Kuang Feifan didn't even have time to check He Shaoqing's wounds, let alone engage in verbal sparring. At this moment, his only thought was to run downstairs, burst through the main door of the small building, and make a clean escape.

He moved downstairs silently, head bowed. He Shaoqing was still quite heavy, and even though Kuang Feifan was used to weighted cross-country training, his forward speed was severely hampered in the current situation. What usually took a few steps now felt impossibly far away.

Fortunately, the monstrous infant on the staircase landing was still writhing in agony. Kuang Feifan’s escape was almost safe, but that feeling of insurmountable distance intensified. He could faintly see the building's main door, yet it felt as if the door retreated one step for every step he took.

Sweat trickled down his cheeks, dripped off his chin, and plopped onto the floor. He instinctively lowered his gaze, and when his eyes fell upon the ground, Kuang Feifan’s eyes widened in shock. Unknowingly, the sweat dripping from his face had pooled into several small puddles near his feet.

Kuang Feifan shuddered, nearly dropping He Shaoqing from his shoulder. He stiffly turned his neck, sweeping his gaze around. When he turned back and saw the staircase not far behind him, he finally confirmed something: at some point, he had unconsciously entered a state of running in place.

"Why is this happening?"

Kuang Feifan stabilized his mind and carefully reassessed his surroundings. This time, he finally noticed that the combined body of the monstrous infant and the little dried corpse on the landing behind him had vanished.

"Damn it..." Kuang Feifan couldn't help but curse.

No need to ask—it was that monster causing trouble again. But now that the 'Mani Stone' pendant was gone, Kuang Feifan hurriedly and carefully placed He Shaoqing on the ground, fumbling through his clothes pockets.

He Shaoqing was nearly unconscious, but the commotion roused him slightly. He managed to ask weakly, "Hey... what are you doing?"

Kuang Feifan raised his hand and delivered two slaps—not gentle, but not brutal—to He Shaoqing's cheek. "Hey, stay awake! Hang in there! You absolutely cannot die here. You still owe me four hundred yuan."

While he had the chance, he glanced at the injury on He Shaoqing's shoulder. It was a typical bite wound, with jagged edges, but no blood was seeping out. Instead, the area was black and bruised, and even the exposed muscle tissue looked as if it had been dyed with ink.

"Poison," was the first thought that flashed through Kuang Feifan's mind.

Unfortunately, he had neither the antidote nor the time. He fished out the jade Buddha amulet from He Shaoqing’s person. Although the amulet was faintly tinged black, it was the only 'talisman' he possessed to fight the monster.

Since the cord was broken, Kuang Feifan had to hold it in his hand. As he gripped it, he subconsciously recalled the phrase He Shaoqing had recited before: "Namo Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva." He immediately felt something strange. The amulet in his palm, usually slightly cool, instantly intensified in coolness the moment the phrase crossed his mind. Soon, he was astonished to find a wave of cool energy surging from his palm into his body, swiftly traveling through every limb and vessel. Kuang Feifan shook internally; the tension that had been gripping his spirit instantly eased considerably.

This coolness wasn't the chilling sensation of severe cold; rather, it felt as refreshing as drinking a glass of ice water on a scorching summer day. Kuang Feifan couldn't help but exhale.

It was a pity, though; the coolness inside him vanished quickly, and the refreshing sensation in his palm disappeared too. Almost instinctively, he felt this was connected to the amulet turning black.

At this moment, Kuang Feifan realized this was his last chance. Gritting his teeth, he bent down, snatched up the semi-conscious He Shaoqing, fixed his eyes on the main door, and charged forward with a single thought burning in his mind: "I must get out."

He didn't look back, so he failed to notice the faint, wispy mist rapidly emerging from all directions behind him. It seemed alive, swirling and churning as it pursued him, looking eager to wrap around and devour both of them.

The dark door grew closer. Kuang Feifan’s entire focus was on the tightly shut entrance. He continuously adjusted his running form. As he neared the door by about two steps, Kuang Feifan roared: "Namo Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva..."

He didn't know if the incantation would work, nor did he know if the jade Buddha amulet in his hand could still protect them. But this was his only move, his last resort. As the words left his mouth, his hand shot out and seized the doorknob, pulling hard inward...

The jade Buddha amulet, gifted by He Shaoqing’s grandmother, finally expended every last bit of its spiritual power. The enchantment placed on the door shattered, and the door immediately swung open as he pulled.

Kuang Feifan seemed to experience an illusion: the moment the door opened, the surrounding scenery warped like water rippling. But at that instant, Kuang Feifan couldn't spare any thought for trifles. He hoisted He Shaoqing and stepped out of the small building's door.

When Kuang Feifan's feet touched the stone porch outside the door, a strange sense of solid ground settled in his heart. However, they were not truly safe yet. Beyond the porch lay a set of steps leading down to the courtyard, and at the end of the small path in the yard was a large iron gate. Only by safely reaching the road outside that iron gate would Kuang Feifan and He Shaoqing be truly out of danger.

The instant Kuang Feifan rushed out of the main door, the door he had pulled open slammed shut with a resounding bang, as if someone had kicked it shut in a fit of anger.

Kuang Feifan only glanced back; there was no time to dwell on why the door closed. The courtyard was now shrouded in a faint mist. By the time Kuang Feifan descended the porch steps into the yard, the mist was visibly thickening at a rapid pace. The scene in the courtyard was on the verge of being swallowed by the fog, and the flagstone path leading to the yard gate gradually disappeared into the haze.

"Last gamble, He Shao, hang on," Kuang Feifan whispered, breathing hard.

The fog grew increasingly sinister and dense. Soon, his eyes couldn't see the path, and even his calves were submerged in the thick vapor. Visibility dropped to nearly zero. In the swirling whiteout, Kuang Feifan stood in a place where looking forward, backward, left, or right revealed only boundless mist. This sensation of seeing yet not seeing was more distressing than absolute darkness.

Since he couldn't discern direction, Kuang Feifan had to rely on memory to walk toward the yard gate. The fog around him was thick, almost like water, and every step stirred visible vortices of air.

Kuang Feifan had only walked a few steps carrying the now-unconscious He Shaoqing when an unnervingly clear, scraping sound—"cchh... cchh..."—echoed from behind him. Though quiet, it sounded like thunder in Kuang Feifan’s ears, jolting his entire frame. The skin on his scalp prickled, the muscles in his forehead tightened, and a cold sweat instantly broke out.

That sound was horribly familiar; he had heard it not long ago—the sound of the grey jacket dragging its leg in the corridor. It sounded as if it were no more than a meter away, almost brushing against his back, close enough to touch his shoulder if he reached out. The sensation traveled straight down the back of his neck to his heels.

For a moment, Kuang Feifan's muscles seized up, rendering him immobile. He even considered whether to turn around and look or to pretend he hadn't heard it and ignore it.

But he reacted quickly, biting his tongue hard to remind himself that at this point, he needed to remain calm. The footsteps sounded unhurried, almost perfectly synchronized with his own pace. He took a deep breath, dared not stop or turn back, and instead ground his teeth, slowly turning his head while continuing to walk to see if the person was truly right behind him.

The footsteps did not cease, but when Kuang Feifan turned and looked intently, there was nothing in the grey mist behind him—just more grey haze. His movement only disturbed it, creating some strange air currents that quickly settled back into their uniform rhythm.

Seeing no visible anomaly, Kuang Feifan gave up trying to look back for the sound and continued forward. This time, he unconsciously quickened his pace. The mist soaked his clothes, making them cling uncomfortably. His feet were bare—he had kicked off his shoes upon descending the stairs to better feel the flagstones below—and since he couldn't see, feeling the path with his body was the only method he could devise.

Fortunately, his method proved somewhat accurate. Relying on the sensation of the flagstones under his feet, Kuang Feifan soon bumped right into the large iron gate of the courtyard. He faintly saw the silhouette of the gate through the dense fog and was overjoyed. He rushed forward a few steps, reached out, and pushed. A thick iron chain was wrapped several times around the gate, the ends secured by a large padlock.

"Damn it," Kuang Feifan cursed. He was forced to set He Shaoqing aside, grab the lock, and examine it closely. Being old, the lock was already rusted over, and he worried the internal mechanism might be seized up. Kuang Feifan pulled out his Swiss Army knife from his pocket.

Kuang Feifan had learned his lock-picking skills from a locksmith near his home; the tuition was five packs of Chunghwa cigarettes, and the master taught him everything he knew. At his current skill level, most common locks posed no problem. However, because the lock cylinder was significantly rusted and he had to remain vigilant of his surroundings while manipulating the pins, it took him considerable effort.

With a soft click, the shackle inside the padlock finally yielded. He hurriedly removed the lock and tossed it aside, then began working to unwind the heavy chain wrapped around the gate.

Suddenly, a figure lunged out of the mist beside Kuang Feifan. The figure’s raised arms aimed straight for the back of Kuang Feifan’s head. The hands, shriveled and desiccated like withered branches, resembled a pair of sharp claws; if they connected, they would certainly tear holes in him. Kuang Feifan, constantly aware of his surroundings, caught the movement in his peripheral vision. He instantly ducked and side-stepped to evade, and fortunately, his dodge was swift. The lunge missed its mark, but the momentum of the body still slammed into him, knocking him to the ground.

Kuang Feifan rolled instantly. The dense, water-like mist around him churned into wave-like cyclones due to his movement. Having evaded the attack, he dared not pause. Pushing off the ground, he sprang up, launching both feet toward the figure...