Chapter Eleven: Don’t Look Back

"Grandpa Chen!"

At that moment, tears nearly spilled from my eyes, for the person standing before me was none other than the last one I’d seen before entering this hellish path—Chen Chuyi.

“Are you alright?”

Chen Chuyi’s face was flushed with vitality, as though a fire was about to surge forth from his entire being.

I nodded.

Though I was unharmed for the time being, those terrifying scenes had left me trembling uncontrollably. I hadn’t noticed it before, but when Chen Chuyi appeared, my tears flowed freely. In that dreadful situation just now, had it not been for his arrival, I would surely have lost my life in the blink of an eye.

“If you’re okay, then lie still. I’ll get you out of this demonic maelstrom!”

I nodded again. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to leave this place as quickly as possible, no matter where I ended up.

“It’s only a soul talisman that burns for the time it takes an incense stick to burn; did you really think it could block me?”

The giant ghost, previously sent flying, wiped his face forcefully, revealing a strikingly handsome countenance. Yet his black robes still crawled with writhing maggots, enough to make anyone shrink back in fear.

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re a ghost of this underground phantom city. To be this powerful in such a place, your master must wield real influence. But today, Yang Dong, you won’t be touched!”

The ghost let out a cold snort and darted forward.

“Whether he can be moved or not is beyond your control!”

Chen Chuyi stepped back. The massive coffin lid hadn’t yet been closed when the ghost appeared before him.

It was my first time witnessing a man-versus-ghost battle as if in a film, and not far off lurked four menacing fox spirits, eyes gleaming with predatory intent.

I curled up inside the coffin, the crystal ball in my arms already drained of color.

“Let the ghostly soldiers pass—break!”

With his right hand forming a sword-like gesture, Chen Chuyi pointed at the ghost’s approaching head.

A thunderous boom shook the entire space. I nearly saw with perfect clarity the gray-black haze that filled the air, instantly dissipating into nothingness from Chen Chuyi’s gesture.

But then, to my horror, Chen Chuyi’s back caught fire, and in a flash, the flames spread to his shoulders and waist.

“There’s no time, boy. Remember: when the beauty’s coffin opens, get out and walk straight ahead. Whatever you do, don’t look back. Not even the gods can save you if you do!”

I nodded in terror.

By now, I’d guessed that Chen Chuyi must have used some secret method to appear here so suddenly, and I could clearly sense how different he was from the man I’d met in daylight.

Boom!

I watched as Chen Chuyi’s body was shrouded by billowing black clouds, and then four beams of light shot into him.

“Ghostly soldiers, make way—go!”

Lying in the coffin, I sensed darkness closing in on all sides. Those five words resounded in my ears like the tolling of a great bell.

A floating sensation, as if drifting atop water, overtook me. I could feel the beauty’s coffin moving steadily forward.

My mind had grown numb to everything. To say I wasn’t afraid would be a lie, but to say I was terrified didn’t feel quite right either. On the contrary, I was deeply, curiously intrigued.

As long as I survived, someday I’d uncover the truth behind all of this.

For now, my only thought was that I must not die. As soon as the beauty’s coffin opened, I would walk straight ahead and escape this ghostly world, returning to reality.

Sleepiness began to overtake me.

The beauty’s coffin traveled for about ten minutes, during which my heart slowly settled. Surely, the giant ghost and those four fox spirits had failed to catch up. What Chen Chuyi had done was truly remarkable. Seeing it made my heart ache for him, but also filled me with newfound respect.

Another ten minutes passed, and the rocking lessened until the coffin came to a complete stop.

I pushed with all my might, and the beauty’s coffin sprang open. As I climbed out, I glimpsed countless shadows behind me. Quickly, I turned my eyes forward and stepped cautiously out of the coffin.

Step by step, I moved forward, always feeling as though countless footsteps followed at my back.

The ground was dim, as if dusk had fallen, with patches mottled and indistinct. I couldn’t tell what they were made of.

Clutching the crystal ball tightly, I kept walking.

Along the way I heard strange noises, but couldn’t tell what sort of creatures made them.

“Xiao Dong, come eat! It’s so late—where have you been? Your father and I have been waiting for ages!”

A tremor ran through me. It was my mother’s voice. I stopped, but didn’t turn around.

There was no way my mother could be here. It had to be the giant ghost, trying to lure me into turning around so he could seize me.

I pressed on, nearly breaking into a run, desperate to escape this place as quickly as possible.

It was too unnerving here, and now the scene before me began to change.

The ground, once dimly lit by a setting sun, transformed into towering buildings. I even saw the university I’d attended, a place famed for its beautiful students. Back then, I’d been intent on my studies, but there had been someone I liked—only, I’d been too timid to confess.

Yet a voice in my head kept warning me: all of this was an illusion. If I turned around, I’d be lost forever.

I kept running, and soon found myself sprinting wildly through the university campus.

Couples lounged on green benches, basking in the shade and each other’s affection. The sight stirred envy in my heart.

But I dared not look back, not even out of the corner of my eye.

I kept telling myself: It’s all just an illusion, nothing is real—don’t believe it, whatever you do.

Then I saw a woman. She didn’t turn to face me, but her voice sent a restless thrill through my whole body.

“Xiao Dong, do you like me?”

That voice belonged to a girl who’d once tugged at the strings of my heart, after my breakup with Su Ying. Her name was Wan Juan. In my junior year, I’d summoned the courage countless times to confess to her, but never did. In the end, I could only watch as she left to intern in another city. Apart from one brief meeting at graduation, I never saw her again.

“I…”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, for she had been my greatest love. Time had dulled the edge of those memories, but the thread buried in my heart would never fade, just like my feelings for Su Ying.

Many things in life, though I know they’re impossible, I still pursue without hesitation—just like this illusory love.

There’s no one to blame, and no right or wrong.

After parting from Su Ying, I came to believe in fate. The elders in my village always said, “What is meant to be will be, and what is not, don’t force.”

Perhaps that’s how I am now.

“Xiao Dong, what’s wrong…”

Though my mind was in turmoil, I kept running, because I knew none of this was real. I couldn’t afford to relax, not even for a second. I had to survive—only by living did I have hope.

Wan Juan appeared before me, her lithe figure barely draped in a thin veil that seemed about to be swept away by the wind…

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