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Had Miles truly lost his grip on reality? Not exactly. He wasn’t spiraling into insanity but was instead making a daring and strategic gamble, anchoring his decisions on a profound instinct. In the past, Miles exhibited moments of doubt and uncertainty, leading to choices that disrupted the established equilibrium.
“Why would that elderly lady try to deceive us over something as mundane as a cough? If we accept that spirits are real in this narrative, then her actions hint at an intent to disturb the balance—something that contradicts what we previously believed about her.”
In the midst of the surrounding pandemonium, there was no luxury of time to ponder these questions. Their immediate concern was survival.
Miles, with bated breath, watched intently as a silhouette emerged from the elaborate golden box in front of him. It moved fluidly, shaping and reshaping on the floor, resembling a dark mist or a fleeting shadow.
“What kind of ghost is this?” Yiming posed, his concern palpable, his fingers ready to activate his supernatural skills if necessary.
Stretch, too, appeared on edge, seemingly about to summon his own spectral force.
“I’m not inclined to share that,” Miles replied coldly. “While I’ve had my misjudgments, you two bear a significant portion of the blame. Your early doubts about me paved the way for impulsive actions. But, the identity of this spirit hardly matters now.”
But Miles wasn’t merely acting out of stubbornness. He harbored untold secrets and was tired of others thwarting his objectives by instigating this whole mess by sporting misleading deductions.
Nevertheless, he does admit inwardly that these club members had inadvertently served as strategic decoys for him. Otherwise, the ghost would’ve likely taken him out during the initial night when he wandered alone.
Suddenly, the shadow began to rise, gradually taking on a more distinct form. The spirit that materialized had a human resemblance, except for its lack of a head.
It was undeniably the headless ghost.
Reacting instantly, the ghost made a beeline for Miles, seemingly aiming to find a vessel. Yet, with Miles’s spectral state, the headless ghost found itself impotent, passing through him as if he were a mere wisp of air.
“After witnessing what the ghosts in the village can do, seeing you once again feels as comforting as reuniting with a lost sibling,” Miles voiced with a smirk. “I have prospective vessels arranged here that you might find suitable. In addition, with so many of your kind around, some are bound to align with your needs.”
With calculated urgency, he deftly unzipped a body bag he carried. But this wasn’t an ordinary corpse contained within – it was a ghostly servant, a vessel awaiting an essence.
The disembodied apparition seemed constrained in its movement, likely needing a physical form to inhabit.
Miles, presenting the servant’s form, examined the headless ghost closely. If the spirit didn’t willingly select the vessel, Miles was prepared to force it.
In the crucial seconds that followed, the spirit complied. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel(ꜰ)ire.net
After its thwarted assault on Miles, the ghostly entity decided upon the specially prepared corpse in front of it. Like water merging with another droplet, the ghost seamlessly fused with the servant’s body, taking control effortlessly.
Soon, subtle movements emanated from the corpse.
An elderly woman, now missing half of her facial features and with her physique displaying extensive decay, eerily stood upright. Her once affable appearance was now replaced by the indifferent, cold expression typical of the deceased – a sight hauntingly familiar to those seen in the shopping center’s depths.
Stretch, inhaling sharply before remarking, “Miles, you have an uncanny talent for these things. Resorting to such an unorthodox method is… unsettling, to say the least.” He was unsure of this new entity’s nature, but the dark and sinister manner it maneuvered the body deeply unnerved him.
Attempting to lighten the gravity of the situation, Yiming commented with a hint of caution, “So, Miles, you’re what? Keeping a spirit as a companion? It’s akin to tempting fate. Saying you’re reckless would be an understatement. Although your collaboration with Ethan might have given you insights into this spirit, remember, these entities are fickle and perilous. It’s not something you can simply command and control.”
Yiming quickly discerned that the old woman was no longer just a ghostly servant; she had evolved into a genuine spirit.
Responding to the veiled criticisms, Miles snapped back, “You’re free to make your judgments. My plans remain unchanged. Rather than engaging in idle chitchat, you might want to prioritize your own well-being. I hope when we next cross paths, both of you are still amongst the living. For the time being, I bid you goodbye.”
Swiftly, Miles ensconced himself within the vacant body bag.
This body bag was more than just a container; it could trap vengeful spirits while also safeguarding the occupant within – a dual function. The invaluable utility it provided justified the exorbitant twenty million price tag Miles had initially shelled out for it. Its worth was evident now, more than ever.
Yiming, under his breath, cursed, “Damn you.” However, he restrained himself from further commentary.
In such desperate circumstances, it was evident: self-preservation was paramount. Engaging in needless discourse was nothing but a fruitless diversion.
As the evening deepened, an all-consuming darkness loomed.
Although initially, some lamps had illuminated sections of the village, now their glow had extinguished. The overwhelming obsidian blanket felt stifling, intensifying the atmosphere of dread.
“Quick, to the car!” Yiming shouted urgently, spinning on his heels and sprinting away.
His car was stocked with specialized equipment that might provide a crucial advantage in this dire situation. Tapping into the energy of the malicious ghost might offer him a brief respite. Yet, there was a downside; once the spirit’s influence climaxed, Yiming would be vulnerable to its overpowering malevolence.
Taking a deep breath, Stretch remarked, “Miles, you’ve orchestrated every move with such precision, even accounting for a potential exit strategy.” There was an undertone of both admiration and bitterness in his voice. Without any further delay, he too bolted in the direction of the car.
Raising his voice above the growing tension, Miles quipped, “Farewell for now. Until our paths cross in daylight.” He then began the process of securing himself inside the protective body bag.
But as Yiming and Stretch made their hasty escape, Miles observed the elderly woman, now an embodiment of the headless ghost, tracing their steps. Her gaze eventually locked onto Yiming, hinting at a sinister intent.
The enveloping shadows grew thicker, masking the details of their surroundings.
While Yiming’s car housed some countermeasures, Miles was left to ponder their effectiveness. The bleakness of the situation was undeniable.
The rising threats within the ever-intensifying gloom resembled the ominous gates of the underworld, ushering them into a realm of unknown horrors.
A shiver ran down Miles’s spine as he silently hoped, “May my intuition be accurate. Should everything transpire as envisioned, equilibrium will return to this village. But if my plan goes awry, I risk eternally being trapped within this body bag.”
Understanding the increasing peril, he hastily took refuge inside the body bag.
Within moments, an impenetrable cloak of darkness draped over Yellow Hill Village, heralding in a day of pure dread.