Samuel talked big all his life, never inferior to anyone!

Just as he was brimming with fighting spirit, a familiar laugh came from the adjacent central hall:

“Heh heh, you’re just bragging. That miser is already dead, how could you possibly finish it off?”

Then the voice pinched its throat, pretending to be sneaky, and laughed:

“Hee hee, what do you know? This youngster is very cunning. He knows he can’t finish off the miser, so he said, ‘If I can’t finish you off, I’ll be your dad.’”

The familiar voice rang out again, full of exaggerated flair:

“Aiya, he’s just too cunning. He’s already set himself up as the miser’s dad, but the miser’s dad—isn’t he already dead?”

“Oh, I get it now. So he’s a dead guy. Didn’t we come here for nothing then?”

This voice was very familiar to Samuel; it was exactly the voice of David Carter, who had left earlier!

Something had clearly entered the central hall!

He knew there was no point in hiding in the bedroom any longer, so he simply grabbed his peachwood sword in one hand and the copper-handled horsetail whisk in the other, and charged out.

As soon as he stepped out, he turned left straight into the central hall, shouting sternly, “What demon or ghost dares to—damn!”

The once empty central hall had become crowded.

Directly ahead, the statue of the Daoist Lord was gone, replaced by a curtain of alternating black and white cloth.

Hanging high on the curtain was a scroll with black characters reading “Eternal Regret,” and below it was a large character for “mourning.”

Extending outward was an offering table, set with a memorial tablet, an incense burner, candles, offerings of three sacrificial animals, and tea snacks.

In front of the offering table was a blood-red coffin, its lid set aside, and from within came faint chattering sounds, as if the voices that had just spoken in the central hall were coming from inside.

Along the walls on both sides of the room were wreaths, paper effigies, paper carriages and horses, and most conspicuous of all, a long-nosed limousine made of white paper, which, judging by the logo, was a “Stipon” brand.

Seeing this scene, Samuel was scared stiff.

But worse was yet to come.

As he appeared at the entrance to the central hall, a sudden cry of “Guests have arrived!” came from the coffin, and the paper effigies lined up against the wall immediately began to move.

Some of the paper figures, dressed in mourning clothes, knelt at the head of the coffin, while others somehow brought out a white paper gramophone and placed it on the offering table.

The paper disc on the gramophone spun, and actual funeral music began to play!

As the mournful music started, one of the paper figures in front of the coffin stood up, reached its arm into the coffin, and took out a black-and-white memorial portrait, which it hung on the curtain.

Samuel looked closely.

The portrait was unmistakably the chubby face of David Carter!

What on earth was going on?

Like the peacock flying southeast, I return the central hall.

Returning to see old Carter, old Carter sits in the mourning hall?

Chapter 005: What Has Samuel to Fear

Actually, after having dealt with the Rolling Head Ghost, Samuel was no longer very afraid of ghosts.

Although it was only with the help of talismans left by his cheap master that he managed to resolve the Rolling Head Ghost, it still proved he could beat a ghost to death—he had the ability to deal with ghosts, and that was enough.

But his fight with the Rolling Head Ghost was a direct confrontation. The Rolling Head Ghost had a physical form; rather than a ghost, it was more like a humanoid beast. If you’re willing to risk it all, you can even drag the emperor down from his horse—he could take it head-on.

But now things were different.

The central hall had suddenly turned into a mourning hall.

A group of paper effigies had suddenly appeared.

So where was the ghost?

He looked at the many paper figures, full of suspicion, and couldn’t help but wonder: could it be that each paper figure was a ghost?

But as the saying goes, “Spirits are clever, ghosts are sly”—ghosts are supposed to be cunning and crafty.

These paper figures moved clumsily, only circling the coffin, showing none of the cleverness of ghosts. They were more like a bunch of puppets.

So a thought surfaced in Samuel’s mind:

These paper figures probably weren’t ghosts—the real ghost was inside the coffin!

Samuel wanted to muster his courage and rush into the mourning hall to see what kind of ghost was in the coffin, but after trying to summon his courage once, twice, three times, in the end all he managed was a puff of air.

It wasn’t that he was cowardly.

He was just cautious!

This was originally the main hall of a Daoist temple, guarded by a Daoist Lord.

Now it had been taken over by something sinister and turned into a mourning hall.

How powerful must this evil spirit be?

The still night wind had started blowing again at some point.

The peach tree leaves rustled noisily in the wind.

The paper figures in the mourning hall swayed and drifted.

Some were blown over by the wind, and crawled toward the coffin, crying as they went.

Several paper figures on the coffin, dressed in mourning, were also weeping.

Their cries were unnatural, the kind of sobbing that’s forcibly suppressed but can’t be held back, choked and whimpering, full of bitterness and resentment.

The night wind grew fiercer, making the peach leaves and branches shake and sway wildly, chilling him to the bone.

He shivered uncontrollably.

A rustling sound came from behind him.

He thought to himself, “Not good!”

A pair of deathly pale hands held out a bright red robe, slowly offering it to him:

“Daoist, are you cold? Then put on this robe. It’s made of silk cotton, very warm. Then hurry and go repair the main gate…”

The red robe and pants were sewn from silk fabric, the top had no buttons, with small cloth ties on both sides, embroidered with auspicious patterns and the character for longevity…

It was a burial shroud!

In a flash, Samuel reacted, spinning around and slashing with his sword.

But the strike hit nothing.