Chapter 89: The Second Disappearance.
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
In the quiet rural village, the peace of the night was pronounced. The number of residents in this settlement was always minimal, with the majority being older citizens. Given that it was the thick of the night, it was likely that most, if not all of them, had already gone to bed early. With the embrace of darkness, the whole village seemed to undergo a transformation, morphing into an eerily different world.
Such profound silence permeated the air, creating an atmosphere that was at once serene and yet ominously quiet, enough to raise goosebumps.
At the village’s entrance, however, one house stood as a glaring exception to this tranquility.
The front door of this home was conspicuously ajar, spilling light onto the surrounding darkness. Dominating the main hall inside was a prominently displayed red-lacquered coffin. Beside it, a pair of nearly consumed white wax candles shed their dwindling light, casting unpredictable and eerie shadows that danced and swayed on the walls, adding a thick layer of melancholy to the room.
On a nearby table, the portrait of a youthful man was displayed. The dim light seemed to shroud it in a mysterious haze, blurring its finer details. Though the face was somewhat obscured, the silhouette added another layer of mystery and unease to the atmosphere.
“Why is there no vigil?” a voice wondered aloud, “Usually, someone from the village would keep watch for the departed during such times.”
Approaching the house was a group of individuals. The house’s open door provided them an unobstructed view of its interiors.
“This village always had its quirks,” began Yiming with a contemplative look. “Legends speak of a ghost that wanders here once the sun sets. But oddly, the villagers seem unfazed and continue with their lives as if such tales were mere fiction. Yet, during daylight, there was this inescapable feeling of everything being just… too ordinary.”
Stretch nodded in agreement, “Exactly, the very ordinariness of this place feels… strange.”
This facade of normality was what confused them, making them wonder about the truth behind the ghostly tales. However, tonight’s events were confirming their worst fears: there was undoubtedly some supernatural entity in the village.
Normally, the knowledge of an actual haunting would send villagers packing, especially elders with a deep attachment to such beliefs.
“We should prioritize,” Page chimed in, “If the ghost is residing in this house, it might simplify matters for us. Tackle it, and our problems might just vanish.”
Tian responded with a look of seriousness, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. One of our own, a ghost tamer no less, has already met his demise. It could be any one of us next.”
Yiming quickly added, “Yes, we can’t get complacent. But we can’t remain passive either. We’ve come this far; let’s explore further.”
The group paused, their eyes irresistibly drawn to the ominous coffin. With a collective deep breath, the group warily stepped into the house, on high alert for any lurking threats.
As they stepped inside, a chilling coldness instantly surrounded them. It was as if the very essence of a ghost was wrapping its icy fingers around each of them, causing a shiver of unease to ripple through their bodies.
Yiming, his voice barely audible, said, “That coffin seems out of place. It radiates a malevolence that’s hard to ignore. We should be cautious and avoid any direct contact with it. Disturbing it might set off unforeseen events.” He paused before continuing, “We can explore the other parts of the house first. It’s compact enough that even if there’s a ghost lurking, it won’t easily corner us. Remember, if anything feels amiss, raise the alarm immediately. We must have each other’s backs.”
Though they hadn’t directly encountered any ghostly presence yet, the possibility couldn’t be ruled out. They had to be prepared for any confrontation.
Nodding in agreement, Page added, “It’s essential we stick together. Going our separate ways in such an environment might be risky.”
Miles, deep in thought, glanced at the coffin once more as if attempting to decipher its mysteries. “There’s an unsettling energy coming from that coffin. It doesn’t sit right with me. Yiming’s caution seems valid. Let’s first ensure the rest of the house is safe before focusing on it.”
Determined to uncover the truth, Miles and the others began their exploration, emphasizing caution and collaboration over hasty decisions.
The house’s layout was straightforward. With three levels and each floor having three to four rooms, they estimated that a quick yet thorough inspection shouldn’t take too long.
But as they momentarily diverted their attention away from the central hall, the portrait near the coffin eerily shifted. With the diminishing candlelight, half of the young man’s face in the artwork darkened, appearing grotesquely withered and aged. An unsettling, cold smirk appeared on his lips. Around the portrait, the once-vibrant candle flames waned and weakened as if being suffocated by an unseen hand. They flickered hesitantly, threatening to go out at any moment.
As the interior light grew increasingly faint, the looming darkness from outside seemed to grow denser, attempting to swallow the house whole. This ominous change, however, went unnoticed by the group.
After inspecting a room, Stretch approached Miles in the corridor and whispered, “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”
Behind Miles, ghostly eyes shimmered into existence on his back head, providing him with a near-panoramic view, ensuring he missed no details.
“Absolutely nothing,” Miles responded, “there’s no trace of any ghost nor any sign of the mourners from earlier. This house feels eerily empty. It’s almost as if everyone just disappeared. Yiming hit the nail on the head – something about this village isn’t right.”
Having completed his inspection, Stretch nodded in agreement, “I’ve found nothing unusual either. Perhaps we’re letting our imaginations run wild, seeing phantoms where there are none.”
“Let’s gather downstairs,” Stretch proposed, his tone tinged with worry. “I believe we need to examine that coffin thoroughly. If the house is truly empty, there’s a chance the coffin might not contain a dead body. Instead, it might be hiding something supernatural, like a ghost.”
But as Miles prepared to descend the stairs, a soft, eerie sound stopped him dead in his tracks.
“Cough, cough.”
The frail sound of a cough echoed, reminiscent of someone severely ill, maybe on their deathbed. It came from the room right behind him. Goosebumps erupted across Miles’s skin, and an icy sensation enveloped him, making his palms damp.
That couldn’t be. He was certain he had searched that room, and it was vacant. So where did that haunting cough emanate from?
“Miles!” Suddenly, Stretch swiveled around, his expression morphing into one of sheer terror. His body contorted in a bizarre fashion, appearing as if he was channeling some dark and sinister power.
“I’ll handle it,” Miles announced with determination. Without hesitation, he sent a powerful kick to the slightly open door, causing it to swing wide open.
Despite the dimness of the room, his vision was unobstructed. The crimson eyes on his forehead illuminated the room in a deep, eerie red glow, offering a pristine view of its contents. But, much to his disbelief, the room remained vacant. No signs of any ghostly entity. No hint of where the cough had come from.
“It’s gone,” Miles whispered, his voice laden with anxiety.
“Did that ghost deceive us?” Stretch cried out, his voice laced with both shock and fury.
If it truly was a ghost, it wouldn’t just disappear without a trace. A horrifying thought crossed Miles’s mind: what if this ghost had its own domain? That would explain its ability to appear and disappear at will within the village.
Suddenly, the muffled sound of footsteps emanated from the shadowy stairwell.
“Over there, in the hallway,” Stretch barked, his features distorted in anger. Without a second thought, he dashed in the direction of the sound.
In times like these, even a moment’s hesitation could be deadly. They couldn’t back down; they had to confront whoever or whatever was causing the disturbance.
In a heartbeat, Stretch located the source of the footsteps. But what he found was utterly unexpected.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Echoes of surprise and incredulity filled the stairwell. Instead of a ghost or any otherworldly entity, they were met with Yiming and the rest of their team.
Having heard the distinct sound of footsteps climbing to the upper level, they had hurried to check, only to collide with Stretch.
This eerily echoed a prior event in the village.
“Relax, everyone! It’s just us,” Yiming interjected hastily, attempting to alleviate the escalating tension.
“We’ve been led into a trap. The footsteps drew us here,” Miles concluded as he joined the group, a look of suspicion in his eyes. “Hold on, where’s Tian?”
Tian?
The group looked at each other, their eyes wide with shared unease, as a tingling sensation of dread spread among them, making their hairs stand on end.
Tian was nowhere to be seen. He had vanished without a trace.
“To the main hall, now!” Yiming commanded with urgency, not wasting a moment as he turned and sprinted back downstairs.
The team instantly recognized the severity of their predicament. The memory of Sheng’s mysterious and premature demise still hung heavily in their minds, serving as a grim reminder of the dangers lurking.
Yet, as they re-entered the main hall, the atmosphere had morphed into something even more chilling.
The candles, which had once dimly illuminated the memorial hall, were now snuffed out, casting the area into a suffocating shadow that seemed to weigh heavily on their shoulders.
In the midst of this darkness, the portrait that had been prominently displayed on the altar seemed different. Although the room was steeped in shadows, it was clear that the image had undergone a strange transformation. Shockingly, the face in the portrait bore an uncanny resemblance to Tian. The likeness was so stark that it seemed almost intentional as if the portrait was sending them a sinister message.