Mysterious Revival

Yang Jian felt that Li Yang had walked out of Ghost Shadow’s coverage range and immediately retracted Ghost Shadow.

Now, he had to face an even more dangerous ordeal.

That was guarding this coffin, preventing the revival of the elderly man inside. If he revived prematurely, not only would they fail to last until the seventh day, but the message delivery mission would also fail.

“Be careful. His body has been invaded by a ghost.”

The group stared at the ghost handler kneeling on the ground and vomiting blood, their expressions changing drastically.

Because the amount of blood he was vomiting far exceeded what a normal human would have, and beyond that, his body was visibly growing gaunt and emaciated. Mixed among the vomit was his own blood.

This man was transforming into a desiccated corpse at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Moreover, there seemed to be something writhing within the blood he vomited.

“There’s no saving him. He’s been corroded too deeply.”

Yang Jian sprang into action, driving the cracked spear in his hand straight into the ghost handler’s body.

The Coffin Nail’s suppression remained overwhelmingly potent, almost insurmountable.

The ghost handler, who was transforming into a dry corpse, immediately widened his eyes and froze.

He stopped vomiting blood, but then died instantly.

The Coffin Nail suppressed the ghost within him, stripping him of his supernatural power and rendering him incapable of maintaining his living state.

Yang Jian didn’t let the ghost handler keep possession of the Coffin Nail but instead flung the corpse out through the open rear door.

Though a ghost might still revive outside, as long as the rules of its killing pattern weren’t triggered, the ghost wouldn’t necessarily focus on their group. And even if it did, that would be a problem for later; the urgent issue needed addressing now.

“Bang!”

Eagle fired his old, worn-out gun.

He had seen a blurry silhouette emerge from the darkness in front of the corridor.

But the shot only forced the silhouette to retreat several meters. Less than ten seconds later, the indistinct shadow reappeared.

Eagle’s face darkened. He had no choice but to fire repeatedly, emptying the old handgun in his hand to buy time.

Wang Feng said nothing as he sat by the rear door and took out two dice seemingly carved from bone—one black and one red. Aside from their unusual colors, they looked just like regular dice.

The moment the two dice were displayed, the eerie disturbances outside instantly quieted down.

“If you want to come in, you’ll have to follow the rules of this horrifying game. Let’s play. Gamble against me. If you win, I die, and you come in. If you lose, you leave.”

As the fourth-floor messenger, Wang Feng had another supernatural item besides the bloodstained wooden mallet that had been taken from him—these Ghost Dice.

He retrieved them during a message delivery task on the third floor.

To acquire them, he gambled three rounds against a ghost and won them all.

The thrill of that moment still lingered vividly in his memory.

But today, he felt he could no longer afford to hold back; this item had to be used: “Da Qiang, if I lose and die, you take over. If you die, then Eagle takes over… Once this game starts, it cannot be stopped. Otherwise, the rear door will immediately spiral out of control.”

The ghost handler named Da Qiang’s expression shifted, but he didn’t refuse.

At this moment.

A black die, influenced by some supernatural force, tilted eerily before beginning to spin. It spun faster and faster, its momentum building endlessly. The black die representing the ghost started rolling.

After countless revolutions, it finally stopped, rolling several times on the ground before revealing its outcome.

A bright red dot came into view.

One point.

Wang Feng let out a subtle sigh of relief upon seeing this. It seemed this ghost was very unlucky, rolling only a single point.

“My turn.” He picked up the red die.

On the red die, the points were black, while on the black die, the points were red.

The two dice were connected, cursed, forming this deadly game between humans and ghosts.

And once the game began, it couldn’t be easily ended.

Though ghosts could leave the game, humans could not. If they attempted to leave, they’d be killed by the ghost.

Thus.

For Wang Feng to survive, he had to keep the game going.

“During the game, I’m safe.”

He took a deep breath, silently counting out ten seconds before tossing the red die onto the ground.

Ten seconds.

The maximum time a ghost could wait. If Wang Feng hesitated to throw the die for longer than ten seconds, every second after that would increase the ghost’s chances of breaking free from the game’s rules and killing him.

So whether in-game or out of the game, humans were always at a disadvantage.

After all, ghosts had the option to overturn the board, though he doubted they’d do so.

The red die spun rapidly, its path chaotic. Despite being thrown forward, it defied logic by rolling backward.

Soon.

The result appeared: Three.

Three points.

Not high, not low—an average result.

Without a doubt, Wang Feng won the first round.

The pair of weathered black cloth shoes resting on the threshold of the rear door moved, retreating back from the building’s interior. But they didn’t go far, stopping mere meters outside.

“This ghost is too horrifying. Winning a single round only pushed it back by five meters.” Wang Feng’s heart skipped a beat.

In the past, winning a round meant the ghost would stay away for at least ten minutes.

But there was no time for contemplation.

The black die began spinning again.

Another ghost was now joining the game. Though its form was invisible, its presence could be confirmed—it stood right outside the door.

The black die quickly stopped, revealing a result: Four.

Wang Feng’s face paled. This number carried heavy pressure. With the dice showing values from one to six, four was already a high roll.

To win, he’d have to roll either five or six.

If he rolled four as well, it would result in a tie, meaning another round would be necessary until a winner emerged.

This was what made the Ghost Dice so frightening.

Clenching his teeth, Wang Feng picked up the red die from the ground. Following the usual ritual, he gripped it tightly for ten seconds.

He didn’t dare risk exceeding the time limit by even a second, immediately tossing the die after counting down.

The red die rolled across the floor in a bizarre trajectory, breaking all semblance of logic. He threw it forward, yet it rolled backward.

Soon enough.

The number appeared: Four.

“A tie…” Wang Feng broke out in a cold sweat, his heart clenching with anxiety.

The game against the ghost hadn’t ended.

After the tie, the black die representing the ghost began spinning again…

“One loss, and it’s over—you’re dead.”

Yang Xiaohua was gripping a red balloon tightly, her face pale and tense as she watched the deadly dice game unfold.

“The fourth-floor messenger does have some tricks.” Yang Jian watched the scene and made an assessment.

Wang Feng had temporarily held back the pressure at the rear door, dragging the invading ghost into a supernatural game to buy time and suppress the ghostly activity.

But the game wouldn’t last long.

“If you can’t use the ghost’s powers, go play this game at the back door. If someone dies on my end, send another to take their place. Rotate out one by one, and when all of the four messengers on my side are dead, you’ll probably be finished too,” Yang Jian said.

“Alright.”

Fan Xing and the others’ faces shifted, but they gritted their teeth and agreed without objection.

This arrangement was fair.

Everyone rotated, leaving their lives to fate.

Yang Jian’s approach left little room for reproach.

“Is it here already?” Yang Jian’s expression hardened suddenly as he turned toward the main hall.

Ghost Shadow spread across the floor, triggering its medium.

He saw a pale, skeletal corpse without clothing. Its long face was chilling, and its twig-like arms seemed horrifyingly thin—essentially skin stretched over bone.

Yang Jian scrutinized the medium, his face icy, and brought down the Firewood Knife in his hand immediately.

The slash cleaved the ghost cleanly into two.

“Aah!”

Another horrible screech broke out—a high-pitched sound almost like that of a woman.

The ghost had been dismembered.

But the next moment.

The curse flared.

A fracture split Yang Jian’s waist, severing him in two, with no chance of quick recovery.

However, he had no intention of recovering anytime soon.

That was why he chose to be cut at the waist. Even if he were truly severed, it wouldn’t hinder his subsequent actions.

The ghost, however, was different.

Once dismembered by the Firewood Knife, the ghost entered a temporary phase of suppression. It would gradually revive, searching for its “pieces.” Restoring itself to its state before being cut down would take at least one hour, if not longer.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com