Chapter 70: Is Someone Talking About Me?
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
In a quiet neighborhood, the eerie echo of a scream filled the air, originating from a nondescript residential building.
The entrance to this residence remained firmly shut. Inside, a gathering of men in sharp suits created a tense atmosphere.
Facing Ethan, a ghost tamer who was chained to the floor in a disturbing manner with his limbs grotesquely fastened down with nails, stood a young man with steely eyes and a confident demeanor. He casually held a baton, giving off an air of detached superiority.
“So, another ghost tamer. It seems your type is a dime a dozen. A mix of human and ghost. But, Ethan, I must admit, you aren’t the most pathetic one I’ve come across,” he observed, seemingly unimpressed.
With a glint in his eyes, he continued, “Do you believe I can’t handle mere mortals? I might not be the best with ghostly affairs, but when it comes to humans, I excel. That’s where I shine,” his intense stare never leaving Ethan, who was sprawled on the floor, visibly wounded and bleeding.
“Tell me, where’s the ghost you captured at the mall? Is it in possession of this ‘Miles’s person you’re associated with?”
Defiantly, Ethan replied, despite his vulnerable position, “I won’t reveal anything. And if you’re truly daring, try and remove the ghost that’s residing within me.”
Though Ethan had the unique ability to control and command ghosts, he was at a disadvantage when it came to confrontations with other humans. At this moment, he was rendered helpless, bound by specially crafted chains and nails made of a blend of steel and gold — tools designed to restrain someone of his unique abilities.
“The ghost inside you isn’t my concern. I want the item it’s connected to. Even if you stay silent, I’m certain Miles won’t. And once I’ve confirmed its whereabouts, your existence will be irrelevant. I doubt you’d trust a valuable entity to someone inexperienced,” the young man, revealed to be someone named Writing, said with a chilling coldness.
Writing, it turned out, was the orchestrator of this entire operation.
Ethan, despite his situation, bravely countered, “If I were to die, the ghost inside me would be set free, wreaking havoc. You won’t be spared from its wrath.”
Dismissively, Writing chuckled, “Not an issue for me. I’ll have disappeared long before, leaving the mess for the other ghost tamers to handle. Do you genuinely think the potential chaos of your death and a rampaging ghost deters me? Whether it’s a ghost or a man, threats are meaningless.”
And with that declaration, he viciously swung the baton at Ethan’s head.
The impact was brutal. Ethan’s head appeared as if it might fracture under the force. A normal person would’ve succumbed to such a grievous injury, but Ethan, with a mixture of pain and determination, only let out a harrowing scream, not succumbing to the injury.
Amused, Writing remarked, “You’re a tenacious one, aren’t you? Even after such a brutal assault, you cling to life, you ghostly bastard. However, it seems enduring pain might be the only skill you possess.”
With every crushing blow delivered to Ethan’s limbs, the chilling sound of bones breaking echoed ominously throughout the room. Ethan’s battered form was a ghastly vision, his skin marred with gruesome injuries, each one oozing fresh blood.
Gasping for breath yet defiant, Ethan rasped, looking up at Writing, his face awash with his own blood, “Keep going, if you think it’ll help. I may be nearing my end, but killing me won’t grant you what you want.”
This declaration piqued Writing’s interest. “Are you suggesting you’ve given that precious item to the inexperienced Miles? I find it hard to believe you’d place such immense trust in a rookie,” he replied, frustration evident in his voice.
Despite Ethan’s steadfast refusal to divulge more, Writing started piecing together the puzzle. If the coveted item was indeed with Ethan, he would not be exhibiting such audacious resistance.
Turning to one of his subordinates, Writing ordered in a chilling tone, “Get in touch with Summit. Let him know our prime suspect is Miles. If mere discussions don’t yield results, threaten his loved ones. A novice, no matter his supernatural abilities, is bound to buckle under such strain. Don’t let his title of ‘ghost tamer’ deter you. If push comes to shove, we can always resort to amputating a finger or two as a persuasive tactic. While ghost tamers wield significant power, they are far from invincible. Laying low for a period should shield us from any possible backlash.”
His loose reference to ‘discussions’ was but a thinly veiled nod to brutal tactics. Anyone fully aware of his intentions would never consider such violent methods to be true negotiations.
“Right away, boss. I’ll get in touch with Summit,” one of Writing’s henchmen immediately affirmed.
This exchange prompted Ethan to release a sound, a mix of pain and mocking laughter.
Irritated, Writing growled, “What’s so entertaining?” He then forcefully thrust the baton into Ethan’s mouth, as if threatening to rip out his tongue. “Have you decided to forsake speech?”
Mustering strength despite his dire state, Ethan managed, “Your mistake amuses me. You’ve rightfully concluded that Miles holds the box, but you’re clueless about the why. It wasn’t a matter of entrusting it to him; I simply couldn’t retrieve it.”
Suspicion clouded Writing’s features. “What do you mean, Ethan?”
“I mean to warn you,” Ethan gasped, “Even as a newcomer, Miles may pose a challenge greater than you’ve foreseen. If you persist with your plans to confiscate the item from him, you might find yourself ruing the day.”
With a smirk, Writing retorted, “Is that so? I’m eager to witness this novice’s prowess.” His snide remark thinly veiled a deeper unease towards ghost tamers and their unpredictable abilities.
Most ghost tamers led fragile lives, seldom fully harnessing the raw might of their ghostly allies. Overusing this power often spelled their doom, giving rise to the rebirth of the ghost within. Furthermore, their vast abilities were ironically rendered powerless against the simplest of metals: gold.
Using items crafted from gold to restrain ghost tamers was a well-known strategy, effectively neutralizing their supernatural abilities.
Suddenly, one of Writing’s men, looking rather flustered, approached him, his phone hanging loosely by his side. “Boss, I’ve been trying repeatedly, but I can’t seem to establish contact with Summit,” he reported, genuine confusion evident in his eyes.
Writing’s own brow furrowed in deep thought. “Is Summit unreachable? In that case, try connecting with the others. Try Liu Shao, and anyone else on our list. It’s highly unlikely that all of them are unreachable at once.”
The air grew dense as another member quickly added, “Sir, we’ve already tried reaching out to the entire team. There’s been no response from anyone.”
Ethan, despite his battered state, managed a smirk, blood still smeared across his face. “It seems your men might’ve run into an unexpected problem,” he rasped, savoring the moment of unease he’d caused. “Perhaps if you’d taken on Miles personally, you might’ve had a fighting chance. But deploying Summit for this task? That always seemed risky.”
Annoyed, Writing shot back, “Gag him and secure him here. He can ponder his fate in silence. Gather the others; we’re heading to Summit’s last known location.”
Writing had initially believed that dealing with a rookie like Miles would be straightforward, especially with his primary focus being Ethan. He hadn’t banked on another predicament emerging.
As they were about to silence Ethan, a distinct knock sounded at the door, causing everyone to freeze.
“Who is it?” Writing’s voice echoed, wary.
The tension palpable, one of Writing’s men approached the door, trying to discern any hint of the person outside via the peephole. “Sir, there’s no one in sight.”
“If that’s the case, continue your tasks. And you,” he pointed to the same man, “keep a close watch on the entrance.”
Yet, as the man settled into his vigil, another set of knocks echoed throughout the room, this time emanating from a side door.
A murmur of confusion rippled through the ranks. “We checked that room earlier; it’s supposed to be empty.”
Yet another chimed in, “That can’t be possible. I distinctly hear shuffling footsteps. Someone, or something, is in there.”
One of the men, now visibly unnerved, whispered, “Boss, do you think we might be dealing with a ghost?”
A tangible sense of dread descended upon the room. While these men were trained to deal with ghost tamers, actual ghosts were a different story. These ethereal beings were known for their unpredictable and violent nature.
A grimace formed on Writing’s face. “Could our luck truly be so rotten that we’re encountering genuine paranormal activity today?” He quickly rallied his thoughts and addressed his team. “Our priority now is to evacuate. Leave Ethan. If a ghost is indeed here, it’ll focus on him first, providing us a window to escape. Stay composed; don’t panic.”
“Understood, boss.”
The henchmen, sensing the urgency in Writing’s voice, sprang into action, making a beeline for the main exit.
However, as the lead henchman reached for the doorknob, his face contorted with alarm. “The door… it’s jammed! It won’t move an inch!” he exclaimed, pulling at it with increased desperation.
Another, not willing to succumb to panic, barked, “Move over! I have the tools to break this lock.” He reached into his bag, pulling out a heavy-duty bolt cutter, poised to snap the lock and pave their way out.
But as they focused on the front door, the soft and unmistakable sound of another door being gingerly opened reached their ears. Everyone froze, their attention shifting to a side door, where the doorknob was slowly turning.
A collective feeling of dread washed over the room.
“It’s the end for us!” A whimper escaped from one of the henchmen, his voice quivering.
Their skirmishes with ghost tamers had given them a mere glimpse of the terror a genuine ghost could evoke. The very idea sent shivers down their spines.
However, an unexpected voice emerged, playful yet cheeky, “Did someone just say I look good?”
A moment later, the door gently opened to unveil Miles, his eyes wide and filled with mischievous glee reminiscent of a child caught sneaking a cookie. As he stepped into the light, the tension in the room shifted from sheer terror to utter bewilderment.