Resurgence of the Unknown

Chapter 26: Recognizing a Ghost as a Father

A middle-aged man with a blank face sat rigidly at the head of Yang Jian's bed. He held a newspaper in his hand, motionless, as if deeply engrossed in reading the news. On the surface, everything seemed normal—there was nothing out of place. However, the dim lighting in the room made it unsuitable for reading, and the man had maintained this stiff posture since Yang Jian started using the computer, without making any movements. The only change was that the man had moved from the living room couch to the edge of the bed. The distance had decreased, bringing the figure closer.

But instead of providing a sense of security, this proximity brought a strange sense of threat and fear. Why would his father sit beside him to read a newspaper? Had he ever had this habit before?

As Yang Jian glanced at the portrait hanging on the cabinet and listened to Liu Xiaoyu's urgent voice over the phone, he realized something was very wrong. If Liu Xiaoyu's information was accurate, then was this person really his father?

It seemed like he was... but at the same time, he wasn't. Had his father really died in a car accident when Yang Jian was in elementary school? His mind clearly recognized the man before him as his father; everything seemed so natural, without a hint of falsehood.

Yet, something still felt off...

Yang Jian immediately withdrew his hand, refraining from pulling away the newspaper covering the man's face. Instead, he grabbed his phone and quickly stood up, slowly backing away from the man who appeared to be reading. Was it possible that his memory had been tampered with? Or was this all just an illusion, a false reality? Or perhaps something was wrong with the entire apartment?

"Whatever it is, I need to get out of here first and figure this out later," Yang Jian thought. He couldn't be sure if the problem was with him, his father, or the environment around him.

He cautiously retreated from the room into the living room, avoiding any sudden movements that might alert the man. As he did, curiosity compelled him to take one last glance at the man's face. But before Yang Jian could get a clear look, he noticed one corner of the newspaper stained red, as if soaked in blood. The deep crimson seemed ready to drip from the page.

A newspaper soaked in blood—would any normal person read such a thing?

Yang Jian's eyes narrowed in shock as the truth hit him: Liu Xiaoyu was right. His father had indeed died in a car accident when he was in elementary school. The records she had were accurate. Therefore, the man before him, supposedly his father, couldn't exist—because the dead don't return.

And if his father wasn't real, then the man sitting on the bed reading the newspaper could only be one thing: a ghost.

A chill ran down Yang Jian's spine.

When? When did this ghost infiltrate his home? When did it appear in his house? And when did his memories get altered?

Or had he been living with this ghost for years?

Without Liu Xiaoyu's phone call, would he have ever been able to wake up from this nightmare?

As he stepped out of the room, the man suddenly moved. His head twisted at an unnatural speed to face Yang Jian.

Yang Jian recoiled in horror.

The man... had no face. No features, just a blank surface of flesh.

"Run!" Yang Jian screamed internally. Without a second thought, he bolted out of the apartment.

As he turned, everything went black—something had covered his face. It was the newspaper... Sticky, stinking of blood, it clung tightly to his skin. Yang Jian instinctively tried to tear it off, but the blood-soaked paper had become one with his skin. The more he pulled, the more pain he felt, but it wouldn't come off easily.

"The ghost is attacking me?" Yang Jian instantly recognized what was happening. He had already faced two assaults from malevolent spirits back at the school.

"The only way to fight a ghost is with another ghost..." Yang Jian gritted his teeth as an eye forced its way out of his hand, pushing through the skin, emitting a faint red glow. As his hand pulled at the paper with the eye's help, it began to loosen its grip on his face. The paper peeled away slowly, like a plaster being removed.

But the ghost wasn't giving up so easily. Yang Jian could sense the ghost closing in, pulling at the newspaper from the other side. A terrifying strength tugged at the paper, causing it to press tighter against his face. A suffocating sensation quickly overwhelmed him.

At this rate, the ghost wouldn't need to kill him; the newspaper alone would smother him to death.

"If you want to play, then let's play. You're a ghost, but I'm no longer human," Yang Jian growled, his voice taking on an animalistic tone.

Suddenly, two red eyes sprouted from his face. The areas where the eyes grew caused the paper to rip with a tearing sound, splitting open immediately. As the paper was torn, the force pulling from behind weakened significantly.

"Again," Yang Jian gritted his teeth.

He knew that every time he used the power of the ghost within him, he inched closer to death. But there was no choice—if he didn't use it now, he would die.

A third eye emerged from his forehead.

"Rip!" The blood-soaked paper tore again as another eye forced its way out, weakening the pull from behind even more. The suffocating, dizzying sensation subsided.

"One more."

Yang Jian knew that the ghost's power within him was still insufficient. A fourth eye appeared on his neck, and with it, the paper around his neck ripped apart. Yang Jian's hands moved with force, tearing the blood-soaked newspaper to shreds.

The suffocating pressure vanished, and he could finally breathe again.

Gasping for air, Yang Jian's face was now adorned with four eyes, each emitting a faint red glow. He turned to look back.

But there was no one behind him—just pieces of blood-stained newspaper scattered across the floor.

"Get out of here," Yang Jian thought, his heart pounding in his chest. Not daring to stay any longer, he left the apartment in a rush without taking any of his belongings.

Not long after he left, a figure emerged from the room where he had been. The figure bent down, picking up the torn, blood-soaked newspaper pieces, and pieced them back together. The newspaper soon returned to its original form, still stained with deep red blood, but now with an additional feature—a human face on the page.

The face was... Yang Jian's.

The figure picked up the newspaper, then calmly sat on the nearby sofa, resuming the same posture as before, reading the newspaper as if nothing had happened.

Hours later, the figure moved. Slowly, it lowered the newspaper, revealing a face—a face identical to Yang Jian's. But where the eyes should have been, there were only empty voids, as if someone had cut them out of a photograph.

The face was far from perfect...