The Ghost Market Is a [Ghost Corpse]!

The entire ghost market was convulsing violently— Or rather, it was contracting in violent spasms. Rather than an earthquake, it was more like the subconscious twitch of some slumbering entity being shaken awake. The ground throughout the ghost market began to transform, shifting from blackened, moss-covered tiles into something resembling dark, glistening flesh. Elastic and pulsing in a rhythmic beat, it began to ripple with deep creases. A terrifying sense of dread, originless yet ubiquitous, settled over every heart in the ghost market. Waves of tremors surged layer upon layer through the earth, sweeping into every corner of the bazaar. Even the dim sky seemed on the verge of collapsing, pressing imperceptibly closer to the ground. "What's happening? What is this?" "Has anything like this ever happened before?" "There's no time to explain... Run! Just run!" Whether they were the mysterious merchants hawking wares at stalls or the cloaked buyers browsing the market, Or the high-and-mighty nobles who had just stepped out of the auction house, All were equally helpless and bewildered in this moment, struggling, running, and screaming like moths trapped in a spider's web. "Look! The trees are moving! The buildings are moving too!" Someone suddenly screamed. In truth, it wasn't just the trees, nor was it merely those ancient buildings. Along the entire length of the ghost market's alleys, the walls, the ground, the trees, and even every unremarkable brick seemed to abruptly come alive, squirming and dancing. The air hung thick with an indescribable malice. *Hum...* A rasping, grating, indefinable sound arose abruptly without any discernible source. It seemed to emanate from hell itself, a sound impossible to forget once heard, for no human vocal organ could ever produce a timbre so twisted and unnatural. Striking at the deepest dread within the human heart, it echoed through the sky louder than roaring thunder, reverberating on and on without end. Yet this deafening, raspy voice sounded dazed and muddled, as if completely devoid of reason, repeating the same words over and over. Its meaning welled up spontaneously in the bottom of everyone's heart alongside their terror, indifferent to whether they wished to hear it. It said— "Who... killed my goose!" "..." Standing before the bisected penguin, the Major felt a chill run down his spine. Right now, he almost wanted to beg the little penguin to stand back up. In this instant, countless memories and warnings flooded his mind. People only knew that under no circumstances was anyone allowed to kill an auction house employee in the ghost market. It was treated as an inviolable rule: killing an employee breached that rule and would invite something unspeakably horrifying. Yet never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that the death of a mere Rank 3 little penguin would culminate in this! Judging by this earth-shattering upheaval, anyone looking on would think he had punched a hole through the heavens... —What on earth had happened? Almost instantly, he recalled a legend whose truth no one had ever verified— The entity backing the auction house... Was none other... Than the "ghost market" itself... The Major gritted his teeth. He could clearly sense that something had locked onto him. The spirituality within his body was forced awake, sending shrill alarm bells ringing through his mind. A crushing, almost tangible pressure enveloped and squeezed him from all directions. As a high-ranking Extraordinary on the verge of advancing to Rank 5, even before that entity had fully descended... He had already lost the ability to move freely, his legs completely pinned to the spot. —The Major knew he was about to die. All for a vial of Tears of the Moon Goddess, he had thrown himself into an absurd, inexplicable death trap. He had never envisioned such an outcome. Under these circumstances, a Rank 4 Extraordinary was just as helpless as a Rank 5; status and background were entirely meaningless— Yet he was the Third Young Master of the Zijing Group! Both his father and his eldest brother stood at the very pinnacle of Tinghai. Therefore... If he wanted to survive, he had no choice but to use *that*— Inhaling deeply, the Major decisively pulled out a jade pendant hanging from a red cord around his neck. It was hardly an extravagant ornament, carved into the shape of a key from translucent, somewhat rustic jade. The deep emerald at its tip resembled a dense, indivisible fog, within which faint traces of a blood thread lingered. "..." Staring at it, the Major's heart seized with wrenching reluctance. —This was a masterpiece of ancient Eastern Federation occultism, his "natal spirit jade" that he had worn since childhood. A hundred-day gift from his father, shared by each of the three brothers. Under ordinary circumstances, it anchored the physical body, stabilized the soul, and defended against curses or hexes. Even the red cord tied around it possessed the power to ward off evil and dispel sickness. It was an extraordinarily rare auxiliary secret treasure! Yet that was not its true value— Nurtured since his youth, it had long been bound to his spirituality. In a fatal crisis, it could swap identities with the Major, bearing the mortal catastrophe in his stead and instantly teleporting him to safety! ...Of course, once used, this incredible secret treasure would shatter. Even with his father's immense influence and resources, he had only managed to prepare one for each of the three brothers. There were no spares. If possible, the Major would have preferred never to use this secret treasure—equivalent to a second life—for the rest of his days. His eldest and second brothers had survived countless near-fatal encounters to reach where they were today, and neither had ever used theirs. He never imagined that he would be the first... Yet at this moment, he had no other choice. Throwing away "a life" here filled the Major with bitter agony, his features twisting in fury. And all of this was because of that— "Bidder Number 22!" The Major ground his teeth, his eyes bloodshot beneath his hood. That bastard was too insidious. Refusing to show himself, he had hired a penguin to impersonate him. Even if he made it back alive this time, creating such a massive disaster meant a severe punishment from his family was inevitable. Worst of all, he had effectively forfeited a "life" here, permanently losing his greatest assurance that he would always come out on top no matter what. —Damn it, damn it, damn it all! It truly was a cursed year. "I will find out who you are..." "And when I do, I'll never let you off!" The Major swore viciously. He marked this person down as a target for death right alongside Bai Zhou—or perhaps even ahead of him. Then— Without hesitation, he bit into his fingertip. The ten fingers were connected to the heart; in the realm of occultism, blood from the fingertips held special significance. As blood smeared across the jade key, the artifact instantly turned scalding hot. The thread of blood deep within its tip vanished, reappearing in the depths of the Major's pupils. The mist nestled within the jade's deep emerald began to swirl like swimming fish. Seeing this, the Major snapped the red cord and cast the jade key to the ground. With a sharp *crack*— The moment the jade shattered, the Major hurriedly chanted the incantation. A hair-raising sense of impending doom washed over his entire body. That thing was coming! "Open sesame, open... open the fucking door already!" The Major chanted with mounting panic, cursing aloud for the first time in his life, laying bare his sheer desperation. Then, an emerald-green door materialized before him. *Whoosh—* The door swung wide, engulfing him in eerie green light. In the next instant, both vanished simultaneously— Leaving behind only the jade key, snapped into three pieces on the ground. The very moment after they departed, the air in the area seemed to freeze. Space itself let out a grating, agonized shriek under an unbearable burden, and a suffocating, crushing pressure turned the vicinity into a vacuum. Something descended from the sky toward this spot. Incomprehensible, indescribable, impossible to perceive in full. It seized all light, all sound, and all possibilities along its path—colorless and formless, invisible to the eye, yet undeniably, tangibly present. Then, it struck the ground. Or rather, it made contact. There was no sound, or perhaps even the sound was pulverized alongside everything else. The covered ground showed no earth-shattering upheaval; there were no plumes of dust or billowing smoke. Just like an eraser wiping away a smudge on a drawing, A patch of the ground was smoothed flat. Not a speck of dust remained of the shattered jade key that had rested on the ground moments ago. The spot where the Major had stood simply caved inward by three inches, forming a gigantic... Palm print. Someone had slapped the ground here... Was that really what had just happened? This left onlookers even more terrified and bewildered. Those who witnessed the spectacle fled frantically toward the exit. The crowd surged like an ocean wave, tumbling desperately forward. Just then— Across the level ground that had been flattened by three inches, a brilliant splash of color suddenly burst forth. "Haha..." A smug chuckle accompanied an elegant chant. A masked man swayed into view amidst grotesque, kaleidoscopic colors. "From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity..." As the soft recitation concluded, his flagging aura rapidly recovered. The Fine Arts Society's top Painter, Edvard Munch, standing at the pinnacle of Rank 4, had successfully returned to the ghost market! Another glorious feat was added to his record— He had actually managed to stall a Rank 5 Extraordinary wielding an Extraordinary weapon, and for a considerable length of time! ...Even if, in reality, he had simply been on the receiving end of a one-sided beating the entire time. Yet he hadn't held the number-one seat among the Fine Arts Society's sixteen Painters through mere brute force. Lying low—and always surviving to the very end—was the real secret! Using his ability to perceive death to calmly gauge the gap between himself and his foes in advance was merely the prerequisite. The true key lay in the fact that, as long as he stood within that special portrait domain, he could continuously create decoys to die in his place. Over the course of that single minute, he had been "killed" sixty-nine times by that Rank 5 Emperor Penguin brandishing the Ice Qilin, using every method imaginable. It wasn't until his domain collapsed and his reserves were thoroughly drained that he had fled in panic, utterly depleted. Still... That amount of time should have been enough, right? He had accomplished the task the Major assigned him. The expenditure this time was far greater than anticipated, so it seemed necessary to speak with the Major again about increasing his compensation— "...Where is he?" Munch suddenly froze. Standing at the desolate far end of the ghost market, Munch could even see the screaming crowd fleeing into the distance. "Where did the Major go?" "—What happened here?!" Looking around in bewilderment, Munch's face behind the mask filled with confusion. *Hum...* Just then, the ambient temperature plummeted. Brilliant colors flashed once more, and with a heavy *thud*, a tall penguin dropped out of thin air. Clutching a frost-coated cleaver, flames of fury burning in its eyes, a single sweep of its gaze locked straight onto Munch from afar. *Not good...* Munch turned to flee. Yet to his surprise, the Emperor Penguin that had "killed" him sixty-nine times didn't give chase. The penguin simply stood where it was, raising its blade from afar and pointing it straight at Munch— Then, taking a deep breath, it bellowed like a child running to tattle: "Father!" "It's him—!" *What does that mean?* Munch paused in shock. Abruptly, his ability to perceive death triggered on its own. Shuddering violently, he looked down at himself. It was... "One hundred percent?!" Munch gasped in utter horror. Naturally, this time, the mortality probability he blurted out was no longer someone else's. It was his own. Despite having no idea why and being thoroughly bewildered, Pure instinct drove Munch to activate every secret technique and every item he possessed, piling them onto himself all at once. Then, he sprinted madly toward the distant crowd. Even as his spirituality ran dry and his muscles felt on the verge of tearing, he paid it no heed. Yet it was entirely futile. In the next instant— A tidal wave of invisible energy plunged from the heavens, pouring down through the atmosphere like a roaring waterfall and spreading across every corner of the ghost market. Trees, walls, ground, moss, shrubs, and every single brick and tile of the ghost market swayed in wild, furious agitation. And as the focal point of this cascading energy... "Aaaaargh!" Looking up at the sky, Munch's hood slipped back. Before the wild torrent of energy descended, Munch only had time to instinctively clutch his face and open his mouth wide in a shriek of sheer terror, as if he had just witnessed something unthinkable. That expression of absolute horror bore an uncanny resemblance to the painted colors on his mask. And it looked strikingly like the masterpiece left behind centuries ago by a painter of the same name— *The Scream*. Then, Munch's figure was reduced to something even smaller than cinders. "One hundred percent." —In the dictionary, that meant certain death. *Patter...* The silhouette of a black cat flashed behind a distant wall, its paws making a faint sound as it trod over broken tiles. With eerie green eyes glinting, the black cat wore a distinctly human look of lingering fear. As the "mastermind" behind everything happening right now... Bai Zhou could swear on his life that he truly hadn't expected things to unfold like this! Bai Zhou had indeed paid to hire a Rank 5 Emperor Penguin, but he hadn't stopped at just one. —He had also hired a low-ranking penguin skilled in disguise. That was the "new requirement needing extra confidentiality" he had mentioned to the penguin. Thus, A penguin skilled in illusionary disguises took on Bai Zhou's appearance and walked out of the building alongside the Rank 5 escort penguin. Meanwhile, taking advantage of everyone's distraction, Bai Zhou transformed into a black cat and quietly tailed them from behind. No matter who was lying in ambush, none would ever suspect that the "Bai Zhou" accompanied by a bodyguard was an imposter! ...Fortunately, he had taken that precaution. To be frank, Bai Zhou had been genuinely startled at the beginning. That Bidder Number 2... possessed terrifying resources. Even a Rank 5 Emperor Penguin had been pulled away in an instant, and when an apocalyptic disaster descended, he still had the means to escape... That person's background had to be staggering. Yet shortly after, Munch's death left Bai Zhou puzzled. Just before dying, Munch had looked up at the sky, his hood falling away to reveal a familiar yet alien painted mask that reminded Bai Zhou of an old acquaintance. —The Fine Arts Society? Bidder Number 2's accomplice was an assassin from the Fine Arts Society? At once, An incredible suspicion surged in Bai Zhou's mind. Bidder Number 2... That wealthy, confident, mysterious figure—could it be the Major who had placed a bounty on him? Bai Zhou was amused. Though the probability was low, it wasn't impossible. If that was really the case, then by sheer coincidence... he had managed to collect some interest. It was just a pity he hadn't been able to finish off the man completely. There would still be trouble down the road... Even as he pondered this, Bai Zhou's paws never slowed, his four legs churning with all their might. The ghost market was shaking. Far behind him, stuffed penguins with blood-red eyes slowly filed out of the building, gathering at the far end of the ghost market. Dense fog cloaked their silhouettes, just as it cloaked the living, wildly thrashing surroundings. Munch's death was not enough to satisfy them. The apocalyptic scene stretching in every direction made it clear to all— Every single person here was going to suffer. The fleeing crowd packed the long alley. Yet the black cat's compact size allowed him to weave through tight nooks and crannies where normal people couldn't set foot, quickly darting to the very front of the mob. The sign for "No. 66 Moon Lane Traditional Culture Center" was right ahead. Flashing out from a side corner, he overtook the lead runner in the blink of an eye. Before anyone could make out what had passed them, a shadow like black lightning leapt toward the shadow-cloaked wall at the exit. Just as when he arrived, there was no resistance whatsoever. Bai Zhou was on the verge of escaping. Yet right as his silhouette was about to break free from the shadows and leave the ghost market— His mind suddenly blurred. His perspective shifted to a top-down view, and through the haze of mist, he seemed to glimpse something. It was... A bluish-black giant! A colossal humanoid entity lay sprawled across a pale, fractured expanse of earth. It was motionless, deathly silent, and cold. Looking down from above, vast networks of fissures scarred its skin. Countless ant-like figures swarmed over its feet. A spine ran straight through it, forming a long alley that led directly into its skull. Atop the head, a shriveled mouth hung open. Bai Zhou suddenly shuddered. Because inside that open mouth... He saw the opulent auction hall and row upon row of backstage rooms! And that wasn't all— Something else made Bai Zhou's heart nearly leap out of his chest— Above the head of this deathly silent giant, He saw a string of weathered, fragmented, incomprehensible ancient characters. Each suspended glyph flickered with a chilling, ominous red glow. Were those... last words?! Though the script seemed incomprehensible, its meaning struck Bai Zhou's mind like a thunderbolt, bludgeoning his sanity with overwhelming force. It read... [Light has weight as well. I caught it, and could take flight no more.] What did that mean...? The moment he grasped the meaning of those words, Bai Zhou caught dazed glimpses of distant, ancient imagery. For instance, a mural. In an unimaginably ancient era, people carrying torches devoutly worshipped an ancient corpse that had fallen from the sky. Or a black-and-white photograph. A group of grim, extraordinarily powerful figures in suits set foot here, surrounding the ancient corpse to study it. And a blurred, fragmented video recording: A person in a white lab coat was taking notes on a file and giving a report. He said— The footage was blurry, and the voice was even harder to make out. Bai Zhou strained with all his might for a long time before he could barely distinguish the contents of the report: "Target confirmed. Catalog Number C-66, [Ghost Corpse]!" —All the visions cut off abruptly there. The black cat's body leapt out from the shadow cast by the wall, Landing lightly and deftly on the ground. Bai Zhou lifted his head, his dazed gaze sweeping across his surroundings. ...Deep in the dim alley, familiar sights met his eyes. Beside him stood the dilapidated, deserted residence of No. 65 Moon Lane. The bare wall before him was cloaked in tranquil shadow, steeped in quiet stillness. Yet Bai Zhou knew that behind that wall lay the rioting "No. 66 Moon Lane," the chaotic ghost market where the world itself seemed to be ending... He had successfully escaped. "..." Then, a shudder of terror carrying an icy chill belatedly flooded Bai Zhou's reeling mind. Only now did he realize what he had just been strolling upon! The so-called ghost market— Was nothing other than a [Ghost Corpse]...!