"Who is it?"
I looked over, down the street, staring into the distance at the greenish glow. I immediately followed, and then I saw him—it was Jonas Darong, the village chief. He drifted along the street, passing by, while traces of the villagers' vitality floated out from every house.
With a whoosh, I flew over and grabbed Jonas Darong by the neck, slamming him to the ground with a loud thud.
"What exactly is in this village? Answer me! After you came in, what happened?"
"Do not disturb the peace of the Outcast Village any further. Stranger, you should leave, return to where you belong."
Jonas Darong's voice was hollow. I grew anxious, yanked him up, and glared at him fiercely.
"One of those four people was killed by you, and the other three died of old age. Speak! What is going on here, or I won't be so polite."
I said this, my emotions running high as I stared at Jonas Darong. He looked at me blankly, still repeating the mantra of Outcast Village's peace.
I used my Deathbane Aura to bind Jonas Darong, lifting him up, then stabbed the Specter Web into his body. Instantly, I was stunned—he had no ghost soul. What was this in front of me? The ghostly aura was clearly that of a Blue Wraith, yet there was no ghost soul.
At first, I thought my senses were confused, so I investigated further, but it turned out I wasn't mistaken—he truly had no ghost soul. It was like a person without a soul, a walking corpse; and a ghost without a ghost soul was the same.
I let go of Jonas Darong. He slowly floated up, and I followed him. After absorbing a circle of villagers' vitality in the village, he wandered through the graveyard, then headed toward the river behind the village.
All the way, I followed Jonas Darong, constantly checking him. He seemed like a vessel of ghostly energy, but it was the first time I'd seen ghost aura gather like this. Normally, ghost aura would dissipate if separated from a ghost soul, but on Jonas Darong's body, everything was inexplicable.
After crossing the river, Jonas Darong entered a small temple, where two totems were enshrined. I watched him kneel before the totems and bow repeatedly. The vitality he had gathered began converging toward the two totems.
Gradually, the two totems began to glow—red, black, and yellow lights growing brighter. Then, the animal-like totems came alive. I stared in astonishment as two creatures, resembling dragons but with snake-like faces and oval heads, rose and intertwined. I immediately followed, intending to touch them.
But just as my hand reached out, I cried out in shock. The moment I touched those glowing creatures, my hand instantly turned to ash. Staring at my vanished hand, I quickly pulled back and drew Hell's Sentinel, slashing twice with Deathbane Aura.
With a bang, as the two slashes of Deathbane Aura struck, they broke apart. I stared in disbelief as the aura split into earth energy and Yin Energy, dispersing in all directions and quickly vanishing.
"What on earth are these things?"
Gradually, I saw the two creatures open their mouths wide, each biting its own tail, then transforming into a tricolored ring of light. It radiated a glow as I watched quietly, my hand already gripping the Spectral Shotgun.
"Live or die, let's find out."
I immediately pulled out the Spectral Shotgun and aimed at the ring of light. Just as I was about to pull the trigger, a violent gust swept through the surroundings. Streams of white energy surged from the ground, and I instantly felt dizzy, my body growing heavy as I slowly began to fall.
Crackling thunder echoed in my ears as torrential rain poured down, hammering the leaves in the surrounding forest, producing a relentless barrage of sound.
My mind went blank. In a daze, I glanced over and heard someone shouting.
"Hey, what's the situation? Where are the others from the squad?"
I looked over—it was the three members of the Ghost Burial Squad. Their names flashed through my mind: Leo Liu, Tiger Li, Mason Zhao.
Everything that happened next felt eerily familiar. I even knew what they were about to do. I stayed quietly in the woods, watching their actions unfold. But suddenly, something struck me—I shot out of the woods with a whoosh. The three were knocking on a door.
As I flew over, the three immediately drew Peachwood Blades, Eight Trigrams, Spirit Charms, and other ritual objects. I ignored them—the only place I was headed was the Boundary Well at the border of Upper Village and Lower Village. I floated that way.
A scream rang out—it was David Wu, coughing up blood. Jonas Darong tore open his chest with both hands and pulled out his organs. I raised Hell's Sentinel and charged, slicing Jonas Darong into pieces with a single slash. He turned to ash and vanished, and I caught the lifeless David Wu in the pouring rain.
Shouts erupted behind me, and Tiger Li roared loudly.
"Were we too late?"
Just as I finished speaking, I stared in shock, as if I already knew what would happen next.
"What year, month, and day is it today?"
The rain was still pouring down as I turned and lowered David Wu's body. I glanced at Tiger Li and Mason Zhao, who were still crying out, while Leo Liu remained calm.
With a thunderous crash, a bolt of lightning struck, turning the ground a ghastly white.
"It's January 1st, 2000. Who exactly are you?"
"I'm Ethan Zhang. Old Eccentric and Hugh Thompson sent me—I'm not your enemy."
I spoke up quickly.
The rain gradually eased. The four of us found shelter under a roof and sat down. Leo Liu kept trying to light a cigarette, but the matches were too damp. I raised a finger, conjuring a black flame, and Leo Liu lit his cigarette. The other two, pale-faced, stared into the distance at David Wu's body by the well.
"For this mission, only members of Ghost Burial Squad Teams 1 through 8 and Old Eccentric knew about it. Hugh Thompson arranged the personnel and travel."
Leo Liu spoke in a somber tone. I didn't know how to tell them that the people I saw were from thirteen years ago—and the world I was in was thirteen years later.
Thirteen years later, thirty-one members of the Ghost Burial Squad had vanished. According to the records, the youngest would be at least thirty-six. Hugh Thompson is thirty-nine now; thirteen years ago, he was only twenty-six.