Chapter 7: Dining with the Deceptive

"Zhang Ming?"

Shen Lin called out cautiously, attempting to verify something through his voice.

There was no response. Zhang Ming, half-slumped against the wall, was in a very different state from the others. Though gaunt, he had not been reduced to a desiccated corpse. He appeared covered in blood, and his wide-open eyes spoke of the resentment and unwillingness he felt before death.

"Zhang Ming?"

Shen Lin called out again as he moved slowly forward. He dared not delay too long; if Zhang Ming were truly dead, the ghost within him would soon revive, and he would be the first to face its wrath.

Standing before Zhang Ming, Shen Lin tentatively checked his breathing and pulse. From a human perspective, he was undoubtedly dead. However, ghost controllers were not normal human beings; most of their bodies differed significantly from the living, often resembling the dead instead.

He had to proceed under the assumption that Zhang Ming was dead. He had no time to waste. Shen Lin reached out to close the dead man's eyes, then immediately focused on Zhang Ming's head. In his memory, the first time Zhang Ming had clashed with that woman-ghost, it was his head that had begun to change.

What was this? A ghost skull? Was he supposed to cut off his own head to swap it with the other's? If he cut his own off, he would be dead before he even had a chance to swap. There had to be another way. Shen Lin gritted his teeth and began to search Zhang Ming's body, even tearing open his clothes for a better view.

Finally, he discovered a vivid, lifelike ghost face right where the heart should be.

The face was drawn in simple, crude red lines, occupying the space over the heart as if it were smiling. That smile was bone-chilling. Even during the brief moment he stared at it, Shen Lin could feel a sense of being peered at, a gaze emanating from within the sketch.

The sensation was incredibly strange. When you feel like you are locking eyes with a drawing, you can no longer tell if there is something wrong with the picture or with yourself.

"Hm?" Shen Lin paused, his expression turning grave as he looked at the cheeks of the sketched ghost face.

Was it an illusion? Why did it feel like the lines of the drawing were becoming clearer and fuller, as if the ghost face were perfecting itself?

Damn it! This thing was reviving!

Shen Lin swung his arms, snatched the dagger from Zhang Ming's body, and stabbed it violently toward the ghost face.

*Pfft!*

The wound he expected appeared, and blood even sprayed onto Shen Lin’s face. But as he withdrew the dagger, the wound twitched eerily. The eyes of the sketched ghost face began to glow with a faint red light, and in the next second, the wound vanished, and the image of the ghost face became one-third more vivid.

He couldn't wait any longer. This ghost thing was reviving much faster than he had imagined. He had to find a way to deal with it immediately.

"Sorry about this!"

Shen Lin muttered to Zhang Ming, then held the blade horizontally and sliced toward the outermost edge of the ghost face. He was going to cut this sketched face out!

There was no technique to speak of; Shen Lin's method was catastrophic. To ensure the entire area of the ghost face remained intact, he didn't hesitate to destroy most of the flesh around Zhang Ming's heart, cutting it all away together.

The supernatural occurrence he feared did not happen; the unrevived ghost face was far more docile than he had anticipated. The moment the entire sketched ghost face was fully excised, he trembled and dry-heaved several times. This was hardly his fault; until recently, he had been just a college graduate, and this was his first encounter with such visceral carnage.

Looking at the bloody flesh in his hand, Shen Lin took a few deep breaths to steady his nerves. He knew nothing of complex ghost-controlling techniques, nor did he possess the myriad sealing methods described in the records.

He had to make a bold, crude, and simple attempt.

Transplantation!

He would cut away the skin and flesh over his own heart and transplant the ghost face onto himself.

The rest would be left to fate. If he were lucky, he would successfully become a ghost controller and gain a few months of life. If he were unlucky, he would die from blood loss.

Success or death!

Shen Lin’s expression turned fierce. He swung the knife with his right hand, beginning to cut into the edge of his own left chest.

Pain. Excruciating pain. It was far more painful than he had imagined. The bone-deep agony made him feel like he might faint. Beads of sweat as large as peas poured from his forehead, and his hands trembled from the intensity of the pain, making the cutting process even more agonizing—a pain beyond description.

*Fast! Fast! Fast!*

Shen Lin muttered to himself, his eyes locked onto the process. His nerves had gone numb; he looked like a madman.

*Rip!*

The final stage could no longer be called cutting; it was tearing! The pain drove him to madness. To accelerate the process, he abandoned the knife, grabbed the partially severed flesh with his right hand, and tore it away with a violent tug. The force was so great that blood splattered everywhere.

*Hum~*

A roar echoed from his brain, like a CPU running at maximum capacity, warning its owner that it was on the verge of collapse.

At the very last moment before his consciousness faded, Shen Lin’s left hand, which had been waiting for this exact moment, pressed the sketched ghost face firmly onto his chest.

Then, his consciousness plunged into chaos.

As Shen Lin collapsed, the eerie mist began to churn. It had expanded to over ten meters, but now it slowly contracted until it completely enveloped him.

He disappeared into the mist, and no one knew whether he was dead or alive.

***

"What is the status?"

In the communications room, Zhao Jianguo appeared once again to inquire about the situation. No one knew what was happening inside, and they were preparing for the worst.

"Reporting to the Captain: the current situation is not ideal. Zhang Ming reported some details. The ghost has used a fog-like method to shroud the entire Anhe Residential District. It is preliminarily judged to be a Ghost Domain."

Ghost Domain...

Zhao Jianguo’s expression soured. At this stage, there were very few ghost controllers in the country capable of handling a Ghost Domain, and most were already stationed in major cities. There was simply no one available near Dashia City.

"What about Zhang Ming?" Zhao Jianguo asked.

"He is missing. Our connection was forcibly severed. I have been calling every 15 minutes, but there has been no answer."

Wu Qiu maintained the high standards of a dispatcher, reporting the situation with clarity. Their work was similar to customer service, dedicated to ghost controllers. They were elite national talents who had undergone rigorous training and possessed high professional standards.

"It seems this is serious. Zhang Ming has handled many incidents alone; such a situation rarely happens. Who is the nearest ghost controller, and how long will reinforcements take?"

Zhao Jianguo rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. The increasingly frequent supernatural outbreaks had become a source of great anxiety. It was as if the world had flicked some bizarre switch, leaving people chilled to the core.

"It’s Jiang Shangbai. I’ve contacted him, but..."

Wu Qiu hesitated, not daring to continue. They dealt with the internal struggles of ghost-controller factions daily and knew quite a bit, but they dared not get too involved. They were the ordinary people closest to the ghost controllers and had witnessed true terror. If one of these people decided to target her, she might die without even knowing why. And in such a situation, don't expect anyone to seek justice for you; no one would offend a ghost controller for the sake of a low-value ordinary person. This was the status quo.

"But what?" Wu Qiu's reaction made Zhao Jianguo’s face sink; he seemed to have anticipated it.

"He has demands."

"Is it Jiang Shangbai’s demand? Or the Circle of Friends'?"

"The Circle of Friends. Mr. Fang Shiming had him convey a message: this incident is at least A-level. The Circle of Friends will not risk themselves for this. If they are to intervene, they require one-tenth of the headquarters' current gold reserves as payment to hedge against the risks."

Lawless! Absolutely lawless!

Zhao Jianguo almost shouted, but he managed to swallow the frustration. No one understood the urgency of the current gold situation better than them. The higher-ups had even issued a strict order: under no circumstances should gold be allowed to flow out easily. One-tenth of the headquarters' reserves was an astronomical figure; they could never agree to such an outrageous demand.

"Reject him. Who else can intervene?"

"No one left," Wu Qiu replied.

Zhao Jianguo frowned. 24 hours was enough to do many things. He realized something. This was likely the style of the Circle of Friends. They had used various methods to draw away the nearby ghost controllers, forcing the headquarters to have no choice but to turn to them. They were forcing the headquarters to compromise.

It was an open conspiracy.

Either leave the situation in Dashia City to its fate, or compromise with them.

A bunch of scoundrels.

Just as Zhao Jianguo was about to lose his temper, he heard hurried footsteps behind him.

"Captain, urgent telegram from Dachang City. Zhou Zheng has completely lost contact. Requesting further instructions."

It never rains, but it pours. Zhao Jianguo’s expression was grim. Zhou Zheng’s condition was dire; his level of revival was extremely high. If he were forced into action, it might cause premature full-revival, which would make the situation even worse.

He turned to instruct Wu Qiu.

"Keep a close watch on Dashia City. Respond immediately if there is any news. If there is still no word from Zhang Ming after 48 hours, reply to the Circle of Friends. Their appetites are too big; one-tenth is impossible. If they can resolve this, I will report it and apply for a supply of five tons of gold for them, and apply for Professor Wang’s latest products. If they don't agree, we will look for someone else."

"Understood!" Wu Qiu replied crisply and began a new round of calling.

As she called, in a certain location within the thick fog, a satellite phone flashed briefly, illuminating a gray, hazy space.

In the thick fog, the area where Shen Lin lay was covered in blood. His clothes were completely soaked, and he remained motionless.

If someone were to reach out and touch him, they would discover the eerie temperature of his body. He still had a pulse, but his skin was as cold as a dead man's.

The briefly vibrating satellite phone jumped a small distance, barely brushing against Shen Lin’s pant leg.

Under the hazy white mist, an eye shimmering with an eerie luster slowly opened.