Spirit Realm Walker

Part 7 return

The meter reset to zero.

A chill shot up from his tailbone, surging straight to his skull. Zhang Yuanqing, like a cat with its fur standing on end, leaped into the air and let out a curse:

"F**k you!"

It was an instinctive outburst, the kind that comes when someone is severely shocked or frightened.

He finally understood why his shoulders had been so sore and why the corpse by the window had been clutching a bronze mirror.

It was to check whether a vengeful spirit had latched onto his shoulders.

When did it cling to me? When I entered the courtyard or when I stepped into this room?

Who gave me the courage to explore outside—was it Liang Jingru?!

His mind was a storm of chaotic thoughts, terror flooding in like a tidal wave.

Although he had known something sinister lurked in this temple and had mentally prepared himself, facing a ghost directly was an entirely different story—an indescribable fear overwhelmed him.

Wait, I have a talisman!

With trembling hands, Zhang Yuanqing pulled out a yellow paper talisman from the left pocket of his jacket. Desperately, he slapped it onto his shoulder.

Smack!

The talisman stuck to his shoulder. He lifted the bronze mirror cautiously, but the pale-faced, black-lipped man with dead, white eyes was still clinging to him.

It's useless. This thing isn't a corpse-type entity.

The last shred of hope vanished. The ache in his shoulders intensified, and his limbs grew cold.

These weren't illusions—they were the real, physical effects of losing his life force.

At that moment, Zhang Yuanqing thought of the skeleton under the table in the main hall and the predecessor who had died by the window. He might soon end up just like them.

A wave of bone-chilling cold washed over him.

Tap, tap...

Suddenly, in the deadly silence, faint footsteps echoed from the hallway outside.

The footsteps were light, but in the stillness of the night, they were as clear as a heartbeat.

Zhang Yuanqing froze, crouching swiftly beside the corpse by the window.

Those footsteps... they sounded eerily familiar, much like the ones he had heard when entering the temple.

Tap, tap, tap...

The footsteps grew closer, heading straight for him. Zhang Yuanqing held his breath, his entire body tense, his own frantic heartbeat loud in his ears.

As the footsteps passed by the window, Zhang Yuanqing couldn't resist glancing at the floor. Moonlight streamed through the window, casting a checkered shadow on the ground.

The window was low, only waist-high. Under normal circumstances, the figure passing outside would cast a shadow in the moonlight—but he saw nothing.

That meant whatever was walking outside had no body.

Fortunately, the footsteps passed by without stopping or entering the room, gradually fading into the distance.

Zhang Yuanqing exhaled silently, his breath shaking. He listened intently to the receding footsteps, hearing them cross the yard, rustling through the withered grass.