Chapter 47: A Place of Dilemma

This was a ghost that operated only at night, following a pattern triggered from midnight to dawn.

Recalling the ghost’s strange attire and appearance, Shen Lin felt he had grasped something.

This ghost was active for only six hours each day. Viewed from another perspective, if they could hold out until 6 a.m. tomorrow morning, before the next midnight, this ghost would pose no threat to them.

Shen Lin’s expression darkened. This discovery was almost meaningless. The terrifying level of this vengeful spirit was too high; it was impossible for them to endure another five and a half hours under such horror—it was nothing but a fool’s hope.

Two minutes remained. As despair approached, everything settled into silence. No one spoke, tacitly agreeing to Zhou Bin’s suggestion.

It was practical: don’t provoke the ghost. It only killed one person at a time.

One person dying gave others a small chance to survive—a far better outcome than everyone dying.

Shen Lin pondered everything in those final two minutes. His mind flashed with countless scenes like a chaotic film.

Xiong Wenwen, a little frightened, clung to Shen Lin’s back, reassured by her foresight that he would be fine. Yet this also deepened her worry, for every premonition thus far had without exception foretold their deaths.

Tick... tick...

The entire space fell silent once more. The faint ticking of the second hand magnified infinitely in their hearts.

Unfazed by the looming threat, Zhou Bin unleashed the full power of his drunken ghost ability, a last desperate struggle.

Looking at the unconscious Xu Fang, Zhou Bin opened his mouth but ultimately found no words.

The tough street youth gave a bitter laugh and closed his eyes, calmly awaiting death.

Tick, tick...

As the second hand neared the critical moment, everyone held their breath involuntarily.

Tick...

That was the final second.

When the second hand struck zero, a dark crimson radiance surged around Shen Lin, enveloping himself and Xiong Wenwen. His eyes fixed unwaveringly on the black-robed ghost before them.

Zhou Bin’s courageous sacrifice was precious; this would be their chance to confront the vengeful spirit harmlessly. They had to make Zhou Bin’s death meaningful and find something, or they would all perish.

Something was still missing—there had to be something missing, Shen Lin told himself.

From midnight to 6 a.m., six hours with attacks every ten minutes, totaling thirty-six deaths, accompanied by a strange sound like a wooden fish being struck rhythmically.

Everything almost connected into a pattern—except for one crucial detail, which was like an unbridgeable chasm.

That peculiar wooden stick, in Shen Lin’s eyes, was utterly equivalent to the original story’s machete, coffin nails, music box, and other domain objects.

The exact function of this ghostly item was unknown, but one effect was certain: it could suppress vengeful spirits. This was deadly both for the spirits and their handlers.

It meant this ghostly object was born a nemesis to spirit handlers, who were inherently suppressed in its presence, without exception.

Time passed second by second. The ghost remained motionless, but none of them relaxed; even in the last few seconds before the hour, the ghost could strike.

Tick... tick... tick...

As the seconds slipped away, the black-robed ghost still showed no movement.

At 12:31 a.m., Zhou Bin survived!

Stunned, dazed, panicked, helpless, joyous—an overwhelming flood of emotions engulfed them.

Shen Lin’s pupils contracted as he contemplated everything.

The anomaly in the event’s progression made him immediately look at Xiong Wenwen. He suspected the precognitive ghost’s ability had been affected. This was the most terrifying possibility: if the precognition was compromised and these results were wrong, then all the patterns they had deduced were a joke.

Wait, they couldn’t be so pessimistic.

Perhaps, like the first time, they had somehow evaded the pattern.

What had Zhou Bin done? What had the first Xiong Wenwen done?

What tiny, almost imperceptible action was the key to survival?

“I’m... I’m still alive?” Zhou Bin exclaimed in disbelief. After despair came hope, and his joy was so intense it felt like his heart would burst.

“Shut up. Look at you—your ‘Bear Dad’ didn’t say a word. Pathetic,” Xiong Wenwen sneered, completely forgetting her earlier tears and snot.

“Tch, little brat.”

The joy of surviving temporarily eased their fear, allowing them to bicker under such dire circumstances.

Shen Lin withdrew his ability and said to Xiong Wenwen,

“Try again. See when the next time of death is.”

Xiong Wenwen nodded and entered a precognitive state.

Shen Lin’s eyes flickered as he stared deeply into Xiong Wenwen’s gaze, harboring his own calculations.

Assuming Xiong Wenwen had been influenced by the vengeful spirit, everything they knew was completely off. Three death premonitions, two of which were wrong—such a result was hard not to make one’s imagination run wild.

What should he choose?

Shen Lin’s thoughts intertwined like a web, connecting everything in a sprawling network.

To trust Xiong Wenwen, believing her ability remained intact and all deviations were mere coincidences avoiding the pattern.

Or to distrust her, accepting that all current patterns were misdirection planted by the vengeful spirit, forcing them to start over and discover the ghost’s true pattern.

What to choose? Shen Lin asked himself.

Two completely different approaches, two entirely opposite mindsets—one might be right, offering a chance to resolve everything.

Or both could be wrong, and all this was just the ghost stairway toying with them, the ghost having grown unimaginably powerful.

Shen Lin pondered deeply, a fierce internal struggle raging within his mind.

The core of vengeful spirit affairs was always trust and choice. You never knew when, where, how—or if—someone you deeply trusted had been influenced by the spirit.

If so, trusting them would lead the team to ruin.

If not, distrust would lead them to ruin as well.

Life was no game—there was no margin for error. Every decision was a matter of life and death.

After a long moment, Xiong Wenwen withdrew her ability and waved her hand calmly.

“No, nothing will happen in the next ten minutes.”

Boom! Like an overwhelming disparity, like the last straw breaking the donkey’s back, Shen Lin furrowed his brow, looking at Xiong Wenwen with unprecedented seriousness.

Then he turned his gaze back to the mottled staircase.

This ghostly thing truly posed a formidable challenge.

He did not fully trust Xiong Wenwen’s precognition. He held the ghost candle in his hand, planning to light it near 12:40.

Knowing Xiong Wenwen’s precognition might be compromised, he dared not blindly follow everything.

The wait was agonizing. Shen Lin remained silent, casting a heavy, oppressive atmosphere over the room.

During this time, he cautiously scrutinized the ghost stairway.

This was the core objective of their mission. They had prepared five golden folding boxes that could be linked together to form a sufficiently large sealed environment, enough to imprison the ghost stairway.

Once confined, the entire ghost problem in Dongchuan City would collapse on its own.

The mottled steps, the moldy moss, the blood-red stains—all ominous signs.

Shen Lin frowned, recalling the strange tremor he felt in the ghostly visage within the ghost stairway last time.

Because of its ability to affect vengeful spirits, this power seemed two-sided; within a certain range, most vengeful spirits would be sensitive to it. But now, the ghostly visage was as silent as before.

Had the black-robed ghost’s strike suppressed it?

Or was there some deeper cause?

A strange, inexplicable sensation brewed in Shen Lin’s heart.

“Shen Lin! Something’s wrong!” Xiong Wenwen suddenly shouted.

Shen Lin braced himself, the ghost candle in his hand ready to be lit at any moment.

“What’s wrong?”

“The vengeful spirit inside me feels wrong—there’s a sign of revival!” Xiong Wenwen yelled.

The precognitive ghost was among the milder types of vengeful spirits; its revival was much slower than others. Xiong Wenwen’s frequent use of her ability was based on this premise; otherwise, she would have been dead long ago.

Previously, Shen Lin had checked; the precognitive ghost was in a relatively stable phase, still some distance from revival.

So Xiong Wenwen’s current state was highly abnormal.

Shen Lin was about to speak when Zhou Bin suddenly said,

“Me too. The drunken ghost inside me seems to have been stimulated, its revival accelerated.”

Shen Lin’s pupils tightened. As if anticipating this, he immediately looked at the wooden stick in the black-robed ghost’s hand.

This ghostly object had unexpected powers—besides suppressing vengeful spirits, it could accelerate their revival. For spirit handlers, this was a devastating blow.

What was this? Since the ghostly visage’s revival was already quite advanced, had he failed to notice this further acceleration?

Shen Lin began to understand.

Only because Xiong Wenwen and Zhou Bin’s revival levels were so low could they sense all this—the strange wooden stick was treacherous.

Just one use caused such dreadful consequences. What about two or three times? Even if they did not die outright, the revived spirits within them would crush them!

The situation was escalating to the extreme.

They no longer had the luxury to gamble! Shen Lin realized this clearly. If at 12:40, as Xiong Wenwen said, nothing happened, there was still hope. But what if not?

The ghostly visage’s revival was too advanced—they could not withstand another accelerated revival.

He glanced at his watch.

12:38 a.m.—only two minutes left.

Shen Lin gritted his teeth and made a bold decision.

“At 12:40, we remain completely still—no movement, no breathing, no blinking—nothing. Then we precognize again!”

Xiong Wenwen responded immediately, without hesitation.

The future unfolded before her, and after a moment, she shouted,

“Shen Lin, you will die! I see you attacked—and then dead!”