Chapter Fifteen: The Revival of Water Plants

The bus sank into the water, bubbles swirling before gradually settling, leaving only the ripples caused by raindrops falling into the water.

The harrowing scene left Ye Feifan deeply shaken—he had almost perished beneath the surface just moments ago.

That driver in the red jacket was suspicious!

Trusting his instincts, Ye Feifan knew the man in red was fully capable of trapping him inside the bus. Moreover, the reason his sword had been able to pry open the door seemed linked to the driver’s subtle assistance.

Was he pleading for help?

The side quest assigned by the system was cunningly insidious, indirectly disrupting all of Ye Feifan’s plans. At this moment, investigating Zhang Da’s household was impossible.

The two side quests conflicted in timing: the “Knocking at Midnight” mission could only proceed on another rainy night, while “Deadly Bus” was only halfway complete. If he left before dawn, the entire bus ride would be for nothing.

Ye Feifan glanced at his watch—4 a.m., two hours before daybreak.

In ancient times, the Mao hour spanned from 5 to 7 a.m., marking sunrise or dawn. Currently, Tianzi City was in summer, with daylight arriving early; by six, roosters crowed—the true break of day.

Compared to modern times, the cultivation world’s craftsmanship in making instruments was quite advanced. Producing clocks wasn’t difficult; with blueprints, mass manufacturing was efficient.

Ye Feifan planned to collaborate with the appraisal auction house to bring clockmaking into the cultivation world, profiting greatly while introducing the concept of precise timekeeping.

Shaking his head, he stood firm with his sword, steadying the trembling Zhang Da.

“Hold on for two more hours... Are you alright?”

Zhang Da’s face was pale with fear as he stammered, “I-I’m fine... but what was that just now?”

Once assured Zhang Da could stand, Ye Feifan released his grip, sheathing his bloodstained sword behind his back. “That was an ill omen. You’re lucky—if we’d been even a step slower, neither of us would have escaped.”

“Thank you, brother, for saving my life...” Zhang Da was a frivolous scoundrel, but now he had to rely on Ye Feifan. After all, he owed his life and couldn’t be too prideful to express gratitude.

“No thanks yet. The danger isn’t over. Who was the man sitting in the front? What did you see inside? And where did that huge magical treasure come from?”

Having been in the dark before boarding, Ye Feifan seized the opportunity to ask questions, hoping to glean some answers.

He concealed his knowledge of the bus’s nature to keep Zhang Da unaware—otherwise, his mission would fail.

“That thing is called a public bus. The man in front is the driver, the master who controls the bus...” Zhang Da didn’t withhold information, recounting how he boarded at Beichen Teahouse, obeyed the voting rules, and what else happened inside.

Most importantly, he saw a bloodied person pressed against the bus window outside, nearly scaring him to death.

“Someone outside the window?” Ye Feifan was puzzled. He hadn’t seen anyone, only traces of blood. Had he missed something?

“Did the driver act strangely?”

“Yes, he once asked an elderly man on the bus a question.”

“What was it?”

“He asked if the old man had seen his Nini.”

“Nini?” Ye Feifan guessed it might be the driver’s daughter, but it could also be his wife or girlfriend; many young people affectionately call loved ones Nini or Huahua.

The driver was from the modern era, known for their quick wit and steady driving. Nini was likely just a term of endearment for a relative or close friend.

“Did you recognize anyone on the bus?”

“No, but the elderly man’s name was Chen Yi.”

“Chen Yi?”

“Yes. My servant went to gather information. The old man claimed to own Beichen Teahouse and asked if the servant had seen his granddaughter, Cuihua.”

“How did the driver react?”

“He didn’t seem to notice.”

Ye Feifan stroked his chin, glancing around the silent surroundings. The cobblestone road beneath their feet was smooth, but sitting on the bus had felt eerily still—no vibration at all.

He was stunned. Suddenly, he realized the bus had no wheels!

It was floating!

He shivered involuntarily. The rain had lessened, but the fog was thick and darkness enveloped everything—no lights visible. This was a bad omen!

“This place isn’t safe. We should escape first. You carry heavy yin energy; there’s likely something unclean at your home. Follow me closely, and don’t get lost!”

The rain drenched Ye Feifan’s face, resembling a black-and-white photograph of someone weeping. Zhang Da felt a chill as well. He no longer cared about the whereabouts of Servant One and Servant Two, nodding frantically.

“Drowning River... Run!” Without hesitation, Ye Feifan grabbed Zhang Da’s hand and sprinted. Were it not for the fear of the ill omen catching Zhang Da, he wouldn’t have acted so cautiously. The Zhang family estate still awaited exploration.

They dashed through the rain, the cobblestones painfully jabbing their soles. Zhang Da dared not complain; Ye Feifan’s mysterious origins and swift judgment had saved him from drowning.

---

The north wind howled as countless thick and thin black water plants grew on both sides of the bridge, swaying aimlessly like strands of a woman’s hair and arms. The sight nearly made Ye Feifan throw Zhang Da into the water in fright.

Water plants?

He remained wary, drawing his sword and slicing through a few blocking their path. The severed plants withered on the bridge, blood-red liquid oozing from their wounds.

A few plants were manageable, but hundreds attacking together whipped them mercilessly. Their clothes were shredded as if cut by blades, and blood flowed freely from their wounds.

After ten years of nightmares—when Ye Feifan had been chased by blade-like harrows—these water plants’ lashes were minor, at most slowing him down.

After twenty minutes of running, they still hadn’t reached the crossroads and sensed something was wrong.

“Ghost wall!” Ye Feifan almost spat blood in frustration. Whatever he feared appeared. Was heaven mocking his worries?

He tried to break the ghost wall by checking the Big Dipper’s position!

Looking up, the sky was overcast; the rain was light, the thunder and lightning weak. Not a single star was visible.

The yin energy was too dense!

Ye Feifan’s large black umbrella was already stored in the system space. Ignoring the rain, he dashed forward, his bloodied sword perhaps offering some protection. Yet, if the water plants increased, the killing aura would be useless. This was only the normal mode; nightmare mode would be fatal.

“I… can’t run anymore...” Zhang Da gasped heavily, as if his lungs might burst. His expression alone revealed immense suffering.

A Fourth Tribulation cultivator so weak?

Ye Feifan chuckled. At this rate, they’d be caught soon. He had no choice but to shout, “Hold your head and lie down—don’t let go!”

Terrified, Zhang Da obeyed immediately. Ye Feifan tore a strip of cloth from his back, binding Zhang Da’s legs, grabbed the crossbar, and started running.

“Ah—ouch, ouch, be gentle...” Zhang Da’s pitiful wails were lively, but Ye Feifan paid no mind.

Zhang Da’s back bounced on the cobblestones, wounds countless; even his head was battered by stones. Tears streamed down his face. If this were fake crying, he could rival seasoned actors eating noodles with soybean paste.

(+﹏+)~

[PS: Prosperity, democracy, civility, harmony; freedom, equality, justice, rule of law; patriotism, dedication, integrity, friendliness.]