Chapter Thirteen: Escape

The range of the bus was not large, and at this moment, with no one else around, one could reach the driver in just a few strides. Yet Murong Xun’s advance was not smooth. Though the blood could not touch him, it seriously impeded his movement. Especially unsettling were the pained groans coming from the side. By the light emanating from his left hand, Murong Xun saw the feet of Xu Ying and her companion submerged in the bloody water, being corroded. Their shoes had already been eaten away, revealing parts of their toes.

There was no other choice. Braving the resistance of the blood, Murong Xun hurried to their side, lifting their legs onto the seats.

“It’s useless,” came the voice of the Painted Skin Demon, thick with terror. “We can’t escape. We’ll all be devoured, and you won’t last much longer.”

“Shut up!” Murong Xun barked in a low voice.

After tending to the two girls, he leapt onto the front row of seats, climbing over them step by step. No longer directly touching the blood, the obstacles he faced vanished; though not as fast as a straight dash, his progress was vastly improved compared to when the blood held him back like a tortoise.

Reaching the first row, close to the driver’s seat, he saw the blood had risen to about ten centimeters deep. There was a partition between the driver and the passenger area. Murong Xun hacked at it with his short sword, trying to cut through, but found the blade met nothing, as if there was nothing there at all.

“It’s useless! It and we are not on the same plane!” the Painted Skin Demon shouted from behind. “You can’t touch it! Think of something else—this blood can corrode everything, you won’t hold out!”

Murong Xun ignored the demon and tried a few more times, but when all attempts failed, he finally gave up on futile efforts.

“How do we get out?” He turned to the Painted Skin Demon.

“I don’t know!” the demon cried out, terrified by his expression.

Without another word, Murong Xun smashed his left fist into the window beside him.

“Hmm?” He examined the glass closely.

Though the change was subtle, he saw the glass was not quite as before.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three more blows. The glass seemed unmoved, but when Murong Xun felt it with his hand, he detected the faint traces of cracks.

Seeing this, he stepped back onto the second seat, the gem on his glove gleaming. Raising his left hand, he drew it back, then punched with all his strength.

Boom!

A deafening crash, followed by the hissing sound of boiling oil being splashed. The dark red covering the window spread outward, revealing a strange hole. But when Murong Xun peered through it, he saw nothing but endless darkness. Moments later, the dark red once again covered the hole, hiding it, and the glass returned to its original state.

He touched it—the glass felt solid, with no sign it had just been shattered.

He had no time to ponder. Watching the blood below slowly rise, he knew that if he delayed any longer, it would soon flood higher. Although he had many glyphs and items on him, if the blood continued its relentless corrosion, he would not last.

Climbing seat by seat toward the rear, Murong Xun’s rare anxiety showed on his face. He could break the blockade of the Ghost Bus, but he had no idea what awaited outside. Jumping out blindly could only mean courting death. The bus was speeding along, never stopping, and most crucially, he could not tell if outside was the realm of the dead or the living.

“Do you have any means?” At this moment, the Painted Skin Demon’s fear of Murong Xun had diminished greatly; in the face of death, all else was irrelevant.

“If this goes on, none of us will survive!” Watching the blood rise, the demon’s aged skin wrinkled together, making it look even more hideous.

“Do you know what’s outside?” Murong Xun asked directly.

“I do, but why ask now?” The demon was confused by his question.

“Speak!” Murong Xun repeated coldly.

“Outside now is a plaza, but there are many powerful oddities around—” The demon had not finished before Murong Xun started smashing the window again.

His glove shone bright, activating the power of the Ghoul. A few punches and cracks spread across the glass, the surrounding dark red surging.

Murong Xun was unmoved. He took a talisman from his personal space and stuck it to the damaged glass, then continued breaking the other windows. Soon, another hole appeared. Peering through, he saw only darkness.

“Come here,” Murong Xun commanded the Painted Skin Demon.

“Right away!” The demon, seeing this, lost all trace of fear and eagerly jumped from the other side of the seats to his side.

“No tricks,” Murong Xun said coolly, withdrawing his hand from the demon’s shoulder.

“Wouldn’t dare, wouldn’t dare!” The demon waved its hands, insisting it had no such intentions. Even if it had considered mischief at first, seeing the talisman on its shoulder, it dared not act up.

Murong Xun said nothing, just stared quietly. The demon, understanding, promptly slipped out through the opening.

Sensing the talisman was still in place, Murong Xun nodded—clearly, it hadn’t deceived him.

He glanced at the two still unconscious girls, his brow tightly knit, but considering the task’s penalty, he had no choice but to bring them along.

He picked up Zhang Jiao, who was seated on the outside, and gently lowered her through the window, then turned back for Xu Ying. Seeing the talisman begin to burn on the window, he dared not delay, carrying her and jumping out through the gap.

“Hmph—”

After rolling on the ground a few times to dissipate the force, Murong Xun stood up. The battered Ghost Bus circled him twice, as if unable to do anything, then reluctantly drove off.

Gathering Xu Ying and Zhang Jiao nearby, Murong Xun’s expression was grim.

He could no longer sense the Painted Skin Demon.

Such a situation meant either the talisman had lost its effect, the demon was dead, or it had moved beyond his range of perception.

After all, he was only a newcomer to the Tower of Demons and had no way of knowing which was true.