They saw a light shining from another room not far away. Even more bizarrely, a figure could be seen through the paper window.
The figure was hanging high in the air, its rigid body swaying back and forth. That was what had made the "creak—creak—" sound that woke him. The sight turned Fatty deathly pale, because that was the room where Zhang Qizheng had hanged himself!
"What's going on?" Fatty asked, trembling. "Mr. Zhang... has Mr. Zhang come back to life?"
No one answered. They were certain Zhang Qizheng was dead, and Jiang Cheng and the others had taken his body down. They had no idea what the hell was hanging up there now.
A moment later, an even more horrifying scene unfolded. The hanging shadow moved—not swaying as a corpse might in the wind, but raising its arm. With a few tugs, it snapped the noose, then its figure hit the ground with a thud.
The next second, the light in the room went out, and darkness once again swallowed the entire courtyard. Though "darkness" wasn't entirely accurate; a faint, strange glow remained.
A few seconds later, the squeal of a door hinge tore through the silent night.
"Creak—"
Everyone held their breath. Fatty's heart leaped into his throat. They waited for the footsteps that ought to follow. They had given up on wishful thinking: whatever ghostly thing was in that room was clearly coming for them.
But after a long wait, there was nothing but dead silence outside.
Jiang Cheng stood sideways behind the door, watching through the gap. The courtyard was shrouded in fog, and with its only light gone, he couldn't see a thing. He straightened up slightly. The gap offered a limited view, but a little higher up there was a hole in the door,