skewered on the spot.

Qu Hongtao had no choice but to answer honestly. He couldn’t possibly hide anything now.

And even if he tried, it wouldn’t work.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com