What followed was an extremely mournful wailing, intertwined and overlapping with a grating laughter, echoing madly.
Cao Yang and a group of people appeared not far away. He roared loudly, “Liu San! Help!”
But Liu San thought of something. He abruptly turned his head, looking at the wad of tattered cotton quilts inside that robot—the supernatural item that served as a complementary puzzle piece to that ghost.
“It’s over…”
Two ghost puzzle pieces that were originally part of a single whole complemented each other in that instant.
The next second, the already extreme low temperature suddenly plummeted even further.
A thick stench of corpses abruptly permeated the air, like a body that had been sealed in a freezer for ages being suddenly exposed to the scorching sun—its flesh rapidly rotting and fermenting, emitting a nauseating, putrid odor.
On that withered corpse, an old cotton quilt was rolled up like a scroll, wrapping and covering the corpse like a burial shroud, binding Xiong Wenwen tightly along with it.
And the skin of that corpse seemed frozen by the extreme low temperature, presenting an abnormal cyanotic purple.
Accompanying the change in the corpse’s color, the surrounding buildings were also faintly stained with a light cyanotic purple.
“Ghost Domain.”
Seeing Liu San completely unresponsive, Cao Yang grew somewhat anxious. Xiong Wenwen couldn’t die—a ghost controller of this type, the headquarters only had one. If he died so easily, it would be a devastating loss for headquarters.
He shouted anxiously at Liu San, “Liu San! If you don’t help now, we’ll all die here together!”
Pieces of yellow paper abruptly appeared, slowly drifting down from the sky, but Liu San wore a grave expression. He couldn’t determine that ghost’s current state, nor was he clear whether everyone’s attacks could take effect.
On the ground, grave soil churned. Feng Quan was still persisting, even though his effect was now minimal.
Within the thin white fog, ferocious tattoos intertwined frantically. Behind Zhang Han’s overcoat, something slowly swelled—a humanoid shape rapidly bulging.
A mass of black hair swept past him, covered in shredded flesh and blood foam, racing along the ground.
Then, everything came to an abrupt halt.
All supernatural means, the instant they neared that corpse, simultaneously stagnated. The supernatural seemed frozen, and none of the attacks had any effect whatsoever.
The yellow paper and white fog dissipated, the tattoos faded, the grave soil crumbled, and the jet-black hair severed in unison, falling limply to the ground.
Only a nearly transparent footprint remained, floating alone before that corpse, trembling slightly—it looked like it wouldn’t last much longer.
Amidst the chaotic scene, no one noticed Tong Qian staring blankly at a corpse on the ground, that half-tattered newspaper covering half of the corpse’s face. No one knew what she was thinking.
A faint cyanotic purple permeated the air, gradually covering the entire area. The nauseating stench of corpses grew increasingly thick.
“At this level, my paper man can’t even get close.”
Liu San glanced at the corpse wrapped in the cotton quilt. This was no longer an incident they could handle. Aside from captain-level personnel arriving, others facing it was no different from sending themselves to die.
The reason this ghost hadn’t actively attacked them yet was only because the puzzle piece wasn’t fully complete. As time passed, once that cotton quilt completely wrapped the corpse, the few people present would be instantly killed by it.
“Retreat. If we continue, more people will die. There’s not much time left. I’ll secure an opportunity for you all to withdraw.”
After speaking, Liu San turned and walked toward that robot.
Perhaps due to the killing pattern of this corpse, Xiong Wenwen had actually not completely died yet. His eyes were tightly shut, his skin cracked from the extreme low temperature and presenting a cyanotic purple, his lips trembling slightly—as if he still retained a trace of consciousness.
Zhang Han looked at Xiong Wenwen, who was not yet fully dead, and wanted to try one more time.
He pulled out a worn-out camera from his bosom. Its surface was mottled and dilapidated, dried brown blood seeping into the crevices, emitting an eerie aura.
“Ghost Camera? You can’t photograph that ghost.”
Cao Yang recognized that camera at a glance; he had seen it at headquarters.
“I know.”
Zhang Han looked at the eerie camera in his hand. Among the three conditions he had proposed to headquarters was borrowing a supernatural item with a lower danger coefficient.
“But I want to gamble once.”
Without hesitation, Zhang Han raised the camera, aimed it at the Frozen Ghost, and pressed the shutter.
“Click—”
From inside the camera came a grating sound like bones grinding against each other. Immediately after, a black-and-white photo slowly ejected from the bottom of the camera.
Zhang Han’s luck was good. This camera didn’t attack him, successfully photographing that corpse and Xiong Wenwen.
In the photo was a ghastly pale, blurry figure tightly hugging a little boy, its outline twisted, the edges blurred as if eroded.
Clearly, the terror level of that corpse exceeded that of the Ghost Camera; the camera couldn’t completely freeze it within the photograph.
But Xiong Wenwen’s figure appeared clearly within the photo.
Zhang Han’s action was tantamount to creating a supernatural clash between the Ghost Camera and that corpse.
The corpse wanted to kill Xiong Wenwen, but Xiong Wenwen had already been photographed by the Ghost Camera, imprinted within the photo. To kill Xiong Wenwen, it would first have to override the Ghost Camera’s rules.
But at this moment, the Ghost Camera was also attacking Xiong Wenwen.
Under the mutual supernatural clash, a brief and extremely unstable equilibrium formed.
Immediately, a bizarre scene occurred.
Within that corpse’s embrace, Xiong Wenwen’s figure flickered in and out of existence, ethereal and unreal, as if torn between reality and the photograph.
And in that photo, Xiong Wenwen’s original position was now completely empty.
That portion of the image was pitch-black, as if cut out with scissors.
Cao Yang looked at the incomplete photo in Zhang Han’s hand.
“That’s all it amounts to. You’ve merely delayed his death. As time passes, that child will still die.”
Though it was cruel to Xiong Wenwen, this was the truth.
Whether he died by that corpse or by the Ghost Camera, the outcome wouldn’t change.
Zhang Han remained silent. Of course he understood this. The current situation was nothing but a dying struggle.
He raised his head, looking toward the gloomy sky, his gaze seeming to pierce through the clouds toward the distant moon.
“Captain… if it were you, what would you do?”
For now, although that corpse and the Ghost Camera were locked in a brief silence under supernatural conflict, no one knew how long this equilibrium could last. Perhaps the next second, Xiong Wenwen would immediately perish.
Though Xiong Wenwen was indeed important, Cao Yang definitely wouldn’t foolishly court death. The current situation was no longer something they could resolve. If they didn’t retreat now, the dead wouldn’t be limited to just Xiong Wenwen alone.
Cao Yang patted Zhang Han’s shoulder and urged, “Don’t stand there in a daze. Let’s go quickly…”
Zhang Han remained silent for a few seconds. He also knew the current situation wasn’t suitable for lingering. Huang Ziya and the others were still here; he couldn’t act on impulse.