The sky was a dull, oppressive grey. In the square near Bian Village in Shiqiao District, a torrential downpour poured down, creating a curtain of mist between heaven and earth. Fat raindrops struck the ground, splashing up in sheets of water.
On the road beside the square, water collected from the heavy rain surged into a drain, forming a small vortex at the inlet.
Beside the road, near a trash can, a tricycle with a modified bicycle front stood, its body covered in rust.
Next to the tricycle, a thin figure draped in a tattered raincoat rummaged through the trash can in the rain. Soon, after sifting through a pile of kitchen waste, he found a bulging transparent plastic bag.
The plastic bag was shaped like a bottle, filled with cola bottles. It seemed to have been discarded by a shut-in living nearby; there were at least seven or eight of them.
Seeing the cola bottles, a smile flickered across the man's lips. He eagerly reached out to lift the plastic bag. Noticing it was tied in a tight knot, he directly tore the bag open, pulled out the cola bottles, poured out the brownish-yellow liquid mixed with cigarette butts, then crushed them one by one and tossed them into a large snakeskin bag beside him.
This was a man etched with the hardships of life. Though only in his early thirties, he looked over forty. His hair was sparse, his eyes sunken deep, narrowed into slits. His lean face was creased with wrinkles, and his exposed hands were like withered branches, his knuckles covered in rough, hardened calluses.
After crushing the cola bottles, the man placed them into the snakeskin bag. Finding the bag already full, he placed it onto the tricycle, which already carried a pile of bottles and cans. He then mounted the tricycle and pedaled towards a nearby scrap metal yard.
The tattered raincoat couldn't fully shield him from the rain falling from the sky. He was soaked to the bone but paid it no mind. On his way to the scrap yard, he stopped three times, collecting five mineral water bottles and one soda can, before continuing on.
Upon arriving at the scrap yard, amidst the owner's impatient complaints, he sorted the recyclables and placed them on the scale.
"Ninety-three point seven yuan, let's call it ninety-four. Old Zhang, it's raining, you should rest. Why push yourself so hard? While you're earning money, you need to take care of yourself!" the owner sighed.
"Heh, thank you, boss!" the middle-aged man, called Old Zhang, replied with a chuckle, revealing his tobacco-stained teeth.
The owner shook his head, took out a wad of change from the leather bag slung across his chest, counted it, and found it wasn't enough for ninety-four yuan. He directly pulled out a hundred-yuan bill, handed it to the middle-aged man, and said, "The extra six yuan can be deducted next time you sell something. Do you want to come in and get out of the rain?"
"No, I still need to collect more trash!" Old Zhang said with a simple smile.
"Then have a cigarette!" the owner paused, then took out a pack of "Baita" cigarettes, priced at eight yuan, from his left pocket. After a moment's thought, he put it back and took out a pack of "Yuxi" cigarettes, priced at twenty-three yuan, and handed a cigarette to Old Zhang.
"Thank you!" Old Zhang hesitated for a moment, then squatted under the eaves of the scrap yard's warehouse and lit up, a look of enjoyment on his face.
Afterward, he loosened the hundred-yuan bill clutched in his hand and carefully took out a blue plastic bag with a small hole, which contained the money. After counting it, he put the hundred-yuan bill back inside.
Then, he placed the blue plastic bag back into the pocket he had sewn himself.
"This is ginger soup my wife made after seeing me in the rain. Have some, warm yourself up!" As his cigarette was almost finished, the scrap yard owner walked over with a disposable bowl of ginger soup and offered it to him.
"Thank you very much!" Old Zhang said gratefully, downing the ginger soup in one gulp, then walked back into the rain.
"Sigh!" The scrap yard owner watched his retreating figure, sighed, and shook his head.
Old Zhang steered his tricycle out of the scrap yard and followed a familiar route, heading towards the place he longed for in his memory.
The rain grew heavier. Everything within fifty meters became blurred. Old Zhang rode through streets and alleys, quickly reaching the road in front of his destination. He squinted to observe the road conditions for a moment, then directly rode across the road.
At that very moment, a black sedan car broke through the rain curtain, completely smashing his tricycle. His frail body, like a broken old doll, was flung dozens of meters away.
Blood spread beneath him, staining the ground, and seeped into the blue plastic bag wrapped around the money through its hole, dyeing the bills on his chest red.
Old Zhang clutched the money tightly, his sunken eyes fixed on the flashing sign across the road that read "Yan Hong Foot Massage." His gaze then fell upon a voluptuous woman in sexy attire inside the establishment.
The woman also recognized him. She couldn't help but cover her mouth in horror, then quickly dialed 120.
"Ah..." Old Zhang's body was wracked with pain. He struggled to open his mouth and breathe, blood foam continuously gushing from his lips. Endless resentment surged within him.
It was so close...
He had finally saved up 268 yuan.
Am I going to die?
I'm not reconciled.
Then, his consciousness plunged into darkness.
*Knock, knock, knock!*
Hearing the sound from outside the door, the middle-aged man with glasses looked ashen-faced. Yu Zhibo, however, showed no fear, even wearing an expression of interest.
"Does he always knock when he comes?"
"Yes, he always knocks, and then the next moment he appears in front of me. Damn, he's here!"
"It's a money-claiming ghost, yet it has the characteristics of a door-knocking ghost!" Yu Zhibo said, his gaze cold as he watched the phantom pass directly through the door.
It was a ghost wearing a raincoat, dripping with blood, emaciated. The lower half of its face seemed to have been scraped off on the ground, making it terrifyingly blurred.
In its right hand, it held a wad of blood-stained change, its eyes fixed on the money in Yu Zhibo's clone's hand, slowly moving closer.
"Give me back my money," it said, reaching out towards the money in Yu Zhibo's hand and tugging at a five-yuan bill.
As it moved, the black mist on the clone began to surge, invading the clone's body. The paper bill then became covered with dense, grotesque ghostly faces that spoke in unison: "Give back my money, give back my money!"
An atmosphere of dread began to spread.
It was easy to imagine that an ordinary person facing this scene would experience immense fear, which would then become nourishment for the money-claiming ghost, making it even stronger.
But this time, it was Yu Zhibo's clone taking the money. He watched impassively as the ghost, with its withered, branch-like hand, tugged at the five-yuan bill.
Seeing that it couldn't absorb any fear, a look of confusion appeared on the money-claiming ghost's face. However, it was merely a clone, its behavior pattern like a pre-programmed routine. After completing a series of actions, it was supposed to retreat. As it retreated, the five-yuan bill was once again stained with blood, covering one-seventh of it.
Only on the seventh visit would the main body personally arrive to harvest the life of the person who picked up the money. Before that, it would primarily aim to scare and control the paper bill, absorbing the life force of the person picking up the money.
From beginning to end, this scene was being live-streamed, with comments scrolling across the screen.
"Holy crap, that's terrifying!"
"Watching this late at night, I must have a problem with my thinking~"
"Streamer, hurry up and kill it!"
"Is that a money-claiming ghost? It looks so pathetic!"
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh Avatar?"
At this moment, the emotional points surged. Whether it was fear or shock, the emotional points generated by the viewers seeing the money-claiming ghost were completely absorbed by Yu Zhibo. The money-claiming ghost didn't even get a sip of the "soup."
Emotional Points +2.36 million.
Yu Zhibo's lips curled. Then, lightning crackled in his palm, and the Chidori Sharp Spear pierced the money-claiming ghost's clone. The lightning spear then exploded, disintegrating it into nothingness.
As the money-claiming ghost's clone vanished, the five-yuan bill returned to normal and was extracted by Yu Zhibo, who placed it into the pocket behind him.
Eliminating a ghost clone, Energy Points +20.
*Knock, knock, knock!*
Then, the knocking sound from outside the door sounded again, and another ghost floated in.
This time, it approached Yu Zhibo's clone and tugged at a ten-yuan bill.
Yu Zhibo's expression was blank. Lightning flared in his hand, and he slapped it into nothingness.
The ten-yuan bill returned to normal and was once again placed in the pocket.
Simultaneously, another 20 energy points were credited.
As for the emotional points, 160,000 were credited, indicating that fewer viewers were feeling scared.
Yu Zhibo had a total of 19 paper bills in his palm. The hundred-yuan bills were at the bottom. Apart from those, they were all small change. The total value of the bills was 183.5 yuan. After 15 yuan was taken, 168.5 yuan remained.
Among these bills, the hundred-yuan bills were the reddest, signifying that the main body of the money-claiming ghost was about to arrive.
Outside the villa, there were still 16 money-claiming ghost clones, waiting in line to come in and scare (deliver themselves as targets).
Thus, after eliminating one ghost clone after another, Yu Zhibo began to feel bored. As for the viewers in the live stream, they had become increasingly cheerful, and no one felt scared anymore.
After eliminating eight more, Yu Zhibo hadn't sensed the main body's aura. So, he decided to charge out and eliminate the rest, using illusions on the last one to see if he could successfully find the main body.
Just then, two sinister, eerie, and powerful auras appeared outside the villa. Then, all the money-claiming ghost clones disappeared, and a sudden knocking sound echoed from outside the door again.
A seductive voice drifted in:
"Hello, would you like special services?"
Outside the door, the money-claiming ghost, dressed in a raincoat, was embracing a pale-faced, seven-orifice bleeding, voluptuous female ghost. A sinister grin was plastered on its face, its resentful gaze seeming to pierce through the door panel and directly into the person in the living room.
The knocking and speaking were done by the voluptuous female ghost. After she knocked, a strange, eerie energy enveloped the entire villa.
An eerie wind blew, and her long hair danced wildly, making her appearance even more terrifying.
At the same time, her ghostly aura began to surge.
This was clearly a door-knocking ghost!