Chapter 838: Midnight Omen “Bell”

In the An’nan Prison Administration Office, a female staff member was sternly explaining the procedures for visiting prisoners to the person on the other end of the phone call. She concluded, “It must be a direct relative or someone accompanied by a direct relative. Otherwise, you must prove that the prisoner has no direct relatives left. Do you understand? Hello? Hello? Hello?”

The other end of the line was completely silent, devoid of any response, as though no one had ever been there. At the same time, a slightly eerie breeze blew through, causing the telephone to spark with faint arcs of electricity, making the female staff member involuntarily shiver. She recalled the horror movie she had watched the previous night. Such situations were classic tropes—whenever a malevolent ghost appeared, there were always signs like malfunctioning electronics, inexplicable gusts of wind, or distinctly eerie phone calls.

“Could that person be too impatient?” the female staff member quickly rationalized.

However, the moment this excuse surfaced in her mind, her gaze froze. The other end of the line hadn’t even hung up—it was as though the person had suddenly vanished. Moreover, the video camera on the call appeared to have been malfunctioning the entire time, failing to transmit the caller’s image.

With all these strange occurrences stacking up, her heart raced like a war drum.

An’nan Prison housed serious offenders. Every year, there were prisoners who committed suicide or died at the hands of prison bullies. Among the staff circulated many ghost stories. Many areas in the prison were so chilling that, aside from the most daring individuals, most night shift workers always felt a bit anxious. Faced with this “classic scene,” how could she not imagine the worst?

The wind howled, and the other end of the line remained silent. Finally unable to bear it, the female staff member abruptly stood up and rushed to the neighboring technical department—the Surveillance and Control Center—which monitored and controlled every corner of the prison, including the office itself. She could use it to check whether something strange had actually occurred or if it had just been her imagination.

Knocking on the door and verifying her identity, the cheerful on-duty personnel at the Surveillance and Control Center opened the triple security locks. “Hey, Zhu Lin, what brings you here all of a sudden? Bringing us midnight snacks?”

Zhu Lin had no mood for jokes. She cut straight to the point, “I just took a consultation call. Thinking back, something felt off. Who would call for consultation in the middle of the night? Plus, there was something odd about the office!”

“Please check the office surveillance footage. I’m afraid something unexpected might have happened.”

She never mentioned her fear of ghosts, only stating that she had detected anomalies.

The on-duty personnel hesitated slightly, “Without the supervisor’s signature, we can’t access the surveillance footage.”

“What’s the big deal? You often review surveillance footage to confirm issues—just do it like normal, pretend I’m not here.” Zhu Lin insisted.

Looking at Zhu Lin, the on-duty personnel was quite surprised. She had always been easygoing, so why was she so determined today? Could she really have sensed something unusual?

Thinking this, he disregarded the rules and quickly returned to the surveillance room, replaying the footage from the management office over the past five minutes.

No matter how perfect or strict the rules and regulations were, as long as humans were involved in their execution, there would always be loopholes—because the human heart itself had vulnerabilities!

Standing behind the on-duty personnel, Zhu Lin watched the footage rewind with a hint of tension. The phone rang normally, the conversation was normal, but in the sealed room, a chilling wind had indeed suddenly blown through. The video phone had indeed flickered with arcs of electricity—something particularly horrifying in the dead of night.

“Damn…” the on-duty personnel blurted out, beginning to understand why Zhu Lin had come to check the footage.

But after that, everything appeared normal again, with no further anomalies.

“That’s nothing unusual…” the on-duty personnel frowned.

Just then, he noticed a pale, sinister, blurry face appear on the screen—an image not from the surveillance footage inside the office, but a reflection!

Zhu Lin saw it too. Her pupils constricted violently. The surveillance footage showed nothing abnormal, but the screen itself had issues, actually reflecting the image of a stranger!

A stranger standing behind her?

No!

Instinctively, they turned around, only to see a pale figure floating midair, surrounded by a chilling breeze.

A ghost! They wanted to scream but couldn’t utter a sound. Their vision blacked out, their legs weakened, and they collapsed to the ground, about to lose consciousness.

Before they fainted, they vaguely saw the “ghost” float to the surveillance monitor, intently watching the footage of every part of the prison.

“These days, even ghosts know how to watch surveillance footage…”

“What use is there for a ghost to watch surveillance footage…”

As these thoughts flashed through their minds, the two completely lost consciousness, their hearts filled with confusion, shock, and a profound sense of absurdity.

The surveillance monitors filled the room, divided into grids, displaying every cell, every office, every security checkpoint, and every corner of the prison. Meng Qi’s eyes flickered with light as he swiftly scanned through them, absorbing everything into his sight, searching for the group hiding here—the group carrying the mysterious fragments!

They must be reassembling the special device, and they would surely act differently from other prisoners. Through surveillance, everything would become clear.

Using the Dao Yi Seal and distant karmic vision to roughly narrow down the range, while high-tech equipment could discern the details. Sometimes, combining both yielded miraculous results, and Meng Qi excelled at precisely this. That’s why he used the Yuanxin Seal to influence Zhu Lin, tricking her into disabling the defense mechanisms around the surveillance control center!

Time flew by quickly. Meng Qi had already taken in all the surveillance footage, imprinting them onto his mind lake, continuously rotating and comparing them, but he found nothing unusual.

“There’s nothing unusual—that itself is the biggest anomaly!” Meng Qi muttered to himself. Through karmic connections, he could be certain that the people from the Celestial Game Company were here. How could there be no sign of them?

This meant someone was helping to conceal them!

And the fact that they had successfully infiltrated An’nan Prison proved that already!

Meng Qi pondered briefly and watched the surveillance monitors again, this time cross-referencing them with the layout of An’nan Prison to identify any areas without cameras or with flawed surveillance coverage.

A few minutes later, Meng Qi’s lips curled into a smirk as he thought to himself, “Finally got you!”

Within one of the surveillance frames, the scene wasn’t fully displayed—only half was visible, as though someone had deliberately adjusted the camera angle. Everything else appeared normal.

With the clue identified, Meng Qi clasped his hands behind his back and left the room, politely closing the door behind him.

Shortly afterward, he appeared outside Cell Block Eight—the location where the surveillance anomaly had occurred.

Outside the cell block, numerous genetically modified guards stood on high alert. Beyond them, twisted yet powerful electromagnetic fields surged, along with reaction devices as intense as solar flares.

These were all designed to counter spirits and nascent souls that had not yet transformed their yin essence into yang.

Meng Qi’s nascent soul was strong, and he had cultivated the Divine Thunder Nine Annihilations and the Overlord’s Six Severances. He bore the mark of lightning, allowing him to withstand a certain level of current or sunlight under his control. However, when faced with currents or sunlight beyond his control, he could still suffer direct damage to his soul and risk exposure. Moreover, without a physical body, maintaining his soul outside its vessel was inherently limited, requiring constant reattachment.

Thinking briefly, Meng Qi reached into the nearby electrical wires, his form phasing through the surface to directly contact the current.

Zzzt! Controlled currents surged toward him, coalescing into a silvery-white body. Instantly, the entire An’nan Prison lost power, and the entire Xi’nan region plunged into darkness!

With electrical energy forming his body, Meng Qi could no longer move freely through telephone lines and other conduits, effectively gaining a temporary physical form. But at this moment, if stealth wouldn’t work, he would resort to brute force!

A widespread blackout wouldn’t go unnoticed by the government, but they would need time to react. Meng Qi was counting on that very time gap!

As darkness fell, the guards suddenly felt a surge of terror. Then they saw a giant, ten feet tall, step forward—its form woven from crackling silver lightning, radiating an aura of raw power.

The giant threw a punch, sending chaotic arcs of electricity surging outward, colliding violently with the surrounding magnetic fields and reactor systems.

Flames erupted, and blinding flashes of white light burst outward.

Boom!

A deafening explosion rang out, and a fire-laced mushroom cloud billowed into the sky, as though a small nuclear bomb had detonated.

The shockwave tore through Cell Block Eight, and the guards didn’t even have time to utter a sound before being vaporized.

The cell block collapsed completely. The partially reassembled special device was once again reduced to dust. Several high-ranking executives and core members of the Celestial Game Company were turned into charred, dismembered corpses.

Amid the ruins, a flickering fragment floated silently, its surface swirling with misty energy, impossible to see clearly.

Meng Qi swiftly approached, but suddenly, his vision shifted, and the fragment grew larger in his sight.

In an instant, the scene changed. The prison vanished, the sky and earth disappeared. Before Meng Qi’s eyes, the fragment was no longer there, but instead, a massive corpse—nearly filling his entire field of vision—appeared!

This corpse had its eyes tightly shut, lying within chaos, wrapped in swirling misty energy. Its body was semi-transparent, and within it, vast oceans, undulating mountains, sun, moon, and stars faintly flickered, as though concealing another universe within!

Was the Black Mountain Demon World born from this body? A thought flashed through Meng Qi’s mind.

Just then, the corpse’s eyes suddenly flew open!