As the engine started, the sun was already sinking in the west.
Before I could even hit the gas, an elderly woman with silver hair appeared in front of the car, shuffling unsteadily—then, in broad daylight, she dissolved into a wisp of blue smoke.
Alex Johnson stammered in fear, while Morgan Morgan cursed, “Damn it, that’s some real ghostly stuff!”
I shot him a glance and saw him clutching something reddish-pink in his hand, like an oval-shaped stone. When you’re transporting coffins, it’s hard to avoid running into things like this—especially when these aren’t ordinary coffins.
I didn’t pay it any more mind and kept driving.
The roads out here were rough, deserted on both sides, with the occasional crooked tree leaning over the shoulder.
There were hardly any other cars; it took ages before one even passed by. The sky kept getting darker as we drove straight down this road, but no matter how far we went, we couldn’t find the entrance to Cooperstown.
I reset the GPS several times, but the voice just got more and more robotic, repeating over and over: “Proceed five hundred meters ahead, continue five hundred meters ahead…”
Eventually, night fell completely. What should have taken just an hour had dragged on until seven o’clock.
Something was definitely wrong!
Morgan Morgan gripped his charm even tighter, rummaged in his pocket with his other hand, pulled out a talisman, burned it, and tossed it out the window—but nothing changed.
Alex Johnson shivered. “Master, what’s going on? Are we stuck in a ghost wall?”
Morgan Morgan gritted his teeth, staring at the seemingly endless road ahead. “If it were just a ghost wall, that’d be fine. I’m afraid these coffins are too cursed—we’ve wandered onto a spirit road!”
Alex Johnson, panicking, grabbed my arm. “Brother Long, maybe we should stop and wait for daylight!”
I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Tưởng Sương’s face growing paler by the minute. I made up my mind. “No stopping. We have to deliver these coffins tonight!”
I lit a cigarette and flicked it out the window—it went out instantly.
Morgan Morgan let out a cold laugh.
Suddenly, the road ahead split in two, the guardrails parting to either side—one way left, one way right.
“We’re screwed!” Morgan Morgan’s face went pale. “This is the road of life and death—if we take the wrong turn, we’ll never get out!”
Alex Johnson was frantic. “So what do we do? Master, think of something! Or call Taylor Turner, ask him if we should go left or right!”
Morgan Morgan replied, “There’s no way we can call anyone now!”
He was still clutching his charm, his pockets full of talismans, but none of them were any use.
Alex Johnson was on the verge of breaking down. He’d only thought he was delivering coffins—who could have guessed it would cost them their lives?
He reached for the steering wheel again. “Brother Long, stop the car! Let’s pick a road and then keep going!”
Morgan Morgan was panicking too. “Stop the car, let me think! You can’t just charge ahead on the road of life and death!”
I ignored them and slammed my foot on the gas. I’ve been driving for twenty years, and drivers have their own rules. If you come to a fork in the road at night that shouldn’t be there, there’s only one thing to do: go straight!
No matter how panicked the three in the car were, I didn’t slow down. I aimed straight for the guardrail between the two branches. Weeds whipped against the car, the whole vehicle shook, dust and gravel flew everywhere, blinding us. But I kept my foot on the gas, barreling forward. Finally, the car jolted hard, the wheels steadied, and we were back on the main road—no more fork, not a scratch on the hood.
Morgan Morgan was so scared he was in tears, pressed tight against the passenger seat, barely daring to breathe. Alex Johnson was frozen, not moving a muscle. Only Tưởng Sương, though gripping the armrest tightly, was calmer than either of them.
I steadied the speed and kept going. Not far ahead, I spotted a three-wheeled vehicle—a man driving, a woman sitting behind him.
I slowed down and called out through the window, “Hey, buddy, is Cooperstown still far?”
The man pointed the way. “Turn at the intersection up ahead and you’ll be there.”
I thanked him, glanced back, and suddenly realized the woman riding behind him had a mole at the corner of her mouth. Her hair wasn’t braided, but she looked exactly like the supermarket owner from the service area.
We finally made it to Cooperstown, but it was late—past nine at night.
Alex Johnson called the village chief, who was supposed to receive the coffins, but no one answered. Luckily, there was an inn right at the village gate—clean and tidy.
The innkeeper was very welcoming; as soon as he saw us, he invited us in. But it was odd—this village looked poor and tiny. Who would stay at an inn here?
I walked in, suspicious. The innkeeper explained that the inn had been open for over twenty years. Though the exterior looked old, the building materials were solid.
As we passed the first floor, I noticed a room with the door open. A woman with braided hair was sitting on the bed. She had small eyes, a wide mouth, and a slightly odd appearance, wrapped in a floral quilt.
The innkeeper quickly shut the door and smiled, saying, “My wife—she’s in confinement.”
Late at night, I lay pretending to sleep on the sofa outside Tưởng Sương’s room.
I didn’t dare leave the girl alone, afraid something might happen. But I was careless—close to midnight, I caught that same scent again, this time so strong it hit me straight in the nose, making it almost impossible to breathe.
I tried to sit up, but my body wouldn’t move. My mind grew hazy, as if I was about to lose consciousness. Some part of me knew this wasn’t normal—I absolutely couldn’t let myself fall asleep.
Just then, I heard footsteps, as if a crowd was heading toward Tưởng Sương’s room.
I fought the drowsiness. A few shadowy figures stopped in front of me, swaying.
Then I heard Morgan Morgan’s voice: “No, don’t touch him! He’s registered with Khuy Thien Dai—they said not to lay a finger on him!”
My heart skipped a beat. Khuy Thien Dai?
I’d had dealings with that group a few times. They’re a shady organization—if you pay them, they’ll do anything, always shrouded in mystery.
I’d only heard of them recently. What did Morgan Morgan mean? Khuy Thien Dai told them not to touch me? Why? Weren’t we supposed to be enemies?
“But your master said…” The voice talking to Morgan Morgan was very familiar—the innkeeper!
“Master’s words don’t matter. He didn’t know this guy was Morgan Cooper. If he did, he wouldn’t dare.” "Khuy Thien Dai abandoned us for years—we don’t owe them any respect. If we don’t get rid of this guy, we’re just bringing disaster on ourselves." This time, it was the voice of an old man.
I sensed a shadowy figure raising something, about to strike my head, but I still couldn’t move!
"No!" Morgan Morgan stopped the shadowy figure again.
"I don’t care what grudges you have with Khuy Thien Dai, but my master and I don’t want to cross them. If you insist on going through with this, we’re out. You can keep the five coffins and enjoy your retirement!"
Hearing that, the innkeeper immediately panicked, seemingly pulling the old man aside to persuade him.
I only caught bits and pieces—"money is important," "the Tưởng family’s daughter," "worked so hard to get her back." In the end, I completely lost consciousness.
My awareness drifted in darkness, surrounded by that cloying scent. In a daze, I slipped into a strange dream.
I was standing outside the window of a country house, and it seemed like someone inside was giving birth.
The silhouette of a woman lying on the bed was cast against the window, her belly unnaturally large. I felt uneasy, and the mother’s screams grew louder and more desperate.
Then I heard voices, so I moved closer to the window to listen.
Suddenly, the woman in labor screamed, and a spray of bright red blood splattered across the window! I jumped, wanting to run, but saw a group of people carrying a coffin past the door.
In that instant, I felt certain the coffin held Tưởng Sương.
I chased after them, but as soon as I reached the door, it changed, and I found myself stepping into the very birthing room from before.
The smell of blood hit me, and I couldn’t help but look toward the woman in labor. A woman sat there, her features resembling Tưởng Sương’s relatives, and also the woman recovering after childbirth at the inn.
She sat cross-legged, wrapped in a floral blanket, her dark eyes staring straight at me. Slowly, she raised her hand, forming a lotus mudra, and placed it before her chest.
The blanket slipped down, revealing a gaping, blood-red hole in her abdomen. I finally managed to move. I wanted to find Tuong Suong, so I ran outside, but when I opened the door, I was back in that same room, with that same woman, making the same gesture—only now the hole in her abdomen was growing larger, as if something inside was writhing around.
A chill ran down my spine. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape the room. Frustration welled up in me, but my reason slowly returned. I knew I had to wake up—Tuong Suong was definitely in danger!
As I struggled, I caught the scent of sandalwood incense. I followed the smell to the corner of the room, darkness closing in, and suddenly my eyes snapped open.
Standing before me was someone holding a bundle of incense sticks. To my surprise, it was the innkeeper’s wife.
The scent of sandalwood was coming from the incense she was burning. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, as if she were mute.
I hurried to my feet and followed her gaze. The door to Tuong Suong’s room was wide open, the inside a mess, and the girl was gone. They had taken her!
I grabbed the woman and asked, “Where did they go?”
She shook her head.