Nightmare Apostle

Chapter 843: Chapter 620: Cost_3

The wind was blowing in the opposite direction.

Upon realizing this, Fang Zhou’s heart trembled. He remembered Steward Wu reminding them to look for anything out of the ordinary, and he was convinced that this was it.

He wasn’t sure whether he was lucky or unlucky to have encountered something strange in the very first area.

The lessons from his past encounters taught him one thing: running was futile in situations like this. Trying to escape accomplished nothing. The only option was to face the difficulty head-on, find the root cause, and deal with it. Only then was there a sliver of a chance to survive.

He mustered up his courage and carefully made his way from the windowless side to the wooden door of the stone house, peering inside. Everything looked the same as before; he could not find any changes, not to mention people, there was not even a ghostly silhouette.

At the same time, the "pitter-patter" sound had also stopped, and standing outside the door, Fang Zhou could clearly feel the wind blowing outward.

But a few seconds later, he caught a strange whiff in the wind, mixed with a rotten stench, distinctly different from the blood scent of Life Burning Incense.

He had just arrived, and the wind direction had changed, and the window paper no longer moved; he didn’t believe in such a coincidence. This made him even more convinced there was something wrong with this house, although for the moment, he couldn’t quite figure it out.

Half of the ashes had already been used up. From here on out, he had to be even more cautious. Unless absolutely necessary, he couldn’t waste this last chance.

He tried to return to the spot where he had noticed the oddity. Sure enough, the next second, the familiar "pitter-patter" sound started up again. This time, Fang Zhou felt the hairs on his body stand on end—the problem was indeed with this house!

But because of the last experience, Fang Zhou didn’t rush to check the door. Instead, he tiptoed to the back of the window, hiding underneath it, peeking inside through the torn gaps in the window paper.

There was no light from the lanterns, and the room was very dark. An inexplicable chilly wind blew through, carrying bursts of disgusting, rotten stench, much stronger than at the front of the door, nauseatingly so.

However, Fang Zhou didn’t give up. He kept his eyes fixed on the darkness inside the house, and finally, as his vision slowly adjusted to the dark, he witnessed a horrifying scene. Near the bed inside the house stood a silhouette. It was unclear whether the figure was wearing dark clothes or had rotted entirely; it eerily merged with the darkness, leaving only a vague outline.

He knew that he must not let this opportunity slip away; it would never come again. Fang Zhou, filled with unprecedented courage and throwing away the lantern in his hand, punched and shattered the window in front of him. Simultaneously charging up his right hand, he scattered the ashes through the broken window frame right at the moment it cracked.

With the timing, strength, and skill all peaking at this moment—at least, Fang Zhou believed they were—at the scattering of the ashes upon the silhouette, the environment inside the room changed, and the figure became fully revealed.

But upon seeing the figure clearly, Fang Zhou was taken aback for a moment. The person had a hefty build, almost splitting the clothes apart with his bloated body, not much different from the ghost in the well he had seen previously. And he was certain; this was not the target, the Ancestor, for the night. The Ancestor wouldn’t be dressed so shabbily; this was clearly the attire of a servant in the house.

But... how could a servant’s corpse appear here?

Before Fang Zhou could make sense of it, the originally stiff servant began to turn around gradually. He widened his eyes in terror, not solely because the servant’s corpse suddenly moved on its own, but because the movement was too sinister, not at all like it was of the servant’s own volition.

It was as if some sinister force was controlling it, as if puppeteering the corpse. This kind of transmission couldn’t be too far away, judging from the posture—right below!

At the feet of the corpse!

Fang Zhou immediately thought of where the Ancestor was hiding. Yes, it was under that worn-out wooden bed, once so close to him. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

But now it was too late to say anything. Fang Zhou hurried to pick up the lantern in his hand, but to no avail—the candle inside had long been extinguished. When he looked up again, a bloated, rotten ghost face was already pressed close to his.