Translator: CinderTL
"A fierce ghost is at work, and ghostly soldiers are killing people."
This claim piqued everyone's interest—they'd never heard anything like it before.
Seeing the young people's increasingly intrigued expressions, Wu Dali thought they must be mad. He kindly warned, "There's something wrong with Train No. 5. It's not carrying people; it's carrying ghosts!"
"Every night, they return to the Feng family to seek revenge."
"But the Feng family didn't kill them. Why would they seek revenge from the Feng family?" Fatty asked, but his tone sounded suspiciously like he was playing along with Jiang Cheng's act, trying to draw Wu Dali out.
"Oh, you think ghosts are like people?" Wu Dali said with a pained expression, staring at Fatty's broad face. "They're ghosts! Do you think ghosts care about reason?"
"Besides, if the Feng family hadn't found Train No. 5 to send those disaster victims away, they wouldn't have been caught up in this mess, right?" Wu Dali continued.
"Alright, I won't waste any more time on this. Take my words as you will. If you don't want to listen, that's your choice. We're just strangers who met by chance. This is all I can do."
Wu Dali led them to a grand mansion. Even standing outside the gate, they could see the stylish three-story villa inside.
Judging by the height and length of the surrounding wall, the mansion covered a considerable area.
A plaque hung above the gate, bearing the bold characters "Feng Manor" in a powerful, flowing script.
Yet, even in broad daylight, the gate remained tightly shut. White cloth and paper flowers adorned the stone lions flanking the entrance and the pillars on either side.
Clearly, someone had died within the Feng Manor.
Perhaps it was the story's influence, but just standing at the gate, they felt a chill wind sweep over them.
"What are you standing around for?" Turning back, they found Wu Dali had already ducked into a nearby alley. Seeing no one following, he emerged again, his voice sharp with impatience. "With such a tragedy in the family, do you really expect them to open the main gate for you?"
"And don't you know your place? Hurry up and follow me through the side entrance." Wu Dali held back a comment he didn't dare voice: Even if Director Qiao himself came, the Feng family wouldn't open the main gate to greet him.
There was nothing they could do. The Feng Family was a powerful clan with deep roots and connections.
In Grey Stone Town, if you said the Feng Family was second richest, no one would dare claim first place.
But now...
Wu Dali glanced at the white cloth, Lifeline Notes, and Ghost money in front of the gate and shook his head. After this incident, the Feng Family wouldn't just be finished—they'd likely be wiped out.
What good was wealth when everyone was dead?
Jiang Cheng and the others followed Wu Dali into a nondescript alleyway. At the end of the alley stood a pair of double wooden doors.
Though called a side gate, it was far sturdier than the average household's entrance. The wood was solid, exuding a sense of history and weight, and looked incredibly durable.
Two paintings were pasted above the doors.
One depicted Zhong Kui, the demon-slayer, capturing a ghost. The other was unfamiliar to the group, but it showed a high-ranking monk in a golden robe sitting cross-legged on a straw mat with his eyes closed, striking a wooden fish.
It was likely related to prayer and exorcism.
Seeing that everyone had arrived, Wu Dali took a deep breath, stepped forward, and gently knocked on the door a few times. After a few seconds, he called out, "Crippled Liu, this is Wu Dali. Director Qiao sent me to bring people."
Wu Dali called out several times, but there was no response from inside the gate.
Just as Jiang Cheng and the others began to feel uneasy, a strange sound of footsteps emerged from within.
How to describe it?
It was like someone tiptoeing quickly, trying not to make any noise.
Upon hearing the footsteps, almost everyone simultaneously took a step back, leaving Wu Dali alone in front of the gate.
But Wu Dali seemed unfazed. He was only concerned with completing the task Director Qiao had assigned him and getting away quickly, avoiding any lingering bad luck. Nothing else mattered to him.
Creak...
The gate cracked open a sliver.
The atmosphere outside instantly tensed. Huai Yi, Chen Qiang, and Fatty Pi Ruan immediately huddled behind Jiang Cheng, leaving Lin Wan'er alone in the open.
Fatty reached out and tugged at Lin Wan'er's sleeve.
Through the crack in the gate, they saw a bloodshot eye. It was positioned very low, suggesting the person behind the door was only about a meter tall.
After a moment of scrutiny, the gate creaked open, revealing a man of utterly grotesque appearance.
He was leaning on a crude walking stick carved from a thick tree branch. His right leg wasn't simply broken or afflicted with a foot problem. It had atrophied, shrunken to a mere third of the size of his left leg. It seemed that sometime after he reached a certain age, his right leg had simply stopped growing for some unknown reason.
The withered leg hung limply, swaying precariously, making him look utterly bizarre.
Crippled Liu, as he was known, was also missing an eye. Judging by the scar, it looked like it had been clawed out by some animal. His nose was caved in, his nostrils flared outward, and his thick lips puffed out heavy breaths. It seemed that simply walking from inside the gate to the door had exhausted him.
"Crippled Liu, what were you doing in there?" Wu Dali asked, his tone slightly impatient. "You made us wait so long."
"I was busy," Crippled Liu replied, his voice raspy like sand. After scanning the group, he asked, "Are these the people Director Qiao sent?"
"Yes."
"How many?" Crippled Liu inquired, his single eye fixed on them.
"Eleven."
"Alright." Crippled Liu shakily opened the wooden gate and stepped aside, standing behind it. "Come in."
(End of the Chapter)
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