Chapter 103: The Opened Coffin
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“By subduing the second spirit, I’ve managed to prolong the dormant period of the vengeful ghost considerably. Does this mean that I’ve accomplished what I set out to do, even without making this transaction? And if that’s the case, is there any real reason to go forward with the trade?” A frown etched deep lines on Miles’s forehead as he grappled with these questions. Yet, it wasn’t long before he pushed his previous musings aside.
“No,” he whispered to himself, “The looming danger of the vengeful ghost reawakening persists. The stability I’ve achieved is tenuous. It might afford me a brief respite, a fleeting window of safety, but as I continue to exploit the spirit’s power, this delicate balance is bound to break. I might even find myself having to tame a third ghost. The trade cannot be halted now.”
His attention shifted to an ominous-looking parchment made of human skin that lay nearby on the ground. He contemplated, “And… if that whatever company out there does possess the knowledge to dominate these vengeful spirits, then I’d rather choose to align with that company instead of relying on this unsettling parchment. What’s more, I have no way of knowing what other sort of dark power it held if it could even devour other ghosts. Would it be wiser to just toss this item away?” The thought raced through Miles’s mind.
Although logic dictated he should leave the eerie human skin parchment right where it was. However, his primal instinct for survival warned him against it. The crisis wasn’t over, and in a desperate moment, this piece of skin might be his last line of defense. As unsettling as it was, its potential power was undeniable, and it might be the difference between life and death.
Determined, Miles opted to keep the parchment. Still, he resolved to tread more carefully in his impending trade. As he picked up and folded the artifact, he hesitated to keep it close. Instead, he stashed it within an old golden box, the same one he had once used to confine the headless ghost. Though the box looked worn, he planned to restore and fortify it once he got back home.
He knew he couldn’t afford to be complacent. There were still matters concerning Yellow Hill Village that demanded his attention. He felt a deep-seated obligation to settle these issues before leaving the area.
Suddenly, the ghost domain manifested again, its reach now spanning a whopping fifty meters around him in stark contrast to its previous confines. This revelation underscored the idea that while humans might have limitations in wielding a ghost’s energy, the resulting power dynamics would be radically amplified when a ghost dominated another.
In an instant, Miles was standing next to a sleek sports car as he yanked out the suitcase from within its interior.
Inside, Stretch’s face was a mask of sheer terror. “It’s that ghost! It’s pulling me out! This is bad! That entity is trying to pry the suitcase open,” he cried out. “It has locked onto my precise location! I can’t hide any longer! You might have cornered me, but I won’t go down without a fight!”
As the latch of the suitcase snapped open with an ominous click, Stretch, his face contorted with rage, burst out in an explosive move, ready to face his supposed assailant. But instead of being confronted by the ghost he so dreaded, his eyes met Miles. The gamut of emotions that raced across Stretch’s face was something to behold: raw fury, absolute shock, a dash of skepticism, and, ultimately, the slightest hint of elation. The sheer intensity and rapid transition of these feelings were so strikingly evident that they could easily rival the best scenes from a dramatic play.
With a smirk, Miles commented sarcastically, “Quite the performance, Stretch. Do let me know when you’re done with your theatrics.”
Struggling to find his words, Stretch stammered, “Miles? Is that really you? You’re still among the living?”
Miles responded, his voice unwavering, “Luck was on my side, just as it was for you. Your idea of using this golden suitcase as a hiding spot was remarkably effective. It shielded you from the most perilous phase this village presented. But the dynamics have shifted. The immediate danger has subsided.”
Miles had intentionally freed Stretch, well aware that forming an alliance in such dire times was crucial. Alone, they might not stand a chance.
Stretch cautiously scanned their surroundings, still grappling with disbelief. The village remained, but the night’s eerie gloom had given way to the first light of dawn. He gasped as his gaze settled on the ancestral hall’s imposing structure in the distance.
Miles elaborated, “We’re in a temporary safe zone, but I can’t vouch for the others. I fear that Yiming might not have made it out alive. Whether he’s gone for good, I can’t say. Right now, you need to stick with me.”
Puzzled, Stretch inquired, “So, what’s our next move?”
Miles gestured to the ancestral hall looming in the distance. “Our answers reside there, specifically within the coffin inside that building. Earlier, we took a misguided route, resulting in the unnecessary deaths of two ghost tamers. We can’t afford any more delays.”
Miles added with a sense of urgency, “This fleeting safety won’t last indefinitely. If darkness descends upon us again, our chances of survival will plummet drastically. We must act promptly.”
Stretch responded with a nod, almost reflexively. Witnessing Miles’s adeptness and resilience in the face of such adversity had earned his admiration and trust. Stretch rued not siding with him earlier. Maybe, just maybe, more of their group could have been saved if they did.
With a determined look, Miles said, “We need to move. Now.”
With a simple yet commanding sweep of his arm, Miles wielded his ghostly power to instantly shift both of them to the doorstep of the ominous ancestral hall. To anyone else, this abrupt and otherworldly mode of travel might have been shocking, but Stretch was no stranger to it. He had seen Miles manifest this ability before.
Gathering his thoughts, Miles began to explain, albeit cryptically, “Right now, delving deep into specifics isn’t our priority.” He paused briefly, surveying the area, and continued, “From what I’ve deduced, two specters haunt this village. One lurks and hunts, singling out and ruthlessly eliminating unsuspecting ghost tamers. The other, I believe, is trapped within this coffin,” he said, indicating the ornate casket that lay before them. “Our immediate mission is clear. We need to work in tandem to unlatch and release whatever entity is ensnared within. If things take a turn for the worse, be prepared to engage in combat with full might. Your suitcase and the body bag I have are designed to capture and contain these spirits.”
Stretch nodded somberly, the weight of the situation evident in his gaze. He had clung to a faint ray of hope that they might find a way out of this accursed village. But now, the gravity of their situation was clear, and the trepidation of what lay ahead was palpable. Silently, he implored the heavens for some form of divine protection to help them navigate the perilous terrain of Yellow Hill Village and emerge intact.
“Let’s get to it,” Miles grabbed a crowbar that had been discarded nearby and handed it over to Stretch.
However, just as the duo steeled themselves to pry open the coffin, an unsettling sound pierced the stifling silence of the hall. A feeble, raspy cough echoed, its source unmistakably originating from within the glossy red confines of the coffin. Before they could even process this, another eerie occurrence transpired. The coffin, which had defiantly thwarted Miles’s previous attempts to open, now began to inch open autonomously. From the dimly lit interior, a pallid hand, devoid of any warmth or color, slowly extended out.
Eyes wide with terror, Stretch exclaimed, “Miles!” His voice quivering, and his face slick with a sheen of nervous sweat.