"Do you do this often?" I asked.
"Since I saw it, I can't just stand by and do nothing."
I let out a quiet "oh" and looked at Rachel Lan. It's true—when I first met her, it was right when I was nearly killed by Damian Chen of the Nether Syndicate. And every time since, it’s been like this; she always steps in to help.
"What, you don't want to go with me?"
I shook my head.
"Let's go. Together."
Speaking of the Heyang Road Mortuary, such low prices for handling funeral matters are definitely suspicious. And this information came from the Ghost Burial Squad.
"Back then..." Rachel Lan started to speak, but seemed hesitant to continue.
"What happened back then?"
"When I was young, my father always forced me to learn these things, to interact with ghosts. Back then, I really hated it."
My heart skipped a beat. I understood her childhood situation all too well. She had it a little better than I did—at least someone taught her. As for me, all I could do was run.
"I don’t know when it started, but I don’t really hate these filthy things anymore. After all, sending them away is my duty."
"What about your father?"
I didn’t ask further, because I’d heard that people from the Hades Circle—one generation would be detained by the underworld, forcing the next generation to work hard. If they failed, the previous generation would suffer severe torment.
"He disappeared. Seven years ago."
"I'm sorry, I..."
"I don’t know if he’s alive or dead, but he’s never come to me in my dreams. He must still be alive."
"You’re not planning to look for him?"
Rachel Lan shook her head.
"We’re here."
I looked up. It was a nine-story building, with a sign at the entrance reading "Smiling Funeral Home." People were constantly coming and going—it looked like business was booming.
"Wait a moment. Let's observe first."
Just as I was about to get out of the car, Rachel Lan spoke up.
"Are they people or ghosts?" I asked, looking at the staff greeting guests at the entrance.
"They're people."
I thought for a moment and said,
"Maybe they’re offering such low prices just to boost their income?"
Rachel Lan shook her head.
"No matter how low the price, even the burial plots are arranged. These days, a single plot costs at least ten or twenty thousand."
I gave a quiet "oh."
After watching for a while, we got out of the car and walked in.
Inside the lobby, the receptionist was a young woman with a constant smile.
"Miss, I'd like to speak with your manager, Mr. Howell."
Then Rachel Lan explained it was a business discussion. The receptionist made a call, and we took the elevator straight up to the ninth floor.
The three basement levels were all morgues. The other floors were staff dorms, with the third floor serving as the cafeteria. Out back was a parking lot. Everything seemed perfectly ordinary.
We arrived at the manager’s office. The man inside was pale-skinned, slightly sinister, with a small braid, and in his thirties.
"I'm the manager at Eastwind Gas Company, Rachel Lan." As she spoke, Rachel Lan handed over her business card.
"Oh, really?"
The man glanced at us thoughtfully, then sized us up.
"Our company offers high-quality gas. We hope to work with you."
The man nodded.
"Miss Lan, our basement crematorium has just switched to a gas-powered system. Since you're from the gas company, you should know about the hydraulic pressure and the parameters. Could you take a look for us? It was only installed recently, and we don’t quite understand a lot of things."
Without much thought, we followed Mr. Howell back to the first floor. In the courtyard’s corner, there was a staircase going down and a heavy iron door.
Rachel Lan glanced over, her eyes wary.
"The smell down there is pretty strong. Since our place is in the city center, we have to rely on the smoke exhaust system to vent it out at scheduled times—otherwise, customers would notice the odor as soon as they walked in."
We looked over, and sure enough, there was a tall chimney by the courtyard’s back door.
Mr. Howell opened the door. The lights were on inside, and he raised his hand in a gesture.
"Please."
Rachel Lan and I walked down. Suddenly, Mr. Howell patted me on the back and smiled.
"Scared? Don’t worry."
I muttered an "oh," and we went down the stairs.
At the bottom, it was a wide, empty space. There were several carts, and a row of brand new cremation furnaces.
There was a bit of a smell inside—a burnt, acrid odor that was hard to bear.
Just then, we heard a series of noises. Mr. Howell hurried over.
Just as we thought he had something urgent, Mr. Howell suddenly started laughing.
"Hmph, it’s my first time seeing someone from Hades Circle so eager to meddle. Enjoy yourselves."
With that, he slammed the basement door shut.
Eyes wide, I rushed over and pounded on the door desperately, but it was already locked. We were trapped inside.
Bang! Instantly, my hair stood on end. The sound came from the floor below, followed by a series of heavy thuds.
Rachel Lan, however, stayed calm and started flipping through her phone.
"At a time like this, you still..."
"No signal here. Since we’re stuck, we might as well settle in."
The sound grew louder and louder. I finally made out what it was—slow, dragging footsteps, echoing from both stairwells below.
Suddenly, Rachel Lan started pushing one of the carts.
"Come help me."
Without thinking, I pushed another cart over. We reached the stairwell entrance, and Rachel Lan tipped her cart over, laying it sideways across the doorway. Then, together, we propped another cart on top of it.
"What’s coming up from below?" With the noises getting closer, I asked urgently.
"You’ll find out soon enough."
Then Rachel Lan looked up, scanning the area, as if searching for a high vantage point.
"How good are you in a fight?"
"Uh..." I stammered.
"I’ve never really fought before."
Suddenly, my eyes widened. A crowd—no, a swarm of moving corpses—was slowly coming up the corridor. Many of them had a chilling aura, some were unrecognizable, their faces mangled and bloody.
[Irrelevant web prompt skipped.]
I backed away several steps.
"They’re walking corpses—someone outside is controlling them."
Rachel Lan grabbed my arm.
"Let’s check over there."
We went to another stairwell. Seven or eight walking corpses were climbing up, reaching out with their hands.
Then Rachel Lan clenched her fists, taking a fighting stance.
I glanced around—at the very least, I needed a weapon. Then I spotted an iron rod by the cremation furnace. I hurried over and picked it up. It was heavy, but I could still lift it.
Just as I ran over, I saw Rachel Lan deliver a side kick to a walking corpse that had just reached the top of the stairs. It tumbled back down. Meanwhile, a pile of walking corpses in the other corridor were already crashing into the carts, trying to get through.
I dragged the iron rod over.
Rachel Lan fought off several walking corpses with her fists and feet, but I noticed her expression was off. Then I saw her fists were red and swollen.
"So tough."
Three or four more walking corpses made it up. We backed away. Suddenly, one of the corpses moved with unnatural agility and lunged at me. I raised the iron rod and swung, but it dodged nimbly.
It grabbed me in an instant.
"Give it to me," Rachel Lan said, grabbing the iron rod. I let go. The cold corpse clung to me, mouth wide open, ready to bite. I used both hands to clamp its jaw, holding it back.
"Watch your feet."
I quickly shifted my stance. Rachel Lan struck the corpse’s kneecap with the iron rod—a clear, sharp crack rang out. Though it still clung to me, I saw its entire leg bend at an unnatural angle.
With a crash, the cart blocking the left corridor was knocked over. A swarm of walking corpses poured out, closing in on us.
Panic surged through me—a wave of killing intent spilled out. I clenched my fist and punched the corpse gripping me square on the head.
Suddenly, it felt like punching a block of ice. Pain shot through my hand, but it did nothing.
Rachel Lan kept swinging the iron rod, knocking down walking corpses one after another, always aiming for their knees.
I kept pushing the corpse back, inching toward a nearby cremation furnace, still warm from earlier use. I struggled—the thing was strong, its jaws snapping relentlessly. I knew if it managed to bite me, I’d lose a chunk of flesh.
Rachel Lan was in the thick of the corpses, fighting and retreating. With each crack of bone, another corpse fell, but they kept crawling forward, dragging themselves with their hands.
"Shit." I was drenched in sweat. The corpse clung to me, refusing to let go. I twisted its head, doing my best to keep its jaws away.
"Put some muscle into it! Are you even a man?" Rachel Lan suddenly shouted.
I blinked, then twisted hard. There was a loud snap—the corpse’s head spun all the way around. Its neck was broken, but its mouth kept moving. I was stunned.
Then I slammed it down hard. It collapsed on the ground, and I finally broke free, breathing easier.
I quickly searched around and, sure enough, found another iron rod. I grabbed it and joined the fight.
With a loud clang, I smashed the iron rod against a walking corpse’s head. Its already broken skull burst open, blood splattering everywhere. I yelled and swung wildly.
The number of walking corpses seemed endless, steadily pouring out from both stairwells.
"Head downstairs!" Rachel Lan shouted. We skirted the edge and rushed to the right stairwell.
A horde of walking corpses followed behind, some crawling on the ground, chasing after us.
Rachel Lan led the way, clearing a path. We dashed down. A corpse we’d just knocked down reached out, trying to grab my foot. I shut my eyes, smashed it with the rod, then kicked away its shattered arm.
On the right, there weren’t as many corpses, and they moved slowly. We made it to the second basement level.
"Didn’t expect you two to be so tough. Looks like I’ll have to spice things up."
As soon as we reached the second basement, a sinister voice echoed from the empty depths below.