On a ruined rooftop in Dajing City, an icy wind howled, whipping clouds of ash into the air.
Yang Jian, who was leaning against a broken parapet, abruptly opened his eyes.
The dense darkness at his feet rapidly contracted and slipped back into his shadow.
Almost simultaneously, Lin Cheng and Zhang Lei, who had been standing face-to-face like stone statues, began to move.
The moment Zhang Lei regained consciousness, a muffled groan of suppressed pain escaped his throat.
His body felt like a lump of iron that had rusted for over a decade. His joints were so stiff they refused to obey him.
Even the slightest movement sent tearing pain through his bones.
Worse still, when he lowered his head, he discovered that large patches of livor mortis had appeared across his skin without him noticing.
Yang Jian stood up, his cold gaze sweeping over the abnormalities on Zhang Lei's body.
"Don't move," Yang Jian said in a low voice.
"The Wish-Granting Ghost's supernatural power has deeply affected your body."
"Even though you've regained consciousness, your flesh is still transforming into a vengeful ghost. We need to find a way to deal with it."
Hearing this, Zhang Lei looked at his blackened hands, his face filled with bitterness.
Lin Cheng turned around, his voice calm, entirely unconcerned by the changes in Zhang Lei's body.
"That's not a problem. We can fix it once we get back."
But he did not continue discussing the matter. Instead, he looked past Yang Jian toward the other side.
"Now isn't the time to worry about that," Lin Cheng said evenly. "It seems we have a new friend."
Following Lin Cheng's gaze, Yang Jian and Zhang Lei both turned to look.
A young woman in a classic Western-style dress stood a dozen or so meters