Chapter Twenty-One: The Jester

The three of them moved through the silent campus, untouched by the wind; aside from their own footsteps, not a single other sound disturbed the stillness.

Suddenly, a crisp ringing shattered the quiet.

Xu Ying and Zhang Jiao both looked at Mu Rongxun in astonishment. They had already seen that their phones had no signal whatsoever—completely useless here.

“Speak,” Mu Rongxun said coldly, ignoring their bewildered gazes as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Mu Rong, are you at Tianhai University right now? There’s an urgent mission,” a woman’s anxious voice came through.

“Yes,” Mu Rongxun replied, his face unreadable.

“That’s wonderful!” the voice from the other end sounded genuinely excited. “There’s a child over by the College of Arts at Tianhai University. Could you help him find his head?”

“Oh.” Mu Rongxun’s tone was calm. Without hesitation, he crushed the phone in his hand and tossed it aside as if nothing had happened.

“Hey, why did you smash your phone? That was our only hope of contacting the outside world!” Xu Ying lamented, pained to see the phone discarded. It had finally managed to get through—how could he just break it?

Mu Rongxun looked at her with the expression of someone indulging a slow child, and said nothing.

None of their phones had any signal—where had his connection come from? And the caller had immediately called him “Mu Rong” with a voice pretending to be Chen Lian’s but doing a poor job of it! Chen Lian only knew he was investigating the Ghost Bus; there was no way she could know he’d entered the ghostly realm and ended up at Tianhai University. The mission’s location, conveniently right at the College of Arts—the very place where he was now—and the mission itself was even more absurd: help a headless child find his head?

Anyone with sense could tell that call was wrong.

When he’d heard the last sentence, he’d almost answered with a mocking agreement. But just as the words reached his lips, an overwhelming sense of dread washed over him, as if something terrible would happen if he agreed. So instead, he offered only a non-committal “oh.”

He wondered, what would happen if he accepted? If he succeeded, what then? If he failed, what fate awaited him?

As these thoughts churned in his mind, Zhang Jiao’s phone began to ring.

She quickly pulled out her phone, her face lighting up with joy.

The caller ID read “Mom!”

“Hello, Mom!” At the sight of the familiar number, Zhang Jiao answered at once, her voice trembling with tears. Before others, all her strength was just a facade.

“Jiao Jiao, are you at school?” a gentle woman’s voice asked.

“Yes, I’m here!” Zhang Jiao replied eagerly.

“Listen, your Aunt Wang’s child had an accident while playing at school. They can’t find his head now. Can you help look for it?”

Hearing her mother’s voice, Zhang Jiao’s mind went blank, and she almost instinctively agreed. But before she could respond, Mu Rongxun was faster: he slapped the phone from her hand and stomped it to pieces.

With the phone destroyed, Zhang Jiao snapped back to her senses, a chill racing through her. Her mother was thousands of miles away—how could she possibly know anything about Aunt Wang at this school?

Before they could react, Xu Ying’s phone began to ring as well.

After everything that had just happened, Xu Ying was naturally too afraid to answer. She pulled the phone out, holding it like a hot potato, torn between throwing it away or holding on. Desperate, she looked to Mu Rongxun for guidance.

But before Mu Rongxun could intervene, a raspy voice came through the speaker.

“If you… don’t… agree… you… will… all… die!”

The childish voice broke through in fits and starts, but the final word “die” was saturated with boundless resentment.

“We’ve been marked,” Mu Rongxun said coldly.

“What do we do now?” the two girls asked, panic rising. They were only ordinary students, never having faced anything like this—the ordeal was well beyond what they could handle. If Mu Rongxun wasn’t there to shield them, they would have already been destroyed by these supernatural threats or lost their minds completely.

Even Mu Rongxun found the situation troublesome. That sinister force had managed to contact them across who knew how much distance. Most importantly, after those words were spoken, he felt as though something had marked him. The protective charms he’d acquired from the Paranormal Bureau had not worked, which meant this entity was of a very high level.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, offering no explanation or comfort.

“Oh, okay!” the two girls replied, nodding rapidly and hurriedly following after him.

Although they wore skirts, at least they weren’t in high heels—just ordinary sneakers—so they could move quickly enough.

After they’d run for a while, another sound joined their footsteps: a rhythmic thumping, as if someone were dribbling a ball.

Mu Rongxun stopped abruptly, causing the two behind him to bump into his back.

They didn’t ask what was wrong. They, too, had heard the sound and quickly covered their mouths with their hands, not daring to breathe too loudly.

Mu Rongxun stared warily at a building up ahead, two talismans suddenly appearing in his hand. He handed one to each girl and then gripped his short sword, prepared for anything.

Though they didn’t understand, Xu Ying and Zhang Jiao each took a talisman.

Under the trio’s watchful gaze, something came rolling down the stairwell—a ball, spinning and bouncing along.

A few seconds later, a figure darted down the stairs, glanced around, and headed straight for them.

The figure’s face was painted in all manner of colors—a classic clown’s makeup. What would have seemed festive under other circumstances was now only terrifying.

Mu Rongxun said nothing, his eyes fixed on the unexpected visitor.

“No… no, we haven’t,” Zhang Jiao stammered, shaking her head in fear.

“Hee-hee, little one, you’re not being honest! Naughty children who lie—uncle doesn’t like them,” the clown crooned, hunched over, pointing a long finger at Zhang Jiao. When he smiled, his blood-red mouth stretched impossibly wide, making him look even more horrific.

“Ah…” Zhang Jiao shrank back in terror.

“And what about you?” the clown’s gaze shifted to Xu Ying.

Xu Ying was terrified too, but seeing Mu Rongxun standing in front of her, she managed to keep it together and shook her head.

“Ah, another dishonest child!” the clown said, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“And you?” At last, the clown’s gaze landed on Mu Rongxun.

Mu Rongxun’s answer was to slice his palm and, without hesitation, slash at the clown with his blood-tipped blade.