Mysterious Revival

Once midnight passed.

This marked the beginning of the post office’s mission. The fourth-floor messengers were to stay here for seven days. This was the first day—merely the beginning.

In the oppressive and dimly lit ancient mansion, an eerie silence prevailed.

The other Ghost Rider companions who followed Yang Jian here also fell silent. Although they were bold, they were not without a sense of caution.

It was evident that something was wrong with the mansion. Without understanding the situation, no one dared to act recklessly, and they opted for relatively safer spaces to linger.

The main hall was entirely empty at the moment. The ghastly quiet suffocated the air, leaving behind only the corpse of an emaciated elderly man sitting in a black Taishi Chair. His eyes were closed, his face expressionless, while his icy dead feet rested on the ground, mottled with corpse spots.

Behind the hall lay a coffin.

Yet no one dared to place the old man into it—not even approach the corpse. They let it remain, motionless and undisturbed.

The corpse seemed to become a forbidden entity, unapproachable to all.

Even Zhou Deng, after observing it briefly, shook his head and walked away. He figured the clothes on the corpse didn’t seem valuable—likely not a paranormal item—thus had no further interest.

Outside the ancient mansion.

Chilly winds swept through, causing the two large lanterns hanging on the front gate to sway incessantly.

No one noticed, at this very moment, the two lanterns had shifted from a vibrant red to a ghastly white. A pitch-black “Condolence” character was now painted on them, glowing faintly with a ghostly white light. These lanterns’ eerie luminescence made them stand out against the oppressive, dark world—as if summons for lost souls.

Nearby, Old Lin rattled faintly.

Breezes stirred its branches, shaking the entire forest.

The forest wasn’t without visitors.

Wan Zhou, along with two other Ghost Riders, wandered around uneasily in this haunted woodland. Gathered together, their faces were taut with tension and something close to panic.

They were lost.

Lost within this ghost-infested woodland.

The cause stemmed from earlier, when they witnessed the supernatural bus suddenly restarting. Wanting to escape the forest quickly and board the bus, they took a shortcut instead of sticking to the winding path.

While logical at first, they hadn’t expected what would come next: the forest trapping them—unyielding and unforgiving. Retracing their route didn’t lead them back to the familiar path either.

After endless circling.

Wan Zhou and his companions were utterly stranded—no way forward, no way back.

“This forest isn’t as simple as it seemed before. It’s not just a mere woodland; this is clearly a Ghost Domain. Stop wasting time. If we’re truly in a Ghost Domain, we have to find and resolve the source of its paranormal disturbance; otherwise, we’ll be trapped here forever.”

Wan Xing’s face was grim.

He had missed boarding the restarted bus, separated from the others who headed to the mansion.

Now, he was cornered in a cursed destination with no escape, abandoned by the world itself. All that surrounded him was eerie silence and unfathomable dread.

“This forest seems small, but once lost within, it stretches endlessly. Finding the paranormal source here would be extremely difficult,” another said.

“If we don’t figure it out, we’re going to die here. We’ve already missed the bus. If we keep wasting time, we won’t even make it to the mansion,” Wan Zhou said.

With no options left, they could only hope to rediscover the path and venture towards the mansion.

“Exactly. Yang Jian must have a way to escape. He boarded the bus not to suppress the resurgence of ghosts but to intentionally come to this mansion. If he dared to come, he must be prepared—and others likely followed him for precisely this reason.”

“Unfortunately, I made the wrong choice earlier. I thought following you would lead us back to the bus safely—but instead, you took us down the wrong path and landed us in this mess.”

Another Ghost Rider blamed Wan Zhou for their predicament.

Wan Zhou responded, “What’s the point of saying this now? Do you think I didn’t want to get back to the bus? I figured cutting through a little bit of forest wouldn’t lead to complications—how was I supposed to know this would happen? Besides, from the way it looked earlier, once the supernatural bus started, it could leave any moment. A delay by even one second would have meant missing it completely.”

“Fight for one second; don’t gamble even a minute. Don’t you understand that principle?”

“The more critical the moment, the more caution is required. When it comes to life and death, you can’t afford mistakes,” the other Ghost Rider retorted.

But the third companion interjected: “Enough arguing. Right now, we need to work together to survive this crisis. And haven’t you noticed? Since midnight passed, this forest has grown stranger—it feels like something’s stirring.”

“I’ve felt it too. Let’s stop wasting time here and move in that direction.” Wan Zhou himself was inexplicably uneasy.

He refused to linger too long and began acting again without hesitation.

The three companions put aside their disputes and joined forces, brainstorming survival strategies.

As Ghost Riders, their minds were shaky but not irrational—they remained alert and focused.

Yet as they walked further, they suddenly froze—their expressions changed drastically.

Opposite them appeared three silhouettes, shrouded in the dim forest. The darkness made their forms indistinct—mere blackened outlines, approaching steadily with synchronized steps, showing no signs of pausing.

“No way these are living people.”

The thought instantly surfaced in all three minds.

They exchanged silent glances.

Run!

Without waiting for the mysterious figures to close in, they turned around and bolted—without an ounce of hesitation.

Despite being Ghost Riders, their limited strength left little room for error. They might handle one ghost, but three figures suggesting multiple spectral entities was a death sentence.

However, before they had fled far, they stopped abruptly again—their eyes narrowing in horror.

Those shadowy figures emerged once more at a distance within the forest. This time, they remained still, standing silently.

But now, their number doubled—six blurry, humanoid shapes scattered among the trees ahead.

“Change direction again,” Wan Zhou muttered, cold sweat covering his forehead immediately.

The other two felt their skin crawl. Although the six figures were motionless, the sheer sight of them paralyzed their steps.

Glancing back.

Three more figures wandered through the forest, swiftly closing in.

Clenching their teeth.

Without daring to delay, Wan Zhou and his companions escaped in yet another direction.

“Maybe those figures from earlier are Ghost Slaves rather than fully-fledged apparitions. We might be overreacting here—this forest can’t possibly harbor so many dangerous entities,” one said while fleeing.

“That may be true, but who in their damned mind would gamble on that? We’re already dangerously close to ghost resurgence—it’s only thanks to the bus we’re prolonging our lives. If we encounter real ghosts here, we wouldn’t stand a chance in hell,” Wan Zhou cursed furiously while sprinting.

This was a streak of wretched luck.

How did they end up in such a godforsaken place?

“Look ahead.”

Suddenly, the three halted again, trembling.

Further into the forest, a new group of eerie figures appeared, leaning against the trees with their backs facing them—still unmoving.

No.

Not entirely unmoving.

The ghostly figures, sensing Wan Zhou’s group, began grotesquely twisting their necks, craning them backward…

One after another, a dense cluster of lifeless heads emerged—deathly pale, staring coldly with eyes devoid of warmth.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

An uncountable number began peeking from behind the trees. It seemed as though every tree had something sinister hidden—or each tree symbolized its own malevolent entity.

A bone-chilling wind swept through.

Wan Zhou and the others found themselves drenched in cold sweat, their bodies trembling as if submerged in icy waters.

This wasn’t a mere forest—it was a Ghost Forest.

No wonder.

No wonder the ghostly apparitions chasing them from the bus refused to venture into this place.

The dangers here dwarfed the threats aboard the supernatural bus tenfold.

“It’s over.”

The trio’s faces were consumed by despair.

They stopped running—not because they didn’t want to escape, but because all paths were blocked, surrounded by ghosts on all sides, with no chance of survival.

The hostile apparitions emerged from behind the trees, advancing towards them.

From every direction.

Endlessly appearing.

And soon.

The forest echoed with their frantic, final screams—a desperate cry for life before everything vanished into silence once more.

The eerie specters concealed themselves again, as if retreating into the woodland. The forest returned to its deceptive normalcy.

But unnoticed—the forest perimeter quietly gained three new trees. These were far younger than the others—oddly pale compared to the darkened old trees. From a distance, they appeared distinct.

A cold wind swept through.

The new trees swayed alongside the ancient ones, their movements producing faint rustles.

Meanwhile, Yang Jian remained oblivious to the fate of Wan Zhou and his group.

He stayed secure within the third room of the mansion, vigilantly guarding the door and waiting for time to pass.

The mansion was tranquil during the night—or at least, the other Ghost Riders hadn’t made any disturbances. This was a relief because if something happened to them, the noise would alert the others, sparing them from being unprepared when real danger struck.

Yang Jian was exceptionally alert, his thoughts fixed on three things:

The locked room next door, the corpse of the elderly man in the main hall, and the red coffin behind the hall.

“I’ve prepared for the locked room and the corpse, but what about the red coffin behind the hall?” Yang Jian pondered.

Coffins, as paranormal objects, weren’t new to him.

Previously, the Ghost Envoy was spawned from a Ghost Coffin—a chilling apparition. However… that coffin was black, whereas this one was red.

“In folklore, black coffins symbolize unnatural death, whereas red coffins represent peaceful passing—a celebratory funeral. Although it’s just tradition, older customs often carried meaning and taboos. Even the color choice had significance and couldn’t be arbitrary.”

“If the first individuals imprisoning the Ghost Envoy were early-era Ghost Riders, their choice of a black coffin implicitly indicated danger. Similarly, the red coffin now suggests that the elderly person in the main hall passed peacefully.”

Yang Jian’s mind brimmed with knowledge and memory.

Fragments of folk customs—borrowed from the collective recollection within the Ghost Shadow.

“The seventh day traditionally represents the soul’s return. It’s reasonable to predict that on the seventh day, the elderly man in the main hall would undergo ghostly resurgence. That day could be paramount for survival, potentially wiping out everyone here, including me.”

“The letter may not necessarily be for the elderly man. Although superficially, this corpse is the only viable recipient, the locked room could harbor something sinister too. Additionally, there’s the possibility that the supernatural bus might pass through again after seven days—potentially disembarking another apparition.”

“Thus, I’m certain the post office’s true mission isn’t about delivering the letter but testing how messengers survive through these seven days.”

“The first day is merely beginning, but danger is inevitable. The post office wouldn’t allow an unchallenged survival.”

Yang Jian meticulously analyzed and evaluated the scenario.

Suddenly, the mansion stirred with activity.

“Bang! Bang-bang!”

The sound came from outside, as though someone was heavily pounding on the mansion’s thick front door.

The noise was faint, yet its clarity pierced the silent night.

“Someone is knocking?”

In an instant.

Within their rooms, Lao Ying, Wang Feng, Da Qiang, Yang Xiaohua, and Li Yang all opened their eyes.

In an environment like this, sleep was impossible, save for quick rests to regain strength and awareness. Any disturbances were enough to jolt them awake.

“Knocking again?” Yang Jian’s expression darkened.

He had a personal vendetta against two things: unexplained knocks and rainstorms.

“Who is it? Who’s knocking outside?” someone shouted—Zhou Deng.

This man still showed boldness.

Yet no reply came from outside; the knocking persisted, growing more urgent.

“One, two, four… six. Judging by the rhythm, at least six hands are knocking,” Yang Jian deduced, carefully listening.

“Could it be Wan Zhou and his group out there?” Li Yang asked softly.

He hadn’t forgotten about the group that stayed behind to wait for the bus instead of following them.

“I’ll go check it out. You all stay here. Unless I return, no one opens the door under any circumstances.” Yang Jian knew he couldn’t sit idle. Gripping the fractured long spear, he opened the door and stepped out.

Turning a corner, he arrived at the main hall.

There, he saw Zhou Deng, along with a few Ghost Riders who had emerged in response to the noise.

At that moment, everyone stood silently in the hall, eyes locked on the corpse of the elderly man seated in the black Taishi Chair.

“Did someone… move the corpse?” Zhou Deng asked after a moment, breaking the silence.

The corpse had shifted its position without explanation—originally seated in the left Taishi Chair, it now sat in the right one.

Its posture remained unchanged, but its position had inexplicably swapped.

“I’ve been in the first room all along, keeping an eye out. The hall was empty—I didn’t even glimpse anyone near. Besides, who would waste their time pulling pranks on this rotting corpse?” Fan Xing responded, his face grim.

Outside the mansion, the frenzied knocking echoed louder, more insistent.

A chilling unease seeped into everyone’s hearts.

“I remember the mansion’s gate being open…”

Someone murmured faintly.

Everyone immediately turned to look, but their view was obstructed by a wall—unable to see the front courtyard.

The gate was open?

Then who—or what—was knocking on the door outside?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com