254 The Dead City
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Driving on the silent highway.
The headlights illuminated the road ahead but couldn’t dispel the gloom before my eyes.
The entire city was eerily quiet, save for the occasional distant screams and the wailing of the Ghost Infant—no other sounds were heard.
The once bustling Dachang City was gradually dying because of the presence of the Ghost Infant.
At least, all along the drive Yang Jian couldn’t feel a trace of vitality.
Death was spreading, and fear was proliferating.
As Yang Jian looked out of the car window, his mood was dismal.
He was still pondering the words Wang Xiaoming had said before.
“He pinned all his hopes on me, tasking me with saving the entire city, but I’ve done everything I could. I’ve imprisoned that fourth-stage Ghost Infant, but what has changed? It’s just a temporary fix at best, and too many have died over these days—Ye Feng, Sun Yi, He Chuan, as well as those ghostmasters I don’t know.”
“I’ve used up all my Ghost Candles, risking revival to augment my powers… and when facing the appearance of the Source Ghost, all I could do was run.”
Yang Jian gave a self-deprecating chuckle as he drove.
Who’s to blame for this failure of action when he had done all that he could? It was only the harsh reality to blame. Was he really expected to fight to the death to satisfy everyone?
“You, Professor Wang, can afford to be noble, to let go of hatred, to be selfless, and to be indifferent to your own life and death, but what about me? There’s a whole group of people relying on me to survive. If I die, what will become of them?”
But now, everyone was looking at him, with no one understanding him or saying he had done enough.
To think that Yang Jian was only a high school senior, who became a ghostmaster in less than three months and joined the headquarters barely fifteen days ago.
All of this was too heavy for him to bear.
Facing this huge disaster, powerless to avert his fate, all Yang Jian could do was take care of a group of people and try to scrape by.
To fight again and fail would leave him truly with nothing; he couldn’t afford to lose anymore.
“Bang~!”
Suddenly, a loud noise erupted, and a figure eerily appeared on the road from within the mist ahead, causing Yang Jian’s car to jolt as it hit the figure and rolled right over it.
Shaking off his contemplation, he was startled.
Had he hit someone?
He pressed the brake, just about to turn back to check.
But then, from the rear-view mirror, Yang Jian saw the struck person slowly stand up.
That individual’s pupils were hollow, pitch black, their body cyanotic. The head that had been smashed was slumped onto the shoulder, eerily looking at him.
“It’s not a human, it’s a third-stage Ghost Infant. Can these things now brazenly wander the streets at will?” Yang Jian’s expression turned solemn, but he didn’t utter a word.
As long as he stayed silent and the Ghost Infant didn’t hear him, he wouldn’t become a target of attack.
Even though it had seen him, it was useless.
It wasn’t the Source Ghost, nor a first-stage Ghost Infant; just seeing him wouldn’t do much.
Wang Xiaoming’s research and deduction were correct.
Yang Jian hit the gas and continued forward.
In the rear-view mirror, the Ghost Infant stood there, still eerily watching him, until the car gradually moved away and its figure vanished into the mist, finally calming down.
“If it were an ordinary person in that situation, a scream would seal their fate,” Yang Jian thought as he glanced at the now-vanished Ghost Infant, releasing a slight breath of relief while also feeling an inexplicable sense of despair. In a city like this, how many regular people, ignorant of the rules, could actually survive?
No one knew.
Right now, he didn’t have it in him to deal with the supernatural events anymore. The failure of his last operation pushed him to the brink of reopening old wounds, and even though he regained control, he wasn’t sure if he could handle the power of the vengeful spirits safely again.
He kept driving.
Though his destination wasn’t the city center this time, he saw many strange things along the way.
There were corpses lying by the road, with their bellies split open and their flesh a blur of gore. Figures moved stiffly in the mist, menacing silhouettes, and puddles of blood with some remains of flesh and viscera.
Occasionally, there was a hopeless cry for help, laced with sobbing.
Yet no one responded, and more terrifying figures wandered through the mist.
This place had truly become a Ghost City.
Those who survived could only wait in despair for their lives to be harvested.
Yang Jian kept driving without a peep, moving forward.
Here, it seemed he was the only living person daring to walk the streets; all along his journey, he hadn’t seen a single survivor.
He knew that under the shadow of fear, the city’s residents had realized the danger. They hid in their homes, curled up somewhere hoarding food and water, trying to survive this Black Night and get through the disaster.
But Yang Jian knew.
It was impossible; even if they had stockpiled plenty of food and water, without resolving the source, they were all on a path to death. The only difference was whether they would die sooner or later.
“Yang Jian, the satellite positioning shows you’ve entered Dachang City. You don’t need to speak; I know you’re in danger. I just wanted to let you know, when it’s convenient, there’s someone here who wants to talk to you. That’s all I have to say. I’m going to turn off the voice now and maintain silence,” came Liu Xiaoyu’s voice through the satellite positioned phone.