Chapter 29: Trapped and Slain (Part II)

Previously, they had only cut off communication and transportation, but now things had escalated; everyone was trapped inside the villa. There was no need to check every exit to know that every possible way out had been completely sealed. With all escape routes closed, “Cheng Ziyue” seemed utterly unbothered. The ghostly face on her stomach still wore its ambiguous, almost-smiling expression, the dead-white pallor like a smear of plaster highlighting her bright red lips. It wasn’t exactly ferocious, but to Qi Yan’s eyes, it was all the more uncanny.

What kind of ghost was this? Why had it suddenly appeared in the villa to kill? Had it been lurking here all along, or had it only arrived tonight? There was no time to ponder these questions now.

“Cheng Ziyue” herself showed no emotion, strolling forward unhurriedly, step by step. Though there were four people in the room, her target was clear—she walked straight toward Qi Yan.

He could tell he’d been singled out. Glancing around, he saw that with the doors shut, the moonlight filtering in was even dimmer; the room was nearly pitch-black. He could barely distinguish anyone, except for that ghostly face, visible even in the darkness.

He grabbed a fruit plate from beside him and hurled it at “Cheng Ziyue.” She didn’t even flinch; the plate veered off and crashed to the side.

At that moment, “Cheng Ziyue,” her body now fully under supernatural control, sprang forward in two quick strides and clamped a hand around Qi Yan’s neck with overwhelming strength—far beyond what any ordinary person could muster. This wasn’t his first encounter with the supernatural; he knew how futile it was to resist these things. But instinct took over as his airway was crushed, making him struggle desperately for breath.

One hand gripped at Cheng Ziyue’s, the other groped blindly for anything to strike her with, but found nothing. Her single hand tightened around his throat, rendering his efforts useless. Then her wrist lifted, and Qi Yan’s feet left the ground as she hoisted him in the air.

In the chaos, Yang Han and Du Zhou had vanished somewhere in the vast living room. Only their terrified screams, the clatter of falling objects, and Shirley’s dog barking could be heard.

The suffocating pressure increased; Qi Yan’s face flushed, veins bulged, and his vision started to blur. He could do nothing to break free. For the first time, his survival instincts drove him to call out to the Yin Pendant, cursing inwardly: Aren’t you going to do something?! Is this ghost really more powerful than you?

A phone’s flashlight cut through the gloom from the side. It was Li Ruoke. Unlike the others, she hadn’t panicked or fled. Locating “Cheng Ziyue,” she set the dog down and charged forward, clutching a wine bottle.

With a crash, the bottle shattered across Cheng Ziyue’s head, red wine spraying everywhere. Yet Cheng Ziyue didn’t let go.

Li Ruoke didn’t hesitate; she ducked down and swept a leg at Cheng Ziyue’s ankle. Finally unbalanced, Cheng Ziyue lurched forward, releasing her grip on Qi Yan’s throat. He barely had time to gasp for air before she landed on top of him, clawing again for his neck.

But Li Ruoke was faster; she leapt behind them, locked her arms around Cheng Ziyue’s neck, and tried to choke her from behind.

Pinned beneath them, Qi Yan’s face was buried in Cheng Ziyue’s chest—soft and fragrant, yet icy cold. He had no time for stray thoughts; as Li Ruoke hauled with all her might to drag Cheng Ziyue off, he curled up, planted his feet on Cheng Ziyue’s stomach, and kicked hard.

With their combined effort, “Cheng Ziyue” was finally pried away.

Qi Yan rolled aside, clutching his throat and gasping for breath.

By now, Li Ruoke was fully engaged in a brawl with “Cheng Ziyue”—or rather, “Cheng Ziyue” was simply enduring a one-sided beating.

Scrambling for his dropped phone, Qi Yan shone its light and froze.

He’d always thought girl fights involved hair-pulling and slapping, but this was nothing like that. Li Ruoke fought like a martial arts master, her blows precise and fierce. She pummeled “Cheng Ziyue’s” abdomen with a dozen rapid punches, each landing with a muffled thud. Seeing no effect, she flipped into a handstand and kicked “Cheng Ziyue” hard under the chin, sending her crashing into the stair railing and smashing several porcelain vases along the way.

Qi Yan got to his feet, holding the phone as a flashlight. “You… you’ve had training?”

Li Ruoke raised her fists, ready for more. “Hmph… A girl out in the world with her kid brother—if I hadn’t learned some self-defense, I’d have been bullied to death by now!”

Qi Yan suddenly shouted, “Watch out!”

Li Ruoke spun around. In the beam of the phone’s light, she saw “Cheng Ziyue” awkwardly rising from the floor—her arms, knees, wrists, and neck all twisting at unnatural angles, bones cracking audibly like a contortionist.

Then, instead of attacking, “Cheng Ziyue” crawled backward on all fours, retreating across the floor. Qi Yan and Li Ruoke’s eyes widened in disbelief as she began ascending the smooth wall like a spider, using only her human limbs, then continued up to the ceiling. Her face was expressionless, her head cocked at a ninety-degree angle as she stared down at them from above.

With only her underwear on, her movements were disturbingly agile, every joint flexing with unnatural ease.

The bone-cracking symphony from her body was unbearably shrill…

“This is getting out of hand…” Li Ruoke was stunned.

“Cheng Ziyue’s” ghostly face turned toward them, its black eyes darting from side to side. Then she moved again, traversing the flat ceiling as if walking on solid ground, and in an instant was overhead. Her upper body dropped down, hands locking onto Qi Yan’s shoulders, trying to pull him up.

Li Ruoke threw herself to the floor, grabbing his legs and pulling downward. Qi Yan became a living tug-of-war rope between the two women.

Thank goodness Li Ruoke was on the lower end—otherwise, even she wouldn’t have been a match for Cheng Ziyue’s monstrous strength.

Locked in this stalemate, Qi Yan was suffering. Though his throat wasn’t being crushed this time, the violent tugging was agonizing.

Despite doing his best to shift his weight downward, “Cheng Ziyue” was terrifyingly strong; he couldn’t break free.

“Damn it! Is your Yin Pendant out of power?!” Li Ruoke shouted in frustration.

Hearing her mention it, Qi Yan suddenly remembered—the pendant’s cord was strung with black obsidian beads. Everyone knew such stones warded off evil, but did they really work? There was only one way to find out.

His hands were still free, so he fumbled with the cord, yanked the pendant from his neck, and, face-to-face with “Cheng Ziyue,” looped the beads around her throat and pulled.

In an instant, the obsidian beads scattered everywhere.

A sizzling sound, like burning flesh, filled Qi Yan’s ears. Suddenly, his shoulders were released, and both he and Li Ruoke tumbled to the floor.

A thin blackened ring now encircled Cheng Ziyue’s neck where the beads had been, but she didn’t scream—just whipped her head violently, hair flying, and shrank back, pressing herself against the ceiling as she retreated several meters away.