The Three Pure Ones' Secret: Expressing Spirit

That rotting, pale face remained expressionless, lifeless, and devoid of emotion.

It stiffly and slowly stood up, taking each step leisurely towards me. My whole body went limp like a lump of mud, my legs trembled uncontrollably, my scalp tingled to the extreme, and I couldn't even scream.

As it drew closer, its terrifying face—with its flesh ripped out, eye sockets hollow, and exposed bones—slowly came into view. The corners of its previously blank mouth gradually twitched into a sinister and eerie grin, which terrified me.

Before I could react, a cold, stiff ghostly hand lunged at me. I was already terrified, my mind blank, and I forgot to dodge. In an instant, it gripped my neck tightly. A feeling of suffocation swept over me; my trachea was squeezed tightly, my chest tightened, I had difficulty breathing, and my vision blurred.

Without a word, it lowered its head and bit down hard on my face. A sharp, cold touch came, and excruciating pain instantly spread across my cheek. I could clearly feel the skin and flesh on my face being torn off, and the piercing pain made my whole body spasm.

The guy was filled with despair. It's over! Being disfigured is a minor matter; he's probably going to die right here in this villa. Looks like he'll have to build a grave on the spot!

Just as I had completely given up struggling and my consciousness was fading, Fan Biao's shouts came from all directions at the same time. The voice seemed to come from near and far, and although I felt that it was right next to me, I couldn't find him anywhere I looked.

Then the entire living room shook violently, the world spun around, as if the earth itself were trembling. My hazy consciousness slowly returned, and I suddenly woke up with a start. The living room was still pitch black, the television was still flickering faintly, and Fan Biao was anxiously patting my face and shaking me, shouting, "Wake up! Holy crap! What nightmare did you have that scared you like this?"

I was panting heavily, drenched in cold sweat, my heart pounding, my face filled with lingering fear, my eyes fixed on the real Fan Biao in front of me, and he just didn't look real.

Old Fan felt uncomfortable under my watchful gaze, as if I were looking at a thief. He scratched his head and joked awkwardly:

"What's up, bro? Why are you staring at me like that? Am I too handsome? Let me make this clear, I'm not gay!"

It took me a long time to recover from the shock. My chest was still heaving violently, my heart was pounding wildly, and my clothes were covered in cold sweat. I felt cold and stuffy, and it was incredibly uncomfortable.

I looked at Fan Biao, who was calm and collected, and recounted the entire process of encountering the evil spirit in my dream without missing a single detail. This included the terrifying ghost face that was half rotten, with empty eye sockets and exposed white bones, as well as the horrifying scene of it tightly gripping my neck and biting at my face. I described every detail clearly.

Old Fan wasn't surprised at all after hearing this; on the contrary, he seemed to have known all along, looking at me calmly. He frowned slightly and explained to me in a low voice, "This isn't an ordinary nightmare. Your Netherworld Vision has been on the whole time, and this villa has accumulated malevolent yin energy for over a month. That evil ghost has been lingering here for a long time, leaving its malevolent shadows everywhere. When you fell asleep, your mind was relaxed, and your defenses were at their weakest. Your consciousness directly captured the ghostly shadows left in the malevolent energy, which is why you saw it so realistically, exactly like experiencing it yourself."

After saying that, he glanced at the time on his phone. His relaxed expression instantly turned serious, his brows furrowed, and his tone became deep: "It's past midnight now. At midnight, all ghosts roam freely, and spirits are unrestrained. That ghost is about to come out and make its move."

Upon hearing this, my friend felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders, and he dared not relax even for a moment.

For the next half hour, the entire villa was eerily quiet. The whole house was pitch black, with only the television screen casting a faint, flickering light that cast dappled, swaying shadows on the walls and floor.

The eerie atmosphere of the night permeated the entire living room, and the biting cold was everywhere, seeping into my bones through my trouser legs and cuffs. I was freezing, my back was numb, and I couldn't help but shiver every now and then. My nerves were on edge, and I stared intently at the dark corners of the room, afraid that something might pop out at any moment.

Just when the atmosphere was at its most oppressive, Peng Guoqiang, who had been sleeping soundly on the sofa next to him, suddenly woke up with a groan.

He was still hungover, his head was spinning, his eyes were unfocused and glazed, his face was swollen from drinking, and he walked unsteadily, completely in a half-awake state. He squinted, looking at me and Lao Fan sitting there in a daze, and mumbled incoherently, "What are you two doing here in the middle of the night instead of sleeping... Where's the water? I'm dying of thirst, my throat is practically burning."

At that moment, the whole room was eerily cold, and Lao Fan and I were on high alert. We didn't even dare to breathe loudly, shivering from the cold, and had no time to care about whether we were thirsty or not.

We exchanged a glance, speechless, and simply ignored him, too lazy to bother with him. Peng Guoqiang, seeing our cold indifference and complete disregard for him, gave a helpless shrug.

Under the influence of alcohol, he was completely oblivious to the eerie and oppressive atmosphere around him, as well as the ominous and sinister aura filling the room. He could only prop himself up on the sofa, drag his weak feet around the coffee table in the middle, and stagger toward the kitchen, intending to find himself a drink of water.

Old Fan and I didn't take him seriously at all. We remained seated on the sofa, staring straight ahead, silently waiting for the evil spirit to appear.

Just a few seconds later, Peng Guoqiang, who had just stepped into the corridor, suddenly froze, and then scrambled back, tumbling and crawling on all fours.

The sleepiness on his face vanished instantly, his complexion turned deathly pale, devoid of any color, his pupils contracted sharply, and his eyes were filled with extreme terror. He trembled uncontrollably, his lips quivering, even his voice shaking, as he hissed in a low, trembling voice, "Holy shit! That scared the hell out of me! There's...there's someone standing in the kitchen!"

The moment I heard those words, my heart skipped a beat, my scalp tingled, every hair on my body stood on end, and an extreme chill swept over me. My heart felt like it had suddenly stopped beating.

Fan Biao reacted quickly. His relaxed body tensed instantly, his eyes sharp and piercing. He turned his head sharply towards the kitchen, his expression becoming extremely serious and solemn.

Fearing that any movement would attract evil spirits, he immediately lowered his voice and spoke rapidly and solemnly to Peng Guoqiang and me, instructing us: "Don't turn around, don't look around! Sit still on the sofa! No matter what you hear or see next, stay calm and steady! We have talismans to protect our yang energy; as long as we don't move or make a sound, it won't see us!"

At that moment, the air in the dark and deathly silent villa living room was completely frozen. An invisible, chilling sense of oppression enveloped us. I clenched my fists tightly, held my breath, my heart pounded wildly, and my whole body was stiff with tension, afraid to make the slightest movement.

I know perfectly well in my heart that the real thing has arrived.

The three of us sat frozen on the sofa, our bodies tense and motionless.

At that moment, a strange sense of déjà vu inexplicably welled up inside me, especially like the game of "Red Light, Green Light" I played as a child. Whoever moves loses. But back then, it was a game, and we were afraid of losing! This isn't a game anymore; losing is losing. If we expose ourselves and let it escape, catching it will be quite difficult.

But now, the atmosphere was eerie. The whole room was pitch black and deathly silent, a heavy, oppressive chill hanging over us, chilling us to the bone. The air was so still that there wasn't even a whisper of wind. The three of us sat stiffly on the sofa, our bodies rigid, our necks stiff, even our breathing deliberately held back, afraid to make the slightest sound, lest we attract the ghostly figures lurking in the shadows.

Immediately afterwards, the figure that Peng Guoqiang had just bumped into in the kitchen slowly floated towards the living room.

As it drew closer, the surrounding temperature visibly and drastically decreased.

The already chilly living room instantly felt like I'd fallen into an ice cellar. The cold seeped into my skin, making my scalp tingle, my fingertips stiffen, and goosebumps rise all over my body. The surrounding air was cold and damp, carrying a deathly, decaying smell that made my chest feel tight and my heart pound.

The next second, a semi-transparent, footless phantom slowly floated into view directly in front of us. It hovered in mid-air, drifting lightly in the darkness, moving at an absurdly slow pace, like a turtle just awakened from hibernation—sluggish and sluggish, moving in a slow, deliberate motion. But I could see clearly that the outline of this ghostly figure, its broken and mangled form, was exactly the same as the evil spirit that had gnawed at my face in my dream!

My heart jumped into my throat, my pupils contracted sharply, I clenched my teeth, forced myself to stay calm, and didn't even dare to look away.

Peng Guoqiang, standing to the side, was in a completely different state. He hadn't opened the Netherworld Path. When he arrived earlier, perhaps because he had just woken up and was still somewhat groggy, coupled with the fact that he had drunk a lot of alcohol the night before and his yang energy was somewhat weak, he could see ghostly figures at first. But now that he was fully awake, he couldn't see anything with his mortal eyes.

From beginning to end, he thought that Lao Fan and I were deliberately faking it, putting on a convincing act. He couldn't sense the eerie atmosphere in the room at all, nor could he see the terrifying ghostly figures floating in front of him. He just thought that the two of us were sitting there like lunatics, which was particularly absurd.

So he sat there feeling extremely restless, twisting and turning, rubbing his buttocks against the sofa, his whole body agitated.

My buddy and I caught him fidgeting out of the corner of our eye, and we thought to ourselves: Does this old guy have fleas on his butt? What time is it and he still won't stop?

Neither of us paid him any attention; our focus was completely fixed on the demon ahead. But neither of us expected what Peng Guoqiang would do next, which left Lao Fan and me utterly dumbfounded.

In the deathly silent, dark living room, a long and loud fart suddenly rang out. It lasted for more than five seconds, with an extremely long drawl, and the "pfft" sound reverberated throughout the entire room, particularly jarring in the eerily quiet villa.

It was noisy, but the smell was absolutely awful.

A strong, pungent stench exploded out instantly, filling the entire living room. Mixed with the already chilling, deathly atmosphere, the smell was both foul and choking, hitting right at the top of one's head.

Old Fan and I sat next to him, instantly feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Our faces contorted in agony, and we nearly suffocated. We were both exasperated and speechless: Holy crap! Seriously! And then you have to spout that nonsense at a time like this!

The most terrifying thing was that the loud noise and the overwhelming stench precisely attracted the evil spirit in front of us. The ghostly figure had already slowly turned around, its back to us, and was about to drift away and leave our area. But Peng Guoqiang's earth-shattering fart seemed to tell it, "I'm sitting here."

The dazed ghostly body paused for a moment, then slowly turned around and, following the sound and smelling the stench, floated slowly and eerily toward Peng Guoqiang.

The movements were slow, yet incredibly determined, like a vicious dog that had come seeking its prey, inching closer. Completely bewildered, Peng Guoqiang had no idea that death was already at his doorstep. He thought we were just trying not to laugh, so he turned his head away with a nonchalant expression. He even gave us a smug, smug grin, secretly winking at us—his expression clearly saying: Keep pretending! Let's see how long you can hold it in!

He smiled with a relaxed and carefree expression, completely unsuspecting. But to Lao Fan and me, the scene was horrifying.

That rotten, hollow, hideous, and terrifying ghost face was slowly approaching him, like a wild dog sniffing out a scent, its head slightly lowered, probing around him, exuding an eerie deathly aura.

On one side was a clueless, grinning old drunkard. On the other side was a menacing demon, close at hand, ready to strike at any moment. My heart pounded, my back was soaked in cold sweat, and I was on the verge of collapse. At that moment, I really wanted to curse Peng Guoqiang, that scoundrel, to death on the spot!

The evil spirit slowly approached Peng Guoqiang, its chilling aura almost completely enveloping him.

Dude, I sat frozen in place, cold sweat pouring down my back, my palms soaked, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst my throat. I was on edge, barely daring to breathe, watching the ghost pressed against Peng Guoqiang's face, terrified that the next second would be a disaster.

On the other hand, Peng Guoqiang himself seemed completely oblivious, like a fool. He was still staring blankly at me and Lao Fan, a mocking smile on his face and his eyes darting around. He was probably secretly laughing at us for putting on an act, completely unaware that he was already teetering on the brink of death, with the Grim Reaper right next to his nose.

The demon before them lowered its head, its empty single eye staring intently at the sofa, its rotting face constantly shifting, carefully searching for the source of the stench.

Finally, it slowly lowered its head, its head gradually probing down until it reached the sofa between Peng Guoqiang's legs, intently sniffing the air. In that chilling and eerie moment, no one expected Peng Guoqiang to pull off something so astonishing.

"Pfft pfft pfft~~!"

A series of loud, continuous farts suddenly exploded! The sounds were dense and prolonged, even more explosive than the previous one. The pungent stench instantly doubled, spreading wildly and filling the entire dark living room, the smell so pungent that it made people dizzy and nauseous.

Fan Biao and I were completely stunned, our minds went blank, and we were speechless with shock at the old man's outrageous actions.

And then something even more outrageous happened! The terrifying and frightening evil spirit was actually startled by this sudden series of farts!

The ghostly body, which had been slowly bending down, suddenly stopped, its stiff form jerking backward, and it floated several meters away.

Immediately afterwards, I saw it raise its withered, blood-stained, and cracked ghostly hands and awkwardly and comically pinch its nose tightly.

Its empty, single eye narrowed slightly, and its entire ghostly form exuded extreme disgust and discomfort. It was clear that even a ghost couldn't withstand Peng Guoqiang's deadly, foul-mouthed attack.

A dignified and ferocious ghost was actually forced to retreat by a drunkard's series of foul-smelling farts tonight. The absurd and terrifying scene before my eyes instantly turned my extremely tense nerves into a state of bewildered amusement.