Volume One: The Phantom Tower Chapter Nineteen: Narrow Escape from Death
It is often said that people sometimes show signs before death. If the sealed door was the first omen before Cheng Fan’s demise, then the intensifying chilling wind undoubtedly signaled the approach of his final hour.
Whoosh, whoosh!
The eerie wind grew stronger as Cheng Fan banged on the door, chilling him to the bone until his body trembled uncontrollably, on the verge of collapse.
Strangely, whether it was a sudden thought during his frantic banging or an instant epiphany, once he confirmed the worsening wind, Cheng Fan did not break down the door but unexpectedly calmed down, regaining his composure without clear reason.
The cause of his sudden calm was simple: he recalled a line often heard in horror movies:
“If you face a life-or-death crisis, you must not panic. Instead, stay as calm as possible. Only by keeping your mind clear can you find a way to survive what seems like a hopeless fate.”
Indeed, despite being terrified nearly to death and overwhelmed with panic, Cheng Fan forced himself to clear his mind.
Because hope always belongs to those who remain calm amid despair!
I don’t want to die. I’m only twenty, my life is just beginning. If I die in a cursed place like this, I swear I won’t rest in peace!
Just as he regained his composure, as if sensing something, Cheng Fan stopped banging on the door, quickly turned around, and decisively lifted his gaze straight toward the ceiling.
Then, a horrifyingly familiar scene unfolded before his eyes:
Rustle, rustle, rustle...
At some unknown moment, hair began to appear on the ceiling—thick strands as black as ink silently blanketed the entire surface. Even more terrifying, the hair writhed and twisted like venomous snakes, slowly undulating and producing a faint rustling sound.
The scene was eerily consistent with the one from his earlier deductions: whenever someone was trapped in the room, the ghost would manifest in an utterly terrifying form.
Then, amid the victim’s desperate cries, it would kill them.
Though the ceiling was terrifying, and the sight made Cheng Fan’s scalp tingle with fear, he confirmed one thing from his previous reasoning:
He still had enough time. There was still a chance to escape!
Although the ghost had begun to materialize—covering the ceiling with hair—unlike its full-bodied appearances before, this hair form emerged more slowly. It would take a few seconds before the ghost fully revealed itself by slowly pushing its head out from the strands.
Cheng Fan had to escape within this brief window, or else the outcome would be identical to his earlier scenario: the ghost would crush him alive with an overwhelming mass of hair until only shattered bones and flesh remained.
The ghost was about to appear. Time was running out. But what should I do? How can I escape this death trap?
The door was sealed tight by supernatural forces, surrounded entirely by walls. Was jumping out the window really my only option?
His mind raced, and he recalled the escape route he had considered earlier: jumping out the window. If he could leap outside immediately, he could break free from the ghost and flee the building.
Still trembling violently, Cheng Fan mechanically turned his head to look at the window opposite.
Unfortunately...
No, I can’t do that. The building’s too tall. Even if I manage to leave the building that way, I’ll still die—falling to my death wouldn’t be much better than being instantly killed by the ghost.
At the thought of his miserable, pulverized corpse, Cheng Fan immediately dismissed the window escape plan.
The rejection was simple and direct, but the problem remained: was there any other way out besides jumping?
“Heh, heh, hehehehe...”
As if fate were mocking him, just as Cheng Fan racked his brain for a solution, the chilling laughter of death echoed sharply in his ears.
Shaking, he looked up again. The ceiling writhed unnaturally, and amidst the twisting strands, a grotesquely distorted woman’s face slowly emerged.
Accompanied by that sinister laughter, the ghost’s blood-red eyes locked onto the upward-looking Cheng Fan.
The ghost had appeared—after several seconds, it finally pushed its head out from the hair.
And Cheng Fan?
“Ahhh!”
Just as expected, the moment the ghost’s head appeared, Cheng Fan let out a loud scream, flinging his left arm forward and splattering the wound’s fresh blood toward the ghost.
Splash!
Blood sprayed everywhere. As droplets landed on the ghost’s face, the laughter abruptly ceased, and the ghost instantly froze, its smile locked in place.
But did it help? Did it mean anything?
“Hehehehe...”
Four seconds later, before Cheng Fan could devise another plan, the laughter resumed, echoing through the room alongside the ghost’s increasingly twisted features.
“Waaah!”
Terrified beyond reason, Cheng Fan screamed wildly, but amid his panic, he noticed a horrifying detail.
The blood’s restraining effect on the ghost had shortened again—from five seconds to four.
If this continued, not to mention whether he still had enough blood to spill, the ghost would soon break free from the blood’s control!
To prevent an immediate attack, Cheng Fan gritted his teeth and splattered blood at the ghost once more.
Perhaps due to excessive blood loss, although the ghost was restrained again, the dizziness caused by the bleeding assaulted Cheng Fan’s brain anew. His body felt light and unsteady, his steps faltering as he nearly collapsed.
“Ugh!”
Determined to survive, Cheng Fan refused to fall and hurriedly clasped his left arm wound, trying to staunch the bleeding.
But then...
Huh?
Just as he painfully looked down at his left arm, about to cover the wound with his right hand, a sudden flash of insight struck him like lightning.
He realized a crucial, previously overlooked logic: if blood could restrain the ghost and temporarily immobilize it, then could blood also counteract the ghost’s sealing power?
With this thought, without hesitation, Cheng Fan staggered toward the door, clutching a desperate hope.
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