He Shaoqing also spotted the two wisps of ghostly fire and noticed Kuang Feifan’s strange reaction. Time seemed to slow as he crouched low and sprinted forward, deliberately moving out of the line of sight of the twin flames. He slammed into Kuang Feifan, knocking him aside, and deftly snatched the pendant that had fallen to the ground. Turning his back to the doorway, he kicked out at the head flickering with the ghostly light.

Though the kick, delivered with a cutting whistle through the air, missed its mark, the two eerie green flames vanished instantly, and the small, desiccated corpse was nowhere to be seen. He Shaoqing braced himself for a moment of relief, but unexpectedly, Kuang Feifan, having been shoved aside, suddenly lunged back, grabbing the collar of his tunic and yanking him backward. He Shaoqing stumbled, alarm spiking in his voice: “What’s wrong? What is it?”

To his shock, Kuang Feifan’s eyes snapped wide open, bearing a murderous glare. One hand gripped He Shaoqing’s collar, while the other coiled to strike at his throat. He Shaoqing’s face drained of color. Though he couldn't grasp the exact situation, he knew something was terribly wrong. Instinctively, he twisted his head, trying desperately to evade Kuang Feifan’s hand, but the collar still held fast. He strained, trying to wrench free, shouting, “Young Master Kuang, what’s going on?”

Looking closer at Kuang Feifan, his complexion had turned ashen, and the whites of his eyes were webbed with bloodshot veins, making them glow an alarming red. His facial expression was utterly contorted, as if another person had suddenly taken possession of him. Seeing that he couldn't secure a grip on the collar, he released that hand and lunged with both hands toward He Shaoqing’s neck.

“Damn it... Kuang Feifan, are you fucking insane?” He Shaoqing couldn't hold back the crude outburst. After everything they had been through, he was certain Kuang Feifan was compromised, undoubtedly linked to the eyes of that small mummy from moments before. But words were useless now; Kuang Feifan ignored He Shaoqing’s curses, relentlessly reaching for his throat. Seeing the man clench his jaw, it seemed as if He Shaoqing had murdered his father and stolen his wife.

With no other recourse, He Shaoqing fought desperately to dodge the grasping hands. Based on Kuang Feifan’s current state—eyes blazing red, gaze vacant, utterly mad—this was unsustainable.

This couldn't last. Even if Kuang Feifan was mentally broken, his physical prowess remained. When they had sparred before, the results were often a close call. Even now, despite the slight sluggishness, the movements aimed at He Shaoqing’s throat were fiercely sharp.

Given the confined space of the bathroom, after evading twice, He Shaoqing found himself cornered against the wall. However, the brief separation allowed He Shaoqing to grit his teeth, raise his arms, and forcefully parry Kuang Feifan’s incoming limbs. The moment their arms met, He Shaoqing felt the shocking rigidity of Kuang Feifan’s muscles and an unimaginable surge of strength. Kuang Feifan put nearly all his power into the block, just barely holding back the counter.

After batting Kuang Feifan’s arms aside, He Shaoqing swiftly maneuvered to his side. He could easily have choked him out now, but he hesitated, fearing he might genuinely injure Kuang Feifan. That brief pause was all it took; Kuang Feifan spun around and attacked him again.

“For… God’s… sake.” Resigned, He Shaoqing drove a chopping palm strike toward the main artery in Kuang Feifan’s neck. Normally, a blow this powerful would knock out a large man, but Kuang Feifan merely staggered, growing even more enraged. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he transformed his grasping hands into tight fists, driving them straight toward He Shaoqing’s face.

The punch was terrifyingly fast. He Shaoqing hadn't anticipated the grave consequences of that hesitation. Unable to dodge in time, he took the blow squarely across his face, nearly flying backward. He crashed heavily in front of the bathtub, narrowly avoiding tumbling into the flames within it.

Before He Shaoqing could even begin to scramble up, Kuang Feifan launched himself forward, landing squarely on top of him, both hands immediately clamping around his throat. Lacking any conscious control, Kuang Feifan held nothing back; the force was unimaginable, squeezing the air from He Shaoqing until his tongue nearly lolled out.

He Shaoqing clawed and kicked, his eyes rolling upward in panic. He couldn't believe Kuang Feifan was applying lethal force—this was an attempt to snap his neck. Instinctively, He Shaoqing reached up to grapple with the strangling hands, and only then did his fingers close around the pendant he still clutched.

He Shaoqing’s resolve hardened. Gritting his teeth, he muttered, “Kuang Feifan, I’m sorry, but this has to happen.” As the words left his lips, he drove his pendant-clenched fist toward Kuang Feifan’s head, subconsciously avoiding the temple.

“Namo Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva…” As the punch landed, He Shaoqing shouted the phrase with all his might.

The moment the words were uttered, the struggling flames in the bathtub—which had been flickering weakly—exploded upward as if doused with gasoline. The intense flames were threaded with faint, flickering streaks of yellow light. A scorching wave of heat instantly flooded the small bathroom, even as his fist hammered hard against Kuang Feifan’s skull.

Simultaneously, an intensely sharp, piercing female scream echoed from somewhere within the building. Though the sound seemed distant, it was saturated with the despair and agony of impending death, sending shivers down the spine.

However, He Shaoqing and Kuang Feifan in the bathroom had no time to notice the sound; their struggle was far from over. He Shaoqing’s blow had been delivered with serious force, yet Kuang Feifan only shook his head slightly, the grip on his throat momentarily loosening, but not releasing. Nevertheless, He Shaoqing sensed a shift; a flicker of confusion crossed Kuang Feifan’s contorted face.

The inferno’s heat wave had barely subsided when a nauseating, putrid stench erupted, foul beyond description. He Shaoqing felt his stomach heave violently, but Kuang Feifan’s hands still choked him, making it impossible to vomit.

Yet, the awful smell seemed to have an unexpected effect. Although still clearly delirious, as the foul odor invaded his nostrils, Kuang Feifan’s previously clouded eyes suddenly cleared. His ferocious expression froze, and in a flash, he seemed liberated from a nightmare. With a sharp cry of “Ah!” he convulsed, releasing his grip as if electrocuted. He appeared to finally grasp the horrific nature of his actions.

With the pressure gone, He Shaoqing seized the opportunity, shoving the still-straddling Kuang Feifan off him. He scrambled away, rubbing his throat, and immediately bent over to violently heave up everything in his stomach.

Kuang Feifan fared no better. He dropped to his knees and proceeded to empty his stomach contents with noisy retching.

After their collective episode, they managed to regain some strength, collapsing onto the floor. He Shaoqing’s neck bore several distinct purple-blue finger marks. Massaging his throat, he gasped out, “Are… you… done… being… crazy?”

Kuang Feifan, his face deathly pale, raised a hand to wipe away cold sweat. The recent experience felt like a nightmare, a descent into inescapable, terrifying hell. He sat on the floor, pulling one knee up, resting his elbow on it, and waved a weak hand. He was deeply shaken by having been caught in that state this time.

He Shaoqing finally managed to steady his breathing. He desperately wanted to know what exactly had happened in the bathtub. He pushed himself up using his hands, his gaze drifting unconsciously toward the bathroom doorway. Suddenly, he saw it: across the threshold, the small desiccated corpse was leaning against the wall. Though its skin was tight and shriveled against the bone, the expression on its face was clearly visible—pained and ferocious. The black, hollow sockets held two oily green orbs of ghostly fire, radiating a chilling, soul-capturing power that locked his limbs in place. His vision swam slightly, though his mind remained agonizingly clear.

Kuang Feifan’s sitting position allowed him to lean against the wall near the door, obscuring his view of the exterior. Noticing He Shaoqing’s frozen state, and finding his own hands empty—even the pendant was in He Shaoqing’s grasp—Kuang Feifan quickly scanned their surroundings. A thought flashed, and he rolled up, lunging toward the bathroom door. He slammed it shut with force, then turned to lean against it, pressing his entire body against the wood before letting out a long, shaky breath.

He Shaoqing felt his body regain mobility almost the instant the door clicked shut. He stood up, forcing a strained smile. Kuang Feifan shrugged, instinctively glancing back, fearful of any further aberration. He Shaoqing tossed the pendant he held, and Kuang Feifan swiftly raised a hand to catch it.

The reason He Shaoqing returned the pendant was simple: he realized the item held little power in his own hands. Although he recalled Kuang Feifan always invoked the phrase, “Lin Bing,” when using it, in his own moment of extreme crisis, the phrase that had involuntarily escaped him was, “Namo Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva.”

That was something his grandmother had told him when giving him his protective amulet, and it had been deeply imprinted on his subconscious. He turned back toward the bathtub. He had noticed the sudden surge of flames and the faint yellow light when he was pinned down. That yellow glow was intensely familiar; it seemed to emanate from his own amulet. On several previous dangerous occasions, the amulet had radiated that same color light whenever he uttered that specific phrase, though never with the intensity seen just now—but enough to catch his attention.

The flames in the tub had died down, leaving behind only charred remnants of the corpse—mostly blackened carbon, some ash from the burning, and a few shreds of tattered cloth. He Shaoqing’s gaze suddenly fixed on a hard object. He snatched it up immediately. Though still hot, he gripped it tightly in his palm. Even covered in black soot, he instantly recognized it: the jade Buddha amulet his grandmother had given him. It must have fallen in there. He was certain that the presence of this amulet in the tub was why the desiccated corpse had burned more thoroughly than anticipated.

“Look, my amulet,” He Shaoqing said excitedly, shaking the blackened talisman toward Kuang Feifan.

“Boss, hand it over so I can see it. I don’t dare open the door right now,” Kuang Feifan called out, leaning against the door.

He Shaoqing walked over to Kuang Feifan while rubbing the amulet with his sleeve. To his dismay, as he wiped away the soot, the originally translucent jade Buddha became dull and lifeless, showing a faint, dark gray tone. No matter how hard he rubbed or scrubbed, the gray seemed to have permeated the jade, impossible to remove. He let out a sudden, deep sigh.

Kuang Feifan watched him, realizing how much the man cherished the talisman. He placed a hand on He Shaoqing’s shoulder and advised, “He Shao, we don’t have time to worry about this now. We need to figure out how to get out of this bathroom.”

He Shaoqing knew the situation was critical; whether they could even leave this small building alive was still in question. He carefully tucked the amulet deep into his trouser pocket, smoothing the fabric over it, then forced himself to regain his composure. He asked, “What? You think that ghoul is still outside?”

Kuang Feifan glanced at He Shaoqing. “Well? Do you still have the strength to fight him off?”

He Shaoqing raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and grinned. “Let’s go. I refuse to believe that after everything we’ve faced, we can’t handle one more ghost-child.”

They both braced themselves against the door for a full moment. Then, He Shaoqing suddenly grabbed the handle and wrenched the door open.

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