A bizarre resurrection: I, Yang Jian, am bound by a contract with the school beauty!

Yang Jian was secretly delighted, but his face remained indifferent.

He could sense it.

From the point where the ghostly hand made contact with the male corpse, a strange power, both cold and scorching, was spreading wildly outwards, attempting to erode the ghostly hand and, in turn, suppress him.

The supernatural power of this charred male corpse far exceeded his imagination.

Even though it was suppressed by the Ghost Hand, it was by no means an ordinary opponent.

That rusty woodcutter's knife.

At this moment, it was being held tightly in the male corpse's hand.

The blade was inches away, radiating a chilling aura.

His left hand gripped tightly on the charred, withered wrist of the male corpse, his fingertips digging into the flesh as if he wanted to crush the wrist.

Although the male corpse's body was stiffened by the ghostly hand.

But its grip strength remained terrifying, holding the handle of the woodcutter's knife tightly, as if the knife was part of its body, the core of its life.

Between the two.

A strange stalemate has formed.

Yang Jian tried to take the knife, but the male corpse refused to let go.

This stalemate.

To outsiders, it may seem like just a fleeting moment.

But in Yang Jian's perception.

But it felt like an eternity.

He could feel it clearly.

As time went on, although the ghost hand's suppressive power was strong, the ancient and powerful supernatural force within the male corpse was slowly but steadily resisting.

If it were just him alone.

They wanted to snatch the machete from the horrific male corpse.

It was a task that was virtually impossible to accomplish.

The wrist of the charred male corpse, gripped by the ghostly hand, trembled slightly amidst the sizzling black smoke.

It was an ancient and powerful supernatural instinct resisting being suppressed by a higher-level power.

The male corpse's empty eye sockets.

At this moment, for the first time, a trace of "emotion" was revealed—an anger of being offended and a resentment of being bound.

Its charred finger bones.

It seemed to be embedded in the handle of the woodcutter's knife, stubbornly refusing to let go.

Yang Jianqing's black ghost hand was not entirely unresponsive in its confrontation with the male corpse's power.

A tingling sensation faintly emanated from my fingertips; it was the result of supernatural forces eroding each other.

However, he was not alone.

"roar!!!"

Just as Yang Jian was locked in a stalemate with the charred male corpse, deafening roars came from all directions.

The ghosts from the opera troupe, who had been terrified by the male corpse's imposing presence, suddenly seemed to have been injected with adrenaline and regained their vitality.

They saw it.

They saw Yang Jian use his strange left hand to tightly grip the wrist of the charred male corpse.

They saw the male corpse move, and for the first time, they stopped.

hope.

This was the first time in countless years that they had been trapped on the fourth floor of this hotel that they had seen such clear hope.

The tallest of the martial arts demons now had bloodshot eyes.

The flames of madness reignited in his eyes, which had been dimmed by despair.

It suddenly waved its hand.

The costume on his body fluttered and made a sharp, grating sound.

Its face was covered in exaggerated paint.

At this moment, it also appeared distorted and ferocious due to the intense emotional fluctuations.

"Charge! All of you, charge! He's tied up! This is our only chance!"

Wu Shenggui's voice was filled with an almost hoarse, fanatical tone.

It roared with all its might, releasing all the long-suppressed desire and resentment.

Its body was the first to burst out.

Like a black lightning bolt, it struck the charred male corpse.

"kill!!!"

A series of sharp screams.

It came from the mouths of the remaining twenty-odd ghosts in the opera troupe.

They no longer hesitated.

No more fear.

That yearning for freedom, that obsession with breaking free from constraints, completely overwhelmed the fear of death at that moment.

They are like a group of wild beasts that have been trapped in a cage for too long. Once they see a crack, they will unleash their most primal and frenzied power.

puff!

puff!

puff!

The ghosts of the opera troupe charged madly toward the charred male corpse, one after another.

They know.

Without a machete, the male corpses could not cause them any real harm.

Although the male corpse's supernatural powers remained terrifying.

But without that machete that can dismember everything, its threat level is reduced by more than one level.

A female ghost was at the very front.

Its face, which was covered with thick makeup, was now contorted with rage.

It opened its blood-red maw.

It bit down on the male corpse's neck!

Although it cannot be bitten off.

However, it also brought with it a nauseating, fishy stench.

Followed by.

A martial arts ghost swung a wooden stick it had picked up from somewhere and smashed it hard against the male corpse's head, making a dull thud.

Clown ghost, blue-clown ghost, old man ghost...

Various ghostly opera troupes, each with their own bizarre attack methods, surged towards the charred male corpse from all directions like a tidal wave.

They attempted to overwhelm the terrifying ghost with their sheer numbers.

The charred male corpse, whose wrist was tightly gripped by Yang Jian's ghostly hand, was now in a dilemma.

It was suppressed by the ghost hand.

However, its instinctive supernatural reactions still exist.

Faced with the frenzied attack of so many ghostly opera troupes, it had to react.

An even more violent supernatural fluctuation erupted from the male corpse.

It tried to break free from Yang Jian's ghostly grasp, and attempted to wield its wood-chopping knife to dismember these ants that dared to offend it once more.

Its once empty eye sockets now seemed to be ignited with two eerie green flames, revealing a terrifying rage.

however.

Yang Jian's ghostly hand, as if it had taken root and sprouted, gripped its wrist tightly.

No matter how much the male corpse struggled, it could not escape.

The suppression from the higher level of the ghost hand slowed down the male corpse's supernatural power, making it difficult for him to unleash his full potential.

Every time it tries to mobilize supernatural power to fight back, it is silently weakened by the ghostly hand.

The charred body of the male corpse.

Under the attack of the opera troupe's ghosts, it began to shake slightly.

Although these attacks cannot actually harm it.

But it successfully distracted it and depleted its supernatural power.

Its body was surrounded by the ghosts of the opera troupe.

Some of the opera troupe ghosts even climbed onto its back and attacked it in their eerie ways, making the already stiff male corpse move even more sluggish.

Yang Jian clearly sensed it.

The strength with which the male corpse gripped the woodcutter's knife was slowly diminishing at a rate imperceptible to the naked eye.

The force of resistance emanating from the machete also became less resolute.

Occasionally, a slight fluctuation may occur.

"It really works!"