[Fifteen] John Chen Defeats Two Great Protectors
54
Friday the 13th, black and ominous, a gloomy haze covered the earth, and the coldness seeped into people’s hearts.
Even at noon, the sky remained gray and heavy; the dense shadowy aura made the sunlight appear pale and weak. Outside the Paradise Hotel, the street lamps glowed dimly, fog hung faintly in the air, and pedestrians were scarce. This was the place of the vampires’ night feast, and tonight was even more a gathering of chaotic demons.
Wilson stood at the entrance, with two waiters dressed in black suits standing upright behind him, their gazes vigilantly scanning each arriving guest. Above the hotel door hung a gold-embossed plaque, and directly beneath it, in English, French, German, Latin, and Chinese, it read: “Private banquet tonight, not open to the public.”
Two guests slowly approached, their shadows elongated by the light at the hotel entrance.
“Eh?” Guest A frowned, “Not open tonight?”
Wilson elegantly removed his hat, slightly bowed, revealing a standard professional smile: “Yes, my apologies.”
Guest B looked around in confusion: “What about accommodations? Can we still book a room?”
Wilson shook his head gently: “All rooms are fully booked tonight; you two may need to select another hotel nearby.”
Guest A sighed, looking quite disappointed: “What a pity. My friend highly recommended this place; we came here because of its reputation.”
They turned to leave, but after taking just a few steps, another pair of guests had already stepped onto the stairs. Wilson’s gaze tightened; these arrivals… were regulars.
Ghost Servant C squinted his eyes, scrutinizing the entrance decor: “Hey, has someone else taken over this place? I’ve never seen the reception staff before.”
Human-Ghost D lightly tapped the edge of the main door with his finger, tracing the wood grain: “It’s only been a few months since my last visit, and the entrance decor has already changed.”
Wilson raised the corners of his mouth, making an inviting gesture: “The hotel has been renovated, offering more complete, high-quality services. Fellow travelers, please come in.”
The two human-ghosts exchanged a glance, lightly smiled, and pushed open the door to enter. Inside the hotel lobby, candlelight flickered, red velvet sofas were arranged with purpose, and vintage carved oak tables were placed throughout. A faint musk fragrance filled the air. About sixty to seventy percent of the seats were occupied, all guests dressed elegantly, yet subtly emanating an unusual aura.
Among this group of “guests,” only two were not vampires.
John Chen wore a gentleman’s suit, his leather shoes polished to a mirror-like shine. He elegantly lifted a glass of red wine, pretending to savor it slowly, but in truth remained alert to every movement around him. The scent of his perfume masked his true presence, making him appear like an ordinary art dealer.
Lin Xiaoyang wore a neatly pressed waiter’s uniform, carrying a tray, weaving through the crowd. His movements were swift and composed, delivering tea and snacks steadily to each guest. To mask his own scent, he had applied a special lotion to his skin, insulating himself from the vampires’ acute sense of smell.
At this moment, the main door opened again. Wilson recognized the newcomer—it was “Phantom Hand” George. His cloak fluttered slightly, while beside him, Artis remained silent, his gaze sharp as a hawk.
Wilson immediately hid his scrutinizing look and bowed in a welcoming gesture: “Welcome to the hotel, esteemed guests.”
George squinted, his gaze scanning Wilson from head to toe: “You are…?”
“I am the newly appointed steward, nephew of the former innkeeper Robert,” Wilson replied evenly, neither humble nor arrogant.
George slightly nodded, asking no further questions, and entered the hotel lobby side by side with Artis.
As soon as they were seated, Lin Xiaoyang quickly approached with his tray, respectfully offering the menu: “Gentlemen, is there anything I may assist you with?”
George was about to casually flip through the menu when his gaze suddenly paused: “Hmm? It’s you?”
Lin Xiaoyang was also momentarily stunned, raising his eyebrows slightly: “You are… the gentleman who performed magic at the lakeside plaza yesterday?”
George chuckled lightly: “Indeed. Didn’t expect you to be a server here.”
“Yes,” Xiaoyang replied.
George slowly extended his hand: “Pleased to meet you, young man.”
Lin Xiaoyang hesitated slightly, then politely shook his hand. However, George’s fingertips touched Xiaoyang’s pulse, and in an instant, his expression shifted subtly; his eyes became deep and cold—“This guy’s pulse… pure Yang constitution!?”
Although George still smiled on the outside, a storm surged in his heart. He calmly released his hand, a strange glimmer flashing in his eyes.
At that moment, a burst of lively applause erupted. In the center of the hall, a man dressed as a clown moved among the tables, delivering food while performing various bird, beast, and insect sound effects with his mouth, amusing the vampires greatly.
George’s gaze swept over the clown, frowning slightly: “This guy… why does he look somewhat familiar?”
Adorno, noticing George’s stare, continued performing calmly, as if nothing unusual were occurring.
However, this covert confrontation, hidden beneath the currents of the night, had only just begun…
Suddenly, the hotel door was pushed open again, and a group entered in single file.
At the front, a man wore a black long cloak, walking steadily, his eyes sharp as knives, a faint, barely noticeable cold smile on his face. Wilson recognized the arrival and hurriedly bowed: “Welcome, fellow travelers.”
The arrival was none other than Jack the Ripper.
Behind him followed several subordinates. Among them, a golden-haired Eastern girl’s figure caused Lin Xiaoyang’s heart to contract instantly—
“Huijun… no, Annie!”
He suppressed his excitement, trying to keep his voice steady: “Welcome, esteemed guests, to our establishment.”
His gaze settled on Annie, yet when their eyes met, her face remained completely impassive, as if she did not recognize him at all.
Lin Xiaoyang took a deep breath, forcing himself to suppress the surging emotions.
“Start with cocktails,” Jack glanced at the menu, speaking flippantly: “Bring a Bloody Mary for this young lady.”
Lin Xiaoyang’s fingertips trembled slightly; he knew well that this night would become a silent contest of wits and strength.
55
Late at night, the hall was brightly lit, hosting a masquerade ball, with a dozen or so pairs of men and women swirling gracefully on the dance floor. Around them, nearly a hundred guests were seated, and except for Father John Chen and steward Wilson, very few were aware that a confrontation between good and evil was about to unfold.
Wilson exchanged glances with the two waiters at the entrance; the two quietly closed the main doors and locked the steel padlocks. At that moment, the music suddenly stopped, and the assembled ghosts were taken aback. Phantom Hand realized they had fallen into a trap and gave Jack the Ripper a subtle signal with his eyes.
Wilson walked into the center of the dance floor, removed his hat, and bowed: “I am the steward of this establishment, Wilson. Friends of the ghostly paths, thank you for traveling so far. Originally, we would have fulfilled the duties of a host and treated you all with hospitality. However, Princess Maria has decreed that any friends belonging to Anderson’s faction, unless they are willing to turn from evil to good, will not be allowed to leave here tonight.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the ghosts looked at each other and then automatically divided themselves into two clear sides, forming distinct lines of separation.
Qiu Shenzhi said: “Wilson, we do not belong to Anderson’s faction. We do not wish to be dragged into your conflict. May we leave?”
Wilson replied: “Friends who do not belong to Anderson’s faction, if you take the Dragon Blood Pill in my hand, you may leave shortly thereafter.”
Qiu Shenzhi, displeased, asked loudly: “Why must we take that pill? Could it be that Princess Maria intends to control us through drugs?”
Wilson smiled and said: “After taking the Dragon Blood Pill, you will no longer need to feed on human blood. You can obtain the energy to sustain your body through ordinary food, just like regular humans.”
Qiu Shenzhi asked: “Do you mean that if we take this pill, we will no longer be vampires?”
Wilson replied: “You misunderstand, painter. Even after taking this pill, you will still be vampires like me. During the effective period of the pill, you will not need to feed on human blood, and you can move about during the day like humans.”
Qiu Shenzhi asked again: “I understand. Then how long does the effect last?”
Wilson said: “Four years. After four years, at this same time, you must return here to undergo an assessment. Friends who pass the assessment will be given another Dragon Blood Pill.”
Qiu Shenzhi asked uneasily: “What circumstances would be considered failing the assessment?”
Wilson remained calm: “During these four years, if you join Anderson’s faction, you will fail the assessment. If you feed on human blood, the Dragon Blood Pill in your body will turn into a lethal poison, immediately causing your death.”
Qiu Shenzhi asked: “And if we fail the assessment and cannot take the Dragon Blood Pill again, what happens?”
Wilson said: “Your body will rapidly age and then succumb to death from exhaustion.”
Qiu Shenzhi sneered: “Heh heh! So basically, you just want to control us with a drug.”
Wilson said: “You need not always think in the worst way. The princess’s requirement is mainly to reduce conflicts between vampires and humans, so that both sides can coexist harmoniously.”
Among the ghosts, Jack sneered a few times: “Judging from your tone, you’re not insignificant, though we shall see if your actual abilities are sufficient.”
In the dimly lit center of the dance floor, ghostly blue flames flickered and danced, illuminating the audience’s faces, some excited, some fearful. Suddenly, a steady set of footsteps rang out, breaking the whispers among the apparitions.
“Snap!”
Father John Chen threw off his cloak, and his mask fell to the ground, revealing a stern and resolute face. He stepped calmly into the dance floor, reaching into his cloak to take out a sinister human-bone cross. Candlelight reflected off the pale bones, giving the entire space an even more eerie atmosphere. He looked around, his voice low but powerful: “This ghost brother speaks very practically. I, John Chen, will tonight show you all what it means to subdue demons and pacify ghosts.”
From the audience, a wave of anxious whispers arose. Many ghost followers involuntarily stepped back, their faces showing fear that could not be concealed.
“John Chen?”
“Is he the one called Gui Jianchou?”
Ghost Servant A’s fingers trembled as he pointed toward the priest, his lips pale, his voice quivering slightly: “The one rumored to have slain countless evil ghosts, making the ghost realm tremble at his name?”
A contemptuous, cold laugh sounded, and a man in a black robe stepped forward, his gaze sharp as a knife, a hint of playful amusement at the corner of his mouth. He was Phantom Hand George, a renowned master in the ghost realm. He slightly tilted his head, his eyes scanning Father John like a hawk: “I have long heard of your name, Gui Jianchou. To see the real person today, let me take this opportunity to witness your skill.”
As soon as the words fell, he suddenly flicked his sleeve, and several cold flashes shot out like a violent storm, aiming directly at John Chen’s vital points. The gleaming blades traced arcs of death in midair, striking like venomous snakes.
However, John Chen remained unflustered. He sidestepped calmly, flipping his left hand, and the human-bone cross lightly blocked the flying swords. The swords, as if guided by some invisible force, clinked “ding ding” against the cross and became firmly stuck, unable to move.
George’s pupils constricted sharply, cold sweat seeping from his temple, silently thinking: “This guy’s skill is truly unfathomable…”
The priest’s gaze was stern; his palm clenched slightly, and the cross emitted a low, resonant hum. “Phantom Hand George, you have harmed countless people. Tonight, it is time for you to atone.”
George said nothing. In the next second, his figure suddenly shifted, as if a reflection on water had split. In an instant, more than a dozen Georges appeared simultaneously around the dance floor, each holding different weapons—swords, knives, scythes, and long whips flashing in a chaotic dance. The illusions swirled, making it impossible to discern the true form.
“Come, let me see what you can do.”
All the Georges swung their weapons simultaneously, attacking the priest from all directions. Their momentum was overwhelming, and the murderous intent was unmistakable.
Father John closed his eyes slightly, slowly raising the cross in his hand, silently reciting scripture. Then, he suddenly opened his eyes and pushed off with his feet, moving like a gale through the blades and shadows. With each resounding crack, George’s illusions disappeared one by one, revealing his true body, cold sweat streaming down his forehead.
Just as George’s heart raced, a sharp murderous intent struck from behind.
“Whoosh—!”
An extremely sharp pair of steel scissors sliced through the air, glinting coldly, aiming directly at the back of the priest’s neck.
“Watch out!”
Lin Xiaoyang’s exclamation rang through the entire dance floor.
John Chen twisted his body, swiftly dodging to the side, simultaneously using the cross to block the incoming scissors. The attacker was none other than Jack the Ripper, holding blades in both hands, every strike merciless. One hand’s scissors severed heads with precision, while the other’s five fingers transformed into a surgical knife, stabbing directly at the opponent’s heart.
George and Jack worked together, left and right, shadows intertwining, each move deadly.
At first, John Chen defended to attack, but as time passed, he gradually discerned the two ghosts’ attack patterns and began to counterattack. His cross flew like an arrow from a bow, turning defense into offense, each strike targeting the opponent’s weaknesses.
“Bang!”
George received a heavy kick to the chest, rolling backward a dozen steps, his face pale, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.
“Boom!”
Jack was pushed to the corner. The priest’s fists rained down like a storm; he could not defend in time, struck violently, blood gushing, almost unable to stand.
At this moment, a slender figure suddenly rushed into the battlefield!
“No!”
Annie threw herself recklessly in front of Jack. The priest immediately stopped his punch, but it was too late. The sacred weapon struck Annie’s chest; several ribs shattered instantly, blood gushing. She staggered backward and finally collapsed into Jack’s arms, her breathing weak.
“Hui-jun—!”
Lin Xiaoyang rushed forward, grief-stricken, holding the dying Annie, tears streaming. He gritted his teeth, his voice trembling: “Why did you have to be so foolish… Hui-jun…”
The dance floor fell into deadly silence.
The priest turned, his gaze icy, sweeping toward George and Jack: “Now, taking your lives will be as easy as flipping my hand. To die, or to live, the choice is yours.”
Jack, gravely wounded, could hardly speak, but his gaze remained steadfast: “I cannot betray the duke… Brother, I’ll go first, wait for me in hell…”
Before he could finish, he raised the steel scissors and, without hesitation, severed his own neck.
“Crack!”
The head rolled away, blood spraying; all the ghosts around recoiled in horror.
George remained silent for a long moment, then slowly nodded: “I am willing to retire into seclusion…”
The priest’s gaze sharpened: “Self-destruct your martial skills, dispel the magic.”
George sighed lightly, raising his hand to sever his own tendons, blood dripping to the ground.
“Let’s go…” George whispered to his attendant, Artis.
Wilson stepped forward, offering a pill: “Dragon Blood Pill. Take it, and you may leave.”
George said nothing, took the pill, swallowed it, and then left, supporting Artis.
In the dance floor, Duke Anderson’s subordinates looked at each other, then quickly declared: “I am willing to submit to the princess…”
At this point, the tide of the battle reversed, and the outcome was decided.
Lin Xiaoyang tightly held Annie in his arms, staggering as he pushed open the door to Room 504, his steps uneven, his heart pounding like a drum. He gently laid her on the bed, trembling fingers lightly stroking her pale face. Annie’s breathing was faint, like a dying candle in the wind, ready to be extinguished at any moment.
He knelt by the bed, clutching her cold hand tightly, his eyes filled with tears. “No… no…” His voice trembled, tears sliding down onto her pale forehead. How he wished he could do something—anything—even if it meant exchanging his own life for a sliver of her chance to survive.
Suddenly, the mural on the wall quivered slightly, and a halo of light emerged from the canvas. As the scenery in the painting twisted and distorted, a figure slowly stepped out: the elderly painter Huang Lihua, draped in a long robe, holding a paintbrush, appearing in the room as if from a dream.
“Xiaoyang.” Huang Lihua’s voice was low, carrying the weight of years. His gaze fell on Annie lying on the bed, his brows furrowed. “This girl is gravely injured.”
Lin Xiaoyang lifted his head, tears still streaking his face, his voice choking: “Senior… you can save her, right?”
Huang Lihua slowly shook his head, his tone solemn: “I’m very sorry, I do not have such capability. But Xiaoyang, you must first tell me—what is your relationship with her? Why are you so determined to save her?”
Lin Xiaoyang lowered his gaze, his fists clenched so tightly they turned white. “She… disappeared for two years, and I’ve searched for her all this time.” He drew a deep breath, his throat tight. “She is my girlfriend… how could I give up?”
Huang Lihua’s eyes flickered with a complex emotion, and he sighed: “Oh? Then what about my granddaughter, Minhua? Are you going to betray her?”
Lin Xiaoyang froze, painfully closing his eyes. He knew of Minhua’s feelings for him, but right now… “Senior, please forgive me! I cannot think about that right now…”
Huang Lihua watched him quietly for a long while before finally speaking: “To ask the world what love is… Xiaoyang, perhaps there is someone who can save her.”
Lin Xiaoyang suddenly lifted his head, a glimmer of hope lighting up his eyes. “Who?”
“Princess Maria.”
“Take me to see her!” Lin Xiaoyang immediately stood up.
Huang Lihua raised his hand to stop him: “You need not go; the princess will save her. But she can only restore Annie’s body—she cannot lift the curse upon her.”
“Curse?” Lin Xiaoyang furrowed his brow, a sense of unease surging in his chest. “If the curse is not lifted, what will happen?”
“She will not regain her memory.” Huang Lihua’s words struck like a heavy hammer, pounding Lin Xiaoyang’s heart.
Lin Xiaoyang murmured softly: “Then… do I have to beg Duke Anderson?”
Huang Lihua sneered, a trace of sarcasm flashing in his eyes: “Do you think the duke would help you out of pure goodwill?”
Lin Xiaoyang took a deep breath, his gaze firm: “Even if he demands my life in exchange, I am willing.”
Huang Lihua’s expression was heavy: “Child, that is a wishful thought. The duke is an evil demon; do you really think he would honor his promise?”
Lin Xiaoyang clenched his fists, voice low and steady: “Then what should I do? Is there another way?”
Huang Lihua pondered for a moment, then spoke slowly: “There is. If you can send the duke back to hell, her curse will disappear.”
“You mean… I have to kill the duke?”
“No.” Huang Lihua’s tone was firm, his gaze piercing like a torch. “No one can kill the duke—not you, not even the princess. But you can send him back to hell, under Satan’s custody.”
Lin Xiaoyang drew a deep breath, his fists trembling slightly: “I understand… but can I really do it?”
Huang Lihua looked straight into his eyes and slowly nodded: “You can. This mission belongs to no one but you.”
Lin Xiaoyang closed his eyes, and after a moment, opened them, his gaze burning with determination. “Alright! To save Hui-jun, I am willing to face the duke in battle.”
Huang Lihua said no more. He raised his paintbrush and lightly waved it; Annie’s body on the bed floated slightly, drifting slowly toward the mural.
“Remember, never negotiate terms with the devil.” His voice was low and stern.
Lin Xiaoyang watched Annie’s form gradually merge into the mural until the last trace of her figure disappeared completely.
The room fell silent once again, leaving only the burning resolve surging within his heart.
