Chapter 100: The Horror of Human Skin Parchment
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
Chapter 100: The Horror of Human Skin Parchment
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
In a remote village, both Miles and Stretch had miraculously evaded death. Stretch, in particular, had taken meticulous precautions. Within the boot of his car lay a suitcase, but this wasn’t just an ordinary suitcase. It was a bespoke creation constructed entirely of solid gold. However, due to its tremendous weight, it posed a challenge to move around. As such, Stretch had positioned it in his car, thinking of it as a backup strategy.
When turmoil erupted throughout the village, Stretch’s immediate reaction was to seek refuge inside this opulent suitcase. The interior space was dreadfully constricted, making the experience almost torturous. But he was acutely aware that venturing outside would mean certain doom. From his hiding spot, Stretch could recount the sounds of footsteps drawing near him thrice. In one of these instances, he even detected the faintest sensation of someone or something coming into contact with the suitcase’s exterior.
In the midst of this chaos, he pondered, “Could that madman Miles have met his end yet? He was bold enough to unleash a spirit in an attempt to mitigate this harrowing scenario. However, judging by the number of apparitions that passed me by, it seems his plan may have faltered.”
Stretch’s desires in that tense moment were simple: to light up a cigarette, give his muscles a good stretch, and then drift into slumber. Yet, he held back, thinking, “Perhaps death would be a kinder fate. Soon, I’ll succumb to either starvation or dehydration. This isn’t a sustainable way to live.”
He set his mind, deciding, “I can endure this for another half day at best. I’ll have to take the gamble and make my escape. Staying put isn’t an option.”
Out of nowhere, Stretch spotted a dim, reddish glow penetrating through a tiny gap in the suitcase. This feeble illumination was an anomaly in the encompassing darkness.
“Could that be a source of light? Has the village’s situation evolved?” he mused, eager to step out and investigate. If the dynamics had indeed changed, maybe, just maybe, there lay a glimmer of hope for his survival.
But before he could act on this newfound optimism, those eerily recognizable footsteps echoed once more. Fear gripped him, and he swiftly dropped the thought of vacating his hideout.
However, the approaching entity was not another ghost but Miles. That’s right, Miles had come out of the body bag he used to shelter himself and had activated his crimson ghost domain.
“Time is of the essence,” Miles whispered, “I’ve got a mere five minutes,” clutching a baton while he treaded forward.
But just as he proceeded, Miles halted, scanning the village scene. Much to his amazement, the number of villagers positioned at their homes’ entrances had dwindled. Earlier, every abode had its inhabitant guarding its entrance, but now, several of them had mysteriously disappeared.
In the quiet entrance of the village, an elderly woman hobbled forward, her movements frail and labored, painting a stark contrast to the stationary villagers. She seemed as if she carried the weight of many years on her shoulders, every step taking immense effort. Amidst the stillness of the village, she was the only noticeable figure in motion.
“It’s working! The headless ghost I unleashed is starting to show its influence,” Miles exclaimed, his eyes bright with realization.
As he observed more villagers disappearing, he noted the diminishing darkness that once suffocated the village. What had been a heavy blanket of night was gradually lightening, hinting at the approach of dawn. To his surprise, Miles turned to find a house that had previously vanished now firmly back in place. The ancestral hall, a significant structure at the heart of the village, remained untouched.
Inside the hall, the same crimson coffin lay undisturbed. White candles still flickered, casting their ethereal glow. But a noticeable change was the portrait that previously hung prominently in the hall. The depicted face had vanished, leaving a blank canvas.
Yet, Miles didn’t dwell on the disappearance. Instead, he felt an increasing certainty that equilibrium was returning to the village, a shift he attributed to the headless ghost’s actions. During its wandering, the ghost must’ve found a suitable body to inhabit, likely absorbing other spirits—maybe those of Sheng, Page, and Tian, or perhaps even other spirits from the village’s murky past. However, the precise details seemed inconsequential to Miles.
“What matters now is that I need to take control of that headless ghost. It has the potential to be a powerful ally. In return, I’ll claim the other spirits it houses,” Miles declared with a renewed sense of purpose, modifying his original strategy.
Recognizing the pivotal role of the headless ghost, he realized that controlling it was paramount to restoring harmony and concluding the ongoing crisis.
Suddenly, a message materialized on the eerie human skin parchment: “Stretch isn’t dead. He’s taken refuge in a suitcase inside a car. I’m planning to corner him, leveraging the spirit inside him to fulfill the parchment’s contract.”
However, just as Miles processed the message, the content morphed.
“With the headless ghost’s undeniable significance here, I’ve chosen to harness its power instead, aiming to dictate the fate of Yellow Hill Village. Our bargain remains in effect.”
Miles quickly pieced the puzzle together. The headless ghost was now a prime target, potentially housing multiple entities within its shadowy form.
“So, let’s get started. I’m eager to uncover the depth of your mysteries,” Miles whispered with resolve.
At this juncture, a transformation had occurred with the elderly woman. What was once a rotting cadaver now unnervingly resembled its initial form. Her fractured skull was seamlessly whole again, and the flesh that had previously decomposed had regenerated. While the events that unfolded during Miles’s absence remained a mystery, they did not impede him from his imminent actions.
Noticing him, the old woman abruptly paused, seemingly aware of Miles’s proximity. Alternatively, she could have discerned the looming ghost domain ahead of her. Slowly, she raised her gaze, attempting to meet Miles’s eyes, though it was unclear if her eyes still functioned. When their eyes locked, a fleeting moment of mutual understanding transpired.
“So, you’ve become aware of me,” Miles remarked, a shiver traveling down his spine. “This headless ghost’s power has intensified since its initial containment.”
Doubt gnawed at him: “Could this skin parchment genuinely counter such a formidable entity?” Nevertheless, driven by desperation, he was determined to attempt.
He laid the skin parchment down, advancing to envelop the elderly woman within the ghost domain. As he tried, a luminous red aura aimed to encircle her, but a surprise awaited him. A foul-smelling liquid, akin to that of decomposing bodies, oozed from her form, pooling and enveloping her entirety.
When the ghost domain’s red aura met this decaying fluid, it recoiled, unable to penetrate. The two forces remained locked in a standoff, neither overpowering the other. Eventually, the pooling liquid began molding itself into a humanoid figure, giving the impression of a being battling to rise.
Miles squinted, a realization dawning upon him. “Could that be the manifestation of Page’s power?”
Had the headless ghost assimilated Page’s spirit? What kind of sinister process allowed that? More perturbingly, after subsuming Page, the headless ghost’s menace seemed to have amplified manifold.
Without warning, the old woman lunged. Despite Miles’s thwarted attempt to ensnare her, she seemed hell-bent on completing her mission from their previous encounter at the mall: procuring Miles’s ghost eye.
A sardonic grin stretched across Miles’s face as the old woman lunged at him: “This entity is getting too audacious. How dare it break into my ghost domain so easily.”
It was clearer now why equilibrium had returned to the village. With such a formidable spirit meandering, even the native malevolent spirits would be on edge.
However, the old woman’s confidence might have been premature. As she ventured deeper into Miles’s crimson domain, her foot met the skin parchment he had strategically placed.
The parchment’s prerequisite was simple: direct contact with a genuine ghost.
Almost immediately, the old woman seemed rooted to the spot, losing her balance and toppling over. An unseen force tugged at her, dragging her relentlessly backward.
Miles watched intently, his features frozen in a mixture of shock and awe.
The skin parchment, lying inconspicuously on the ground, was now displaying an unexpected and voracious appetite for the ghostly entity.
It operated akin to a cosmic black hole, drawing the old woman inexorably into its depths. Despite her formidable nature, the elderly ghost seemed rendered utterly powerless, unable to mount any form of resistance against this force.
This raised questions in Miles’s mind: Could it be that even a ghost with the audacity and capability to penetrate the ghost domain wasn’t immune to the power of this skin parchment?
In the decisions he made today, had he been astute or had he inadvertently blundered?
And most crucially, once this ancient piece of skin parchment devours a ghost, what transformations, if any, would it undergo?