Chapter 74: Lighting a Cigarette (Part 1 of 2)

Cui Hai's hands were trembling nonstop, and the Huang Daxian trailing behind us was more like a spiritual entity—a floating imprint, shadowing his every step. It reminded me of that scene from The Shining, where a ghostly figure keeps following someone from behind. That's exactly what Cui Hai looked like now.

He tried speaking a few times, but I stopped him each time. That spirit wasn't something you could just shake off—it was already branded on him like a curse.He asked, "Where are we even going?"

"Back to Shenyang," I replied sternly. "Drive slow. No matter what happens on the road, do not get out of the car. Just follow my instructions."

"But why?" Cui Hai asked, confused.

Looking at his bloodied face, I felt a surge of anger. I told him bluntly, if he didn't want to die, he'd better listen.

So he drove, shivering, keeping the speed at just over 60 km/h.It was a bright, sunny morning. The sky above Liaodong was unusually clear, despite the usual smog. No wind, no clouds—just a blazing sun. The Range Rover glided smoothly along the road.

Then suddenly—it broke down.

Just like that. In broad daylight. In the middle of nowhere, flanked by remote mountains. There was no reason for the car to fail, yet it did.

"I'll get out and check it." He reached for the door.

"Don't. Stay exactly where you are," I said calmly.

He looked puzzled. "Why not?"

I didn't bother explaining. We sat in the silence of the car for over an hour. It was so quiet you'd think it would drive you insane. Then—out of nowhere—a rabbit darted from the roadside bushes, blindly sprinting toward the road.

A massive truck thundered past our Range Rover just at that moment.We both watched as the rabbit was smashed to bits, its remains splattering across our windshield.

"F**k! That's disgusting!" Cui Hai cursed and quickly turned on the wipers.

I let out a deep breath.That… was the trap. And we just avoided it.

"Drive," I said flatly.

Cui Hai looked left, looked right, then pointed in the direction the truck had gone. "Where the hell did that truck come from? My Range Rover has full panoramic rearview. How the hell didn't I see it coming? Bro, seriously… did we just sit here for over an hour to watch a bunny get flattened?"

When it comes to the unknown, people usually react one of two ways: fear or recklessness.

I watched him shift from scared and shaky to now babbling nonstop, as if he thought that having me around meant there was no longer any danger.

I said coldly, "If you'd gotten out to fix the car, you'd be the one squashed like that rabbit. Just listen to me. Try the ignition now—the car should start."

He did—and the engine purred back to life.

I didn't need to explain that being stalked by a spirit was like having your senses clouded, one by one:

Eyes first: making you see things that aren't there.

Ears next: luring you in with illusions of sound.

Then nose and mouth: getting you into senseless arguments or dangerous fights.

Lastly, even your lower body, causing accidents or disease.

It's psychological hypnosis, more than physical attack. But it's deadly just the same.

I once saw something similar: two sisters walking down the street. They met by chance, chatted happily, and edged closer to each other while catching up.Then a large truck barreled through.The younger sister died on the spot.

The spirit had "fogged her ears"—made her so focused on chatting she forgot to watch her surroundings.That's exactly what we were facing now.

Cui Hai started driving again, and we moved on along the winding highway. He even put on some music—but I turned it off.

About another hour in, traffic stopped. A minor crash up ahead. Two cars had grazed each other, and the drivers were arguing, blocking the entire lane.

Cui Hai snorted. "Check out those two—what are they wearing? Aren't they hot in that?"

"Shut up. Sit still," I snapped.

I didn't need him to point it out—I'd already seen the strange detail. One of them was wearing a black bowler hat and carrying a walking cane, like some fake westernized elite from old Shanghai. The other wore an outdated landlord's robe, straight out of pre-revolutionary China.

Even inside the car, with sound insulation, we could barely hear them.Cui Hai honked the horn—loudly. The Range Rover had been fitted with some kind of mega-horn, and even with the sealed windows, I found it jarring.

But the two men outside didn't even flinch. Just kept arguing.

"I'm getting out to check—" he started again, but I grabbed him by the arm.

"Sit. Still. Do you have a cigarette?"

"Yeah, yeah—of course!" he fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a tin box of Yellow Crane Tower cigarettes. "Didn't know you smoked—sorry, my bad."