Nightmare Apostle

Chapter 546: Chapter 474: Ghost Call

"Alright, it’s a deal!" Yang Xiao gave a carefree smile. Although the monk had an odd personality, he wasn’t annoying—sometimes, he even had a bit of dark humor.

Upon returning to the villa, Yang Xiao immediately checked the bedroom door on the first floor. This bedroom was the scene of the earliest murder case, where the first victim, Fei Yong, met his death. At this moment, the bedroom door was tightly shut, blocked by a couch outside.

During the daytime investigation, they had checked and found no signs of the bedroom door being opened, no traces on the stairs or the first floor’s hall. It was truly baffling how the ghost had appeared.

Before it got completely dark, Yang Xiao changed into a blue skirt, put on a long wavy wig, slipped into flesh-colored stockings, and stepped into a pair of thin red high heels. Looking at himself in the mirror, he felt somewhat dazed for a moment.

"This is too eye-watering..."

Yang Xiao didn’t care much about saving face, but if someone caught a photo of him like this—not even a person, but if a ghost caught him—he would chase after it, wielding the Human Bone Staff to crack the ghost on the back of its skull, making it forget everything.

Lying in bed with his eyes closed, images from the photo flashed through Yang Xiao’s mind, "I hope there will be good news from Teacher Wang tomorrow..."

The night grew deeper, and Yang Xiao couldn’t feel any sleepiness. To say he wasn’t nervous was a lie; dressed up like this, living alone on the second floor of a large villa, he might very well face a visit from a ghost tonight. The mere thought was enough to make anyone crumble.

There was an old-style clock hanging on the wall, encased in a metal shell. The second hand was ticking away, its "tick-tick" sounds crisp in the silent night, like the notes of a death knell.

The more he listened, the more irritated Yang Xiao became. He got out of bed, climbed onto the table, and took the clock down, removing the battery from inside.

Now, it was completely quiet around him.

Without the clock, he still had his phone to check the time. He casually placed the clock on the desk, walked over to the couch in his high heels, picked up his jacket, and fished out his cell phone, pressing the power button. But after waiting a while, the screen didn’t light up.

"Huh?"

Yang Xiao picked up the phone and looked closely. He remembered that this type of phone had excellent battery life—if used sparingly, it could last 10 days. How could it be out of charge?

Yet, moments later, he shivered violently as he realized what was happening. The phone wasn’t out of battery; it was broken. And this wasn’t even his phone—it was Monk Wukong’s broken phone!

His phone had been fine when he left the Century Eastern Hotel. It must have been Monk Wukong who swapped it while he was trying on the skirt and helped him with his clothes!

It had to be it!

The scene before him hit Yang Xiao like a bolt of lightning, causing him to collapse uncontrollably onto the couch. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He had not expected Monk Wukong to pull such a move on him.

So many people had died, and their phones were left behind. Why...why would he only steal his? There was no need, unless... the monk wanted him dead!

Unable to make phone calls tonight, Fei Rou would have no idea about the situation here. She was bound to send someone to look for trouble tomorrow.

At best, he would face a vicious beating, at worst, lose his life. As the mission approached its end, whether it be the ghost or any crucial clue-bearing characters, they all became increasingly frenzied.

His first impulse was to run out, to find Monk Wukong before midnight arrived, demanding his phone back. But that would necessarily mean leaving the villa, and the horrific manner of A Qiang’s death was still vivid in his mind.

At the same time, Yang Xiao realized something else—the monk swapping his phone offered no advantage to him, considering even the monk wouldn’t need the phone tonight. So why would he go out of his way to offend him? After all, there was only a one in three chance that he’d be killed tonight. If it wasn’t him, he would surely give the monk trouble as soon as daylight broke.

As these thoughts churned in his mind, the moment when Monk Wukong parted ways with him surfaced again—Wukong had said they would meet outside the complex in the morning, and he would treat him to steamed buns. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

Time ticked away by the minute, and in the dead of night, at the Century Eastern Hotel, Room 9018.

The curtains were tightly drawn, the room almost completely dark. On the spacious bed, a figure lay facing up with a slight rise and fall of the chest, seemingly asleep.

The next second, the person in the bed jolted awake—it was Zhang Man. At this moment, she was wearing a newly purchased dark blue dress, flesh-colored stockings, and a pair of red high heels. Even her hair was cut short, shorter than Yang Xiao and the other men’s.

Compared to Yang Xiao and his peers, Zhang Man now looked more like a dolled-up man, with a flair they couldn’t imitate. However, she lay on the bed, motionless and staring with eyes full of terror.

She didn’t know when she had fallen asleep. The last thing she remembered was texting Fei Rou that she was safe, sitting at the edge of the bed to rest for a while, and then... then upon opening her eyes, she was in the current situation. What’s more terrifying was that the room’s light had been extinguished, and she did not know who had done it.

Without any doubt, Zhang Man immediately realized her predicament—she had been targeted by a ghost. Damn it, after all, she wasn’t really a cross-dresser!

It was futile to say anything now. Only she could save herself. Zhang Man forced herself to stay calm, slow her breathing, knowing too well that the more panicked and hurried she was, the faster she would die.

The silence around was extraordinary, as if all the sounds outside the window had been erased from the world, leaving only Zhang Man.

"Crack—"

Zhang Man’s eyes suddenly widened. She heard a very light, prolonged friction sound—right beneath her!

There was someone under the bed!!

The sound was like fingernails scraping across a wooden board, light yet drawn out. As it moved, Zhang Man confirmed something even more horrifying—whatever was hiding under her bed was now crawling out.

A ghost was emerging from under her bed. The mere thought of that scene sent her into meltdown; she had no idea what she could have possibly done wrong.

She dared not turn her head to look. She could only pretend to be asleep, squinting her eyes in the hope of fooling the intruder.

Quickly she saw, from the corner of her eye, a blurry figure slowly crawl up beside her bed. Her heart lifted to her throat. The terror of the fierce ghost far surpassed imagination—hair disheveled, limbs twisted, half of the body collapsed, covered with bloodstains, and missing a right leg. The blue dress it wore was glaringly conspicuous.

It was none other than the tragically deceased Wang Zhongli—it was him!!

At that moment, the fierce ghost tilted its head, looking down at Zhang Man’s face. Yet in a scene that could have made anyone’s heart stop, Zhang Man miraculously suppressed her fear. Her body didn’t even shake, and she remained as still as Sleeping Beauty.

The standoff continued as time ticked away. Just as Zhang Man’s nerves were about to snap, the ghostly figure moved. It turned around and, with stiff, slow hops, reminiscent of a Qing Dynasty zombie from a last-century Hong Kong-Taiwan zombie film, hopped away.

"Tap."

"Tap."

The sound of the high heels grew fainter until they disappeared completely, but Zhang Man remained still, determined to last until dawn.

After a very long time, the first light of dawn touched the sky, sending glimmers of light through the tightly drawn curtains. Only at that moment did Zhang Man let go, overcome with tears from the feeling of having survived a catastrophe—an experience incomprehensible to those who never faced it.

She kicked off her high heels and wobbly stepped down from the bed. Reaching for her phone on the pillow, she lit up the screen and, barefoot, walked toward the window. She prepared to call her teammates to assure them of her safety. But soon a surprising scene unfolded—her phone had no signal.

"What’s going on?"

Zhang Man, growing impatient, put down the phone and pulled open the tightly closed curtains. The next second, a broken, twisted figure suddenly appeared before her.

The ghost was hiding behind the curtain, never having left. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

And what shattered Zhang Man was that it was still dark outside. A muddy path had inexplicably appeared, with a large truck featuring a blue front parked on it. The truck’s dim yellow headlights were shining straight at her window.

The next second, before Zhang Man could let out a scream, the truck charged forward, smashing through the glass without obstruction and knocking her flying out.