Touching the secrets deep within the soul doesn't necessarily require hands; head and face collisions will suffice too.
Scenes of memory flashed through Han Fei's brain sea. The monster in the cubicle seemed to be the old man's own son, and it appeared to have turned into this ghostly form from drinking too much of the "well water".
"Bang!"
Han Fei crashed through the window of the cubicle, his passion like fire, leaving the monster trapped inside unable to withstand it.
His arms seemed like chains, entangling with the ghost item, ignoring its rejection as he leaped into the cubicle.
The narrow cubicle had no floor tiles, and at its center was a dug-up grave.
"A grave in a guest room cubicle? This farmhouse is quite unique."
The greed black fog surged from behind Han Fei, and the monster sensed danger. Its body instantly became shriveled, turning into a puddle of black water that seeped into the grave pit.
"Good lad! Fast runner!"
