The Mightiest Little Master of Metaphysics
Chapter 184 - 182: Thriller Tour Group

Chapter 184: Chapter 182: Thriller Tour Group

At eight in the evening, the Yun Family gathered together after dinner, talking and laughing. It was one of the rare times the family could be together in a day.

"Where’s Qi?" Yun Qiuce asked.

"Probably playing outside with Xiao Hua." Yun Qiuhong craned his neck and saw a pink figure flash by in the courtyard.

"Aunt, how’s that young talent Fang Yue from your hospital?" Yun Kuang asked.

Yun Qiuhong showed a bit of disdain on her face, "He’s gone mad, and it’s getting worse. Today, his relatives came to ask me about his discharge. I told them to come tomorrow."

"Really? They’re planning to discharge him before he’s even cured?" Yun Kuang was incredulous.

"Sis, you’re in trouble. I’m guessing their relatives see the treatment isn’t working and will demand compensation upon discharge. You, concerned about the hospital’s reputation, won’t want to make a fuss."

Yun Qiuhong chuckled and shook her head, "This time, they really didn’t mention anything about compensation. They were very honest, calling me ’Dean Yun’ very politely."

"How’s that possible? Did their family change personality???" Yun Kuang laughed lightly.

"Sis, the hospital shouldn’t have admitted Fang Yue in the first place. I saw on the news that a year ago, his mother killed his wife, he, as family, provided a letter of forgiveness, and the police considered his mother’s age and terminal cancer, so they didn’t detain her. Pity his wife, an only child, married to a scumbag, leaving elderly parents with no one to care for them."

Yun Qiuhong snorted coldly, recalling the information she had gathered.

Fang Yue came from a poor family, but he was knowledgeable and cultured, and he looked gentle and refined.

Yu An’an was a city girl, came from a well-off family, and was beautiful. Many pursued her, but she ignored them all, falling only for Fang Yue, willingly marrying him.

A year into the marriage, after Yu An’an’s parents retired, Fang Yue revealed his true colors, not only having affairs but also committing domestic violence. Yu An’an was the first to file for divorce, and soon after, news came out that she was hacked to death by her mother-in-law.

The police did suspect the family might have taken the blame, but Fang Yue’s mother insisted that she alone killed Yu An’an. Fang Yue, with an extraordinary psychological composure, remained unfazed during police interrogation, saying only one phrase: "I know nothing."

The police had no choice but to name his mother as the murderer. Fang Yue was not only acquitted but also began living a carefree life with Yu An’an’s dowry house and car. Plus, being quite capable and good-looking, he ascended at work and became a well-regarded social figure appearing on TV programs.

No wonder Yu An’an’s ghost lingered. Who wouldn’t be filled with rage over such an injustice?

"’Phoenix man’ is best avoided." Yun Qiuhong sighed.

"Sis, what did you say?"

"Oh, nothing. Qi should be back soon, right?" She peered outside.

At this moment, outside the Yun Family’s big gate, Yun Qi slipped out unnoticed. Yu An’an’s soul floated silently in front of her, maintaining her previous appearance, dressed in white, with black hair hanging loose, eyes as dark as pitch, and the wound on her neck, hacked open, was a bloody mess.

"The world of the living and dead are apart; it’s not appropriate to linger too long in the human world. You’ve arranged everything. Just haunt him for a month, then leave."

Yu An’an had lost her previous vicious energy, perhaps because Yun Qi’s aura as a Xuan Shu Master was too overpowering. She appeared very docile, raising her eyeless gaze, "Thank you."

With that, she turned and drifted away.

"Xiao Hua, back home."

Little Dumpling called out, and the Xiao Hua dog joyfully scampered back home.

***

A few days later, in Hemu City, Northwest.

On the vast horizon, a setting sun hung high, so close it seemed within reach, adding a sense of tranquility and serenity to the desolate desert landscape.

Within the tour group, the red guide flag fluttered as tourists wielded long lenses and thick windproof coats, especially waiting for this moment to capture the sunset.

"Six o’clock, no later than six, gather up," the guide shouted through a megaphone, "There’s nothing to see after six. Trust me, folks. And don’t wander too far. It’s cold at night here, there might be wild animals..."

The guide rattled off safety tips, but few paid attention.

Especially some elderly folks, eager to pose with scarves fluttering in the sunset, getting help from companions to snap photos.

"Let’s go over there; it’s closer to the sun, the photos will have a different effect."

"Sure, sure."

Watching a few people head towards the distant horizon, the guide worriedly kept an eye on them, raising the megaphone several times as if wanting to remind them but also fearing it might spoil their excitement and create conflict.

Fortunately, those people didn’t go far and were within sight range. The guide thought it better to call them back at the right time.

"Let’s take a few more back views; you guys turn around." The elderly gentleman, doubling as a photographer, directed.

A few elderly ladies turned around, just about to strike a graceful pose when they suddenly stopped.

"What is that?"

"I don’t know, is that a performance group?"

Being frequent visitors to tourist sites, they knew some attractions had professional performance troupes.

"What’s the matter? Aren’t you taking pictures?" The elderly gentleman asked as he approached.

"Look over there, there’s a group of people. They seem to be riding horses," one elderly lady pointed into the distance.

"They’re watching us, oh? They’re coming closer now."

"If it’s a performance group, can we take pictures with them?"

...

The group enthusiastically discussed, observing in disbelief as those distant figures rapidly approached, with a few at the front holding up long weapons.

"Watch out," the elderly gentleman shouted, "That’s not a performance group. Run fast!"

Others also noticed something amiss, forgetting elegance, turning and running flat out.

"Could they be from ancient times? I see them in armor, riding warhorses?" an elderly lady panted while running, asking.

"What nonsense, there’s no such thing as time travel in this world!" The elderly gentleman was about to criticize the elderly lady’s wild imagination when suddenly, with a swishing sound, an arrow shot into the ground at their feet like a falling star.

"Holy crap, it’s real?!!!"

The elderly scrambled madly towards the tour bus, surprisingly nimble in their old limbs, shouting as they ran:

"Run fast, something’s happening over there."

"What?"

"Someone’s coming at us with weapons."

The group all looked up, and the previously cheerful and festive tourist atmosphere instantly vanished.

In the distance, on the horizon, a massive army rode on high-marked horses, brandishing long spears and shields, galloping in orderly rows straight towards them.

The pounding hooves made the ground tremble, dust and gravel jumping rhythmically, creating the illusion of being chased by thousands of troops.

"Quick, quick, get on the bus!" the guide shouted crazily through the megaphone.

The tour bus was parked not far away, and the tourists sprinted towards it like mad, with a few brave ones stopping halfway to capture the scene with their phones and cameras.

"Holy crap, could they be ghosts?" An uncle wielding professional photography equipment zoomed in, seeing the foremost figures’ faces under their helmets were a pale bluish-grey, eyes white and pupil-less, with skin gripping bones in an eerily greyish hue.

"Oh my god, they’re ghosts, they’re ghosts!" someone screamed in horror.

This cry successfully created more chaos within the tour group, with the bonus of making tourists abandon their cameras and rush towards the bus.

The driver kept honking the horn, urging them on.

Finally, the slowest elders clambered onto the bus, the guide forcefully slammed the door shut, barking at the driver: "Go quickly!"

However, the driver responded with a terrifying groan, staying motionless.

The guide went forward, "Sir?"

The driver turned his head, his eyes a ghostly grey and bulging, his complexion an eerie greenish-grey, and he gave a ghastly, sinister smile, stretching out a claw-like ghost hand toward the guide.

"Aaaahhhh!" Blood-curdling screams erupted inside the tour bus.

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