A total of five people, the four captains and Ah Hong, stood on the small black boat, drifting along.

A thin fog rose over the surface of the river, enveloping the surroundings and obscuring the view of the riverbank.

But everyone had already realized that they were no longer in Taiping Ancient Town, nor on the river heading to Zhongzhou City. Unknowingly, they had drifted into an unknown supernatural place.

The ferry dock at Taiping Ancient Town was merely a connecting point.

The dock would only stop at specific times and places. Once those times and places were missed, no one could find this boat. Moreover, if one didn’t have certain paper money, even if an ordinary person accidentally boarded this boat, it would be of no use.

The conditions seemed simple, but achieving them was very difficult.

Yet somehow, the five of them inexplicably met all the requirements.

Shen Lin knew the right time and place, Yang Jian had the seven-yuan paper money, and Leuk San knew how to use it.

It must be said that when the captains teamed up, they could indeed handle many things. Their intelligence capabilities and some of the supernatural items they possessed were extensive, allowing them to deal with various situations.

“Calculating by time and distance, we should now be close to Zhongzhou City, but look around—there’s nothing remotely resembling reality. Without a doubt, we’ve entered a supernatural realm while taking this ferry, just like that supernatural bus back then.”

Yang Jian stood at the prow, his ghostly eyes observing.

The thin fog wasn’t mist—it was a supernatural phenomenon. The surroundings were distorted, much like the path that once led to the Ghost Post Office.

“As long as there’s no danger, it doesn’t matter what the situation is. I just hope we reach our destination smoothly.”

Li Jun seemed unconcerned about these mysterious ghostly matters, his focus solely on the task and target.

Ah Hong sat on the wooden boat, staring at the river’s surface.

She wondered if it was due to the absence of light or if this place was inherently peculiar.

The river water was pitch black, revealing nothing beneath the surface, with just the flickering oil lamp at the prow adding a faint glow to the otherwise dark river.

Curious, she extended her hand, letting her fingers gently graze the river’s surface.

But when Ah Hong withdrew her fingers, she realized they weren’t wet at all—no trace of moisture, just an extreme cold.

It felt as though she had passed through a mass of solidified cold air.

“It’s not river water.”

Ah Hong’s heart skipped a beat, and she casually remarked, “Doesn’t this scene remind you of something? A black ferry, a river leading to a supernatural place, and a special fare…”

“What are you trying to say?” asked Leuk San.

Standing at the stern, Shen Lin said, “You’re referring to a folklore tale, I presume. This scene does indeed resemble a story—a legend about a river leading to the underworld, called the River of Oblivion, filled with wandering souls unable to cross over. Yet, there’s another tale of a small boat on this river, meant to ferry those lost souls across.”

“And the one piloting that boat would be the ferryman. Some say that by the banks of the River of Oblivion grows the Spider Lily, red as blood, stunningly beautiful, and capable of enthralling people.”

“Maybe these legends were exaggerated or romanticized, but perhaps they are also reflections of something real—they couldn’t have been conjured from thin air,” Ah Hong added.

“Perhaps,” Shen Lin replied. “If hell exists, then perhaps the world we live in is hell itself—where the supernatural reawakens, malevolent spirits run rampant. What else is it if not hell, where ghost handlers perish one by one, and captains struggle to survive, while ordinary lives remain as fragile as ants? Besides, we don’t even know when all this will end.”

“No matter how harsh the reality, we cannot lose hope.”

Li Jun cut in, interrupting the conversation to maintain morale.

Hearing the exchange, Yang Jian couldn’t help recalling something Sister Hong had once told him.

Ghost stories may not merely be stories.

And perhaps legends are not just legends.

His mind involuntarily tightened.

In hindsight, Sister Hong had been right—years later, when these supernatural events have quelled, would his own dealings with them become another embellished tale?

Most likely so.

The harsh truth demands to be buried; stories of justice triumphing need to be passed down.

Only by living in ignorance can one feel the false beauty.

Knowing the truth, shattering the illusion, only leads to a life of suffering.

Perhaps the headquarters’ secrecy about supernatural events is to construct this kind of illusory beauty.

After all, for most ordinary people, knowing the truth isn’t beneficial—it’s detrimental. To them, illusory happiness is still happiness, better than constant dread and paranoia.

“Wait, something’s not right. The boat is heading towards the shore,” Leuk San noted immediately.

At this moment.

The small boat altered its course, no longer drifting aimlessly in the middle of the river. Instead, it defied logic and gently steered toward the shore.

The lantern on the prow flickered, dispersing the fog.

The shore revealed a ferry dock.

The dock, made of wood, was exceedingly old and rickety, with a path at the other end stretching into the dark unknown.

“A second dock? Could it be like that supernatural bus with multiple stops?” Yang Jian frowned.

“Perhaps others will board the boat,” suggested Leuk San.

Shen Lin added, “Maybe the ones boarding aren’t necessarily human.”

Despite their speculations.

The small boat berthed at the shore.

The river rippled, but there was no one around the dock.

“Yang Jian, can you see the situation over there?”

Li Jun asked, his Ghost Flame flaring, but unable to illuminate the path ahead.

Yang Jian replied, “I can see clearly—a dirt road extending into the darkness, with no one on it. But along the road, I think I saw some old graves, and in the distance, there’s a village, though it’s too far to discern clearly.”

His ghostly eyes weren’t severely obstructed.

At the end of his vision was an abandoned village.

Silent and lifeless.

This dock was meant for that village.

“It should be a temporary stop. As long as no one boards, the boat will continue moving,” Shen Lin stated.

“Something seems more complicated than it appears.”

Suddenly, Leuk San frowned, picking up an unburned paper money from the corner of the boat’s prow.

The paper still flickered with flames.

Impossible to extinguish, it quickly consumed the last corner.

A scent of ashes lingered in the air.

“Someone has already boarded and paid the fare. This isn’t our previously burned paper money—it appeared just now.”

“This is no time for jokes. It’s just the five of us aboard—there can’t be anyone else. And if someone had boarded, wouldn’t we have seen it?” Li Jun said seriously.

He had been vigilant.

Even if he didn’t see, it wasn’t sensible that all four others would miss it.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to comprehend. I’m sure someone boarded, yet I didn’t see them,” Leuk San stated. “The paper money is the best proof.”

Yang Jian’s ghostly eyes opened several times more.

He scrutinized every corner of the boat.

Nevertheless, he had no findings—no one had boarded.

Yet the paper money Leuk San had seen, half-burned, had appeared abruptly and unnervingly.

“From the burnt corner of that paper, we can tell it was a three-yuan note, meaning up to three people may have boarded with us,” Yang Jian stated.

“But we didn’t see anyone,” Ah Hong remarked.

With a slight smile, Shen Lin remarked, “The boat we see and the boat seen by those at the dock may not be the same boat. We might be in the same place but encountering two different boats. This could explain why people boarded without our knowledge.”

“But the lamp is the same lamp,” Yang Jian noted, gazing at the oil lamp.

“This journey seems to have gotten dangerous. I hope our paths don’t cross too much with those people,” Shen Lin commented.

Li Jun said, “We can’t delay our actions. Even if there’s a ghost on the boat, if it dares to show up, we’ll take it out without mercy—together, we can handle anything.”

“Indeed, when captains join forces, nothing’s unmanageable,” Shen Lin smiled, appreciating Li Jun’s confidence.

But those who’ve experienced despair don’t remain so optimistic.

He noticed Yang Jian and Leuk San were both frowning.

The boat continued its journey.

Silently gliding away from the second dock, still drifting downstream.

However, on the water beneath the small boat.

Among the reflections of Yang Jian, Li Jun, and the others, three eerie silhouettes had sneaked in, each one exuding a deathly, antiquated, cold aura—completely incongruous.

The small boat rocked slightly, as if struggling to bear the new weight.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com

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