Chapter 85: A Wedding Dress

Where this place was, perhaps only Chen Fu knew.

But when Chen Fu fell to the ground, watching Fang Shenyan being seized and carried away by a black figure in a red robe, his eyes widened in sheer terror. His pupils revealed a conflicting mix of fear and a mocking amusement.

In that instant, he did not die. Taking advantage of Fang’s peril, he turned and ran.

Meanwhile, Fang Shenyan had also reached his limit—and performed an astonishing act.

He had driven a pen forcibly into his own neck.

The pen was blunt and not sharp; it penetrated flesh purely because of the immense pressure of his suffocating body.

Fang’s eyes were wide open. Bubbles swirled in the water-filled vat. His lungs felt as though a fire had ignited inside, threatening to reduce him to ashes in moments.

Yet the instant the pen pierced his neck, a strange relief followed the excruciating pain.

It was as if pricking a balloon released the compressed air within. The suffocating torment eased slightly as air moved in and out.

Fang’s body trembled uncontrollably. The night’s ordeal had been unbearable; every inch of him was wounded.

But there was no time to dwell on that, for he could faintly see the red-robed, long-haired figure still floating behind him.

His desperate action had only bought him a short reprieve; death still loomed.

Then, a sharp, commanding shout from behind suddenly breathed life into him:

“Fang Shenyan!”

Hearing this, Fang struggled violently, feeling a renewed chance at survival.

A pair of hands grabbed his ankles, pulling him out of the vat.

His face was ghostly pale from the cold, dirty water, blood poured from his neck around the embedded pen.

He gasped for air, managing to breathe but unable to utter a sound, his hands clutching the wound. He could only move his lips, powerless to speak—a broken bellows, entirely voiceless.

The first thing to greet him after surviving was a familiar face.

Yu Guo lifted Fang from the ground. Seeing his battered, bloodied appearance, the corner of his mouth twitched.

Fang had only been gone an hour, yet he looked half-dead.

Fortunately, his body was strong and decisive; otherwise, the ghost would have drowned him.

Yu Guo’s presence was no coincidence. Half an hour earlier, the debriefing meeting with Tongguan and the others had ended. They had been waiting for Fang’s return.

After some hesitation, Yu Guo sought out Tongguan, and the team split into two groups to search the Li Mansion.

Yu Guo and Tao Xiaoyi, upon reaching the backyard, saw Chen Fu fleeing in panic.

With sharp eyes, Yu Guo immediately assessed that Chen Fu’s injuries were inflicted by a living person.

He dove into the undergrowth, following the path straight to this spot.

He arrived just in time to see Fang nearly drowned in half a vat of filthy water.

Without hesitation, he pulled him out. Now seeing Fang’s injuries, a chill ran down his spine.

Knowing Fang couldn’t speak, Yu Guo quickly lifted him and raced back toward the entrance.

As he moved, a ripple appeared in the air above them.

Gradually, the black figure in a red robe, a wedding dress-like shape, manifested. Long, long black hair covered the face entirely—clearly a female ghost.

“Holy crap! What’s happening? Fang Shenyan’s dead?!”

Tao Xiaoyi had been crouching at the entrance, not keeping watch but too timid to enter. Seeing Yu Guo rush out carrying the half-dead Fang, she assumed he was a corpse.

Fang was fully conscious. Though covered in blood, most wounds were from fighting Chen Fu or tree branches.

The most critical injury remained the pen embedded in his neck, bleeding and soaked with filthy water—on the verge of infection, requiring urgent care.

Before every mission, the hotel always prepared essential first aid. Surviving 48 hours should be manageable, though Fang would remain unable to speak.

A bitter smile crept across Fang’s lips as he silently mocked himself.

“Might as well rename him Fang Silence…”

“If you can talk, then say more—let’s see how he retaliates once he recovers.” Yu Guo glared sharply at Tao Xiaoyi but didn’t dwell on it and hurried toward the front courtyard.

The medical supplies were stored in the front courtyard’s bedroom, and they traveled light.

Tao Xiaoyi finally took a careful look at Fang Shenyan—he was indeed still alive.

Supporting the now-exhausted Fang Shenyan, the two quickly moved toward the front courtyard residence.

Blood continued to flow steadily, and Fang’s breathing grew increasingly labored.

Yet his mind remained clear, constantly observing the surroundings along the way.

When Yu Guo had burst in, the ghost had disappeared; it seemed Fang was temporarily safe.

This mission’s first real assault had been withstood by him.

Although he had narrowly survived, he had lost the ability to speak.

The helplessness weighed heavily on him; he knew full well that his survival this time was only because it was the first attack.

The ghost had not fully intended to kill him.

The question now: how would he withstand the next assault?

A line of blood trickled from his jaw, forming a bead that slowly ran down his neck.

No one noticed that a droplet had fallen onto the back of Fang’s left hand…

Specifically, onto the eyeball tattoo on his hand.

The black lines of the tattoo flickered faintly with an eerie glow as the droplet touched it.

Then the blood vanished completely, as if consumed by the tattoo itself.

The three focused solely on fleeing and didn’t notice this subtle detail.

Fang Shenyan himself was unaware.

Life and death had hung by a thread, and once again, Fang recalled the ghostly figure he had seen in the water.

The red, wedding-dress-like robe, the dense, pure black hair, the slender figure—undoubtedly a woman.

There was no doubt: it was the owner of the eerie portrait into which Ji Li had been pulled.

“The ghost bride… it has finally made its move…”