The Ghost Behind
Wen Yi quietly took out her own report card for comparison and said softly, “Yours is still a bit better than mine.”
Lu Congxing stared at the three report cards, and a bad feeling suddenly crept over him.
Sure enough, when they found Lin Yang and the others, they were met with the news that another person had died.
Lin Yang looked grim. The number of people behind him was still the same as before, but the man who had previously accused Lu Congxing of showing off—only to be rebuked by Wen Yi—was now gone. In his place stood a man in a suit, his face filled with terror.
Lu Congxing glanced at him, and Lin Yang quickly explained, “This guy’s been hiding in the bathroom since he got here. Luckily someone in the team found him—otherwise, he would’ve ended up stranded in this realm.”
An ordinary person trapped in a place like this would be as good as dead.
He didn’t say where the other guy had gone, but the heavy atmosphere made it easy to guess what had just happened.
Lu Congxing asked, “Did any of you see what happened when that guy died?”
Deng Zhi tugged at the chain around his neck, looking uneasy. Up until recently, he’d still thought all of this might be some elaborate prank. But after witnessing someone die with his own eyes, he was finally forced to accept the truth—he really had crossed over from the bar into another world.
He exhaled a shaky breath and said, “I saw it. I was right there when it happened.”
To speed things up, they had just decided to split into pairs to search for their own report cards. By sheer bad luck, Deng Zhi ended up partnered with the poor guy who died.
Despite witnessing a death firsthand, Deng Zhi remained relatively calm—clearly bolder than most. He carefully recalled what happened. “We’d just retrieved our report cards and were heading to the designated classroom. While walking down the hallway, the glass window of one classroom suddenly shattered. He was closest to it, and the glass rained down on him—almost all of it. The fatal blow was a shard that pierced his eye.”
As he recalled the eerie moment, he felt a chill run down his spine.
It was like death itself had arrived. The way the glass had flown—it defied physics, targeting only him. His body was riddled with wounds. Before he could even scream, he was already dead.
Lu Congxing frowned slightly. “Can I see his report card?”
Deng Zhi rummaged around and pulled out a crumpled report card, handing it over with a casual air. “Lucky I was the one with him.”
If it had been someone else, they probably would’ve run off in terror and forgotten to grab the report card from the body.
Lu Congxing shot him a look and could tell that beneath the nonchalant facade, Deng Zhi was still gripped by fear—like a kid trying to act tough.
So as he took the report card, he said, “You did well.”
Deng Zhi’s expression shifted instantly.
Was he just comforted… by a little lamb? This kid looked like he could be picked up with one hand.
Still, based on what he’d seen so far, this “little lamb” had some serious skills. After a moment of internal conflict, Deng Zhi decided to console himself with that thought.
Even so, for some reason, his heartbeat thudded more intensely in the darkness.
Earlier, Lu Congxing had calmly examined the corpse and even repositioned its head without blinking, which had been downright shocking. So now, as he read through the report cards, no one thought it odd—they all watched him, waiting for his next deduction.
Only the newly arrived man in the suit looked confused. Compared to the baby-faced Lu Congxing, he trusted Lin Yang much more—especially since he’d heard Lin Yang was an exorcist. So what was with this kid?
Lu Congxing didn’t concern himself with everyone’s thoughts. He carefully compared the report cards in his hands, then asked the others to bring theirs over for comparison.
His suspicion was nearly confirmed.
Pointing at the report cards of the two deceased, he said, “I suspect the order of death is tied to the grades on these report cards.”
Everyone looked at each other in shock. When they looked back at their own report cards, their expressions turned fearful—as if the numbers on the page weren’t just ordinary grades, but monsters ready to devour them.
Someone soon picked up on the pattern. A female student, Xue Shuangshuang, said nervously, “The two people who died had the worst grades among us.”
Of course, the grades here didn’t reflect their actual academic performance, but the randomly assigned scores on the report cards.
The first to die had the lowest score. The second? Second-lowest.
“That’s completely irrational!” the man in the suit shouted, his face flushing red.
After comparing scores, he realized he was third from the bottom. He clutched his report card tightly in panic.
But no one paid him any attention. Everyone was too busy figuring out where they ranked. Those with higher scores let out a small sigh of relief, while those with lower scores looked visibly upset.
Lu Congxing had originally thought his score wasn’t that great, but to his surprise, he ended up having the highest one. Next was Lin Yang, then Xue Shuangshuang.
He figured it might be because he and Lin Yang weren’t originally chosen by the illusionary realm—they were just innocent bystanders caught up in it. The others had all experienced nightmares as a warning. He just didn’t know if any of them might be in on it.
If the condition for dying was the score on the report card, then the only thing they all had in common was poor grades.
The man in the suit looked around carefully, lingering a little longer on the people with higher scores. He gave a sly smile and asked, “So, about these scores… can we take someone else’s?”
The sudden question immediately put everyone on alert. Eyes widened slightly as people started eyeing each other with suspicion.
The man’s snake-like gaze landed on Xue Shuangshuang.
She shrank back instinctively in fear.
Lin Yang frowned. “Of course not. Could you swap report cards with someone else back when you were in school?”
Only then did the others relax a little. Still, a sense of distrust had already begun to spread through the group, and they stood even more scattered than before.
Lu Congxing quietly folded his report card and tucked it into his inner pocket, sliding it into the small golden bell he carried.
His golden bell, tied with a red string, glimmered faintly in the darkness and seemed slightly warm to the touch.
It seemed the bell could sense that he and Bai Ze were no longer in the same dimension, and it was starting to worry on behalf of its master.
Lu Congxing said, “It looks like we’re all playing the roles of students here. But if we’re students, why would we still be at school this late at night?”
Xue Shuangshuang, who was currently still a high school student in real life, shivered. “Maybe we were kept behind for extra lessons?”
One failing student per class—each one left behind to be “tutored.”
Deng Zhi couldn’t help but curse. “What kind of cursed school is this?!”
Bad grades leading to immediate elimination—it was straight-up inhumane.
Lu Congxing said, “In that case, let’s head to the teachers’ office first.”
The man in the suit objected, confused. “Aren’t you going to help me figure something out? Why are we going to some office?!”
The realization that he was now the one with the lowest score—and therefore the most likely to die—had clearly pushed him into a panic. Even now, his tone carried that same entitled authority, like someone used to bossing others around at work.
Unfortunately, no one responded. Left with no choice, he squeezed his way into the center of the group, hoping that if he stayed in the middle, nothing weird would be able to single him out and kill him.
Pang Ziwen stuck close to the exorcist he’d paid good money for, practically trying to drape his 200-pound frame over Lin Yang.
He was seriously out of shape—he never walked this much. Usually, he’d stay in all day and avoid moving if he could. Now, he was panting hard, and in the silence of the group’s march, his labored breathing was especially noticeable in the dark.
Pang Ziwen: “Huff… huff… huff…”
To distract himself from the ache in his chest and legs, he tried to make conversation. “So, what are we looking for in the office?”
Lin Yang turned his head and glanced back. He was tense, having to take care of Wen Yi while also keeping an eye on his employer. Hearing this, he explained, “To be precise, we’re going to look for someone.”
Wen Yi asked, “A teacher?”
“Huff… huff…”
Lin Yang nodded and let out a small laugh to lighten the mood. “Could be. Or maybe it’s that balding head of discipline.”
A woman trailing behind the group chuckled. “My son always says their head of discipline treats good and bad students completely differently.”
Xue Shuangshuang frowned slightly, and her tone suddenly turned emotional. “Grades aren’t the standard to judge whether a student is good or bad. It just means some students aren’t good at studying!”
Everyone was a bit surprised. The group fell silent for a moment—only Pang Ziwen’s constant wheezing echoed in the darkness.
“Huff… huff… huff…”
Lu Congxing broke the awkward silence hanging in the air. “Of course, everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses. Every student is unique.”
It was as if he was saying this for someone else’s sake, lifting his head to stare into the distant darkness.
Wen Yi followed his gaze into the darkness. “Erasing an entire student just because of poor grades? What kind of garbage school is this?”
It was like she had guessed something, and she mustered her courage to voice her mockery.
But the terrifying figure they imagined—the one holding a ruler and filled with rage—never appeared.
And somehow, it felt like they were endlessly walking down the corridor, as if no matter how many flights of stairs they climbed, they could never reach the top floor office.
Lin Yang couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sure the office is at the top?”
Lu Congxing nodded. “There’s a map on the wall. I checked carefully. All the faculty offices are supposed to be upstairs.”
Lin Yang pulled out a talisman meant to dispel illusions and threw it forward. It ignited mid-air—but nothing happened.
Feeling like he’d messed up, he awkwardly glanced at Wen Yi—only to find her looking stiff and frightened. Her eyes were slightly widened, as if she had just realized something. Her voice trembled. “Why… is it so quiet?”
Lu Congxing, who had been leading the way, suddenly came to a halt.
The three of them stood still in the darkness, swallowed by an eerie silence.
Yes, at some point, the heavy breathing of Pang Ziwen—who had always been following them like a tail—had disappeared. And behind them, all the sounds of breathing from the rest of the group were gone too.
Wen Yi’s hands and feet felt ice cold. She didn’t dare to look back — but this kind of silent fear was often the most tormenting. The more you resisted, the louder that devilish voice inside you whispered:
Just one glance. Just look back once…
Then suddenly, Lin Yang gripped her hand tightly.
“Don’t look back. Keep walking,” he said in a low, firm voice.
At that moment, it was almost certain—all the people who had once been shoulder-to-shoulder with them… had vanished.
Lu Congxing didn’t look back either—he just slowed his pace slightly to make sure he didn’t get separated from Lin Yang and the others.
Lin Yang spoke slowly: “I’ve heard a rumor like this before. A group is walking together, and the person at the very end of the line starts to feel like something is watching them. Out of fear, they turn around—and in that instant, whatever was behind them takes their place. Then it’s the second-to-last person… then the third… until there’s only one left. That last person realizes something’s wrong, turns around, and sees…”
The living walk ahead, the dead follow behind.
So now, whatever’s following them—what is it?