Chapter Twenty-One: The Shadowed Messenger

The man fixed his gaze on Wang Feiyang and suddenly spat out a sentence, then turned and walked straight upstairs. The scene stunned not only Wang Feiyang but me as well, who was chasing another man in black. I didn't dare move forward to stop them, because I was certain if I pressed on, I'd end up just like Wang Feiyang.

I hurried over to Wang Feiyang and helped him up, asking if he was alright. Pain etched his face as he rubbed his chest vigorously. "That man was transparent," he said, "but his attack was real. They're not human."

I was startled. If they're not human, then what are they? Wang Feiyang and I exchanged anxious glances, our faces growing tense. One female ghost had already been trouble enough—now, damn it, there were two male ghosts? I was beginning to wonder if this was the year of disaster, with all sorts of monsters and spirits flocking to my home!

At that moment, one of the two men had already entered the loft of my house, while the other stepped into the courtyard. We dared not approach or even breathe loudly. Earlier, they'd come in asking if this was Wu Zhenlong's coffin shop—could they have come looking for my grandfather?

Suddenly, a piercing scream erupted from the backyard. The man who had entered the courtyard was hurled out as if struck by an invisible force. The one upstairs, upon hearing the commotion, moved from the loft to the ground floor in the blink of an eye, and in another instant, he stood before the entrance to my house. His speed was astonishing, like a flash of lightning.

But once at the door, he didn't dare go any further. Instead, he and his companion cautiously retreated, their bodies trembling uncontrollably, as if they'd witnessed something truly terrifying.

In fact, what they saw wasn't some horrifying creature—it was the bus driver, just returning from the restroom. With every step he took, the two men who had seemed so formidable moments ago retreated in terror, until they reached the main hall.

The bus driver's face was dark and cold, staring at the two men without expression. With commanding presence, he said, "Get out!"

The pair hesitated for two seconds, exchanged a glance, and suddenly black iron chains appeared in their hands. A flash of anger crossed the bus driver's gloomy face, and he began to count, "Three..."

The men looked at each other again, and one cautiously stepped toward the bus driver. Meanwhile, the bus driver continued, "Two..."

Just as he counted down to one, the other man pulled his companion back, glaring at the bus driver with a pale, eerie face. The two immediately retreated to the entrance of my coffin shop.

Then, they opened two black umbrellas and vanished swiftly into the vast, rainy night.

Wang Feiyang and I were both left shaken, unable to make sense of what had just happened. The bus driver returned to his usual calm, as if nothing had occurred. He sat at the Eight Immortals table and instructed me to bring him a cup of tea.

I hurried over, grabbed the teapot, and poured his tea absentmindedly, my mind racing with questions about the bus driver's true identity. From his earlier strike at the mountain, to hurling the man in black from the backyard, to his forceful countdown—none of it was anything a normal person could do.

Lost in thought, I failed to notice water overflowing onto the table until the bus driver moved the cup aside and asked what was on my mind. Snapping back to reality, I asked instinctively, "Who are you, really?"

He paused, the teacup halfway to his lips, and frowned. I quickly changed the subject, asking who those two men were—they didn't seem human.

"They're not human," he replied, sipping his tea and placing the cup down. "They're agents of the underworld."

"Agents of the underworld!"

My hand trembled, and Wang Feiyang furrowed his brow, apparently unsure whether to believe him.

"Are those legendary soul-reapers real?" I asked reflexively, my face changing. "Why did they come to my coffin shop?"

"To collect your grandfather Wu Zhenlong's soul, of course."

With a loud clang, the teapot slipped from my hand and hit the floor. I still couldn't accept my grandfather's death, but if those two really were agents of the underworld, then his passing was undeniable.

A strange look crossed the bus driver's face. He stood and walked toward the door, saying, "Death doesn't mean disappearance—you don't need to grieve too much."

After saying this, he drew a yellow talisman from his pocket and stuck it to the door of our coffin shop, then strode toward his bus parked outside. "Wu Dao, don't obsess over your grandfather. Since the agents are looking for him, it means he hasn't entered the underworld yet—he's safe. When the time comes, you'll see him again."

"For now, you've stirred up trouble by digging up the coffin. You'd better think about how to survive the calamity ahead. She's far more terrifying than before."

"Who are you, really?" Wang Feiyang rushed outside to block the bus driver's path, his face dark as he demanded an answer.

"Who I am doesn't matter," the bus driver replied. "What matters is, if you want to live, you must listen to me and stop causing trouble." He handed Wang Feiyang a slip of paper, telling him to call if anything happened, then boarded his bus and drove off into the rainy night without a backward glance.

After he left, I quickly closed the coffin shop's door and went to my bedroom with Wang Feiyang. Neither of us spoke—we simply didn't know what to say.

In the end, we each took a side of the bed and lay down to rest. After a day of chaos, we were exhausted and desperately needed sleep.

But as I lay there, I tossed and turned, unable to drift off. My mind was full of questions, and an inexplicable fear enveloped me. After all our efforts, we were back where we started—the female ghost wasn't Yang Li, and Luo Xiu wasn't really Luo Xiu. We had been used, and opening the coffin might have unleashed terrifying consequences. Had the sudden appearance of those two agents of the underworld tonight been connected to our actions?

Half-awake, I dozed for a while, but in the middle of the night, the sound of footsteps descending the stairs startled me awake.

When I looked around, Wang Feiyang was gone. I rushed to open the door and saw him with his arms hanging limply, head lowered, walking step by step downstairs.

I hurriedly asked where he was going, but he didn't reply, continuing toward the door and stepping out into the night.

I chased after him, not knowing what he was up to. He ignored my calls, and his walking seemed oddly unnatural. I began to suspect something was wrong—could he be sleepwalking?

"Wang..." I started to call his name loudly, but suddenly remembered the taboo: never wake a sleepwalker abruptly, or they'll become simple-minded. Swallowing the shout, I hurried after him, determined to follow and keep him safe.

But just as I stepped outside, the next scene made my heart leap out of my chest.

On the deserted street, a piercing horn sounded, and a heavy truck barreled toward us, crashing straight into Wang Feiyang.