Why are all of us who transmigrated at the same time demons?

Just as the dark lightning was about to strike, its body suddenly swayed, like ink dripping into deep water, rapidly melting and collapsing, disappearing silently into the impenetrable darkness behind the hall.

"Don't let it get away!" Ma Lu shouted hoarsely, enduring the excruciating pain.

"Don't panic, everyone!" Li Xiao immediately stepped forward, extending his left hand, which was as withered as old tree bark. This hand was the dwelling place of the vengeful ghost he controlled—the Paper Ghost—and also his means of tracking it.

"I've located this vengeful ghost!" His tone carried a hint of barely perceptible arrogance.

As soon as the slightest trace of the target is detected, the blue paper thrown by the Paper Ghost will cling to it like a leech, ignoring obstacles and accurately pointing to the target's hiding place.

When the demon slayer sees the target, the blue paper will instantly turn into blood red, a symbol of death and curse. If it hits its target, it can cause terrifying damage.

Li Xiao's withered left fingertips twitched slightly, and a piece of blue toilet paper with a faint phosphorescent edge and a cold, slippery texture was slowly pulled out. However, the moment this paper appeared, something unexpected happened!

Instead of pointing in a certain direction as usual, the blue paper, to everyone's astonishment, began to ripple violently as if it were alive! Strands of deep red ink, like congealed blood, spread, twisted, and combined wildly on the blue background, instantly forming lines of dazzlingly clear text:

"My name is Li Xiao,"

"When you see this letter,"

"I am already dead..."

Every word seemed to be carved with resentment and malice, exuding a chilling aura of despair.

Immediately afterwards, with a soft "plop," a clear, dark red bloody handprint, its edges seemingly still dripping with viscous liquid, was imprinted in the very center of the letter like a red-hot branding iron!

The color drained from Li Xiao's face instantly, leaving him looking like a bloodless zombie. His lips trembled violently, and his eyes were filled with disbelief and horror.

"How...how is this possible! It...it forcibly overwrote the tracking mark of the Paper Ghost!" he cried out, his voice shrill and distorted with fear. The power of the Blood Hand Death Ghost had, in such a brutal and bizarre way, turned against him and enslaved the ghosts he controlled, delivering deadly "letters" to every hunter!

"Captain, this... this means you've been targeted by them instead?" Xiao Wang, a young man in the team who was controlling a level D ghost and whose face still looked quite youthful, swallowed hard in fear, his voice trembling with fear. He had never seen such a ferocious and unreasonable method.

Before he could finish speaking, the blue letter in Li Xiao's hand, bearing the declaration of death, suddenly exploded! It wasn't burning, nor was it tearing; rather, it seemed as if countless tiny living things were being conceived within it, instantly decomposing, multiplying, and expanding!

Countless fragments, glowing with phosphorescence, landed precisely and silently on the palms, chests, and even foreheads of every support team member present, like blue moths with their own consciousness!

What's even more chilling is that once these fragments come into contact with a living person, they immediately begin to "grow" on their own! They greedily absorb the breath of the living person, their edges constantly spreading, merging, and thickening. In just a few seconds, the fragment in each person's hand becomes a complete, cold, slippery blue letter.

On each sheet of paper, that fatal line of text was meticulously printed:

"My name is XX. By the time you read this letter, I will already be dead..."

And right in the center, there was a fresh, dark red bloodstain that looked as if it had just been pressed on!

Ma Lu gripped the cold, seemingly suction-like "death warrant" tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white from the force. His immense grip creased the letter with deep wrinkles, as if he wanted to crush it. Yet the letter was exceptionally resilient, its cold, slippery texture seeping into his very bones through his skin.

The other team members were even more pale, staring anxiously at the "death notice" in their hands. A chilling despair coiled around each of their hearts like a venomous snake.

This isn't tracking; this is clearly a death sentence issued in advance for all of them by the other side!

"Is this what a Class A vengeful ghost is...?" Li Xiao's face was ashen, his voice dry and hoarse, trembling with despair, "So fierce...so fierce!"

That evening, recovering from the fragmentation of his memories, the Bloodhand Death Demon followed his instincts and quietly crouched outside the door of a bachelor apartment.

The air was filled with the faint scent of the ghost it had sent out not long ago, like the afterglow of a cheap incense stick, and a living breath that made a certain part of its body restless.

The vengeful spirit had vanished without a trace, like a stone sinking into the sea. Now, it was going to personally "deal with" the trouble here, and incidentally... satisfy its insatiable bloodlust.

The pitch-black body, composed of viscous blood and solidified shadows, easily pierced through the security door that would have been incredibly sturdy for an ordinary person, as if passing through a curtain of water.

It blends perfectly into the deep shadows cast by the walls and furniture, twisting and elongating, sometimes clinging to the ceiling, sometimes leaving a stain on the floor that disappears quickly.

Its movement defied common sense, its joints twisting at incredible angles, its limbs touching the ground yet possessing a strange, feline elegance, like a giant, deformed shadow spider, or an alien cat from the abyss, silently creeping towards the faint yet unusually clear scent of life deep within the apartment.

Chapter 183 Supernatural Revival: Humans Scaring Ghosts (Part Two)

close!close!

That scent was right behind the tightly closed bedroom door! Fresh, warm, with the rhythm of a heartbeat, like the most alluring lighthouse in the darkness.

Its eerie green eyes gleamed with a greedy and cruel light in the shadows, and three different ferocious wills within it achieved a brief unity at this moment—to tear! To devour! To savor the warm fear and flesh!

Just as its jet-black claws, seemingly capable of swallowing light, were about to touch the cold bedroom door—

That incredibly clear, irresistible human scent, like a sweet lure, vanished without warning!

It was as if it had been instantly extinguished by an invisible hand!

Bloodhand the Death Demon's movements abruptly halted. A strange, bewildering feeling, like a pebble thrown into a stagnant pool, rippled faintly across its chaotic thoughts, which were primarily composed of killing instincts and shattered fear.

Its limited wisdom, derived from the barely fused fusion of three vengeful spirits, was incapable of analyzing this abnormal phenomenon. Ghosts mostly act on instinct. And at this moment, a strange disconnect existed between the guidance of instinct and the perception of reality.

After a brief pause, the instinct to kill once again took over. It decided to proceed as planned.

A dark, bloody hand, like a phantom, pierced through the tightly closed bedroom door. Like a flowing, filthy shadow, it silently "flowed" into the bedroom.

The room was small and simply furnished. A single bed stood against the wall, its bedding piled up haphazardly, as if someone were curled up asleep inside. The curtains were drawn, with only a faint light filtering through the crack in the door, outlining a blurry silhouette.

The target... is in bed?

The part of the Bloodhand Death Demon that belonged to the Pseudo-Demon began to writhe excitedly. It slid to the edge of the bed like a ghost, its enormous shadow enveloping the entire bed.

It crouched down, its terrifying face filled with greed and a barely perceptible, instinctive wariness, slowly approaching the raised blankets, trying to see the face of its "prey" clearly.

Just as it was about to touch the bedding—

The blanket was suddenly yanked off!

The person sitting up in bed wasn't a living person curled up at all!

That was a face! A face that froze the darkest corners of its soul and drove it to scream madness!

His face was covered in thick, fleshy muscles, and his skin was rough and oily. A hideous scar ran diagonally from his left forehead to his right chin, splitting his face in two.

Those eyes—turbid, ferocious, and inhuman—were like a butcher eyeing livestock awaiting slaughter, staring intently at the vengeful ghost so close at hand with a cruel, mocking smile!

"No! It's you! It's you!!"

Inside the Bloodhand Death Demon's body, the core part belonging to the Pseudo-Demon instantly "exploded" like an ice block thrown into a furnace!

The bloody memories, sealed away for over fifty years and forcibly distorted and forgotten, burst forth like a flood, carrying boundless fear and excruciating pain, instantly destroying the barely maintained dam in its mind!

That's the face! That terrifying face etched into the very marrow! That blood-red night!

In the ancient building of the Qi family, under the cold moonlight, stood the owner of this face, grinning maliciously as he picked up the ghost-headed knife, which was shrouded in ominous black energy and had a terrifying mouth full of sharp teeth and dripping saliva split open on its blade.

It watched helplessly as the knife fell, its parents' screams drowned out by the "crunch" of sharp teeth chewing on flesh and bone, and then its own legs.

Excruciating pain! Unimaginable excruciating pain!

And then there was the hot breath, tinged with the stench of blood and alcohol, as that face drew closer: "Heh heh... kid... don't be afraid... you and your father's face... are fucking alike... I love peeling off these kinds of faces... slowly..."

"It hurts! I don't want to die! I don't want to die—! I don't want this face anymore... please let me go!"

The Bloodhand Death Demon let out a mournful wail that was completely unlike any other vengeful ghost! It was no longer the terrifying Class A monster that inspired fear; at this moment, it had completely degenerated into a boy struggling helplessly in a pool of blood, utterly destroyed by fear!

Instinctively, it covered its face tightly with its bloodied hands! It couldn't let him see! It absolutely couldn't let him see! This face, so similar to its father's, was the root cause of the torture and murder!

The face was writhing and deforming. Driven by extreme fear, the Pseudo-Demon frantically and futilely tried to change its appearance and escape the face that brought it endless nightmares!

This extreme fear, originating from the very core of the soul and directed at a specific object of terror, acted like the most potent toxin, instantly suppressing the ferocious aspects of the death demon and the telephone ghost within the body.

The Bloodhand Death Demon's massive body trembled violently, like a giant cockroach that had been frightened beyond measure. It suddenly shrank downwards, leaving a foul stench, and scurried into the narrow space under the bed in a disheveled state!

Its dark body was curled up in the dusty shadows, desperately squeezing into the corner, as if trying to squeeze itself into a crack in the wall.

“You can’t see me…you can’t see me…you can’t see me…” Overlapping, hoarse whispers, like the most desperate prayers, echoed repeatedly under the dark bed. It curled itself into a trembling, filthy shadow.

Time ticked by in the deathly silence. The blood-stained ghost beneath the bed could only see a pair of feet in worn-out slippers pacing slowly and heavily around the room.

Each footstep felt like it was stepping on its fragile nerves.

The enormous demon-headed sword, exuding an aura that made its soul tremble, leaned casually against the bedside. The illusory maw of sharp teeth on the blade seemed to be opening and closing silently, chewing.

Fear, like a cold tide, crashed against its will wave after wave. However, the inherent ferocity of a Class A vengeful ghost was not so easily crushed.

After the initial extreme fear subsided, the malevolent nature of the ghost of death and the ghost of the telephone began to struggle and revive. The pacing feet, the knife, the face... a strong sense of humiliation and the anger of being mocked ignited like poisonous fire beneath the ashes of fear.

“Peel it off…peel off that face…tear it apart! Let it taste fear too!” A vicious voice roared in its chaotic thoughts, growing louder and louder.

Yes! We can't hide! It's the Blood-Handed Death Demon! A Class A ferocious beast! It seeks revenge! It wants to personally peel off the face that has brought it eternal nightmares!

A ferocity gradually overwhelmed the remaining fear. Dark, foul blood surged in the shadows, coalescing into sharp, knife-like claws. Its small, eerie green eyes were once again consumed by cruelty and madness. It slightly arched its body, preparing to pounce like a venomous snake from under the bed, delivering a fatal blow to its target!

Chapter 184 The Supernatural Revival: Humans Scaring Ghosts (Part 3)

Just as it was gathering its strength—

A soft, abrupt, and chilling "drip-drip" sound broke the deathly silence of the room.

Something round and wet rolled off the edge of the bed, with an unsettling stickiness, and rolled all the way into the shadows under the bed, finally, gently, almost mockingly, bumping into its twisted "ankle" made of congealed blood.

Bloodhanded Death Demon's movements froze again.

A chilling sensation, sharper and colder than the sight of the Demon Head Sword Man, instantly surged through its entire body from the point of contact! The core part of its body belonging to the Telephone Demon felt as if it had been branded with a red-hot iron, emitting a silent, tearing scream!

Its twisted neck suddenly turned 180 degrees backward at an angle that defied physiological structure! Its eerie green eyes, like two will-o'-the-wisps in the darkness, were fixedly focused on the thing that had bumped into it.

It was a woman's head.

His hair was dry, yellow, and disheveled, covered in dust and dark red stains. His facial skin was pale and bluish, lifeless.

Her face was fairly pretty, but on her right cheek, there was a huge, deep scar that revealed the bone and had ominous bluish-purple edges. It looked like an ugly centipede, tearing from the corner of her eye to the corner of her mouth, ruining what should have been a beautiful face and making it look hideous.

Those eyes were wide open and empty, the pupils dilated, yet they seemed to carry a deep-seated resentment, staring intently at the vengeful ghost deep beneath the bed.

"Aaaaaah—! It's her! It's her! It's her!!!"

The core of the Telephone Ghost shattered completely! More chaotic, sharper, and more desperate fragments of memory than when the Pseudo-Ghost exploded, like billions of poisoned steel needles, pierced every corner of its mind!

An orphanage! A dark, damp, musty corner! A woman in faded orphanage work clothes! That's her face! A face with the same scars, yet more vibrant!

She was incredibly strong, pressing him—that thin little boy—firmly onto the cold, dirty ground! Her thick, powerful fingers, reeking of a mixture of cheap soap and blood, gripped his hair tightly, tearing it apart skin and flesh!

Excruciating pain! The excruciating pain of my scalp being torn apart!

Blood streamed down his forehead, blurring his vision… He could hear the soft "plop" sounds of his hair being plucked from his scalp, and the woman's suppressed, twisted pleasure-filled gasps and curses: "You little bastard…you told on me…you tried to run away…I'll pluck all your hair out…make you a bald bastard…"

The pain and fear kept him awake at night. He sneaked out of the orphanage and ran to the old red phone booth on the street corner. His trembling fingers dialed a number he couldn't even remember completely.

All I heard from the receiver was a busy tone, a hopeless busy tone.

Just then, a tall, thin shadow loomed over the glass of the phone booth, and he turned around in alarm…

That scarred face! *In the dim moonlight, it was distorted, magnified, and pasted onto the glass of the phone booth!

The venom and cruelty in those eyes were a hundred times more terrifying than any of the vengeful ghosts he had ever seen!

He was dragged out...like a dead dog...The last thing he saw was the old, black telephone hanging in the phone booth, no longer able to give him any hope...

"No! No! Don't come any closer! Don't come any closer—!"

The double, superimposed extreme fears, originating from different cores, were like two destructive torrents, instantly shattering the trace of ferocity that the Bloodhand Death Demon had just gathered!

It emitted a series of inhuman noises, a mixture of screams, whimpers, and terrified hisses!

It no longer cared about its revenge plan of skinning people alive. Like a black monkey with boiling oil poured on its bottom, it scrambled out from under the bed in an extremely disheveled and contorted manner, using both hands and feet!

However, it had barely emerged from the shadows under the bed, and hadn't even had a chance to straighten up—

Its cold "body," made of filthy blood and shadows, crashed solidly into a hard, warm "obstacle."

The Blood-Handed Death Demon raised its head in alarm.

Standing before it was a man dressed in a well-tailored, impeccably styled dark suit. He had a refined appearance, wore gold-rimmed glasses, and behind the lenses, his eyes were calm and unwavering, even carrying a hint of… researcher's scrutiny.

He casually tucked one hand into his trouser pocket, while in the other hand he held a book... a thick stack of blue letter paper with edges that also shimmered with a faint phosphorescence!

"Ugh...ugh...ugh...ah—!!!"

This time, it was the core part of the Bloodhand Death Demon that emitted a silent, yet soul-ripping, ultimate scream! Fear reached its peak instantly, completely overwhelming its consciousness and reaction!

Memories! The floodgates of the deepest and darkest memories have been blasted open!

This is the man! This is the look in his eyes! This calm look that chills to the bone! Cold metal restraints… a desperate struggle… and then, the man smiles, his movements elegant and precise, as if he were creating a work of art.

He slowly tore a sheet from the blue letter book... and then, with an almost pious focus, gently and perfectly covered its mouth and nose with the cold, slippery, seemingly suction-like blue paper!

Suffocation! A terrifying feeling of suffocation instantly gripped it! Its lungs felt like they were on fire! It twisted and struggled frantically, making a hissing sound as air leaked from its throat... but it wasn't over yet!

The icy water, carrying the pungent smell of disinfectant, was slowly, drop by drop, poured onto the blue letter covering its face! The paper, upon contact with water, instantly became transparent and viscous, like a second skin coming to life, tightly sealing off all its breathing channels!

The man in the suit leaned close to its ear and spoke in a clear, steady, and flat tone, as if he were announcing a weather forecast, word by word: "Time, 12:13 AM... Your pupils are starting to dilate... Hmm, a very standard asphyxiation reaction... Your face is turning blue, capillaries are ruptured... Brain death is expected in two minutes and seventeen seconds... Your death will be quite interesting."

That sound became its final, hellish echo before its consciousness sank into boundless darkness!