Chapter 53: Night Parade of Ten Thousand Ghosts (Part Two)
No one answered.
Just a moment ago, in their hazy state, they had heard... the faint sound of a cane, light and rhythmic, approaching from a distance.
This was the inpatient ward.
As nurses studying medicine, they were no strangers to the cycles of life and death; their nerves were not easily unsettled. Yet, during curfew hours, in an empty duty room, hearing the sound of a cane—not just in one’s imagination, but both of them at once—was enough to make their hearts race.
“Shall we check it out?” The short-haired nurse picked up a flashlight.
The nurse with shoulder-length hair nodded. Duty compelled her; she set aside her iPad. As the two of them stood, their eyes widened in unison.
The door stood ajar, leaving only a narrow gap. Just now, they had clearly seen a blurry shadow slowly pass by the doorway.
Tap... tap... The cane struck the silent night with chilling clarity. Yet... there were no footsteps.
No... not even the faintest trace of human movement.
No breathing, no coughing, no rustling—only the sound of the cane.
Suddenly, the lights in the room flickered twice and went out.
“A power outage?” The short-haired nurse drew a deep breath. For reasons she could not name, anxiety gnawed at her, a voice inside urging: Leave... leave now!
She swallowed hard, but before she could speak, the nurse with shoulder-length hair said, “It’s probably just the lights. Look, the computer’s still on.”
The short-haired nurse glanced over; indeed, the computer still showed the surveillance feeds. Most hospital duty rooms had them, in case of emergencies.
On the screen, the hallway lights were fine. It seemed only the lights on their floor had failed, for reasons unknown.
“That scared me...” The short-haired nurse exhaled, shifting her gaze away. But in the very next second, she blinked, glancing back at the screen.
On the monitor, in black and white, the door on the second floor... silently opened.
Room 201, at the very end of the corridor.
Something felt wrong. She frowned, pulled the other nurse closer, and peered intently at the screen.
The next moment—the second door opened.
Then the third. The fourth. The fifth... One by one, the doors to the second-floor wards swung open without a sound, as though some invisible presence was passing through, pushing them.
A cold gasp escaped the short-haired nurse. In that instant, she realized what was wrong.
“Xiao Liu...” Her voice trembled. “Do you remember... last year, a patient complained... that sometimes the door wasn’t fully closed... and the wind would blow it open in the middle of the night, scaring everyone awake?”
Nurse Liu nodded in confusion. “I remember that.”
The short-haired nurse pressed closer, her voice barely a whisper. “And... do you remember... after that, the director replaced all the ward doors with silent-lock ones?”
“That’s right. I’d just started working here then—” Xiao Liu’s words cut off abruptly. Both women’s terrified eyes locked on the screen.
Yes, those silent-lock doors could not be blown open by the wind.
They were so accustomed to pushing those doors themselves, they knew it well.
These doors... only a person could open them.
So why, then, had all the doors on the second floor suddenly opened?
A sudden chill swept over them, making both shudder. They weren’t easily frightened, but... hospitals bred all kinds of ghostly tales.
They’d gone from being startled by senior nurses to facing danger with calm—less from courage, more from habit.
No matter how frightening the stories, none had ever come true. Over time, the tales lost their power to terrify.
No one could have foreseen that tonight... they would encounter something beyond explanation.
Someone—or something—was on the second floor.
Some unknown presence had opened the silent-lock doors...
It was as if a soul was inspecting the wards. Apart from themselves, there were other night staff in this hospital!
Their teeth chattered, goosebumps rising layer upon layer. The short-haired nurse gritted her teeth, voice shaking: “Should... should we fix the lights?”
“Fix them!” Xiao Liu clenched her jaw. “If we don’t... we’ll frighten ourselves to death tonight!”
They needed light.
After a deep breath, they turned and crept toward the door. But halfway there, both froze in place.
Tap... tap... The sound of the cane hadn’t left. Instead, it was now at the door. And... it entered!
No one was there.
No shadow.
No breath.
In the deathly dark, only that cane struck at their hearts, step by step... until it stood before them.
The two nurses clung to each other, speechless. They could feel it... something was there, right in front of them, staring intently.
“He... ha...” Tears streamed down Xiao Liu’s face. There really was a ghost... just as she stifled a scream, she froze.
Someone was stroking her hair, gently combing it.
That icy breath brushed her neck.
Yet the short-haired nurse’s arms were locked tightly around her waist.
“Aaaah!!!”
...
“Alert! Large-scale yin energy detected at the Second People’s Hospital! Preliminary estimate: over two hundred spirits!”
“Sir! Massive yin energy outbreak at six communities on South Green Avenue! Rough estimate: over three thousand spirits!”
“S-Sir! Major yin energy eruption at Longma District’s commercial street! Nearly ten thousand spirits detected!”
“Aler—”
Beneath the city government.
Here was a hyper-modern facility, with alloy ceilings and floors. In the center stood a bizarre, three-meter-high supercomputer shaped like a cylinder. Within the alloy seams, streams of red, yellow, and blue data signals raced along fiber optics into dozens of computers encircling the central machine.
The room was filled with white-coated personnel. The walls were lined with digital screens—all displaying maps of Baoxing City.
Data flickered beside each map. The green zones, once symbols of safety, had vanished. Now, only the city’s edges remained yellow; the central areas, blood-red, sent chills down every spine.
“Sir, the Special Investigation Division’s five posts in Ping’an District—twenty cultivators in total—have already engaged without orders! The ‘Styx’ supercomputer predicts they’re unable to suppress the disturbance. Please send support immediately!”
“Sir, thirteen cultivators in three posts at Longma District are standing by! The yin eruption there is over nine thousand three hundred! Immediate support needed!”
Alarms blared from every direction. Beneath the main screen stood five people.
The mayor and party secretary of Baoxing City. Special Commissioner Zhang Chenghai of the Special Investigation Division. A rail-thin, middle-aged man like a withered bamboo, dressed in black robes and an old-fashioned square scarf. And a Buddhist nun—about forty, her hair streaked with gray.
All five wore grave expressions.
“No warning signs?” Zhang Chenghai’s eyes were bloodshot as he turned to the nun.
She shook her head, face ashen. “None at all... Just as we suspected, there must be a ‘Throne Dragon’ from the underworld in Baoxing City, controlling everything beneath the surface. Otherwise, the spirits could never act so in unison.”
The emaciated man ground his teeth. “Our sect investigated—there hasn’t been a soul harvest here for nearly a century... Tonight, these are the spirits of everyone who’s died in Baoxing in the past hundred years! Someone’s gathered them all, and we still can’t find the mastermind!”
Humans cannot see the messengers of death.
That was the very reason Cao Youdao dared to scheme for dominion over an entire city.
“So this is a provocation?” The mayor’s gaze was icy as he stared at the screen. “Mr. Zhang, are there any soul-restraining experts in Baoxing?”
Zhang Chenghai shook his head. “Besides myself, no one. You know as well as I do, Mayor Zhao, that there are very few of our rank left—one per city at most, and only four or five in a provincial capital. Many cities have none at all.”
The nun snorted. “Regardless, tonight is a declaration of war. Mr. Zhang, it’s time to fight... The battle between Yin and Yang must come sooner or later; the people cannot remain in the dark forever!”
“Mr. Zhang, I await your orders,” the thin man said solemnly.
The mayor and secretary remained silent.
In truth, their hearts churned with conflicting emotions.
Face the challenge—they must. But once they did, all concealment in Baoxing would be lost.
In a one-party state, decrees could be enforced without opposition, which had allowed the supernatural to be suppressed for so long. They’d all known a reckoning would come. Yet, now that it was here, uncertainty gnawed at them.
What next?
How would they answer to a million citizens?
What would the nation do?
“Mayor Zhao.” Zhang Chenghai drew a deep breath and turned, speaking through gritted teeth. “The Special Investigation Division has the authority to deploy the military without the mayor or secretary’s approval. I intend to exercise that right.”
War was inevitable!
Though they’d expected it, the mayor and secretary still sighed in silence at his words. Deeply, they nodded.
China had never feared war.
“Very well,” Zhang Chenghai turned, exhaled long, and addressed the room. “From this moment, all armed forces, troops, and police are under my command.”
“Immediately inform all stations: clear out every spirit in your vicinity—at any cost!”
“Activate Baoxing City’s paranormal alert line! It is not to be lifted without my express order!”
“Open the armory, and distribute spirit-hunting weapons to all units!”
His eyes were bloodshot as he declared, “By dawn tomorrow, I want to see living people standing on every inch of Baoxing City’s soil!”
“This battle is a declaration of sovereignty! Whether they’re testing us or seeking outright confrontation, we allow only victory—not defeat!”
“If they want to fight, we will fight until they dare not even test our resolve!”