Chapter 92: The Changing Portrait

Chapter 92: The Changing Portrait

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

The sun finally broke through the horizon, signaling the start of a new day.

Miles had remained vigilant throughout the dark hours, seated stoically within the dimly lit mourning hall. Even though fatigue hadnt overtaken him, the sheer emotional and mental stress from the situation had taken its toll. Hours upon hours of continuous surveillance of the coffin in the hall, expecting any form of paranormal activity would undoubtedly drain anyone. To put it bluntly, this kind of tension could bring even the toughest person to their knees.

Yet, there was something unusual about Miles at this moment. He wasnt entirely human, and this perhaps explained why he hadnt sought any respite. When facing such crucial circumstances, enduring extreme exhaustion becomes a necessity.

Staring at the coffin, Miles mused, The coffin hasnt been tampered with or disturbed all night. Not once did any malevolent entity confront me during my watch. It seems my prior assumptions were indeed accurate. His eyes, though, told another story. They were a deep shade of red, so intense that even without his supernatural sight, one could mistake them as belonging to a ghost.

The risk he had taken the previous night was not a small one. He had attempted to understand the connection between the malicious ghosts and this particular coffin. From what he could piece together, not one but both the troubled souls from the village seemed intrinsically linked to it. However, one enigma haunted him: Why had the entity known as the Sick Ghost specifically orchestrated a meeting of all the ghost tamers the night before? What was the motive?

Although he had numerous facts and observations, connecting them into a coherent narrative proved difficult. However, he thought, Im now confident that the genuine spirit is trapped within this coffin. I must devise a plan to ensure it stays that way. His gaze shifted to a body bag nearby. He had invested a hefty 20 million in it, and he hoped it would prove its worth.

His earlier hesitation stemmed from uncertainty about the coffins actual contents. The consequences couldve been dire if he had made a wrong move and the ghost was still roaming free.

Mulling over his next move, Miles rose from his seated position, stretching his limbs, which had grown slightly stiff. Despite the looming danger, he knew he needed to act, and as he took steps towards the coffin with intentions to pry it open with his ghostly abilities, an unexpected sight caught him off guard.

A group of villagers adorned in traditional funeral attire, gathered at the entrance of the hall, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion.

Who might you be? And what business do you have here? The stern voice belonged to an elderly man who declared, You must leave this instant! This is not some venue for outsiders to disrupt. You have the audacity to meddle in our mourning hall. If you dont leave now, Ill ensure you regret it.

This sudden confrontation left Miles startled.

Could these villagers genuinely be here to grieve and pay their respects, oblivious to the supernatural threat inside the coffin? Was this an example of undying devotion?

Desperately wanting to avoid a confrontation, Miles began, Esteemed elders, I implore you to hear me out.

The old mans patience had clearly run thin as he snapped, Enough of your words! Out, now! Without waiting for any response, he grabbed Miles, attempting to forcefully remove him from the premises.

Sensing the rising tension, Miles quickly said, Please understand, esteemed elder. I havent been upfront with you. The person who lies here is my elder brother. Ive always affectionately referred to him as big brother, implying that I am his younger kin. The news of his sudden passing reached me a few days back, and the weight of the grief was so immense that I immediately made the journey to this village, driving through the night, just to be here and pay my last respects.

My emotions were in such disarray upon learning of his demise that I found solace in being close to him one last time, even if it meant spending an entire night beside his coffin. I can only hope youll sympathize with my state.

An older lady, seemingly amused by the unfolding scene, couldnt resist adding, That cant be right. The deceased was an only child.

Miles inwardly groaned, wishing she had remained silent. Spinning a credible tale on the fly was challenging enough without such interruptions.

Gathering his thoughts, he said, I might have omitted a detail. Though we addressed each other as brothers, we werent biologically related. We didnt share the same parents, but our bond was unwavering, transcending blood ties. It was profound and boundless. I humbly request that you permit me to remain here, to stand by him during his final journey.

But I distinctly recall seeing you enter our village during daylight, not in the depth of night, another elderly gentleman remarked with a sharp tone. Your story doesnt align.

Miles mentally commended the mans acute memory, thinking he would be quite the adversary in a game of memory.

Attempting to maintain his composure, he replied, Did I? My mind has been a blur with grief; I could have easily lost track of time. But regardless of when I arrived, my reason for being here is genuine.

Miles leaned in, What have you discovered?

Rains response was grave, Its concerning. The individual in the portrait doesnt appear in any records of Spear City or even on a national scale. Essentially, according to all official documentation, this person doesnt exist.

Miless brows furrowed in disbelief, Nonexistent? Are you certain there hasnt been an oversight?

While the entity in the coffin might be supernatural, the portrait had to represent someone tangible, right?

Rain was adamant, Im certain. A high-powered supercomputer was used to cross-reference with the national database. The highest similarity score to the photo you provided was below 60%. I individually verified the few that had a semblance of resemblance, and none matched. Additionally, some experts in the field inspected your photograph. It appears that it might be a composite.

A composite? Miles hesitated, trying to comprehend.

Rain elucidated, Yes. It seems to be crafted by merging multiple individuals images into a singular portrait. Does that make sense?

A cold shiver passed through Miles as he glanced at the portrait displayed prominently in front of the coffin.

Something didnt sit right.

Quickly, he pulled out another phone, comparing the portrait with a photo hed captured just the previous day.

To his astonishment, there were discrepancies. While the differences were minute and required a keen eye, when compared, it was evident that the current portrait and yesterdays photo depicted slightly different individuals.

The realization was startlingwas the portrait undergoing a transformation?

Even though Miles couldnt deduce the reasoning behind this phenomenon, his instincts told him this evolving portrait did not bode well.

Hello? Miles? Are you still with me?

Snapped back to the conversation by Rains voice, she added, Regarding the old Yellow Hill Village incident files you inquired about, Ive located them. Im transmitting them to your device now. I presume you have a backup phone? Normally, ghost tamers primary phones arent equipped to receive images.

Got it, Miles replied promptly, sharing his current phone number with Rain to seamlessly transfer the files.

Within moments, the familiar chime of an email notification resonated from his phone.

With a growing sense of anticipation, Miles quickly tapped into the files associated with Yellow Hill Village. As he scanned the initial pages, his face drained of color, a combination of surprise and disbelief evident in his eyes.

This this cant be right. How is this even conceivable? He muttered, trying to grapple with the revelations in front of him.

The intel contained within those documents evoked a deep-seated dread, a feeling Miles hadnt experienced in a long while.

But before he could even begin to digest this new information, the distant hum of powerful engines grew louder. The noise drew closer until it crescendoed into a thunderous roar.

A convoy of three sleek sports cars made their way into the village, dust trailing in their wake.

Miles immediately recognized them. It was Yiming, with his entourage Stretch and Page. The very same trio that had ostensibly left the village the previous night. However, it seemed they hadnt ventured far and were now making their conspicuous return.