Chapter 65: Ghost Wall
The first time Mu Lichuan felt true terror was when he encountered that ink landscape painting. This time, the sinister aura wasn’t as overwhelming, but it was deeply unsettling.
He spun around instantly, his gaze locking onto the direction of the malevolent energy—only to find nothing. It had vanished as if it had never existed. He refused to believe it was just his imagination. Either this mountain was hiding something, or there was something he didn’t know about it. But with his current limited strength, he wasn’t about to recklessly investigate.
The mountain path was treacherous. Even though the female ghost had lured many to their doom, hacking through thorns and brambles was no exaggeration. By the time he made it back to the road, his sneakers were caked in mud, his pant legs littered with debris, his hair a tangled mess, and his clothes torn in several places by branches.
“Ugh…” A blinding light pierced his vision, forcing Mu Lichuan to squint and raise a hand to shield his eyes. Fatigue had dulled his reflexes, leaving him vulnerable.
Mi Shen watched him, his emotions in turmoil. He had already left Lingchuan City, but he’d turned back from the capital. He was worried that something might happen to the boy.
They had driven for an hour, and the boy should have been able to get down the mountain. But when Mi Shen checked the tracker, his gut twisted with unease.
This mountain road had a notorious reputation for fatal accidents - vehicles would be found empty, and the bodies were never recovered. The government had covered it up to avoid panic. He’d ordered his to driver to rush here, only to find no trace of the boy.
He had planned to search the mountain, but the pitch-black night made it impossible. Even his bodyguards - former special forces, were stumped by this "mountain" with no trails. It was like they'd stumbled into what people called a ghost wall.
[鬼打墙 (guǐ dǎ qiáng): lit. ghost wall; fig. an illusion where one walks in circles, unable to escape.]
An hour later, a disheveled figure emerged from the underbrush. Despite the grim, Mi Shen recognized him instantly.
Mu Lichuan lowered his arm just as the car door swung open. A frosty-faced young man approached, “You...” The questioning words came to his mouth but were swallowed again in his throat.
“Why did you come back?” Mu Lichuan resisted the urge to facepalm. So this was why he’d run into ghosts and nearly been targeted by some unknown evil force.
Mi Shen might be blessed with the nation’s fortune and good luck, but anyone connected to him suffered. At this point, Mu Lichuan was convinced he was just a human shield for Mi Shen’s misfortunes.
Seeing the boy’s annoyed expression, Mi Shen’s worry twisted into anger. “I didn’t want you dying up there.” The words came out sharper than intended.
“Whatever. I’m too tired to argue. Let’s just go back.” Mu Lichuan had no interest in a midnight roadside quarrel, especially not in the middle of haunted forest. If something else attacked, he wouldn’t have the energy to fight back, they’d both end up dead.
Mi Shen said nothing, motioning for him to get in the car. But before he could ask anything, the boy had already drifted off to sleep, soft snores escaping his lips.
The young man's mouth compressed into a thin line, his piercing gaze fixed intently on the oblivious sleeper.
“Young Master, we have a problem.” The driver - a former special forces soldier, spoke up as the car circled back to the same spot. Even he felt uneasy now.
If their earlier encounter with the “ghost wall” was bad, being trapped here indefinitely was worse. In all his years, he’d never faced anything like this.
Mi Shen’s expression darkened. “Ram the mountain wall.” It was a gamble, but staying trapped here was worse. He’d always dismissed superstitions, yet here he was, facing the unbelievable.
“Ram it? We’d be dead on impact,” Mu Lichuan muttered, eyes still closed but voice alert.
He’d thought dispelling the centuries-old female ghost would break the illusion. But clearly, someone or something was still targeting them.
Mi Shen remained silent, his aura icy.
Mu Lichuan pulled out a talisman, rolled down the window, and tossed it out. Nothing happened - it was like throwing a stone into the sea.
“……” Mu Lichuan could see things clearly in the darkness of night. When he spotted shadowy ghosts drifting past, a chill crawled up his spine. Were they out early for the Hungry Ghost Festival? But he dismissed the thought instantly. Still, the sight of so many spirits floating around, sent a chill down his spine.
[Hungry Ghost Festival (中元节 Zhōngyuán Jié): a traditional Taoist/Buddhist event held on the 15th day of the 7th lunar month, where offerings are made to restless spirits and ancestors to appease hungry ghosts (饿鬼, è guǐ) - wandering souls with no descendants or those who died tragically, to prevent misfortune and bring peace to both the living and the dead.
“What’s wrong?” Mi Shen asked, noticing the boy’s wide-eyed stare.
“Want to see something you normally can’t?” Mu Lichuan smirked. If Mi Shen didn’t believe in ghosts, tonight would be an eye-opener.
Mi Shen’s skepticism wavered. “Who’s playing tricks—?” Before he could finish, the boy sprayed something into his eyes.
“Cow’s tears. Lets you see ghosts.” Mu Lichuan then turned and spritzed the driver.
Even a hardened soldier paled at the sight of spectral figures swarming their car.
“See? This is the ‘science’ you worship. These are wandering souls, unclaimed by the underworld. The ones with proper burials have already reincarnated.” Mu Lichuan’s tone was matter-of-fact.
Mi Shen’s frown could kill a fly. “If you have a way out, use it.”
Even if he accepted this reality, reporting it would only cause chaos. The country would have no way to maintain peace.
“I can’t. The talisman did nothing. There’s no exit in a ghost wall.” Mu Lichuan’s voice turned grave. Then an idea struck him - Mi Shen’s dragon energy.
If a normal ghost wall could be broken with a talisman, the fact that his failed meant something stronger was at work. The longer they stayed, the more dangerous it became. He couldn’t afford to disappear, not when his grandfather needed him.
“Mind if I borrow some of your blood, Your Highness?” Mu Lichuan asked dryly.
In ancient times, emperors were called descendants of dragons. Their blood, infused with dragon energy, could ward off evil.
“Fine,” Mi Shen gritted out.
Mu Lichuan nicked Mi Shen’s finger with a knife, forming a seal. The blood droplet flew out the window like it had a mind of its own.
“This… is pushing it…” Gasping, Mu Lichuan collapsed against Mi Shen, drained and pale.
Mi Shen caught him just as the ghosts began dispersing. The mountain seemed to retreat, the road reappearing before them.
“Drive now,” Mi Shen ordered.
Dawn broke as they sped away. Mu Lichuan slept through the entire next day, only waking at noon.
He bolted upright, this wasn’t his room. Memories flooded back.
The door creaked open. A butler bowed. “Young Master Mu, lunch is ready.”
Mu Lichuan forced a smile. “Thanks, but I need to go home.” He checked his phone - Monday morning. He’d skipped school.
The butler blocked his path. “Young Master Mu, if you don’t eat, the Young Master will—”
“My grandfather’s waiting. I’ll explain to Mi Shen later.” He darted out, his depleted spiritual energy now fully restored.
At home, his grandfather stood at the gate, radiating loneliness. The sight twisted Mu Lichuan’s heart.
Mu Xiaoran had once been a Foundation Establishment cultivator. If not for the schemes against the Mu family, he’d still be their revered patriarch.
“Grandfather…” Mu Lichuan schooled his expression before calling out.
Mu Xiaoran’s face lit up. “You’re back. I had a bad feeling, then Mi Shen called to say you were safe.” His tone cooled at the name.
“Yeah, ran into a centuries-old ghost and a ghost wall. And Mi Shen? He’s a walking disaster. Anyone near him gets cursed.” The boy’s voice dripped with resentment.
The moment he said it, his expression changed. He sprinted inside—the painting’s sinister energy was leaking again.
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