Chapter 46: Strange Things Along the Way 2
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
Marcus had already walked over four hundred yards.
But the scratching sounds came again from the bench across the street.
Marcus glanced sideways; it was that white figure again, arms frantically scratching its body, twisting and turning.
The stained white dress now had several more bright red stains, not yet completely dry.
Was he being watched?
Marcus's face darkened.
Whatever. Stay calm, keep moving. He quickened his pace, striding forward.
The outer county road under the moonlight was deserted; the only two people there were dead.
Occasionally, a car would speed by. Under the pale yellow streetlights, only the gentle breeze rustled the black branches, the shadows swaying slightly.
Marcus's shadow flickered and shifted under the streetlights; only his footsteps echoed on the street. This should have been a night for someone to stroll alone in the lamplight, enjoying the peaceful comfort.
Scritch, scritch, scritch.
Another rapid scratching sound came from ahead.
This time,
the sound wasn't from across the street.
It was from this side of the street, on the grass about sixty feet ahead!
The eerie woman in the white dress stood there, her back to the street, head slightly bowed, her hair falling down to obscure her face.
Her neck was stiff and motionless, only her arms were pressed together, her hands frantically scratching her forearms—a contradictory combination that was unsettling.
Marcus stopped abruptly, staring at the white figure, his eyes filled with anger.
Why wasn't she sitting down? Was it because there were no benches along this stretch of road?
The moment he stopped, the eerie woman's scratching stopped abruptly.
Marcus stared intently at the still, eerie white figure, while the woman in the white dress stood stiffly there as well.
An eerie standoff ensued.
Moonlight peeked through the slowly spreading dark clouds, the night was pitch black, silent and sinister, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the wind.
The best defense is a good offense!
Marcus acted first, a grenade appearing in each hand. He pried open the pins with his thumbs, held them for three seconds, and then threw them at the eerie woman.
The instant he threw them, Marcus turned and sprinted across the road, running quickly forward.
He wasn't afraid, just a little sleepy and eager to go to bed!
His current running speed was comparable to that of a cheetah or a wild dog, but with greater endurance.
He could see the edge of the street around the bend ahead, lined with two-story houses, the streetlights becoming more densely packed.
Marcus quickly approached,
but stopped abruptly at the bend.
A pale, eerie woman's face appeared less than a foot in front of him.
Her neck was twisted to the lower left, but her face was upward, her white-rimmed eyes staring at Marcus with resentment.
When?! Marcus was shocked.
The eerie woman in the white dress continued scratching her arms, making a chilling scraping sound.
"You itchy? I'll scratch you!" Marcus was completely enraged.
Try to be reasonable and this is what you get!
He released the 50% safety limit on his muscles from his brain, unleashing a punch with twice the force.
The cracking of bones, the rustling of fabric, and the whistling of his fist blended into a harmonious chorus, like thunder in a dry land.
His fist struck the strange woman's face.
There was no impact whatsoever!
He missed!
It was like hitting thin air; he was even pulled forward half a step by the momentum of his punch, almost face-to-face with the strange woman.
With the slightest movement, Marcus's muscles and bones cracked and popped—this was the price of using muscle power with his damaged core. However, with the blood supply from the life-sustaining cascade in his chest, his injuries healed rapidly.
The strange woman suddenly stopped scratching; her skin was cracked, and her pale hands instantly gripped Marcus's neck.
Marcus could even smell the stench of decay from the black scratches on her arms.
His eyes blazed with fury as he swung his fists wildly.
The force of his punches whipped through the air within a three-foot radius, but he felt no impact.
Useless! Useless!
Still useless!
He could feel the ghostly hand gripping his neck tightening.
The eerie woman's deathly pale face was now only an inch from his, her white eyes forcing their way into his vision.
Her mouth slowly and unnaturally opened, revealing teeth dripping with black blood, and white maggots visible between them.
Marcus felt utterly disgusted. What bizarre shit had he encountered since arriving? He was certain this wasn't the ghost from the Harrow Place Haunted House.
The hair length and texture were different; the one in the haunted house had been more like an old woman's hair.
Now wasn't the time to dwell on these things. Was he going to die here? A sense of despair washed over Marcus.
Time passed gradually: 5 seconds, 10 seconds, 20 seconds.
He sensed something was wrong. This ghost in the white dress had been choking him for 20 seconds, disgusting him for a full 20 seconds!
Why was she still using the same force, and hadn't killed him yet?
This force might kill an ordinary person, but for him, it was just like getting a neck massage.
Keep in mind, his skin was now bulletproof.
While swinging his fists, Marcus carefully observed the ghost in the white dress.
The young man he had taken over looked ordinary, ruling out the possibility that the ghost was attracted to his appearance.
Looking at her venomous eyes, this kind of crazed female ghost would never show mercy to a human.
However, the arms choking his neck, after initially increasing the force, hadn't changed, maintaining a constant pressure.
There was only one possibility!
This ghost's power was limited; with this kind of force, it would take a year to kill him.
But this disgusting ghostly face, almost touching his own, even blocking his view, made him extremely nauseous.
Some things happened suddenly, and Marcus now remembered to use his enhanced perception—gained after absorbing the remnant blood of the Leviathan in the Labyrinth Configuration—to observe the female ghost.
Through his perception, he observed that the punches weren't completely useless, just barely effective!
He could see the ghost's figure dimming very subtly, almost imperceptible to the naked eye.
At this rate, he estimated he'd need to maintain full-force attacks for another ten hours to disperse this pathetic female ghost who was about to kiss him.
But there was no other way; he had to keep fighting. Marcus could only continue punching, unleashing his unrestricted combat techniques to the fullest, targeting the ghost's vital points.
Just as Marcus slapped the ghost's face, he noticed something was wrong.
After this slap, the ghost immediately dimmed noticeably, the power of one slap equivalent to thousands of previous punches.
Why?
Was there something special about this slap? Was it because the ghost was afraid of being slapped in the face—was she beaten to death in her previous life?
No, that couldn't be right.
After thinking for a moment, Marcus understood:
his perception!
The perception only extended to a radius of less than a foot around his body, encompassing only the ghost's face and forearm.
He threw two more punches, striking the ghost's body and face respectively, comparing the results.
It was confirmed!
It was perception. Marcus guessed that perception originated from mental or spiritual power; the so-called perception was likely a byproduct of strong psychic force.
He had always felt that this perception might be useful in some situations, but for him now, it was somewhat limited. After all, it couldn't allow Marcus to dodge a barrage of bullets, and he didn't care about one or two.
Moreover, using perception would deplete his mental energy, making him feel drowsy—a drowsiness of the soul.
(End of Chapter)