As the phantom look of Pi Hou'er vanished, a wave of icy chill swept through the room, and the blue serpentine flame instantly scorched the wall black. I froze, unsure if Pi Hou'er’s soul had been consumed by the fire, or what his current state might be.

“Pi Hou’er… Pi Hou’er…”

I kept calling his name, the thought flashing through my mind repeatedly: Would he have been utterly annihilated?

Silence reigned. I keenly felt the room temperature return to normal, and I couldn't help but sigh. Pi Hou'er was dead, and I had no idea if his spirit remained anywhere.

Strangely, knowing Pi Hou'er was dead didn't bring much sadness; my mind was consumed only by what he had just told me—that he had come.

I immediately recalled the situation at the mental hospital. Wu Qian had said the very same thing. Perhaps the “he” Pi Hou'er spoke of was her, that female ghost in red, or maybe even the small shadow haunting my father.

Pi Hou'er was gone, but where he died, and how, remained a total mystery to me.

After steadying my nerves slightly, I felt aches and itching all over my body. Lifting my sleeve, I saw that the places entangled by the long hair were not only crisscrossed with red ligature marks but were also dotted with tiny beads of blood—it seemed that hair had truly pierced my skin.

I found a towel, rinsed the spots under the faucet, and dabbed at the blood. My entire body felt weak and soft, so I sank onto the bed. My thoughts were a tangled mess, yielding no clarity. I decided to put the Sarira back into my pocket, hoping Pi Hou’er’s soul might return to find me.

But I stayed at Pi Hou'er’s house until dawn was approaching, and his spirit never reappeared.

Staring at the sky beginning to lighten outside the window, I realized I needed to leave his home as soon as possible.

On the way home, I chose to walk instead of taking transport, hoping to find some clue or hint along the way, but beyond a heap of speculation, I had no idea what I should do next.

The entire walk, I felt something was amiss behind me, as if someone were watching me from the shadows. Yet, after checking repeatedly, I couldn't spot any suspicious target.

It was only when I got home and opened my door that I knew my feeling was correct. The instant I opened it, a sharp sting shot through the back of my neck, and I lost consciousness the next second.

When I came to, I found myself lying flat on the threshold. Looking up, I saw my home had been ransacked, almost turned upside down. My first thought was that I had been robbed.

Indeed, some cash from the house and the bills in my wallet were gone. These weren't the main concern; the most critical loss was the Sarira from my person.

Clearly, someone had attacked me from behind while I was unconscious. I felt a surge of anger and anxiety, mixed with lingering fear. The intruder had merely knocked me out; killing me in that state would have been terribly easy.

The missing Sarira plunged me into deeper turmoil. Without thinking, I instinctively locked all doors and windows, then huddled on the bed, shivering uncontrollably. Compared to seeing ghosts, this recent experience was far more terrifying; death had felt so incredibly close in that instant.

I couldn't help but curse the thief who robbed me. It was a Sarira, not a jewel—where could they possibly sell it? At the same time, something felt off; I hadn't heard of home invasions happening this way in the neighborhood.

The small consolation was that what was lost was the Sarira Uncle Ye had given me before he died; the other Sarira I kept at home was already safely stored elsewhere.

What needed doing now was calling the bank immediately to report the loss.

After managing the cancellation procedures in a daze, my head felt heavy and muddled. Eventually, I could no longer think straight, so I collapsed onto the bed, pulled the covers over my head, and fell into a heavy, groggy sleep.

I couldn't tell how long I slept, but I suddenly jolted awake. After opening my eyes and letting them adjust, I noticed the light inside had dimmed. I was startled—I hadn't felt like I slept that long, so how was it already dark?

Looking up, I was astonished to see that thick fog had enveloped everything outside the window, like a vast white curtain hung outside. Moreover, I felt wisps of bone-chilling cold air slowly seeping into the room. Casually glancing sideways, I saw numerous tiny beads of water condensed on the wall beside the bed.

Looking out the window again, figures seemed to flicker constantly in the white mist—horrifying, grotesque faces flashed by in the fog, chilling the blood. It was like countless scenes from horror films flashing before my eyes. I desperately wanted to close my eyes, but my gaze felt locked, unable to shift away.

Time seemed to freeze. I don't know how long I was forced to stare outside; my mind was completely blank. I didn't snap back to reality until the mist gradually dissipated and vanished.

To be honest, that episode wasn't truly terrifying; I had experienced far more dreadful things. But seeing that triggered a thought: without the Sarira, I would likely start seeing ghosts again, and there was still the lingering issue of that place.

I hadn't thought about that place for a long time. What I just witnessed brought back the horror of that location instantly.

The cold drafts inside the room had disappeared, but the water droplets still clung to the walls, the floor, and the window glass. Dampness washed over me. I lay prone on the bed for another half hour before daring to roll over and get up.

I had deposited that Sarira in a bank safety deposit box. It was a secret, my secret alone. Even though I had to pay monthly fees, I felt much safer keeping it there.

Checking the time, I realized it was already approaching evening; there was no way I could go to the bank today. I spent the night in a state of near-constant trembling. The next day dragged on until noon before I headed straight for the bank.

I reasoned that with the sun shining brightly at noon, the chance of encountering a ghost would be minimal, and since there would be more people around, robbery was less likely to occur.

Retrieving the Sarira went smoothly. Only after I held it in my hand did my anxiety truly subside. I returned home very carefully and threaded the Sarira onto a red string, placing it inside a small cloth pouch to hang around my neck, thinking this should offer me some protection.

Who would have thought that just a few days later, I would be attacked again, and the Sarira would be stolen once more?

I truly felt I had hit rock bottom for bad luck. Even though I had diligently adjusted my schedule to be home early and leave late, I still couldn't guard against being bludgeoned and robbed.

If some kind Samaritan hadn't noticed and taken me to the hospital, I might have ended up dying on the street.

Speaking of which, the hospital was the place I feared most, especially since, in that condition, I could see ghosts again while being stripped of the Sarira's protection.

Because the hospital required me to stay for observation for a day, my fears quickly materialized. As dusk settled, even though I lay in the observation room bed, I could hear various weeping sounds drifting in from the corridor outside.

And although there were several other patients in the observation room with me, I could still clearly feel the room temperature slowly dropping.

It was then that I was struck by an unbearable urge to urinate.