Myriad Heavens: Who Let Him Into the Horror Movie?-Chapter 21 : Ghosts Fighting Ghosts (Part One)

Chapter 21: Ghosts Fighting Ghosts (Part One)
Building Control Room.
Cheung Kam-Keung put down the phone, feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
Why did Fatty Wong want to know his wife’s name and date of birth?
Although he was puzzled, out of trust for Fatty Wong, he still told him everything.
Among the few security guards working in the building, each had their flaws, but only Fatty Wong was truly warm-hearted.
Forget it—he’d ask him what he was up to when morning came.
Rubbing his cheeks, Cheung Kam-Keung yawned. His face was filled with exhaustion as he prepared to lie back down on the sofa and continue resting.
It was bad enough that the building was so eerie and gloomy, but now they couldn’t even rest properly—this job was wearing them thin.
Fatty Wong had already said he wanted to quit. If it weren’t so hard to find another job, Cheung Kam-Keung would’ve quit long ago himself.
Yesterday, after meeting Master Danyang, the master had said he would visit Cheung’s home today to find out why that unclean thing had clung to him—but hadn’t possessed him.
He needed to get some proper rest before his shift ended, or he’d be too drained to move tomorrow.
He had barely taken a few steps when the phone behind him suddenly rang again, its shrill sound startling him.
Turning his head, he saw that Little Ding, who had been manning the line earlier, was covering his ears, having simply shifted position to keep sleeping at the desk.
Left with no choice, Cheung Kam-Keung went to answer the phone.
The moment he picked up, a flat, emotionless male voice came through the receiver:
“Hey, Cheung Kam-Keung, your wife’s in trouble. You’d better get home right now.”
Cheung Kam-Keung’s heart tightened.
“What happened to Siu Lan? Hello? Hello?!”
The line went dead.
Panic surged through him. He hurriedly told Little Ding that he had to leave, grabbed his jacket, and rushed out of the building.
His wife was in late pregnancy—if something had happened, it had to be serious.
……
Fatty Wong gripped the small slip of paper tightly in his sweaty hand—the one with the name and date of birth written on it—as he scrambled over the fence, running back the way he had come.
Ever since he’d gotten the paper, his heart had been pounding, as if some unseen danger were closing in.
Before he could even make it out of the burial zone, thick fog began to rise all around him without warning, curling upward in dense, choking swirls that trapped him among the gravestones.
Within the fog flickered eerie green lights, and faint, hair-raising wheezes echoed from deep within the mist.
A cold chill shot straight up Fatty Wong’s spine, from the soles of his feet to the top of his skull.
“Why is it me again?!”
Despairing, he stopped caring whether he’d alert the cemetery guards. He ran as fast as he could, shouting as he went:
“Master! Save me! Please, save me!”
As long as he could find the master, he still had hope!
But the fog ahead thickened, blocking his path completely.
Fatty Wong felt his heart sink—he was doomed.
“Chi! Chi!”
A piercing screech cut through the heavy wheezing.
He looked up to see a massive bat with glowing red eyes burst from the mist, its wings flapping furiously.
Wherever the bat passed, the fog rolled back to the sides, opening a clear path.
The bat circled once in the air.
“Did the master send you to find me?”
Fatty Wong’s heart leapt. He quickly followed behind the bat, running out of the fog’s reach.
For the first time in his life, he felt fondness toward a bat.
That furry, disgusting creature he used to loathe now looked—almost—adorable.
When he saw the grove ahead, Fatty Wong ignored the stench of corpses and half-stumbled, half-crawled toward Li Zhen.
“They’re coming! Master, something… something’s chasing us!”
He didn’t need to explain—Li Zhen had already sensed the immense malice closing in.
He had intentionally asked for the birth date only near the end of the ritual, yet that thing had still been alarmed.
There was no way this would end peacefully now.
Lifting his gaze, he scanned the area.
The white fog had already begun spreading through the grove.
Li Zhen extended his hand.
The Red-Eyed Bat dropped from the air, landing on his palm. One of its wings hung limply to the side—clearly injured while breaking through the fog earlier.
The injury had made it irritable, baring its fangs and snapping at the air.
Li Zhen’s face was bloodless, an eerie greenish hue seeping beneath his skin.
Exhaustion wasn’t the only reason—he was feeling the backlash of the bat’s injury as well.
A dull, throbbing ache in his consciousness made it nearly impossible to suppress the surge of violent agitation inside him.
“They’re here! They’re coming!” Fatty Wong cried, trembling.
His flashlight swept across the grove.
The mist had surrounded them completely.
Centered on the corpses, only a radius of about ten meters remained clear—beyond that, the fog pressed close on all sides.
Li Zhen said nothing.
He was waiting.
Waiting for the resentment to reach its peak.
The candle flames flickered wildly, growing brighter and fiercer.
The red string connecting the two corpses and the crossed paper figurine jerked violently in chaotic rhythm.
The corpses’ fingers and toes twitched.
It looked as though, any moment now, they might climb up from the ground.
An intense chill emanated from their bodies, lowering the surrounding temperature by several degrees.
The terrifying fog halted, unable to advance toward the corpses.
In the depths of the mist, a small red figure could faintly be seen.
Fatty Wong was petrified.
Ghosts outside, ghosts inside—and even the master didn’t look entirely human anymore. Was he the only normal person left in this graveyard?
“Did you get the name and date of birth?”
“Yes!”
Fatty Wong hastily handed over the slip of paper.
Li Zhen glanced at it, then set it on the candle flame to burn.
What could provoke a ghost’s ferocity more than burning the name of its own killer?
Li Zhen had already planned to drive the vengeful energy of the spawned spirits to its maximum.
Now that the ghost had come, the timing couldn’t have been better.
When the paper burned to ash, Li Zhen threw the ashes into the remaining mix of rooster blood and corpse fluid in two cups. With a flick of his wrist, the ashes dissolved into the liquid.
“Go seek your vengeance.”
Summoning the last of his strength, Li Zhen poured the mixture over the two crossed paper figurines.
He dropped the cups.
Raising both arms, he began to move in an ancient, rhythmic motion—like a shaman performing a mysterious ritual dance.
“Om om tali, wicked spirit open your eyes, blood births resentment, devour the soul, chase the life—moli moli…”
The red string sank downward, its weight strangely uneven—not centered, but pulled toward the corpses’ toes.
Then, abruptly, the weight shifted forward—toward the crossed figurines.
The figures, soaked in the foul mixture, began to sway.
Two grotesque, distorted human faces struggled to emerge from the paper figurines.
Fatty Wong jumped again, dumbstruck.
Those twisted faces—he could still recognize traces of his two dead coworkers.
They’d truly turned into vengeful ghosts…
“…With blood as offering, sa ha li to…”
Two translucent, terrifying spirits appeared above the crossed figurines, letting out guttural roars toward the surrounding fog.
Can’t see me…
Can’t see me…
On the verge of tears, Fatty Wong squeezed his eyes shut and curled himself up, trying to shrink his presence as small as possible.
The mist around them churned more violently.
Li Zhen frowned, watching the ghosts he had summoned.
They drifted in circles, their gaze turning toward him with naked hostility.
Their resentment was too strong—so strong that little reason remained. The moment they were born, they were ruled entirely by hatred, driven by instinct to kill.
That was more than Li Zhen had anticipated.
“Go tell them—it’s time to work.”
Li Zhen’s shoulder twitched.
The Red-Eyed Bat, dragging its injured wing, took to the air once more.
The two spirits vanished reluctantly into the fog.
At the same time, the mist around them began to dissipate rapidly.
In moments, the grove was calm again, as if nothing had ever happened.