Chapter 41: Whispers Beneath the Night
—The night wind howled, carrying a thick, black mist that swirled like a living tide, swallowing the ruins of the abandoned temple.
Lin Han stood motionless, fingers slightly tightening as cold sweat seeped into the fabric of his gloves. He could sense it—this darkness was not just an ordinary fog. It was alive. Watching. Waiting.
"Walau eh, really got ghost ah?" Noya muttered, her voice laced with an imperceptible tremor. Yet, the gun in her hand remained steady, aimed forward.
The mysterious man—whose name they still did not know—remained indifferent, casually rolling his ancient prayer beads between his fingers. His lips curled in a slight smirk, as if he found amusement in their fear. "It has arrived."
Lin Han's eyes locked onto the swirling mist—
A figure slowly emerged.
But its feet never touched the ground.
It was a man clad in a tattered baju Melayu, the traditional Malay garb. The fabric, soaked with moisture and dirt, clung to his frail form. But the most disturbing part? His face was blurred—like the mist itself was devouring his features—leaving only a pair of ghastly, glowing white eyes staring straight at them.
Lin Han's heartbeat spiked, fingers instinctively grazing the hilt of his dagger.
"He's not… human." The mysterious man spoke with unsettling calmness, raising a brittle yellow talisman between his fingers. "Or rather, he was."
The talisman trembled in the air as if something unseen was resisting it.
The floating figure suddenly creaked, like an old wooden puppet being forcefully manipulated. A hollow, guttural voice slithered from its throat: "Blood… blood sacrifice…"
Instantly, the black mist around them churned violently, as if thousands of unseen hands were writhing within it!
"Walau eh, what the hell is this?" Noya cursed under her breath, flipping the safety off her gun.
Then, the figure reached out its hand—
No.
That was not a hand.
Its arm split apart at the joints, unfolding like an insect's grotesque claw, with twisted, unnatural angles, lunging straight for Lin Han!
—BANG!
Noya fired. The bullet streaked through the air, heading straight for the entity's forehead!
But just before impact, its body suddenly dissolved like vapor, dispersing into multiple streams of black smoke that shot toward the shadows!
Lin Han dodged to the side, but a wisp of the mist grazed his arm. A freezing, bone-deep pain shot through his veins, as if his blood had turned to ice.
"It's trying to separate us." The mysterious man remarked, almost amused, as he flicked his wrist. The talisman in his hand burst into golden flames.
The sudden light sent a ripple through the darkness—several tendrils of mist recoiled, emitting distorted, ear-splitting shrieks.
—BANG!
Another gunshot echoed through the empty temple as Noya fired again, this time aiming for the thickest part of the fog. The bullet struck the crumbling stone wall, sending debris scattering across the floor.
Then, Lin Han noticed something strange—
The mist… was retreating.
It was subtle, but it was happening.
"What's going on?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
The mysterious man remained silent, his gaze fixated on the spot where Lin Han had just been standing. His expression darkened.
There—on the dry temple floor—was a footprint.
A pair of bare, wet footprints, as if someone had stepped out of water… yet the ground around them remained completely dry.
"This thing… it's not alone." The mysterious man murmured.
Noya exhaled sharply. "Walao eh," she muttered, her grip tightening on the gun, "You're saying we've been watched this whole time?"
He smiled faintly. "Not just watched."
Silence.
Lin Han lifted his gaze toward the entrance of the temple.
Beyond the crumbling ruins, the neon lights of Penang's night market flickered in the distance. The streets were still lively, filled with the sounds of chatter, street performers, and the aroma of sizzling satay lingering in the air.
As if nothing supernatural had ever happened.
But deep in his gut, he knew—
They had already stepped into something they could never escape from.