Chapter 116 | Screenwriter of a Reviving World

The Special Investigation Bureau and the “master” hired by the Lu Group spent the entire day searching the building.

They found absolutely nothing unusual, and no one else heard the so-called “sound of dragging chains” that Lu Bingkun claimed to hear.

“Useless... trash... useless...”

Lu Bingkun's heart was pounding wildly. He inhaled oxygen in large gulps while a nearby nurse quickly patted his chest to soothe him.

He had heard it so clearly.

In the dead of night, the sound of chains dragging across the floor had passed by, and right after that, a patient downstairs who had failed surgery passed away.

Clang, clang, clang...

Even though it was currently daytime, it felt as if he could still hear that sound echoing.

Having risen from the lowest rungs of society and spent decades immersed in the business world of Hong Kong, he was incredibly superstitious—how could he not have heard of underworld messengers reaping souls?

It was said that before people died, they often heard or saw things that others couldn't.

Some saw the Black and White Impermanence, some saw deceased loved ones, and others heard bizarre, unnatural noises.

At this thought, cold sweat poured off Lu Bingkun. His body, already chilled from using the 【Rouge Mud】, felt even more bone-chillingly cold.

This was the city hospital's top VIP floor.

The entire floor was completely isolated and sealed off, strictly off-limits to unauthorized personnel.

At night, janitors and unrelated staff were banned from patrolling, and even medical staff were forbidden to approach unless it was an emergency.

Even in the worst-case scenario—if one of his unfilial children wanted to seize the family fortune and was trying to bump off their father early—

there was no way he would be the only one to hear this eerie sound of dragging chains.

...

The next day, at the exact same time—one o'clock in the morning.

A dead silence enveloped the ward once more.

Clang—

The sound of iron chains dragging across the floor rang out right on schedule.

This time, the rattling of the chains was even clearer and more frequent than the night before.

The sound seemed to linger right outside the ward.

It was as if something dragging heavy shackles was standing guard at his door, slowly pacing back and forth.

What was it doing?

What was it trying to confirm?

What would happen if it came inside?

“Go... Go look.”

Lu Bingkun could not sleep at all. Cold sweat drenched his body, and not even using his supernatural items could suppress the mounting terror in his heart.

“What on earth is out there?!”

He demanded hoarsely. The nurses, agents, and night shift security guards immediately began searching the entire corridor.

They didn't even spare the fire escapes, equipment shafts, and elevator shafts.

But after searching every corner and pulling up the security footage, they found nothing.

The screens were completely clear. No one had walked through the floor the entire night, let alone any “entity wandering the halls dragging iron chains.”

Once again, not a single soul besides him heard the sound.

The two Special Investigation Bureau agents even turned on their supernatural detection terminal, but the data showed everything was perfectly normal.

Although there were some fluctuations in spiritual energy, they were well within the normal range—perfectly consistent with Jiangcheng's average spiritual energy level.

The two agents exchanged glances, both secretly wondering if this was just an excuse Lu Bingkun had concocted to evade his punishment.

Or perhaps he really was on his deathbed and had entered a state of medical delirium.

...

“Chairman, there is indeed nothing out of the ordinary.”

Having personally supervised the floor-by-floor search, his personal secretary bowed and reported in a low voice.

“There are no anomalies in the surveillance footage, and there are no equipment malfunctions. No person or device is making any chain-dragging sounds.”

The secretary was a trusted confidant who had served Lu Bingkun for over a decade—one of his own.

So... was he really about to die?

Had the underworld messenger come to reap his soul?

Lu Bingkun stared blankly at the ceiling, squeezing out a single sentence from between his clenched teeth:

“Pack our things. We are returning to One Summit. Contact Master Zhang in Hong Kong.”

One Summit was a premier, secluded hillside estate in Jiangcheng. Spanning three thousand square meters, it featured its own private medical center and sterile recuperation ward.

It was equipped with twenty-four-hour climate-controlled security, independent power and water systems, private gardens, a heated pool, a home theater, a card room, a private KTV, and other amenities.

Every single property under Lu Bingkun's name was fully equipped with intensive care medical equipment, with a professional private medical team on standby at all times.

Without a moment's hesitation, the secretary contacted the Special Investigation Bureau to request the transfer and arrange medical coordination.

The Special Investigation Bureau was naturally willing to let him go.

After ruling out the possibility of any "supernatural entity causing trouble," they assigned two more agents to accompany him and maintain close, twenty-four-hour supervision.

Thus, at noon that day, under the full escort of a motorcade, Lu Bingkun was smoothly transferred to the One Summit hillside estate to recuperate.

...

Built against the mountainside, the estate faced south, surrounded by lush, dense forests and offering a sweeping, unobstructed view.

On Lu Bingkun's first night at the estate, everything was peaceful.

The night breeze rustled through the trees, and the faint chirping of insects filled the air.

There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

Lu Bingkun's frayed nerves, which had been tense for days, finally relaxed a little.

But this peace lasted for only a single night.

Late on the fourth night, at eleven o'clock, he heard that familiar, terrifying sound of dragging iron chains once more:

“Clang—”

The familiar, bone-chilling sound of a death summons echoed right on schedule outside the main building.

Then, the sound began to wander inside—through the living room, up the stairs, along the second-floor corridor, outside his bedroom door, and through the courtyard just beyond the French windows...

It was as if countless sounds were closing in from all directions, drifting back and forth continuously.

Clang, clang, clang.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

It grew closer and closer, sounding increasingly aggressive and impatient.

Finally, the sound abruptly stopped right outside his door.

It was right there.

It had found him.

It was about to enter.

Lu Bingkun choked on his breath, a sharp pain lancing through his heart, and he blacked out on the spot.

Fortunately, his medical team immediately began emergency resuscitation.

The medical staff worked frantically through the night, finally dragging him back from the brink of death once more.

What drove Lu Bingkun to utter despair was this:

Throughout the thousands of square meters of the estate, not a single security guard, medical worker, servant, or even Special Investigation Bureau agent had heard a thing.

He could afford to ignore the police and mock the law.

But in the face of an invisible, intangible death summons from which there was no escape—

“Hurry! Right now! Immediately!”

Lu Bingkun took a deep breath of oxygen and rasped out his order:

“Bring Master Zhang here from Hong Kong! Spare no expense, do it now!”

The Master Zhang he spoke of was, of course, the Hong Kong occultist who had spent decades designing his feng shui layouts and performing rituals to ward off evil.

He was also the only outsider Lu Bingkun had ever unconditionally trusted in his entire life.

After all, when he had murdered his first wife Chen Shulan, sealed her tomb to amass wealth, and set up the copper coin soul-suppression array, the entire affair had been handled by this master.

The secretary did not dare delay for even a second, immediately utilizing all his connections to contact Master Zhang, who was already in semi-retirement.

At five o'clock in the morning, as the first light of dawn broke, a thin mist shrouded the hillside estate.

The overseas video call was finally connected.

In the video feed, Master Zhang wore a plain Daoist robe. His face was weathered with age, and his eyes were narrow and long.

After listening to the description from Lu Bingkun's personal secretary, he couldn't help but frown.

“Chairman Lu, it is too late.”

“Decades ago, I laid down the soul-suppression wealth-gathering array for you. I used the fortune and skeletal remains of your first wife, along with the bones of the eldest young master, to craft the 'Mother-and-Son Heart-to-Heart Wealth-Attraction Formation.' I also used the Chen family's ancestral graves to block the negative feng shui forces.

“Only then did we defy heaven to change your destiny, forcibly gathering immense wealth into your life.

“At the time, I already warned you that this method was highly sinister and would severely damage your karmic virtue and lifespan.

“Now that the underworld messengers are coming for your soul, it means your time has come, Chairman Lu. Even I am powerless.”

“Master, save me,”

Lu Bingkun pleaded, summoning the very last of his strength.

“Didn't you calculate my life before? You said I could live to a hundred! I'm only eighty-seven right now. I clearly still have thirteen years left to live!”

On the other end of the video, Master Zhang's body stiffened, and he shook his head inwardly.

How could there possibly be such a convenient thing in this world as using human corpses and ashes to extend one's life and attract wealth?

If such a method actually worked, the ancient emperors would have achieved immortality long ago.

Besides, among those who practiced orthodox Daoism, who would ever dare to take a job from Lu Bingkun?

In his line of work, it all boiled down to a simple formula: deception and trickery... just to provide clients with some emotional comfort.

Now, everyone was saying that some sort of Instance had appeared in Jiangcheng and that real ghosts were running amok. He wasn't stupid; he wasn't about to blindly rush over there just to throw his life away.

“The span of a human life is profound and mysterious, far beyond what we mere mortals can comprehend.”

Thinking this, Master Zhang coughed, preparing to make an excuse to decline.

“Chairman Lu, I am currently in Thailand for quiet cultivation. Here in Chiang Mai, monsters like the Krasue have appeared... I truly cannot get away.”