Bridegroom, Don't Run...

"Captain, are we really not going to meet up with them?"

An earnest voice rang out in the silent wilderness, tinged with unease.

"We are. Of course we are."

The man pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, his fingertips brushing the constantly running Data Model in his palm. Cold blue light flashed across his lenses, and his voice was icy. "Just... later. If we go now, people will die."

His gaze swept over the six silent people behind him, a barely perceptible trace of self-mockery in his voice. "I never thought I'd be the one to lead you into a dead end."

"This Small World is a prison. You can get in, but you can't get out."

Cao Xianming's words crashed like thunder in the ears of Zheng Xiaofeng, Wang Ying, Lao Zhang, Xiao Ma, and the others.

Before they could recover from their shock, he delivered an even more horrifying statement.

"If Yang Yong hadn't joined the convoy along the way, we would have been trapped here until we died, reduced to a pile of dry bones no one cared about."

"Fortunately, by a stroke of chance, he came."

Cao Xianming tightened his grip on the Data Model in his palm. It gave off a faint hum as it performed tens of thousands of calculations per second. "Our one slim chance of escaping this damned place lies with him."

Huh?

All six widened their eyes and looked at Cao Xianming.

Throughout their journey, Cao Xianming's calculations had never been wrong. No one dared question his decisions.

"Xiao Ma," Cao Xianming suddenly said.

Xiao Ma, the convoy's assistant, immediately answered, "Here!"

"How much gasoline do we have left?"

"About three hundred liters between the three vehicles. Enough to last a while yet!"

"Good."

Cao Xianming looked into the distance.

There, a dilapidated Coffin Temple stood crooked in the darkness, like a lurking beast. "Once they've all gone inside that strange temple, sneak over and fill up the bus. Remember, just refuel it. Don't do anything else."

He paused, then turned to the burly Zheng Xiaofeng. "Xiaofeng, you're responsible for protecting Xiao Ma. If anything goes wrong, we'll all die here."

"Don't worry!"

Zheng Xiaofeng scratched his head and thumped his chest in assurance. "These fists of mine aren't just for show!"

"Wang Ying."

Cao Xianming looked at the short-haired woman beside him, who had remained silent the entire time. The scabbard of the long saber at her waist gleamed coldly, but she had never drawn the blade.

"From now on, keep your saber sheathed and rein in your aura."

Cao Xianming lowered his voice almost to a whisper, a trace of ferocity in it. "Whether we get out alive depends on whether your final strike is strong enough to cleave through this Ghost Domain's last hold on us!"

Wang Ying nodded. Her fingertips lightly touched the saber's hilt before slowly withdrawing, and all the killing intent around her vanished in an instant.

All the instructions had been given.

Cao Xianming kept his gaze fixed firmly on the Coffin Temple.

In the darkness, the bus sat before the temple like a stiff corpse. Everyone aboard had already streamed through the temple doors.

No one dared stay on the bus.

Once night fell, anyone who remained in one place would be plagued by Eerie.

And Yang Yong was their only lifeline.

They all clung tightly to that lifeline, never straying a step.

At the temple entrance.

Yang Yong clutched the One-Yang God-Sealing Banner in his left hand and held the Little Golden Flood Dragon Scissors in his right, his knuckles white from the force of his grip.

By day, the Coffin Temple had been nothing but crumbling walls covered in cobwebs, reeking of decay.

But at night-

Blackened bloodstains crawled over the temple walls, and bright red double-happiness characters had actually been pasted onto the broken roof tiles.

The evening wind swept past with scraps of spirit money, its whimpering like someone crying, yet also like someone laughing.

Amid that sinister atmosphere was an indescribable festivity, just like the Ghost Marriage scenes in films and television.

If a suona started playing now, it might well scare someone to death!

Yang Yong took a deep breath. The One-Yang God-Sealing Banner beneath his fingertips grew slightly hot.

He reached out to push open the temple door.

During the day, it had clearly been a wooden door so rotten that a single push would shatter it. Now it was completely intact, its red paint gleaming, with two wilted red flowers hanging from its door rings!

Something's wrong!

Very wrong!

Yang Yong's heart lurched, but he had no time to think it through. He shoved hard-

Creak-

The sound of the hinges turning was especially grating in the deathly silent wilderness.

From inside came the clamor of drinking games, laughter, and clattering bowls and chopsticks, creating a hellish contrast with the dead silence outside!

Yang Yong's pupils abruptly contracted.

More than a dozen banquet tables stood inside the temple, their dishes steaming hot. Chicken, duck, fish, and meat were all there, giving off a peculiar aroma.

And the people sitting around the tables-

There were scholars in ancient robes, women in Republican-era qipaos, workers wearing hard hats, and even children in school uniforms!

Men and women, young and old, all dressed differently, yet all wore stiff smiles as they mechanically raised their cups and picked up food. Their chewing sounded like spring silkworms gnawing on mulberry leaves, making his scalp crawl.

Suddenly!

A soft, coquettish laugh rang out.

A woman dressed as a maid raised her head and stared straight at Yang Yong in the doorway.

Her face was as white as paper, but her lips were painted blood-red. Her eye sockets were sunken, her gaze utterly empty and lifeless.

The next second, she spread her lips, revealing a mouthful of blackened teeth, and smiled at Yang Yong.

"Hee hee hee..."

Her laughter sounded like nails scraping glass. It bored into Yang Yong's ears, making every hair on his body stand on end!

Immediately afterward-

Everyone in the room stopped moving in unison.

Hands playing drinking games froze in midair, chopsticks holding food hovered beside bowls, and wine cups rested against lips.

Over a hundred pairs of lifeless eyes slowly turned as one toward Yang Yong in the doorway.

Those gazes were like beasts that had starved for a hundred years staring at their prey-greedy, cold, and filled with mouthwatering hunger.

Yang Yong's throat tightened. He tried to shout a challenge, only to find that he could not utter a word, as though someone had seized him by the throat!

Just then-

An old man seated in the place of honor slowly stood up.

He wore burial clothes, and the wrinkles on his face were piled like gullies. With every step, the gray bricks beneath his feet gave a dull thud, as though he were carrying a thousand-pound coffin.

"Bridegroom... what took you so long?"

The old man's voice rasped like a cracked gong, every word hammering at Yang Yong's heart.

Bridegroom?

Who's the bridegroom?

Yang Yong's head buzzed, and his entire body went cold.

When had I become the bridegroom?

Something's wrong!

This is definitely a trap!

He jerked backward, trying to turn and flee, but an icy hand seized his wrist in a death grip!

The hand was as cold as ice, instantly chilling him to the bone!

"Bridegroom, don't run..."

The old man grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.

Fury surged through Yang Yong. Without thinking, he instantly unsheathed the Little Golden Flood Dragon Scissors in his right hand. Golden light blazed as he viciously sheared at the old man's arm!

Clang!

The sharp ring of metal striking metal sent a numbing shock through the web of Yang Yong's hand!

He watched helplessly as the supposedly razor-sharp Little Golden Flood Dragon Scissors struck the old man's scrawny arm, only to scrape out a shower of sparks!

How is that possible?

Yang Yong's pupils abruptly contracted in disbelief!

These scissors can cut through steel plates, so why can't they cut through some decrepit old man's arm?