Yang Jian and Xu Feng were at each other's throats just a moment ago, bearing looks that said "I can't stand the sight of you, and you can't stand the sight of me," ready to throw down.
But as the mournful cry echoed from the woods near the road, they both stopped their argument as if in agreement, their nerves tensely and subconsciously tightening as they looked in the direction of the sobbing.
They both knew all too well what that crying signified.
The Crying Tomb Ghost was nearby.
And it was very likely that it had already set its sights on them.
It could be deduced from the conversation between Xu Feng and the man with the duckbill cap that although the ghosts that alighted from the bus might leave, there's also a chance that they didn't depart entirely but lingered nearby.
The current situation was the latter.
"Don't start trouble at a time like this—if there's something to sort out, we'll do it on the bus later."
