Ghost Blows Out the Light Fanfiction Fragments of the Hidden Scriptures - Saving San Francisco

Chapter 5

Just as I was about to sneak a peek back, a hand casually patted my right shoulder.

I glanced sideways and, to my horror, it was a white, bony claw, its long, bony knuckles still twitching.

I suddenly turned to my left, bent over and flipped forward, breaking free from the bone claws that were holding my shoulder.

I heard chaotic footsteps behind me, followed by a series of creaking and cracking sounds.

The fat man shouted, brandishing his military knife, slashing left and right, and blocked my path.

I stood up, turned around, and gasped. Dozens of stark white pirate skeletons were sliding down the coconut trees, staggering and swaying as they rushed towards me, their black cloaks still trembling.

The fat man had already swung his knife and shattered the skeleton that was resting on my shoulder. The dark-skinned head rolled around on the ground, its jaws clicking and clenching, instantly instilling a sense of dread about someone who died with their eyes wide open in disbelief.

In the blink of an eye, dozens of skeletons surrounded us. Fatty and I stood back to back, swinging our weapons with all our might. A chaotic battle ensued, with bones flying everywhere.

After all, with so many years of use, those skeletons couldn't withstand our head-on blows at all. Some were decapitated, some had their arms broken, some had broken bones and dismembered, and they all fell to the ground. The fat man shouted with satisfaction, having carved a path of bones through us in no time.

Suddenly, the fat man cried out in pain. I turned around and saw the white-clad ghost rushing over in an instant, as fast as lightning. With a flick of his right hand, the long, sharp, and shiny fingertips plunged into the fat man's empty left shoulder.

I swung the black folding knife backhand and struck fiercely, disappearing in a flash. Five bloody claw marks were left on the fat man's shoulder, and his clothes were instantly soaked with blood.

The ghostly figure suddenly appeared behind the large coconut tree in front of us, laughing menacingly. Its long, loose hair moved without wind, suddenly blowing and revealing a ghastly, pale face that sent chills down our spines.

I froze, and just as I was about to turn around, my throat tightened, and a pair of skeletal hands gripped my neck tightly, accompanied by sharp pain. The more I struggled, the tighter the grip became; I was almost suffocating.

In a moment of desperation, I subconsciously bent my leg and kicked out, shattering the bone that was strangling my neck, leaving only a pair of bony claws still dangling around my neck.

I ripped off the bone claw, and several skeletons took the opportunity to surround me. I frantically waved my black folding staff, attacking wildly.

The fat man was in a bad situation too. He was hacking away at the skeletal figures surrounding him while also dealing with the ghostly white shadows. Those white-clad figures would pounce again in the blink of an eye. The fat man, startled, rolled over, exposing my back to the ghostly figure.

Before I could react, I had already collided squarely with the ghostly figure. With a loud thud, the ghostly figure didn't seem to be very heavy, and I knocked it aside at an angle.

I glanced over casually and was shocked to find that the thing's lower body seemed to be empty beneath its clothes. It had no legs. I was startled; what kind of monster was this?

Just then, the fat man roared and unleashed a powerful strike, splitting the white-clad ghost in two from top to bottom. The ghost didn't even utter a sound before collapsing to the ground, its body lying lifeless.

I perked up and, together with Fatty, attacked from both sides. In no time, we had dealt with the remaining dozen or so staggering pirate skeletons.

Fatty and I returned to the ghostly figure. The head resembled the desiccated form of a woman who had been dead for a long time. Her face was taut, her eyes were hollow, and she appeared to be around twenty years old. However, the inside of her skull was empty, devoid of any flesh or blood. Fatty used his military knife to pry open the clothes and discovered that, apart from the clothes, the inside was also completely empty—there was nothing there.

"That's not right," the fat man said. "I clearly heard her fall heavily to the ground with a thud, so how come there's nothing there? Could it be that she used some kind of soul-shifting technique and instantly transferred her body away, or did I just miss?"

I shook my head. When she touched me just now, I felt that although she was light, she still had an upper body. Now, how come there's only clothing left, no corpse, and no sharp claws? Could it really be a case of shedding one's skin?!

I crouched down and carefully parted the garment, discovering it was an exquisitely crafted piece of ancient Chinese silk, about 1.67 meters long—equivalent to a woman's height—yet weighing only a few ounces, as light as a feather. Judging from the style, it was handmade in the Suzhou and Hangzhou region of southern China, seamlessly integrated without a single stitch, extremely delicate. The entire garment lay lightly on the fallen leaves, without a speck of dust.

The fat man's old habit of greed kicked in again. His eyes lit up as he said, "Hey, this gauze seems like it can be exchanged for some money." He reached out to grab it and stuff it into his backpack.

I said, "Aren't you afraid of being possessed by ghosts? Why don't you gather some fallen leaves and burn them along with these heads?"

The fat man hesitated for a moment, then finally put it down.

While the fat man was collecting the bones, I gathered some fallen leaves, swept away a large patch of clean sand, and picked up the veil and the woman's head, intending to put them in the pile of leaves. Suddenly, I noticed some faint black granules inside the head, which didn't seem like soil. I used a black tweezer to pick them out and found they looked very much like the droppings of some kind of insect.

A thought struck me, and I quickly walked to the spot where my clothes had fallen. I parted the rotten layer of leaves and revealed a dark, fist-sized hole.

I called Fatty over and shone the wolf-eye flashlight inside. The cave walls were very smooth. After going down about ten meters, we turned sharply, and the flashlight beam could no longer reach us.

It seems we can't find any living specimens to prove what it is right now. I told Fatty it's most likely a flying insect, hiding inside women's skulls and veils. The same logic applies to these pirate skeletons.

Sure enough, we found some similar insect feces inside the pirate's skull.

What seems strange will eventually disappear. I breathed a sigh of relief and told Fatty to gather all the corpses together and set them on fire.

Fatty and I hadn't walked far when we suddenly heard a strange crackling sound coming from the fire.

Volume One: The Ancient Tomb at the Cape, Chapter Fifteen: The Blue-Eyed Cicada

We turned around and saw the fire raging fiercely. In the firelight, countless black shadows rushed towards the fire from the ground, trees and air, one after another, fearlessly sacrificing themselves for the cause.

I took a few quick steps back and could see that it was a large, brown cicada. It was about 15 centimeters long, five or six times the size of an ordinary cicada, making it a super giant cicada. Most strangely, in the firelight, its eyes shimmered with a iridescent emerald green, which was quite bizarre.

The fat man picked up a blue-eyed cicada, and just as he was about to examine it, the cicada suddenly emitted a terrifying, mournful "woo-woo-woo-wah" sound, like a child crying. Simultaneously, the surrounding cicadas emitted a massive, terrifying "woo-woo-woo-wah" cry, and the fat man and I both fell to the ground in fright.

The chorus of cicadas, like a mournful mountain wind, swept through the canyon in an instant, creating a chilling atmosphere.

The fat man cried out in pain and instinctively threw off his gloves, revealing a large bead of blood on his thumb.

The long, needle-like proboscis of the blue-eyed cicada had pierced deep into the glove. It had sucked blood, and its abdomen swelled, slowly expanding to the size of a fist. Its two bright green compound eyes shone, and in the center of each eye appeared a tiny red pupil, dripping with blood, staring at us like a demon.

It suddenly throbbed its abdomen, emitting a heart-wrenching cry, and its transparent wings unfurled with a whoosh as it pounced forward, dragging its gloved wings.

The fat man, quick as a flash, severed its right wing with a single stroke. The cicada fell to the ground, but surprisingly, its hind leg sprang up, as if about to jump again. I smashed it to pieces with a folding knife; even its flesh inside was a vibrant green.

Before I could even get a good look, the cicada, resembling a fleshy fungus, was still trembling, dragging itself slowly across the ground. As it crawled, its fleshy shell cracked and fell away, giving rise to a tiny, milky-white cicada larva. Its wings were wet, and it hissed like a newborn. We were all stunned.

The fat man cursed and picked up his gloves, shook off the cicada, and stomped it to death on the ground.

It seems that these green-eyed cicadas undergo genetic mutations after consuming blood, becoming incredibly ferocious and multiplying generation after generation, much like Western vampires relentlessly swarming for blood. I told Fatty to stay far away from the cicadas.

Over there, the overwhelming swarm of cicadas had already extinguished the fire.

Cicadas are attracted to light. Fatty and I quickly built several more large fires. The cicadas swarmed towards the fires, their numbers seemingly endless.

A strong, nauseating smell of burnt flesh filled the air. One wonders if new cicada bodies might sprout from the charred remains of these blue-eyed cicadas.

Fatty and I walked away and continued deeper into the jungle.

As I walked along, I realized that these blue-eyed cicadas were different from the gu-like creatures we'd seen before. They seemed to have multiplied and multiplied from living cicadas, showing no signs of artificial breeding or witchcraft. They were also bloodthirsty and mutated, enormous in size, incredibly ferocious, and numerous. Even without being aggressive, these naturally occurring freaks were enough to give us trouble. I really didn't know what to do. It seemed the only solution was to stay far away from them.

I told the fat man to cover up any exposed skin on his body to avoid causing trouble.

Besides being wary of blue-eyed cicadas and flying snakes, we found a few wild bananas along the way to eat. It was noon, and we had been walking for a while, but there was still no sign of Shirley Yang. I couldn't help but feel increasingly anxious.

I replaced the fat man, used my military knife to cut through the vines and hurried forward, eager to reach the north shore of the island in one step.

The forest was unusually dense, making progress extremely difficult. The fat man seemed a bit discouraged and said to me, "Being trapped in the forest like this isn't a solution. Could Shirley Yang have gone back to camp?"

Yes, I'll tell Fatty to stay under the tree and be careful. I'll climb up the tallest coconut tree and see what's going on.

The coconut tree was about twenty feet tall, growing straight upwards, and there were no places to rest or lean on along the way, making it quite difficult to climb. I was so tired that I was out of breath, and it took me about half an hour to finally reach the top.

I looked back, the path I had come from was long and winding, lush and green, with trees providing ample shade. We were almost at the very center of the island. The beach on the south shore was quiet, without a soul in sight, just as it had been when we left, and there was no trace of Shirley Poplar.

I looked around and saw a towering tree a few kilometers away. It resembled a banyan tree, but had broad, heart-shaped leaves and countless branches. Its canopy, spreading out to a radius of about a mile, grew in layers, towering above the upper reaches of the forest by more than a dozen layers. It was truly the king of the forest, its imposing presence commanding respect. Countless purple fruits, the size of rugby balls, were prominently displayed among the branches, seemingly growing in pairs, hanging heavily. A faint, incense-like fragrance emanated from the tree's layers of leaves, adding to its mysterious allure. I almost leaned down from the tree to look at it.

In the past, there was another large coconut grove, marked by the King of Trees, symmetrical to the coconut grove where we encountered the blue-eyed cicadas on our way here. If you include the King of Trees, these three points form a diagonal triangle, which stands out prominently in the entire forest.

As I stared at it, a sense of déjà vu suddenly arose within me. What was this oblique triangle foreshadowing? Yet, I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Damn, something... no, a lot of it was eerie.

The fat man was already getting impatient under the tree, shouting loudly, "Hurry up, Lao Hu, have you found Shirley Yang yet?"

I slid down the coconut tree and told Fatty about seeing the King of Trees and the oblique triangle combination, and analyzed what to do.

Fatty Wang was stunned. He actually wanted to climb up again to take another look.

We analyzed the situation for a while but couldn't reach any useful conclusions. With Shirley Yang's fate still unknown, we could only keep going and try our luck.

The fat man's rascal nature resurfaced, and he shouted, "Who cares? Let's go take a look. Maybe we can find the pirates' lair and get big chests and chests of gold nuggets."

I said, what if we run into the pirates?

The fat man froze, clearly only thinking of the gold nuggets and not whether there were pirates in the pirate's lair. He shouted, "Anyway, I'll kill anyone who stands in my way! Damn it, pirates! Anyone who tries to stop me from making my fortune, I'll chop them down! I still need to find Shirley Yang, let's go!" He brandished his military knife, even making a gesture as if he were splitting a mountain in two.

Without further ado, we rushed over and finally stood at the foot of the Tree King.

Volume One: The Ancient Tomb at the Cape, Chapter Sixteen: The Bodhi Tree

The sight before us left us speechless.

In the heart of the forest, on an area spanning nearly ten acres, stands a single tree growing quietly. However, from below, one sees only a dense canopy of aerial roots, countless of them cascading down from the main trunk and branches, deeply embedded in the soil. Larger aerial roots sprout smaller ones, truly a continuous chain of roots, stretching as far as the eye can see. Some of these aerial roots are as thick as two or three people could encircle, while others are as thin as chopsticks. They all dangle from mid-air before taking root in the earth. Without close inspection, one might mistake them for individual trees, growing from the soil, gradually developing branches and leaves. But looking upwards, they appear as a single, overwhelming canopy. Peering through the gaps in the aerial roots, the interior is dark and obscured, though one can imagine the trunk is at least as thick as thirty or fifty people could encircle.

I took a few steps back and looked up at the tree. Strangely, I noticed that the branches on the sunny side were a vibrant green, covered in dense foliage, while the branches on the shady side were entirely frosty white, covered with snow-white tender leaves. Standing at this dividing point, the tree appeared sharply contrasting, half green and half white, as if composed of two completely different halves. Moreover, the sunny green branch bore deep purplish-red, rugby-shaped fruits, while the shady white branch bore light bluish-brown, semi-circular fruits, swaying in the wind among the misty foliage like layers of little monkeys giggling.

I pointed it out to the fat guy, and he was amazed.

As we watched intently, a long cry suddenly rang out, and a pair of red-crowned birds with long necks and slender legs burst forth from the branches, circling and intertwining their necks before soaring straight into the clouds. The delicate, lingering cry echoed endlessly, each note higher than the last, until it disappeared into the high-altitude mists, its melody seemingly swirling and reverberating through the forest. The entire forest seemed to be transported into a profound and serene atmosphere by this song.

"I know," the fat man said excitedly. "That's right, that bird is a red-crowned crane. Only the red-crowned crane, the mount of immortals, has such a moving cry."

I nodded, but before I could speak, a deep purple fruit fell vertically from the sky, crashing heavily to the ground in front of me like a cannonball.

I bent down and picked it up. The two parts of this bowl-sized fruit were tightly connected. The whole body was covered with dark purple spots, but it was actually light gray in texture. Near the stem, there were three oval bracts that were as hard as bone and leather, tightly wrapping half of the fruit.

The fat man asked me, "Can I eat this?"

I used a Swiss Army knife to cut open the fruit, revealing milky white flesh inside, with a sweet and fragrant juice, and a heart-shaped, walnut-sized golden pit in the center.

The fat man took it out and exclaimed, "Hey, why is there an image of a monk here?"

Upon closer inspection, I noticed a faint image of a monk seated on a lotus throne on the fruit pit, which emitted a soft golden light.

A halo of Buddha?! It suddenly occurred to me that the monk sitting cross-legged on a lotus pedestal was an image of the Buddha.

By the way, this tree is the legendary Bodhi tree, a precious treasure of Buddhism.

The Bodhi tree, also known as the Indian Bodhi tree, Pippala tree, or the tree of enlightenment, originated in India, Myanmar, Sri Lanka, and other regions. In the first year of the Tianjian era of Emperor Wu of Liang (502 AD), the monk Zhiyao Sanzang brought a Bodhi tree back from Xizhu (India) and planted it at Wangyuan Temple in Guangzhou (later renamed Guangxiao Temple). From then on, the Bodhi tree began to grow in my country. The word "Bodhi" is a transliteration from Sanskrit, meaning enlightenment or wisdom. Buddhism has always regarded the Bodhi tree as a sacred tree, and India has designated it as its national tree. This is because, according to Buddhist legend, more than 2,500 years ago, Buddha Shakyamuni was originally Prince Siddhartha Gautama of the Kapilavastu Kingdom in northern India (present-day Nepal). As a young man, he renounced his worldly life to cultivate himself, enduring numerous hardships and dangers. Finally, after meditating under the Bodhi tree for seven days and seven nights, he overcame his inner demons and attained enlightenment.

According to the "Buddha" scroll of the "Sixteen-Character Yin-Yang Feng Shui Secret Techniques" kept in my family, Bodhi trees are extremely rare, and a towering tree like this, covering an area of several acres, is even rarer. Legend has it that the Bodhi tree is a sacred tree in Buddhism, and its presence symbolizes a pure land. Its fruit is called Bodhi fruit, also known as Buddha fruit or sacred fruit. Especially the ten-thousand-year-old sacred fruit; if ordinary people eat it, they may experience lightness of body and mind, immunity to all diseases, and even immortality and ascension to heaven. Generally, a Bodhi tree only begins to flower after a hundred years, begins to bear fruit after a thousand years, and takes ten thousand years for the fruit to ripen and fall from the tree, making it extremely precious.

Although the account in the book is too fantastical to be readily believed, a comprehensive analysis at least suggests that the Bodhi fruit is not poisonous.

Fatty and I quickly devoured the Bodhi fruit. It tasted wonderful, sweet and refreshing—the most delicious food we'd had since escaping the sea. I hid the pit and oval bracts in my backpack, just in case. Since it's a sacred fruit, it should have some detoxifying and warding-off-evil properties, right?

The fat man wanted to climb up again and pick a few more Bodhi fruits to take with him.

I grabbed his arm and said, "No, according to the records, unripe, fallen sacred fruits are extremely poisonous; eating them will cause bleeding from all seven orifices and immediate death. If we're lucky, let's find a few that have fallen from the tree."

The fat man muttered, "Really? That's really strange."

We walked around the tree for an hour, but found no more ripe or fallen fruit.

Just as they were about to leave, continuing towards the coconut grove ahead, the fat man stumbled, stepping into a ditch under a thick layer of fallen leaves and twisting his ankle. He cursed and sat down heavily on the ground.

I rushed over, brushed aside the fallen leaves, and was astonished to find a brand-new footprint of a giant animal. The entire footprint was the size of a winnowing basket, with four toes deeply embedded in the ground at the edge of the foot, and sharp nails at the front, digging into the ground to form four small cone-shaped holes.

Its direction is away from the Bodhi tree, which is the same as our direction of travel.

"To go or not to go?" the fat man asked, looking at me.

I asked him, "How's your foot? Can you still walk?"

The fat man rubbed his feet and stretched them a few times before saying, "It's nothing, finding Shirley Yang is the priority."

I patted Fatty on the shoulder, touched. "Good brother, I thank you on behalf of Shirley Yang."

"Who the hell made us brothers who grew up together like naked kids? I'll risk my life for you! Brothers united, their strength can break metal! We'll cut down any monster!" His heroic ambition resurfaced.