Bang!
A gunshot rang out in the dim cabin, shattering the stifling silence that had been so oppressive it was almost suffocating.
The gun was in Wang Dong's hand. His face was tense, even tinged with fear, as he pulled the trigger.
His target was a nearby passenger.
Just moments ago, he had seen a hand appear on that passenger's shoulder. The hand was covered in blood and had reached out eerily from behind him. Someone nearby had seen it and screamed. By the time Wang Dong rushed over, all he could do was grit his teeth, draw his gun, and fire.
At a distance of about a meter, Wang Dong did not think he could miss.
The shot struck the bloody, grotesque hand.
Flesh burst apart, and blood splattered everywhere.
The hand left the passenger's shoulder and fell to the floor.
"It's working." Sweat beaded in Wang Dong's palm, and only then did he let out a slight breath of relief.
The passenger's ears were ringing. He had been scared senseless and pressed against the cabin wall, too terrified to move.
The others nearby had already fallen into chaos. Some screamed, some sobbed, and some cried out for help or shouted about ghosts. They all looked as if they had gone mad. No one could remain calm.
Wang Dong wanted to maintain order, but he was powerless to do so. The entire situation had completely spiraled out of control.
"Yang Jian! Yang Jian, where are you?" he shouted, desperately hoping Yang Jian would appear and handle this situation.
Yet before he could continue calling for help, the sight before him filled him with despair and helplessness once more.
From the pockets, sleeves, collar, and even the eyes of the passenger the ghost had targeted, stiff, deathly pale fingers emerged