Chapter 314: Fine, Fine, Fine—So This Is How You Want to Play It, Horror Tale World?!
The moment the yellow-clad ghost heard Zhang Yangqing say that, it instantly felt like it had run into a real professional.
Just the names of those two techniques sent a chill of terror straight to its core.
Zhang Yangqing hadn’t released any pressure, yet the yellow-clad ghost stood frozen in place as if pinned down.
Its face twitched uncontrollably, making its already unpleasant features look even worse.
What? Five Thunder Orthodox Method? Golden Light Incantation?
Was this guy some kind of Taoist priest?
Taoists were the natural enemies of creatures like them.
The yellow-clad ghost briefly wondered if the shop assistant was bluffing, since Zhang Yangqing hadn’t let out any aura and it couldn’t sense any trace of Taoist energy.
Still, it decided to play it safe for now.
“I’m not hungry anymore. I’ll be going now.”
“Leaving? Since you’re here, you might as well have a bite.”
Seeing Zhang Yangqing about to step out from behind the counter, the yellow-clad ghost didn’t dare stick around—it turned and bolted.
The reason it hadn’t left immediately was that it still wanted to test whether Zhang Yangqing was really a Taoist.
If he’d just been faking it and showed a “relieved” expression after the bluff, the ghost would’ve known he was an impostor.
But when Zhang Yangqing actually dared to come out, the ghost knew—Taoist or not—this guy was not to be messed with.
Too late, though.
The yellow-clad ghost barely made it two steps before a massive hand emerged from the darkness.
Even with its incredible speed, it had no idea who it was dealing with.
The hand didn’t look particularly large, but to the yellow-clad ghost, it felt no less overwhelming than the palm of a celestial god.
Slap! Thump!
Zhang Yangqing barely seemed to push—just a gentle shove—yet the powerful yellow-clad ghost had no strength to resist. It crashed to the ground face-first in a spectacular belly flop.
Just as it tried to scramble up, a foot planted itself firmly on its back.
It felt like an entire mountain was pressing down on it—it couldn’t move an inch.
The audience was baffled. The same yellow-clad ghosts that were so vicious and terrifying to other Chosen Ones—this one was taken down so effortlessly?
Anyone who hadn’t watched other screens first would’ve thought Zhang Yangqing was just bullying some defenseless weakling.
Only the yellow-clad ghost knew how miserable it felt. After just those two brief contacts, it realized just how pure and powerful this Taoist’s energy was.
A single surge of spiritual energy flooded its body, and not only could it not resist—it didn’t even have the will to struggle.
Every Taoist it had ever encountered before seemed like nothing compared to this one.
Now the yellow-clad ghost knew—this was a true master.
Zhang Yangqing had only barely let out a trace of his Taoist aura, and it was enough to drive the ghost to utter despair.
“Daoist Master, I’m sorry, I was wrong! Please spare me! I was just really hungry and had a moment of weakness. I swear I’ve never harmed a human—I usually just steal chickens to eat.”
This yellow-clad ghost was clearly no stranger to being caught—it had its spiel down pat.
Why was it so professional? Because only a seasoned veteran could rattle off a speech like that.
First, it buttered up Zhang Yangqing by acknowledging his profession—a classic suck-up move.
Then it claimed it was just acting on impulse, a crime of passion rather than premeditated evil, to reduce Zhang Yangqing’s hostility.
Finally, it knew that any ghost that had actually killed humans would be eliminated by Taoists. Since a ghost at its level couldn’t possibly have never taken a life, it claimed it only stole chickens—another tactic to lower the Taoist’s anger.
Gotta hand it to the thing—its little speech actually made Zhang Yangqing laugh.
It felt almost like coming back home.
He hadn’t heard lines like that in a long time, not since he became a Heavenly Master.
“Enough with the nonsense. I have some questions for you.”
“Ask away, Daoist Master! I’ll tell you everything I know!”
Sensing a way out, the yellow-clad ghost immediately started groveling.
Zhang Yangqing asked two things: first, whether the ghost had been around here in the past few days, and second, which nearby ghosts needed organs to cultivate or survive.
These two questions also showed Zhang Yangqing’s professionalism.
He didn’t know who’d taken his organs, so he asked who was lacking them.
Unfortunately, the yellow-clad ghost’s cultivation was too low. It wasn’t even one of the local apparitions from the surrounding “graveyard circles”—just a wandering type that had drifted here today. It couldn’t provide any useful intel.
It did, however, ramble on about a bunch of irrelevant nonsense.
But it wasn’t trying to brush him off—it was spilling everything it knew to save its own skin.
It even started ratting out other malevolent spirits to buy itself a chance to survive.
Watching this, Gregori sensed that Zhang Yangqing was about to make his move.
By “move,” he meant Zhang Yangqing’s usual strategy from previous Horror Tales—recruiting underlings to minimize trial-and-error costs.
This yellow-clad ghost had already submitted without a fight, so it could serve as a store clerk under his command.
And Gregori wasn’t the only one thinking this—most viewers assumed the same.
They all figured the Dragon Country Heavenly Master loved recruiting helpers to do his dirty work.
Only Su Muyu knew—this guy was about to start “delivering salvation.”
His fellow disciples were curious. They’d never seen Zhang Yangqing deal with local apparitions before and wondered how he’d perform a salvation ritual.
Would he chant incantations? Use ritual tools?
Normally, salvation meant helping the deceased find rebirth and earning so-called “merit” in return.
That’s how Taoist disciples accumulated good karma.
The disciples of Dragon Tiger Mountain leaned in, eyes glued to the screen, ready to learn a thing or two.
On the screen, Zhang Yangqing didn’t do anything fancy. He simply stomped the yellow-clad ghost’s head into pulp.
The head and body were quickly crushed by overwhelming energy.
With a wave of his hand, the remains turned to ash and scattered into the surrounding area.
Zhang Yangqing didn’t use the Golden Light Incantation or Lightning Techniques because he didn’t want to leave behind powerful spiritual traces that might scare other apparitions away from the store.
But even so, it was already horrifying enough for many viewers.
Up on Dragon Tiger Mountain, quite a few Taoists were stunned.
Master, is this what you call salvation?
What kind of salvation is this?!
Inside the Vatican, Gregori’s eyes went wide. Did I miscalculate? Wasn’t he supposed to recruit the ghost as a minion?
But he didn’t understand—it was like in the last round, when the Paladin Sidney didn’t like demons. Zhang Yangqing, as a Heavenly Master, also felt a natural disgust toward yellow-clad ghosts and their ilk.
If Sidney hadn’t been blind and reliant on demons, he would never have traveled with them.
It was the same with Zhang Yangqing. To put it bluntly, he was just playing the role of shop assistant to clear the level.
Otherwise, with Zhang Yangqing’s temper, not a single ghost within ten miles would’ve escaped!
What Su Muyu referred to as “salvation” was actually an inside joke that only he and their master understood.
Back when their master was still alive, he’d taken the two of them out for training.
They’d come to a grim, terrifying burial ground.
Supposedly the site of an ancient battlefield, the place was absolutely crawling with vengeful spirits—so much resentment it choked the air.
Even ordinary Taoists would’ve needed protective charms just to get near the place, let alone go inside.
The three of them had walked a long way to get there.
By the time they arrived, it was already dark, so the old Heavenly Master said they should rest and start training the next morning.
When Su Muyu woke up the next day, he was stunned.
Within ten miles, there wasn’t a single ghost—not even a trace of one.
Zhang Yangqing had asked with genuine confusion, “Master, is it time to start training yet?”
The old Heavenly Master was equally puzzled. Just yesterday, this place was thick with ghostly energy—where had it all gone?
Zhang Yangqing answered, “The noise around here kept me up last night, so I got up and ‘salvated’ everything.”
To avoid polluting the environment, Zhang Yangqing had not only annihilated the souls of those ghosts and monsters but also pulverized their physical shells.
The old Heavenly Master was flabbergasted. You killed every ghost in the area—what the hell is there left to train for?!
He’d brought them to this dangerous place to teach them that no matter how powerful you are, facing a horde of specters could still make you feel powerless—and the real goal was to get Zhang Yangqing and Su Muyu to work together and build their synergy.
It was supposed to be a lesson from the master.
Instead, Zhang Yangqing taught them a lesson: in the face of absolute talent and power, numbers don’t matter!
Su Muyu still remembered the speechless expression on their master’s face on the way back.
Maybe those creatures that were disasters to other cultivators—when those same creatures faced Zhang Yangqing, they were the ones experiencing a disaster.
After that incident, Su Muyu gained a whole new understanding of the word “salvation.”
Other Taoists salvaged souls to heaven; Zhang Yangqing salvaged them by grinding bones to dust and scattering ashes to the wind.
The moment that cold, indifferent expression appeared on Zhang Yangqing’s face, Su Muyu knew he was about to strike.
Inside the Horror Tale World, wind swept across the dark, ghostly mountain, rattling the wooden plaques hanging from the withered trees even louder.
The only light came from the two faint candle flames inside the general store.
It was like the sole beacon in this desolate place.
Zhang Yangqing personally chased after the ghost but didn’t use any skills—he didn’t want to scare off other “customers.”
Otherwise, he’d have just struck it down with lightning right at the doorstep.
“Looks like if I want any useful intel, I’ll have to ask the apparitions that actually live around here, or maybe the regular customers.”
Here, Zhang Yangqing had identified a special lead.
His priority now was questioning the apparitions that frequently visited the store—they might be the ones who could provide the information he needed.
As for the outsiders, either they buy something, pay up, and leave—or they die.
He was running a business, after all. Zhang Yangqing was already doing his best to play the role of shop assistant.
Compared to Zhang Yangqing’s nonchalance, the other Chosen Ones were still shaking from their brushes with death.
Those who hadn’t been attacked didn’t dare speak a word. The yellow-clad ghost, lacking money, had wandered around outside for a while and eventually left.
As for those who’d been attacked—the dead ones were beyond help, but the survivors were busy cleaning up the mess.
Robert, the Red Cardinal from Noodle Country, used a match to relight the extinguished candles.
Then he started reorganizing the collapsed shelves, putting scattered items back in place.
He wasn’t alone—other Chosen Ones were making rounds too.
Rahman was one of the more meticulous ones. He kept a record of every item guests purchased.
Then, comparing it with the inventory list he’d made at the beginning, he noticed some items were missing. So he grabbed a candle holder and headed to the storage room behind the door—the one with two yellow talismans pasted on it.
Pushing the door open, Rahman waved his hand in front of his face to clear the thick smell of incense, candles, and paper.
“Huh? What’s this?”
After scanning the storage room, Rahman found some “odd” items.
A few wine jars sealed with yellow strips.
On the wall behind the jars, there was a warning: “DANGER—DO NOT TOUCH.”
As a rule-following Chosen One, Rahman naturally wasn’t about to go tearing off those seals just for fun.
But some bolder Chosen Ones did dare to take a look.
There were also a few swords that looked like they were made of wood, as well as some swords braided from copper coins.
These items were stored near the sealed wine jars.
Other Chosen Ones had no idea what these things were. In their eyes, iron tools and bone knives were proper self-defense weapons.
A wooden sword? That’s practically a toy.
A sword woven from copper coins? Probably just a handicraft, right?
That was the general consensus among most Chosen Ones—after all, they knew nothing about this supernatural world.
But Dragon Country viewers understood exactly what these were, and the knowledgeable ones got excited.
“If I’m not mistaken, those are peachwood swords and coin swords, right? Those are classic warding tools against evil and bad luck!”
“Judging by the quality alone, these are pretty high-grade materials—they’ve been infused with Taoist energy. Even a small ghost would die on contact.”
“Wouldn’t it be insane if Heavenly Master Zhang got his hands on these? Can’t wait to see him take down apparitions with a peachwood sword!”
“What are you thinking? Such narrow thinking! Heavenly Master Zhang dealing with some minor ghosts—does he even need weapons?”
“Honestly, I feel like if I went in this round, my survival odds would be pretty good. Is this what home-field advantage feels like?”
Seeing all these ritual tools, many disciples of Dragon Country’s esoteric schools were thrilled.
They were kicking themselves for not signing up. In this round, they could’ve done just as well!
But those disciples were quickly chewed out by their masters.
Remember how big an advantage Campbell—the British superhuman from last round—had?
He could even find top-tier items in the weapon vault that other Chosen Ones didn’t know about.
But did it help? He still got himself killed through recklessness.
Often, it’s exactly that sense of being on home turf that lures you into an endless abyss.
Inside the Horror Tale World, while the Chosen Ones were restocking, the wind chime rang again from outside.
Except this time, it was louder—much louder than before.
Even these small details made plenty of Chosen Ones sit up straight.
“Does a louder chime mean a stronger apparition is coming?”
Rahman figured that and immediately headed back to the counter.
No wonder that guy outside hadn’t come in earlier—he’d have been caught immediately.
So he’d tried to bait me into talking from the door. Good thing I didn’t fall for it.
As he thought about this, Rahman darted between the shelves, candle in hand.
But fate had a cruel sense of humor.
Right around a corner, he suddenly came face-to-face with a female apparition in white clothes.
Her hair was disheveled, her eyes sunken and dripping with bloody tears, her skin deathly pale—like she’d caked on a thick layer of powder.
In the dead of night, illuminated by flickering candlelight, even standing still, she seemed to sway back and forth—absolutely terrifying to look at.
But Rahman had seen so many horrors tonight that he wasn’t particularly scared.
Still, he found it strange—would a white-clad guest make the wind chime ring that loudly?
Had he misjudged the situation?
Maybe the chime was just from the wind?
While he was pondering, the woman’s hoarse voice suddenly came through.
“Boss, could you wrap up some spirit money for me?”
It wasn’t uncommon for customers to ask for help packaging items.
Some guests were missing limbs and had trouble picking things up.
In such cases, the Chosen Ones would grab disposable bags from beside the counter and help pack their purchases.
For more valuable items, if the apparition customer wanted, they could buy boxes—those were listed in the inventory.
Rahman opened his mouth to ask how much she wanted—but then he caught himself.
Something about her voice felt off. So off that Rahman immediately felt something was wrong.
First, the woman’s mouth hadn’t moved—the voice seemed to come out of nowhere?
Other apparitions had at least seemed somewhat “alive,” but this one felt like a corpse.
Combined with the unusually loud chime, Rahman decided to stay silent.
He just nodded, went to the counter, grabbed a bag, and started packing some spirit money for her.
Then, shifting to a different angle, he stole a glance and saw something utterly horrifying.
Behind the woman was a child wearing cyan clothes, clinging to her back.
Rahman broke out in a cold sweat. The child’s eyes were glowing red—terrifying beyond belief.
And the child didn’t seem to be carried on her back—it looked more like it was parasitic, with its skin fused to hers.
But if that were the case, the chime should have rung twice, right?
Suddenly, it clicked—a bold hypothesis formed in Rahman’s mind. The female apparition was already dead, and this apparition child was controlling her corpse.
Whether the woman had died long ago or was killed by the child didn’t matter.
The number of chime rings only indicated the number of “living” entities.
Going by the wind chime’s response, the woman was dead, and the cyan-clad child was the actual customer.
Following Rule 5:
【Rule 5: When a guest wearing yellow or cyan clothes comes to buy something, if they ask for something you have, nod; if not, shake your head. Never speak to them.”
After piecing it all together, Rahman took a deep breath.
He felt like he’d just walked back from the brink of death.
Fine, fine, fine—so this is how you want to play it, Horror Tale World?!
Thank goodness he’d caught it, or he’d be facing death right now.
Two fatal traps in a row—Rahman was starting to get a headache.
And both traps had “hints” built into them.
If a Chosen One didn’t notice the abnormal chime, or failed to realize the woman’s mouth didn’t move, and just casually spoke—boom, rule broken.
And this was still just the beginning of the night. The red-clad ones hadn’t even shown up yet.
Many Chosen Ones broke out in cold sweat, but more and more kept falling for it.
Seven more screens went dark among the Chosen Ones.
When those Chosen Ones responded, a horrifying scene unfolded.
The female corpse’s feet didn’t move—but her torso twisted 180 degrees, like a living mask, revealing a terrifying creature on the other side.
The cyan-clad child’s eyes blazed with red light!
With a ripping sound, the child detached from the woman’s body, their flesh separating.
Then the kid used the woman’s back as a springboard and pounced directly onto the Chosen One’s face.
Now face-to-face, nose-to-nose with the apparition child, the Chosen One could see its sharp, pitch-black teeth and smell the stench oozing from its mouth.
The scene was enough to scare the faint-hearted to death.
Even as some superhumans fought back with all their might, the child acted like a parasite—no matter how they twisted, no matter what they slammed into, it just kept crawling over them, dodging attacks while biting and clawing.
It was like they were glued together.
Eventually, with its sharp teeth gnawing relentlessly, the superhumans collapsed, covered in blood and reeking of black energy.
Shelves toppled, candles extinguished.
Soon, they’d become the child’s next hosts, taking over the female apparition’s role.
And that was just the superhumans’ struggle—ordinary Chosen Ones couldn’t even last one exchange before dropping.
This round’s small trap only had one superhuman who actually won—the child lay dead on the floor.
But he didn’t come out unscathed either—his body was covered in bite marks, all oozing black smoke.
His face was pale and weak. Forget facing future dangers—it was questionable whether he’d even survive until closing time.
Outside the screen, facing the accusatory stares of his Vatican colleagues, Gregori looked equally baffled.
I told him everything I knew! I never expected him to mess up this badly!
