Chapter 88: Red Cloth Cocoon

Chang Nian froze for a moment at the scene before her. She didn’t recognize the face forming in front of her, but with its rapid approach, she knew it would reach her in less than half a minute.

Yet she did not panic. Calmly, she gathered her loose hair and tied it back into a ponytail.

As the face drew closer, she scanned the surrounding red cloth and pulled a lighter from her pocket.

Fsssh.

A wisp of smoke and the smell of sulfur accompanied the sudden flame. She held the lighter aloft, testing the red cloth in various directions.

The cloth surrounding her was dense and dark almost everywhere, thick enough to be nearly impenetrable.

Only one direction seemed weaker—her optimal escape route. That was the path directly toward the approaching face.

The area near the face was the thinnest point in the red cloth cocoon, the best chance for her to break free.

But looking at the face, she noticed it was small and slightly gaunt.

“This… must be the female ghost…”

Her lighter was already hot in her hand. The rest of the red cloth offered no way through; only the position of the face could be tried. Yet going through there meant confronting the ghost head-on, risking its most lethal attack.

Time was running out. The cocoon of red cloth shrank gradually, and the face drew ever closer. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead from the pressure of the enclosed space.

The lighter was nearing its limit. Gritting her teeth, she faced the face, holding the lighter near her mouth and drawing a bottle of medical alcohol from her bag. She gulped it down.

With alcohol in her mouth and the flame reflecting red across her face, she stepped back half a pace, then sprayed the alcohol forward.

The liquid ignited into a fireball, charging straight at the red cloth and the approaching face.

The flames scorched her face and singed her hair, despite her retreat.

Yet as the fire consumed the surrounding cloth, she saw the flames slowly dissipate, leaving the face more distinct, with small patches of skin visible through gaps in the fabric.

Alarmed, Chang Nian realized something: the red cloth near the face was unusually translucent, allowing the ghost’s features to imprint clearly. That was because the ghost carried water.

She understood the danger instantly—breaking through the face directly was the most difficult approach.

Misled by the thick cloth on either side, she had thought this route might offer a chance, but the ghost had anticipated her resistance perfectly.

Her back was pressed against the red cloth, her movement restricted, the face only half a step away.

Breathing came in short, rapid gasps. Using fire to break free now was impossible.

It seemed she had reached a dead end.

She dropped the lighter to the ground, not in despair, but with quiet defiance, softly calling out a name.

“Tongguan…”

Just as she lifted her head toward the top of the red cocoon, a sharp rush of air tore through the cloth.

The tearing grew louder, as something above the cocoon attempted to break through.

Chang Nian felt the pressure from overhead, her heart pounding.

“It’s him!” she realized.

Moments later, the red cloth above her split apart layer by layer like a cabbage being cut open.

The moonlit autumn wind swept through, ruffling her hair.

From above descended a figure wielding a flaming long knife, breaking through the ghost’s red cloth cocoon, charging toward her.

It was indeed Tongguan.

From an external perspective, the impact would be far greater.

In the narrow alley, Chang Nian was wrapped tightly in layers of unknown red cloth, like a cocoon.

Tongguan drew the long knife he always carried—not very long, but longer than a standard short blade.

He had prepared a special solution: coating the blade with heavy white phosphorus powder inside the sheath. The friction from drawing the knife would ignite it, forming a fire blade—the perfect tool to break through the red cloth cocoon.

While Chang Nian struggled inside, Tongguan climbed to the rooftops, surveying from above.

She could not see where the cloth was thinnest, but Tongguan had a clear view.

He didn’t see the face or the ghost—only the mass of red cloth.

After careful observation, he located the top, where several pieces of red cloth converged.

In other words, all other sections of the red cloth formed a single mass; only the top was a joint. If that point could be broken, the entire red cloth cocoon could be neutralized at once.

Tongguan sprinted along the roof beam with explosive speed. When he judged the moment was right, he leapt.

Timing the strike required absolute precision—not too early, not too late—otherwise the ignited blade would fail to deliver maximum force against the red cloth.

He executed the move perfectly. The flaming blade struck the center of the cloth joint at the apex, slicing downward with immense power. The combination of weight, momentum, and fire made the task far easier than he had anticipated.

Red sparks flew as the fabric of the cocoon scattered. Tongguan’s face glowed in the fiery light, and he finally saw Chang Nian, waiting all this time.

Their eyes met. Tongguan landed with a roll, positioning the long knife across his chest, and immediately grabbed Chang Nian’s arm.

Half a second later, he pulled her to safety.

Behind them, the red cloth cocoon lay in disarray, torn and ruined like a broken chrysalis.

Chang Nian ran alongside him, smiling, as if she had already known he would find a way to rescue her.

Tongguan flicked the remnants of fire from his blade and left the alley, eyes scanning ahead toward another figure sprinting in the distance…