A heavy, suffocating pressure weighed down on Yang Jian, making it hard to breathe. It felt like sleep paralysis—his mind was fully conscious, but his body refused to move. The dimly lit room had turned into a dark prison, and Yang Jian was its captive, unable to escape, trapped in a seemingly endless cycle of torment.
Suddenly, the darkness on the ceiling began to shift and coalesce, taking the shape of an enormous eye. This eye was vast, covering the entire ceiling. Although it remained closed, Yang Jian could feel its presence, as if it was watching him, a sinister gaze fixed upon him.
"Gulp..."
A cold sensation crept across Yang Jian's cheek, as if something was forcing its way out from under his skin. A red eye slowly emerged from within his flesh, rolling upwards and revealing itself. An eerie perspective flooded his mind as if his consciousness was being split into multiple viewpoints.
At the same time, something inside him seemed to be writhing, slithering beneath his skin, trying to force its way out. The pain was excruciating, like being tortured on a rack, the kind of agony that pushed the limits of human endurance. Yet, despite the searing pain, Yang Jian's body remained paralyzed, unable to move or cry out.
This nightmare didn't last for just a moment—it stretched on for hours, each second dragging like an eternity. By the time it finally ended, Yang Jian had been enduring this torturous state for over two hours. He had no idea how he managed to survive the ordeal, only that those hours felt like a lifetime.
It wasn't until after six in the evening that the pain subsided, and Yang Jian regained control of his body. The moment he could move, he bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat, gasping for air.
His hands were shaking uncontrollably. "What's happening to me? My body wouldn't respond, and it felt like I was about to tear apart from the inside. Is this because of that eye?"
He stared at his trembling hands for a long time, lost in thought. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the dark, leathery parchment.
"Tell me, what was happening to me just now?" he demanded of the strange, otherworldly parchment.
In response, words began to appear on its surface: Today, I woke up in pain. I can feel the ghost inside me gradually reviving. I used too much of the ghost's power because of what happened at the school. I won't live long... But I must endure this torment because... I still want to live.
The words confirmed his fears: the ghost inside him was awakening. Just like Zhou Zheng, Yang Jian was starting down the same path—enduring the agony of the ghost's revival until, one day, it would kill him.
Was this the price for surviving?
"How much time do I have left?" Yang Jian asked the parchment.
More words appeared: If I don't find a solution soon, I estimate that I won't live more than three months under this kind of torment.
Three months?
That was faster than a terminal illness. If he had to endure this pain every day, death might indeed be a relief, just as Zhou Zheng had said. Fear gripped Yang Jian's heart—he was still young, still in school, with parents who depended on him for their future. What would happen to them if he died?
No. I can't die—not now, not yet.
Yang Jian stood up suddenly, his gaze fixed on the mysterious parchment. "You're a strange thing, and I can't trust you. You say I'll die in three months, but why should I believe that? You said I'd die at the school, but I survived. You don't really know the future—you're just guessing based on what's happening now."
"But one thing is certain: you know a lot."
"What are you, really?" he demanded.
The parchment remained silent, offering no new words. It was as if it had chosen to keep quiet.
"You don't want to answer? Fine, I'll figure it out eventually," Yang Jian muttered.
Recalling the ghost's awakening, he suddenly remembered something and picked up Zhou Zheng's satellite phone. A message was displayed on the screen—a website address.
"Zhao Jianguo gave me this. Maybe I can find something useful there," Yang Jian thought, as he opened his computer and typed in the web address.
The site was a blank page, seemingly nonexistent. But Yang Jian knew this was just a security measure. He typed in the code printed on Zhou Zheng's phone, and the website immediately refreshed, revealing its contents.
Yang Jian quickly browsed through the site. It was filled with reports of emergency incidents from around the world, requests for ghost handlers, and government-issued bounties. The rewards were staggering, often reaching into the billions, with some even offering tens of millions.
He clicked on one: A C-class ghost has appeared in a certain state in the United States, code-named "Ghost Church." A $30 million bounty is offered for its resolution.
A video accompanied the report. In the video, Yang Jian saw a church covered in moss and decay, its walls crumbling with age. Standing at the entrance was a shadowy figure, indistinct but unmistakably human—or at least, human-shaped. Despite the blurry details, an overwhelming sense of dread emanated from the figure.
Suddenly, a fighter jet roared overhead, and a missile streaked toward the church, exploding upon impact. The blast engulfed the church in flames, a powerful military strike meant to obliterate the threat.
"Will that be enough?" Yang Jian wondered, watching intently.
As the flames subsided, his eyes widened. The church stood untouched, not a single brick out of place, despite the missile's direct hit. The shadowy figure at the entrance began to move, stepping out of the church and slowly approaching the camera.
The video abruptly ended, the feed cutting to static. Below the video were numerous comments:
"Fuck, $30 million to deal with this thing? The U.S. president can go to hell. Save your money for buying lollipops for your kids. This thing's only classified as C-level? You trying to scam us into being cannon fodder?" wrote one American commenter, with translations provided in multiple languages, including Chinese.
"The video clearly hides some details, but it's obvious this ghost can affect its surroundings. It's probably close to forming a ghost domain. At the very least, it should be classified as B-level. Hell, A-level wouldn't be out of the question. Americans really are living in hell on earth. Newbies who don't know better will get conned to death," replied a commenter from China.
"I'm going to die soon anyway. Looking for a team to cash in on this bounty. Hit me up!" read another comment.
"You can't trust a single frame of these American bounty videos," another user warned.
Yang Jian pondered the comments. "So, ghosts are classified by levels? I need to find out more about that."
YOU ARE READING
Resurgence of the Unknown
رعبIn a world where malevolent spirits roam freely, Yang Jian, an ordinary high school student, becomes entangled in a series of terrifying supernatural events. It all begins with a deadly haunting at his school, where students start disappearing under...
