Chapter 95: An Easy Solution?
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
The sharp cough from the elderly woman caught the attention of the four men. The sound was eerily familiar – a frail, weak cough that mirrored the one they had overheard the previous night, suggesting an individual in poor health or possibly a supernatural being.
“Could she be a ghost?” Stretch questioned, his eyes wide with intrigue as he observed the old woman shuffle away at a gentle pace.
Yiming pondered aloud, “If this woman is truly a ghost, it raises the question: could others in this village also be ghosts? Not shooting earlier was a prudent decision. Page, you should use your brain some more next time before acting.”
Miles remarked sarcastically, “That’s assuming he thinks at all. When I injured him last time, I swear I saw nothing but a strange fluid in his head instead of a brain.”
Page’s expression shifted through various shades of emotions, but fear stood out most prominently. Had he hastily fired his gun earlier, they might’ve faced not just one ghostly entity but a whole mob of them.
Directing his attention to the elderly woman, Yiming mentioned, “Miles, the cough we just heard and the one from last night are strikingly similar. Could this verify that she’s the ghost we encountered? And if so, should we confront her now? Capturing her might be our chance to get to the bottom of this mysterious situation.”
Miles responded, his brow creased with concern, “We could give it a shot.” Yet, doubt lingered in his mind. If this woman was the same entity from their earlier encounter, who was the figure in the coffin? And what about the ghost that had ambushed them during the night? The notion of there being three separate spirits felt implausible. It was rare for numerous spirits to gather in a singular location, particularly if the area was dominated by a ghost domain, which could only be the work of a sole supernatural entity.
The old woman’s unsettling cough had thrown a wrench in Miles’s previously confident deductions. However, he believed they had to address the situation head-on and not leave the matter alone.
“We will deal with that old woman first,” he affirmed. “Afterwards, our next stop should be the shrine. We must stick together and be swift. I sense trouble is still waiting. If we move decisively, we can hopefully sidestep any complications.”
Yiming nodded, “Let’s proceed then.”
Earlier confrontations and disagreements faded into the background as the looming threat of a powerful ghost loomed. Unity was now paramount.
Stretch and Page hurried back to their vehicle to grab essential tools while Miles headed to the shrine to collect ritualistic instruments. Soon after, they reconvened, tracing the steps of the elderly woman. As she moved, her frail coughing episodes persisted, reminding them of the ghostly encounter from the night before.
The more they listened, the firmer their conviction became: this old woman was the very ghost they had encountered. Capturing her might be the key to resolving their haunting predicament.
“Is she returning to her home?” Yiming, who was a few steps behind, noted as he saw the old woman approach an old, brick-layered house. Despite the home’s evident age, its entrance was impeccably maintained – a testament to the old woman’s predilection for cleanliness. Given the eerie aura surrounding her, it seemed unlikely that she had frequent visitors or well-wishers.
Without seeking affirmation, Page announced, “I’ll climb to the rooftop and position myself above her.” He swiftly sprung into action, his intent clear.
Yiming also joined in and took charge: “We will charge through the front door then and not give the woman any chance to oppose us.”
“No need to rush. Let’s wait on Page first,” Stretch interrupted, “I know what he’s intending to do.”
“If you insist,” Yiming nods in agreement.
With grave seriousness, Miles interjected, “If you two want to take the lead then I will follow just this once. But remember this, there might be more than just one ghost in this village. The plan must be swift. Time is of the essence.” An inexplicable sense of foreboding clawed at him.
Resting a hand on Miles’s shoulder, Yiming reassured, “There’s no need to worry. Together, our combined might will prevail.”
Within the confines of her home, the elderly lady’s fatigue was palpable. No sooner had she crossed the threshold than she withdrew to her bedroom, seeking solace in her bed. From his vantage point on the rooftop, Page could monitor her every move.
Despite her ghostly aura, her daily activities reflected those of an average elderly individual— meandering through the village, engaging in conversations with her peers, and seeking the sanctuary of her home when exhaustion took over. Even in her ailing state, it appeared she was devoid of companionship or assistance.
A soft, feeble cough interrupted her solitude. Perhaps to distract from her loneliness or the silence, she powered on her television for some semblance of company.
The group, observing her ordinary demeanor, grew increasingly uncertain.
Was she truly a ghost?
While sunlight bathed the exterior of the house, an anomalous dripping sound echoed from within the attic.
As the elderly woman lay ensconced in her bed, transfixed by her television, a peculiar sight met the onlookers’ eyes: the screen didn’t display any conventional channel. Instead, a mesmerizing pattern of fluctuating black and white specks danced across it, accompanied by the unmistakable hum of static. Yet, the old woman’s gaze remained unbroken as if she was ensnared in a hypnotic spell.
The soft, persistent sound reverberated from the ceiling, “Drip, drip~!”
From the attic came the haunting echo of water dripping. After a moment, a droplet seeped through the roof tiles, descending like a gloomy omen from above. But this was no mere water droplet; its viscosity and putrid aroma evoked images of the ghastly fluid that exudes from the depths of rotting corpses.
In an eerie twist of fate, this foul droplet found its target on the crown of the old woman’s head. Despite the uninvited intrusion, she remained engrossed in her television program. However, the point of impact turned dark, almost like an insidious blot. Alarmingly, this sinister mark began to grow and spread, reminiscent of a virulent contagion. Within moments, the blight had claimed a significant portion of her skull.
As the seconds ticked by, the horrifying process of decomposition set in.
“Could this be Page’s handiwork?” Miles pondered, concern evident in his eyes.
“Drip, drip~!”
The rhythmic dripping of the corpse-infused water became more urgent. As it cascaded down, the droplets marred the pristine bedspread, seeped into the old lady’s skin, and tainted her limbs. The room grew dense with a stomach-churning aroma, so overpowering that even a fleeting encounter with it was sheer torture.
Almost as if in accelerated time-lapse, the woman’s physique deteriorated. What were once hands and feet and a significant part of her face had now succumbed to decay, leaving skeletal remains that ominously began to take on a charred hue in their wake. The semblance of the woman that was once there had all but vanished.
Astoundingly, amidst this grotesque transformation, the old woman remained on her bed, a sole eye fixated on the television. It was a mystery whether she still clung to life or existed in some uncanny liminal state.
“Could we have misjudged?” Stretch whispered, doubt clouding his eyes.
But, in a turn of events that sent chills down their spines, the heavily decayed old woman summoned the strength to rise. She shuffled towards the television, her movements deliberate, and turned it off.
Gazing at the unnerving puddles forming on the floor, she rasped, “Why is my home flooded?”
Yiming, his voice laden with urgency, cried out, “Attack now!”
Witnessing her continued movement despite her deteriorated state left them grappling with a harrowing question: if she wasn’t a ghostly entity, what on earth was she?
Without missing a beat, Stretch catapulted into action. His form began to twist grotesquely, and his clothes ripped apart to unveil two ghastly, flesh-devoid hands that emerged from his back. They writhed as if seeking escape while an eerie visage, reminiscent of a vivid tattoo, shimmered beneath his skin.
In the beginning, this ghostly presence was merely a detailed tattoo. But as Stretch honed his craft, invoking potent spirits, the tattoo began to manifest physically as if yearning to break free from its fleshy prison.
At this moment, not only had a pair of hands surfaced from Stretch’s back, but they appeared almost fully formed. If a head began to manifest, the balance of control would undoubtedly shift. Rather than Stretch wielding the power of the malevolent spirit, the vengeful ghost might overtake and dominate him entirely.
Launching himself into action, Stretch’s advance was heralded by a tormented roar, a chilling testimony to the agony of his transformation. In quick succession, a pair of crimson-streaked arms shot out from behind him, extending menacingly and ensnaring the old woman with an iron grip.
“Target secured,” Stretch announced.
“Good work.” Hot on Stretch’s heels, Miles made his move. Without even a moment’s pause, he swiftly unfurled a heavy-duty body bag and ensnared the now-static old woman, pulling it over her head and sealing away the remnants of her decimated form.
The room echoed with the dull thump of the old woman’s form meeting the floor.
Inside the body bag lay what was now a macabre relic of decay, bearing scant resemblance to the human it once might have been.
“All done?” Yiming, a bit nonplussed, inquired. Was the situation truly resolved before he had a chance to intervene?
The ease of their capture was almost disconcerting.
To brand such a creature as merely a ‘ghost’ seemed a gross simplification.
Nevertheless, complacency was a luxury they couldn’t afford. Even if the capture had been straightforward, it didn’t negate the possibility of the entity’s inherent strength. Maybe they had just ambushed it successfully?
Feeling a wave of relief, Stretch remarked with a hint of exhilaration, “Glad that’s behind us.”
Yet, a palpable, oppressive silence swiftly cast its shroud over the room.
Unbeknownst to them, at some point, the sinister dripping of the corpse water from the attic had come to an unsettling halt.