Mysterious Awakening-Chapter 596: Each Holding Their Ground

The first attack on the Ping'an Tower meeting room came from a menacing crimson glow, swift and without warning, claiming the lives of most people within a mere tens of seconds. Only a few withstood the attack and managed to survive.

They thought that after the first attack, there would be peace at last.

Most of those fitting the criteria for the ghostly attack had already died; surely the ghost would no longer focus on this place.

Fang Shiming, Jang Shangbai, and Wu Yun, with a Dead Man's Head called Liu Dong, planned to make a temporary retreat to the underground safehouse of the Ping'an Tower.

Given the financial power of their social circle, and the limitless funding by numerous capitalists, constructing a safehouse wasn't difficult at all.

However, the second attack was even more bizarre.

Hand palms the color of deathly cyan, as if stretching out from a pile of corpses, suddenly materialized on everyone's bodies. These cold and terrifying hands with stiff fingers, stronger than those of an ordinary person, clutched onto them and continued to writhe, making one's hair stand on end.

This invisibility felt more like a curse, an inner spectral attack rather than an external one.

The real ghosts seemed to have penetrated their bodies at some point earlier and were now bursting out.

"Damn it, here it comes again," Jang Shangbai exclaimed in shock and rage.

He felt palms grasping at him through his clothes but the Ghost Shroud he wore fended off the horrific assault, preventing the spectral hands from invading his body immediately and ensuring his safety.

Yet, at this moment, he felt extremely frustrated.

Having command over three ghosts, he found his Ghost Domain suppressed and useless. The Ghost Shroud repelled wave after wave of attacks, but likewise, his body began to rapidly decay.

If this continued, his body would eventually become a complete corpse.

"I don't want to die," Wu Yun was on the verge of collapse. He tried to pull and shake off the ghastly green hands grasping at him.

But to his horror, he found that these hands seemed to grow from his body, impossible to shake off unless he tore his flesh apart and dug out the hands by brute force.

Yet, that was not feasible.

For Wu Yun felt several eerie fingers emerging from his eye sockets, gripping his cheeks as if to burst forth and tear apart every inch of his flesh.

The chilling attack drove him insane. Without further thought, he dropped the cloth enveloping Liu Dong's Dead Man's Head and hoisted the head towards himself.

The freshly severed head had already decayed to the point of being unrecognizable, emitting a nauseating stench, with a shriveled and indented skull, as if something had brutally smashed it in. The eeriest part was the absence of visible bones inside.

Yet, in a baffling scene, the pair of lifeless gray eyes in that decaying head kept rolling—seemingly without ever having stopped.

Just as Wu Yun lifted the Dead Man's Head towards himself, the eyes ceased moving.

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The dim, hollow eyes sharply focused, eerily staring at Wu Yun.

What happened next was unbelievable.

The grotesque fingers reaching from the depths of his eye sockets loosened their grip on his cheeks, retracted back into his eye sockets, and finally disappeared. The hands that clutched his ankles also released their hold in an instant, retracting as if someone had reflexively retracted their hand from scalding water... the Ghost Hands on his body were vanishing.

The catalyst for all of this was, indeed, the withered and rotting Dead Man's Head in his hands.

The ghost that even a five-layered Ghost Domain couldn't banish seemed far more terrifying than these Ghost Hands.

What a pity that the spirit controller Liu Dong was less fortunate; his head remained, but his body had vanished within the five-layered Ghost Domain.

"It works."

Having skirted the brink of death, Wu Yun was now both startled and relieved.

But the moment the Ghost Hands disappeared from his body, he quickly placed the rotting head down and covered it with his clothes.

He couldn't afford to be watched by the rotting head for too long; otherwise, he would die.

Liu Dong met his fate because his body was turned to the side, not directly facing the red light's source; otherwise, he could have withstood the first attack.

Even during that brief eye contact moment, Wu Yun felt his skin rot away and peel off his face.

The most terrifying part—he felt no pain whatsoever.

It was as if his brain was rotting too.

Nevertheless, he somehow withstood the second wave of attacks and lived.

But they couldn't possibly imagine that the main target of the Ghost Hands wasn't Jang Shangbai in the Ghost Shroud, nor Wu Yun holding the rotting head—they were merely caught in the attack's spread. The true intended victim was Fang Shiming, President of Ping'an Tower and keeper of the Ghost Scissors.

The situation on Fang Shiming's body was far worse than the others.

His entire body was seized by those eerie palms, and fingers were extending out from his mouth, ears, nose, and even his gut was churning as if a hand was carelessly moving inside.

What was more terrifying was that the Ghost Hand possessed the ability to suppress the ghosts within his body; it was far from a simple invasion of the body to strangle or even tear him apart.

Based on his experience, he could deduce that the Ghost Hand might have obtained a part of the ghost puzzle, filled in some deficiency, and become an even more fearsome entity.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Fang Shiming was furious.

His mouth felt stuffed with cold palms that were clutching his throat from the inside, rendering him speechless. The Ghost Hand in his belly was even more audacious, treating his body as a toy, ceaselessly wreaking havoc. Moreover, a Ghost Hand was already twisting his head.

The strength was astonishing, leaving no room to resist.

If this continued, he might have his neck twisted, his body torn apart, and die under the assault of the Ghost Hand.

If he were to die this way, it would probably become a joke throughout the entire supernatural circle.

The president of a big corporation, sitting in an office meeting, bizarrely strangled to death by a Ghost Hand.

But those who haven't experienced it will never know how desperate the attack of a Ghost Hand can make a person feel.

The ability to suppress three ghosts, along with the invasion from the third layer of the Ghost Domain into all parts of the body, was almost unsolvable. No ghost controller could withstand such an attack.

He tried to resist, but it was fruitless.

How could mere human effort struggle against the Ghost Hand?

His body began to twist and tear nonstop.

The entire lower jaw was viciously torn apart by the Ghost Hand, his cervical vertebrae were making the sounds of breaking, and his arms and legs were effortlessly snapped, being moved around on his body in all sorts of unimaginable positions.

Fang Shiming's eyes were wide open, filled with rage and unwillingness. He did not feel a hint of fear, but was thinking instead.

What exactly was this all about?

First, that strange red light shone upon him, followed by this attack from the Ghost Hand—this was utterly nonsensical.

Sitting in the office, so far away from where Yang Jian had died, it was absolutely impossible to trigger the murderous pattern of malevolent ghosts. If the first time could be a coincidence, then this second time was inexplicable.

The only explanation was one.

Yang Jian was suspected not to be dead; though he might be reviving as a vengeful ghost, he should still be alive, relying on a sliver of remaining consciousness to control the reviving ghost to kill these people.

Thus, both attacks were so terrifying and vicious.

It was like a true S-grade supernatural event had struck, leaving no possibility of a response.

"Yang Jian!"

Fang Shiming's throat convulsed, his eyes filled with anger, as if he was about to roar out loud.

But before he could make a sound, with a crisp snapping of bones, his head tilted completely, and he fell to the ground, lifeless.

He was dead.

Dead from the attack of the Ghost Hand.

"What?" Jang Shangbai's face changed dramatically upon witnessing such a scene.

President Fang dead?

He didn't fend off this attack?

How could that be possible?

The assault of the Ghost Hand was not as terrifying as one might imagine. One only needed the ability of the ghosts to defend against it, to survive. Wu Yun and himself had succeeded in doing so—there was no reason why Fang Shiming should have died like this, right?

Was it an illusion?

Jang Shangbai blinked hard, thinking he had seen wrong.

But the corpse was lying there, not looking like a fake.

Perhaps he really was dead.

Even though it was hard to believe, Jang Shangbai could be certain that this Fang Shiming was not counterfeit; he was unquestionably real.