Chapter 86: Ghosts and Monsters Within the Prison (Part One)

After the two departed, a figure clad in bright yellow, previously concealed who knows where, quietly trailed behind them. The Spirit Consort’s concealment abilities were formidable—even someone as powerful as Wang Yichuan, a five-star investigator, failed to notice her lurking presence nearby.

Perhaps he was simply too exhilarated after obtaining Wu Zui’s blood.

The yellow figure floated through the air in evident delight. She had long grown weary of serving Mantuo, that lecherous and hideous ogre, day after day. True, the soul matter he provided daily did help her advance in power, but—

“Too ugly!” she mused with genuine pride. “I am, after all, an imperial consort!”

This Specter in the Cheongsam, Mantuo’s treasured Spirit Consort, was no arbitrary title. Mantuo had discovered her in an ancient tomb back when ghosts had only just begun to appear in places saturated with negative energy, and their forms were prone to collapse and vanish.

Back then, the spectral outbreaks were nowhere near as severe as they are now.

Even as a seasoned specter, when Mantuo found her, her body was weak and insubstantial. Without Mantuo’s supply of living resentment and the souls he plundered from the living, this imperial consort—who knew which emperor she had once belonged to—would have dissipated into nothingness.

Because she was alluring and enchanting, she received Mantuo’s full support in cultivation, which allowed her to ascend to the rank of a three-star specter. But Mantuo surely never expected that, in the end, he himself would become the very nourishment for her to advance to four stars.

Meanwhile, Chen Jack, who had been escorted to a specially prepared interrogation room, was now enduring a relentless round of questioning by a host of spirit investigators. For someone as depraved as he, the investigators felt no obligation to show humanity or mercy. They simply beat him without reservation.

After a particularly “thorough” interrogation, the battered and bruised Chen Jack confessed the basic details of the Purification Society.

The Purification Society was led by thirteen elders and a president, with countless members beneath them. Every three months, the society conducted an internal assessment, reshuffling the elders’ rankings based on strength.

As for the president? According to Chen Jack, he had seldom seen the president since joining the society. Their main operations were not in China, but in Metropolis America, where most elders and the president resided.

If not for a seven-star anomaly self-destructing here—releasing vast quantities of masterless resentful energy—none of the elders would have come.

As for the deeper reasons? The investigators speculated that perhaps China had experts like the Faceless One, who specialized in countering their kind. Whether Chen Jack's words were true or not would require their own verification.

As for Mantuo’s death, since Wu Zui had not explained the cause, no one suspected Chen Jack for now. After all, deaths that left only skin and bones, the flesh drained away, were typically attributed to ghosts.

Few people like Chen Jack could force a ghostly servant to devour its own master.

Once the interrogation ended, Chen Jack was detained again. Though he cooperated, whenever questioned about his cultivation methods, he remained silent, only stating the president had discovered a hidden site from which all their methods derived.

As for the location of this site or the specifics of the techniques, Chen Jack refused to divulge any more, proving to be extremely tight-lipped. It seemed the investigators would require considerable time to uncover the truth.

While Wu Zui and the investigators were busy cleansing the city of ghosts and probing the Purification Society elders, something strange was unfolding in a prison on the city’s western outskirts.

The prison had been cut off from the outside world for several days.

Normally, in a place where executions were carried out, new ghosts would occasionally emerge. For that reason, a five-star spirit investigator was stationed there—a sign of how seriously Binhai City regarded the threat, given how rare such investigators were in the area.

However, according to well-informed prison guards, the paranormal disturbance had broken out near the investigator’s usual quarters, and now even the investigator had vanished without a trace.

Even if someone tried to report the situation, all phones and communication devices had failed. And anyone attempting to leave and seek help found it impossible.

A pale white mist, of unknown origin, had long since shrouded the entire prison. Anyone trying to leave found themselves wandering in circles, always returning to where they began. It seemed all guards and inmates were trapped, with the warden the only force preventing a riot from erupting.

In the warden’s office, he paced anxiously. He was himself a three-star awakener, but in these circumstances, even he was at a loss. With the five-star investigator missing, he felt utterly unsafe.

His anxiety stemmed from knowing more than the others. The investigator’s disappearance was no accident. The northern section of the prison was where executions were usually carried out. Two days prior, abnormal fluctuations had been detected there. The five-star investigator went to investigate and never returned.

Now, inmates in the cells closest to the northern section were vanishing, one after another. If not for the widespread ghost outbreak, they could have reassured themselves the disappearances were due to other causes—fighting, murder, or escape.

But under these circumstances, it was obvious: a ghost had entered the prison.

Although the warden found no traces of a confinement field nearby, the mist trapping everyone inside was undeniable. If they didn’t act soon, they would all become sustenance for this unknown specter.

Steeling himself, the warden decided to risk a potential riot and summon all guards to confront the ghost together. With every extra person, there was an extra sliver of strength—it was better to fight to the death than await slaughter.

At that moment, the prison’s broadcast system came to life with the warden’s voice:

“This is the warden of Binhai Prison! I now order all guards to unlock the cells and release every inmate! All awakeners, regardless of status, proceed at once to the northern cellblocks. A ghost has entered the prison—we must unite as one…”

As the broadcast echoed throughout the prison, the warden in his office felt a chill crawl down his spine. His body began to tremble, his face turning deathly pale.

Because the words that had just sounded over the broadcast were not his own! Though the voice and tone were identical, he was in the office—how could he simultaneously be in the broadcast room, issuing such orders?

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the prison, guards had obeyed the “warden’s” orders and opened the cells, releasing a horde of vicious criminals.

The warden, not knowing who had impersonated him, rushed to stop anyone from heading to the northern block—going there now was certain death! But the office door handle had, at some point, been enveloped by a force of resentful energy. Even when he collided his own magnetic energy against it, he found himself completely powerless.

Despair overtook him, and he collapsed at the office doorway.

“It’s over…” he thought.

At that moment, endless darkness swallowed him.

With the awakeners heading to their doom and all inmates set loose, it was impossible to imagine the chaos that would soon erupt in the absence of supervision.

Sure enough, once the cells were unlocked, aside from a few conscience-stricken prisoners and guards who went to the northern block, the rest rioted immediately after the guards departed.

This was a prison for violent offenders, each serving decades or more. Endless confinement had filled these ruthless men with rage—every day spent here was agony.

“Let’s rush out!”

“The guards are gone! Run for it!”

“Once we’re out, we’re free!”

Under the instigation of a few ringleaders, many inmates charged toward the main gate. Some had been imprisoned so long they knew the layout better than the newer guards.

Yet as the mob surged toward the entrance, they found themselves endlessly circling within the fog. It was as if they had lost their eyes, wandering in loops before the main gate, an invisible wall confining them.

The ghost who had established this confinement field had no intention of letting them leave so easily. Once it had finished with the awakeners, the remaining ordinary people would be nothing more than food—rounded up and devoured at will.

Among the awakeners heading for the northern block were two people Wu Zui knew well: Yan Junhao and Zhao Dali.

Wu Zui would never have expected both men to become awakeners. When he saw their photos, he must have been too tired to notice; who knew when their images had been sent in?

Both were now two-star awakeners. Yan Junhao practiced internal alchemy, while Zhao Dali cultivated external strength.

Gone were the days of their close friendship; now, they were bitter enemies.

After the courtroom defenses, Yan Junhao had learned Zhao Dali intended to use his own child as a cash cow. Zhao Dali, in turn, knew Yan Junhao had pinned all the blame on him.

A falling out was inevitable.

Relying on their status as two-star awakeners, they fared decently in prison—almost like local tyrants. Their respective followers were sharply divided, eyeing each other with open hostility.

At that moment, they arrived at the northern cellblock.

This area was mostly used for storage, with a small building for carrying out executions. Usually, not even guards would come here unless ordered—let alone prisoners—so the place was largely deserted.

In these times of rampant ghostly activity, places associated with frequent death unsettled even the bravest souls.

But now, guards and prisoners familiar with the area stared in disbelief, mouths agape.

“How could it be like this?” they exclaimed.