Chapter Forty-Three: Broken?

"You forced my hand!" Lin Ran’s face was twisted with ferocity as he gazed at the five ghosts carrying the coffin. Madness slowly welled up in his eyes; when a person’s fear reaches its utmost, it turns to frenzy, sometimes robbing them of reason entirely.

In just a few breaths, the ghostly pallbearers arrived before Lin Ran. The lid of the coffin they carried was being slowly lifted, revealing its empty interior as if it was waiting to swallow Lin Ran whole.

Yet, at the sight of this, not a trace of fear appeared on Lin Ran’s face. Instead, his lips curled into a savage grin. Raising the mourning stick in his hand, Lin Ran swung fiercely at the headless leader of the ghostly procession.

With a resounding crash, the stick struck the shoulder of the headless ghost, shattering its soul to pieces. Lin Ran stared, momentarily stunned—so weak? The headless ghost had been obliterated with a single blow.

But the next moment, Lin Ran’s eyes widened in disbelief: the ghost he had just destroyed reappeared before him. Driven by a sudden surge of rage, Lin Ran lashed out at the other headless ghosts carrying the coffin. Yet every time, the result was the same—after being beaten and dispersed, each ghost would reassemble and stand before him again, seemingly immortal.

Lin Ran’s relentless assault had no effect. Suddenly, his eyes lit up as he noticed the coffin itself. If he couldn’t kill the ghosts, he’d just smash their damned coffin—let’s see how they’d catch him then.

Resolutely, Lin Ran charged towards the coffin with his mourning stick raised. His instinct proved correct: as he rushed at the coffin, the headless ghosts immediately abandoned it and threw themselves in front of him to block his path. Seeing this, Lin Ran’s grin grew even more vicious—so they did have a weakness after all.

He swung the stick with renewed vigor, hacking and slashing until the headless ghosts’ souls were scattered once more. Now, with the coffin within reach, Lin Ran’s grim smile deepened. He raised his right hand, stick held high above his head, and brought it down with all his might onto the coffin. The ghosts, just barely reforming their bodies, were too late to stop him—forced to watch as Lin Ran’s stick crashed down.

Oh, right—they had no heads to watch!

Feeling the stick meet no resistance as it struck the coffin, Lin Ran was certain victory was at hand.

A sharp crack rang in his ears, and his sneer froze on his face. A white, broken piece of the stick bounced playfully atop the coffin lid, as if mocking Lin Ran’s ignorance and weakness.

"Broken?" Lin Ran’s eyes were bloodshot as he stared at the remaining handle in his hand, incredulous. The coffin itself was completely unharmed—not even a scratch marred its surface.

"This can’t be! This can’t be!..." Lin Ran’s eyes seemed to lose all light in an instant. The mourning stick that had always served him so well was now broken. He could not accept this reality.

The headless ghosts, seeing their coffin unscathed while the stick that had shattered them countless times was now broken, were overjoyed. With gleeful cries, they grabbed Lin Ran and tossed him into the coffin. The lid slowly closed. The little ghosts hoisted the coffin and drifted back the way they had come.

Just then, a chilling wind swept up, enveloping the headless ghosts. Buffeted by the gusts, the ghosts were left battered and disoriented. When the wind finally died down, the coffin lid had been pried open, and Lin Ran had vanished—only the confused ghosts remained.

As Lin Ran was spirited away, within the City of Unjust Deaths, a man in official robes sat high in the hall, writing. Suddenly, his brush paused, surprise flickering across his face.

"Hmm? The coffin was snatched? Who could be so bold? Interesting!" After a long while, a playful smile appeared on the man’s lips. He laughed for a considerable time, then slowly descended from his seat.

Meanwhile, Lin Ran—at the center of all these events—remained oblivious, his eyes still vacant.

The sinister wind carried him for a long stretch before gently setting him down. The one who had rescued him was none other than the little ghost girl who had frightened him with a grimace at the airport.

"Idiot! That’s a solid wood coffin! Your little paper stick breaking it would’ve been a miracle!" she pouted, looking at Lin Ran.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" The ghost girl grew annoyed when Lin Ran failed to respond, raising her voice in protest.

"Huh? You’ve been affected?" Only now did she realize something was amiss with Lin Ran.

Her expression turned grave as she regarded Lin Ran’s condition, a chilling aura emanating from her. Her red dress billowed despite the still air, her complexion turning deathly pale.

"You’ve gone mad! Wake up!" Her voice suddenly became sharp, laced with biting cold, piercing directly into Lin Ran’s ears. The sound thundered through his mind like a shattering storm, turning his thoughts upside down.

Lin Ran abruptly spat out a mouthful of blood, and the light slowly returned to his eyes.