Mysterious Awakening-Chapter 587: Incomprehensible Alien

Huang Ziya was already in despair. She knew she was about to die as the malevolent ghost resurrected. The eerily thick hair was terrifying, as if it connected to the Hell Abyss, intending to pull her entire self inside. This pulling was irresistible because the ghost was in her own body.

But she still didn't want to give up, didn't want to die like this. If she wanted to die, she would never have lived until now; she would have collapsed and killed herself during the time when she became a ghost manipulator.

Just as Huang Ziya felt her entire body being engulfed by the eerie hair, her hands, which hadn't been swallowed yet, felt someone grabbing her wrists.

That palm was ice-cold and rigid, without a trace of a living person's warmth, as if a corpse had grasped her.

"It's Yang Jian..."

Swarmed by the sinister hair, Huang Ziya, still alive though she could no longer see the outside scene, realized something. The fear in her heart was instantly suppressed, and a hope for life surged forth as she immediately grabbed Yang Jian's wrists.

Huang Ziya wanted to cry out for help, but countless strands of hair entangled her face, wrapping her until only a human silhouette remained, even filling her mouth with the chilling black hair.

This hair seemed not only to grow from her head but also to sprout from all over her body.

"Who has made me speechless, he must know my situation, but... can he save me in time?"

While surprised, Huang Ziya started to feel anxious again. She couldn't control the ghost inside her body anymore. The vengeful spirit was eroding her, and even if Yang Jian had recovered, he might not be able to stop all of this.

However, just as this thought had come to her mind.

An unexpected situation occurred.

Huang Ziya felt the dense black hair that was entwining and enveloping her beginning to recede, and she even gradually felt the presence of the ground nearby. There was no longer the sensation of sinking or falling into an abyss.

The ghost's influence on her seemed to be weakening.

No, not weakening, but being suppressed.

Her ghost was no longer resurrecting, returning to its most quiescent state before, and ultimately she couldn't even sense the presence of the ghost at all, as if she had become a normal person with unprecedentedly keen senses.

A moment later.

As the ghost was suppressed, Huang Ziya was finally able to move again. She fiercely lifted her head, and through the strands of black hair hanging in front of her eyes, she could barely discern the scene.

She saw Yang Jian squatting before her, his body drenched in blood, emanating a strong scent of blood, and his neck bearing only half of a head that looked fierce and terrifying. He appeared totally devoid of any sign of life, simply a fully resurrected specter.

"This state is a mess," Huang Ziya's expression changed drastically as she looked at Yang Jian's missing half head.

The joy of being freed from the ghost's suppression vanished completely.

She had been involved in the entire rescue process for Yang Jian and was very clear about his condition. The consciousness of the previous Yang Jian resided in the upper half of his head; the lower half was just an ordinary corpse without any anomaly.

But now, the half of the head that represented Yang Jian's consciousness had disappeared.

Was this a return of consciousness or another ghost resurrecting?

Huang Ziya felt the strength emanating from Yang Jian's palm, as if someone were desperately clutching something just before death, the rigid fingers showing no sign of loosening. She watched as the eerie black hair on her body had almost vanished, trying to pull out her arm.

But she couldn't escape that ice-cold hand.

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Yang Jian remained squatting there motionless, as if sunk in silence, without any action.

He neither attacked her nor released her, and there was no signal of any sort.

"Should I light the Ghost Candle?" Huang Ziya touched her pocket, her expression uncertain.

Although the Ghost Candle had been lit before, it hadn't burned much because it had only been used previously for finding the headless body and hadn't directly resisted the ghost's attack. So, there was still more than half of the Ghost Candle left.

"Using the Ghost Candle now is pointless. If Yang Jian truly can't control his body, the Ghost Candle won't delay much. The ghost within him is too terrifying, just touching his corpse for a moment and I nearly died when the vengeful spirit resurrected," she thought.

Huang Ziya bit her lip, reluctant to use it, and chose to give up.

If Yang Jian returned to normal, the waste of a Ghost Candle would be hard to explain afterward. It was a highly precious item, and with her status, she could never apply to use one. If she used it up, she simply couldn't afford to compensate.

Let's wait a bit longer.

Huang Ziya decided to observe for a while, at least now the risk of the specter resurrecting was gone, and her condition had returned to normal. Whatever happened next couldn't be worse than before, could it?

Yang Jian's consciousness had indeed returned.

But this return wasn't normal; there was a problem with his very being.

Forcibly distorting the Ghost Domain, he had overlapped his half head with his body. This overlap was rough, as if a foreign object had been stuffed into the body, not seamlessly connecting with his other half head.

However, in the urgency of the situation, he couldn't worry about that because he saw Huang Ziya was about to die from the resurrection of the specter. Once she died, a new and unknown ghost by his side, Yang Jian felt he would surely die as well.

Although his rank was far above Huang Ziya's, in such a situation, it took only one ghost to break this fragile balance, preventing him from returning to his body.

Unable to return to the body and control the power of the ghost would naturally mean he'd also die from the curse of the Eight-Tone Music Box.

After his half head, carrying his consciousness through the Ghost Domain, had overlapped into his body, he could indeed control the body to perform some actions.

But it seemed to be just that.

Yang Jian felt that his consciousness was struggling against something else for control of the body, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that his current state was more akin to being a "ghost," only that other ghosts were interfering with him.

"Although I am still myself, my consciousness has separated from my brain, from my body, becoming a sort of cursed existence, with this curse parasitizing my skull, turning me into some sort of aberration."

"Under normal circumstances, I should be dead, with no possibility of retaining consciousness, but the Eight-Tone Music Box has kept me alive... it's truly paradoxical."

Yang Jian was extremely certain that his thoughts were clear, that he retained his memories of the past as well as of the present, and that there was no difference from when he had been alive before.

The only difference was the hollow, eerie tolling of the bell that still echoed in his mind.

The curse of the Eight-Tone Music Box continued, but it was also due to this curse that after Yang Jian's consciousness returned to his body, it was not immediately destroyed by other ghosts, and he was gradually regaining control of this body.

In other words,

Under the protection of the Eight-Tone Music Box, Yang Jian had become a more special existence.

If this trait could be maintained, then Yang Jian could undoubtedly make unrestrained use of the power of fierce ghosts, without fear of the risk of the ghosts' revival.

Because once the revived ghost suppressed the curse of the Eight-Tone Music Box, Yang Jian would die instantly, given that he was currently unaware of the strength of the curse and whether it could withstand ghosts of a certain level.

Although he was thinking this,

Consciousness was gradually returning, and as time passed, the ghost in his body was retreating.

The curse of the Eight-Tone Music Box had triumphed over the ghost's instincts, ensuring the smooth return of Yang Jian's consciousness.

After a full half-hour,

Yang Jian, crouching on the ground like a corpse, finally moved his neck slightly.

This movement sent shivers down Huang Ziya's spine, leaving her riddled with doubts and uncertainty, for she still wasn't sure whether the one who moved was Yang Jian or the ghost inside his body.

"Can't see clearly? It seems that my body's condition no longer allows my vision to return to normal. After all, half my head is gone, and it's only natural for my eyes to be blurry."

As Huang Ziya was filled with trepidation, one of Yang Jian's eyes, which had lost its luster and turned ashen and dull, suddenly split open, and within the fissure, another eye appeared.

This was a red ghost eye without a pupil.

The ghost eye replaced the dead eye in the socket, allowing Yang Jian to regain his sight.

"Yang Jian?" Huang Ziya tried calling out, her expression showing more fear and unease than anything else.

"Yes, it's me."

Yang Jian's throat moved, and he spoke, the voice strange, not one that a living person could produce.

After all, he was no longer a living person, just a body with a damaged head.

Hearing the response, even with Yang Jian looking so haunting, Huang Ziya couldn't help but breathe a huge sigh of relief.

It was a success at last.

Despite the complications, Yang Jian's head had been returned, and she had helped him take back his body.

"It's good that it's over, I thought I almost died here," Huang Ziya said; "What exactly happened to you, how did your head fall off just like that? Were you attacked by a ghost?"

"Not, clear," Yang Jian's remaining half-head moved as he spoke, his voice still sounded weird and unpleasant.

But his thoughts were clear, and he was pondering the previous events.

There had been no warning, no premonition of the appearance of a fierce ghost, only a sudden instinctive feeling of danger, and then he was attacked by something.

First came the head falling off, followed by the fallen head splitting in two.

A normal person, or even most of the Ghost Domain controllers, would have been dead beyond any hope of revival in such a situation; if it hadn't been for the curse of the Eight-Tone Music Box, Yang Jian wouldn't have survived either.