Mysterious Revival-Chapter 895 - 862 The Person on the Wooden Stool

"This Wang Chaling has quite the nerve. He actually allows other companies to rent office space in the tower. Does he not realize that his presence might trigger supernatural incidents? If something goes wrong, the entire building would be in trouble."

Yang Jian stepped into this floor's office area and glanced around.

He saw quite a few ordinary people busy at work.

Unlike his own Shangtong Tower, where all employees were hired strictly to maintain operations and serve Yang Jian, this building had no such restrictions. Shangtong Tower was not open to outsiders, and the number of personnel was tightly controlled.

"Make way, make way," Yang Jian said as he moved toward the area with a crowd of people.

At the moment, many employees on this floor had abandoned their work to gather around the corridor leading to the restroom, eager to find out what had happened.

These people didn't know anything about supernatural incidents, so their curiosity led them to treat it as entertainment.

A manager who had checked out the situation returned with a thoroughly unpleasant expression, his face displaying clear terror.

"Someone's dead. Report it immediately."

Upon hearing of a death, many people gasped in shock.

"No way—I just saw him earlier, and he was perfectly fine! How did it happen? Is this for real?"

"It must be from overwork. Definitely. I've been saying this would happen sooner or later. I've already told the boss to stop these endless overtime hours. Now, look what's happened."

"I snuck a glance earlier... It doesn't look like a sudden death at all. The way he died—it's horrifying."

Amid the murmurs, the manager's hands shook slightly as he held his phone and made a call. First, he contacted his boss, and then he reported the incident to the authorities.

But just then, a chilling, imposing figure shoved through the crowd and stepped into the corridor.

"Who the hell? Can't you watch where you're going?"

The manager stumbled as he was bumped, his phone slipping from his grasp and clattering to the ground. Already in a foul mood, he immediately turned around and yelled in anger.

"Are you talking to me?" Yang Jian asked, glancing at him slightly.

The manager froze instantly. Every hair on his body stood on end as an icy chill surged from the depths of his heart.

An inexplicable instinct told him—

This man in front of him was extraordinarily, overwhelmingly dangerous.

As if he were a murderous criminal. No—this feeling was even more intense.

"You..."

The manager wanted to say something, but the words got caught in his throat.

"If you don't want to die, step back. Don't say I didn't warn you," Yang Jian said, withdrawing his gaze before focusing on the body in the corridor.

The corpse lay sprawled on the ground in an eerie position. In front of it was a long, red wooden bench, positioned in a way that felt both strange and intrusive.

Clearly.

This person triggered the ghost's killing pattern and was killed as a result.

"The body hasn't been dead long—it's still fresh. Maybe I can extract some of the memories from it."

Yang Jian's eyes flickered, and the ghostly shadow behind him began to stir. Like a living creature, it moved toward the corpse.

By simply standing there, Yang Jian's shadow covered the entire corridor. The surrounding light dimmed significantly, and the atmosphere turned dismal and foreboding.

The shadow?

Someone noticed the eerie sight, filled with disbelief. From Yang Jian's position, his shadow should logically fall behind him, not stretch out in front of him—let alone extend to such an unnatural length.

The Ghost Shadow crept across the floor, slowly encroaching on the corpse lying in its path.

The ghost was beginning to extract its memories.

Yang Jian had never attempted to retrieve memories from a corpse before, but his reasoning suggested it should work.

"There are indeed memories here, but they're fragmented and incomplete. I need to find the moments leading up to his death."

Quickly.

Yang Jian felt the dead man's memories start to flood into his mind.

He was reading them.

The deceased's name was Wang Feng, a long-time employee of this company. His family didn't live in Dadong City; he had come from out of town...

Yang Jian didn't learn much personal information about him, only scattered glimpses of his train ride to Dadong City and scenes from his childhood in a remote village.

The memories were disjointed and incomplete.

"You're not part of our company, are you? Who the hell are you? Get out of here now, or I'll call the cops!"

The manager shouted at this point, his voice forceful as he tried to expel Yang Jian and Feng Quan. Although he found the pair extremely unsettling, he hoped to play it safe by getting rid of them after a death had occurred.

"No need to report anything. We're taking over this matter," Feng Quan replied in a low, hoarse voice, taking out his credentials.

"Furthermore, I suggest you immediately instruct everyone to return to their workstations. No one is to run around or act rashly. Otherwise, more deaths like this one are bound to happen. Until we issue instructions, no one is allowed to leave."

The manager glanced at the credentials but didn't believe them. He shouted louder, "Security! Security! Get these two outsiders out of here immediately—"

These guys didn't look like law enforcement, so why should he believe their nonsense?

But before the manager could finish speaking, the scene abruptly fell into dead silence.

A cold gun barrel was pressed firmly to the manager's forehead.

Feng Quan, his tone laced with lethal intent, said, "Cooperate, and it'll be better for everyone. If you dare to cause trouble, I'll end you right here and now. Don't doubt me. There are things in this world you're completely ignorant about."

Beads of cold sweat dripped down the manager's forehead. His body seemed paralyzed; all he could feel was the icy metal against his skin.

No doubt about it.

This was a real gun.

If someone dared to brandish a firearm so casually in a well-policed city like Dadong, then their credentials were likely authentic, too.

"I—I understand. I'll cooperate," the manager stammered, his face pale from fear. He no longer dared to shout or question anything, immediately adopting a submissive demeanor.

"Good," Feng Quan said, withdrawing the gun.

He had no intention of actually killing a civilian; his goal was simply to intimidate. Wasting time on explanations wasn't an option—direct and swift methods were necessary to take control of the situation.

The reason Feng Quan didn't evacuate the premises was that the supernatural entity had already infiltrated the entire building. Hasty evacuations might only lead to more deaths. The best approach was to keep everyone stationary.

Ghosts rarely killed arbitrarily.

In most supernatural incidents, the safest way to survive was often to remain still.

After all, if a ghost decided to target someone, running wouldn't help ordinary people escape.

Quickly.

The crowd of onlookers grew too frightened to even speak in whispers. One by one, they cautiously returned to their desks, afraid of being singled out for another warning.

With the spectators dispersed, the crowded corridor quickly became quiet and spacious.

Having successfully extracted the dead man's memories, Yang Jian now held the most critical piece of information.

In the memory, Wang Feng had been working when he suddenly needed to use the restroom. Upon arriving at the corridor, he noticed a long, red wooden bench that had mysteriously appeared there.

Unaware of the supernatural nature of the situation, he felt no fear.

Though curious, Wang Feng prioritized going to the restroom and walked toward the bench without hesitation, paying no mind to the red wooden bench blocking his way.

As Wang Feng tried to step over the bench, for reasons unknown, he stumbled and ended up seated on it.

In an instant, an eerie and terrifying sight unfolded.

On the previously empty red bench, another figure inexplicably appeared.

The individual wore tattered clothes and had a stiff, icy demeanor. Their hollow eyes were wide open, and their withered legs were curled up, hovering above the ground. The figure remained motionless in a disturbingly unnatural sitting posture.

The memory abruptly ended at this point.

A dead person's memories were incomplete—they had gaps.

Yang Jian tried to recall more, but all that surfaced were fragments of Wang Feng's childhood and mundane moments from his life, such as eating, drinking, and working.

The crucial details were missing.

But it was enough.

"I see. The bench mustn't be sat on—there's a ghost on it. Sitting down establishes a dangerous connection between the person and the ghost through the wooden bench as a medium..."

"So, whoever sits on this red bench is attacked by the ghost. But how they're killed remains unknown."

"However, it shouldn't be too dangerous as long as no one sits on the bench. The ghost's threat level seems relatively low."

Yang Jian furrowed his brow slightly.

He was convinced this sinister red bench posed far more danger than it appeared.

After all, it had manifested inside the building without even alerting him. Furthermore, its presence affected the Ghost Domain in the area.

These details suggested that this was an ostensibly simple yet extraordinarily perilous supernatural incident.

"Whatever the level of threat, it needs to be dealt with. Time can't be wasted—if Old Mansion spirals out of control again, who knows what other horrors might be unleashed. The priority now is finding a way to handle the ghost on this red bench."

Yang Jian began contemplating his approach.

The ghost on the red bench couldn't be dismembered with the Firewood Knife, as the memory showed that its feet never touched the ground. Sitting on the bench, it left no traces behind.

Furthermore.

The ghost was invisible—only those seated on the bench could see it.

In other words, to confront it, a ghost-handler would need to sit on the bench themselves, willingly facing the risk of a ghostly assault.

"Feng Quan, don't let anyone interfere with me. If anything happens, handle it yourself. I'm going to deal with this ghostly thing," Yang Jian said.

Feng Quan nodded. "Understood. Leave this to me."

Ignoring the corpse on the floor, Yang Jian approached the red bench.

After a moment of thought and deliberation, he slowly sat down, deliberately inviting proximity to the ghost on top of it.

This action reflected Yang Jian's bold confidence in his unusual nature—he would never dare such recklessness otherwise.

As soon as he sat down, Yang Jian's expression changed.

An indescribable sensation engulfed him—a feeling that couldn't be gleaned from mere memories. It was something that could only be experienced firsthand.

His body was gradually losing control.

No.

It wasn't exactly losing control—it was more like the lower half of his body was rapidly losing sensation.

Not just Yang Jian's physical form, but even the Ghost Shadow was frozen in place at that moment.

"Even the complete Ghost Shadow is suppressed? As expected, the ghost on this red bench is terrifying," Yang Jian thought, maintaining his composure and calm.

And then it came.

Soon.

Directly across from where Yang Jian sat, a horrifying figure suddenly appeared without warning.

The ghost on the bench had manifested.