Chapter Thirty-nine: Reborn as if anew, the Parade of a Hundred Demons

At this moment, Lin Ran could not even define his own feelings. If he hadn’t known this was Ghost City, perhaps he would have instinctively assumed he had died. Watching the wandering spirits drifting aimlessly like lost souls, a wave of sorrow welled up in his heart. So many wrongful deaths, so many ghosts unable to reincarnate, forever stripped of the chance to be human again.

It was a pity he was not a Daoist priest—those had the power to guide restless souls. Yet, even if he were, with so many souls, how long would it take to deliver them all? In the vast airport hall alone, there were hundreds, perhaps thousands. And in the whole of Ghost City? Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Likely more—Lin Ran estimated at least several million, since Ghost City had existed since ancient times.

Suddenly, a glimpse from the corner of his eye caught something—right where he had come in, in the security guard’s office. The guard still maintained the same posture as before, but now several ghosts surrounded him, their faces radiating pleasure, as if intoxicated with opium.

Lin Ran’s expression darkened. Those ghosts were clearly feeding on the guard’s vital energy. In just this short while, the guard’s hair had turned several shades whiter. For ghosts to consume the living’s energy was intolerable! Even though Lin Ran was no Daoist, he would not permit such things to happen.

He strode quickly to the office, staring coldly at the little ghosts feeding with relish on the guard. The ghosts noticed him too, regarding him with hungry eyes, as if sizing up a feast. Two of them even began to approach, clearly intending to make Lin Ran their next target.

“Get lost!” As they came closer, Lin Ran gave a sudden, thunderous shout and swung the mourning staff he’d prepared straight at one of them. Taken off guard, the ghost was instantly scattered to oblivion.

The companion ghost froze in shock—never expecting that someone who looked like prey could wield a white staff capable of annihilating its kind so utterly. As its gaze met Lin Ran’s, it realized the staff was already overhead. Unsurprisingly, it too was struck down, vanishing in utter terror in its final moment.

The last ghost, still beside the guard, sensed something was wrong and tried to flee, only to find Lin Ran had somehow appeared at its side.

“Trying to run? When you chose to do evil, you should have prepared for the consequences.” Lin Ran sneered, raising his mourning staff slowly before bringing it down on the ghost.

Terrified, the ghost found its legs leaden and immovable, while the staff in Lin Ran’s hand seemed to swell into a mountain.

Just as Lin Ran was about to deliver the final blow, something unexpected happened—the ghost fell to its knees with a thud, bowing its head repeatedly in abject supplication.

Staring at the enormous white staff, the little ghost suddenly recalled a memory from the time of its own death, when it had wandered lost, unable to reincarnate and surrounded by terrifying spirits. In desperation, it had hidden in a small temple. It was then that a figure appeared—a man dressed in white, holding a staff exactly like the one before him now, who had brought him here.

Lin Ran was surprised by the ghost’s behavior. By all rights, a ghost that consumed human energy should have lost its mind, yet just now he clearly sensed this one had regained its senses. Was there some hidden reason?

“You still have your wits about you?” Lin Ran asked coldly, suppressing his confusion as he looked down at the ghost bowing and begging for mercy.

“Spare me, master! Spare me! I was confused—I made a terrible mistake in a moment of weakness!” The ghost’s voice trembled, fading in and out, heavy with fear.

“Hmph! A moment of confusion? More like a death wish! Who told you to feed on human energy?” Lin Ran’s tone grew harsher, his cold snort nearly sending the ghost’s form scattering in terror.

Seeing the ghost’s shape flicker helplessly, Lin Ran quickly produced a small jar, pinched out a bit of ashen powder from within, and sprinkled it over the ghost. The powder settled, and the ghost’s dissipating form stabilized.

He hadn’t expected his snort alone nearly to destroy the ghost. Clearly, the powder—given to him by his third aunt and said to be of great use—was more precious than it appeared; it could stabilize a soul’s form.

“Thank you for saving me, master! My life is yours from now on—your loyal servant until oblivion!” The ghost’s gratitude was palpable, its fear replaced by reverence. Plainly, this master was not the ferocious demon of legend. If Lin Ran had known what the ghost was thinking, he might have burst out laughing.

“Get up and speak!” Lin Ran said, finding the situation almost amusing. Dead already, and still talking about life! Nevertheless, he nodded gravely. That jar of ash was more precious than he had realized.

“I do not dare, master!” The ghost replied humbly, its respect only deepening after what had just happened.

“I told you to get up! Or do you expect me to keep bowing my head to talk to you?” Lin Ran chided, growing more adept at asserting his newfound authority.

“Yes, master!” The ghost rose, but kept its head bowed.

“I have a question—how did you come to feed on human energy?” Lin Ran pressed, eager to solve the mystery.

“Master, I do not know! I only recall that one day I saw something, caught a faint whiff of a strange fragrance, and suddenly felt compelled to seek out human energy.” The ghost risked a glance at Lin Ran and, seeing no sign of anger, relaxed a little.

“Something? What did you see? Tell me in detail!” Lin Ran demanded, his frown deepening.

“That day, I was wandering the streets as usual, when I heard the beating of drums and gongs. A crowd was carrying something slowly in this direction. Before I could see what it was, a strange scent wafted over—and then I became like this. The two who were destroyed just now saw it too.” The ghost gestured to where its companions had vanished.

“A parade of ghosts? A strange fragrance?” Lin Ran frowned.

A procession of a hundred ghosts—the night parade of spirits. The thought sent a chill through him. Something was about to change. Some great calamity was brewing.