HLM -Chapter 823 The Ghost Car Takes Action

The little pumpkin ox-cart became Dale’s favorite gift. She played in it until nighttime. If Eva hadn’t frowned at her, she might have even wanted to sleep in it.

The ox-cart was built very sturdily. With everyone pitching in ideas, the result was naturally different. Wang Bo felt that once they dried it properly later on, the cart could easily be preserved for several years.

After that, Dale began looking forward eagerly to the arrival of Halloween.

She really wanted to take the ox-cart to town to show it off, but Wang Bo convinced her that such an amazing cart needed to be revealed only on Halloween day to deliver the full sense of surprise.

Dale agreed. Before sleeping that night, she pestered Eva to make her a countdown board. It was a bit like the perpetual calendar from Wang Bo’s hometown—tearing off one sheet meant a day had passed, and when all sheets were gone, Halloween would arrive.

Wang Bo felt it was unnecessary, since after finishing the ox-cart, only four days remained until Halloween.

On Halloween Eve, the town gradually took on a festive atmosphere. The department store was filled with decorations matching the Halloween theme. Many Halloween gifts appeared on the shelves—strange and quirky items everywhere.

Wang Bo also noticed some shops running holiday promotions: Blood Coffee, Seraph Roast, Zombie Cookies, Monster Cakes, and so on—appearing on the promotional signs.

During work, Atulu showed him a report and said, “Cars on the highway are still driving very fast. There haven’t been any accidents yet, but I feel it’s only a matter of time before something dangerous happens.”

Wang Bo frowned. “We haven’t let the ghost car out these last few days?”

Atulu gave a bitter smile. “The ghost-car rumors really did stir up conversation in nearby towns, but who knows what’s gotten into people—they’re getting bolder. They’re actually driving out to search for the ghost car.”

Wang Bo said, “Let the police cars provide cover. It’s exactly Halloween time—keep releasing the ghost car. Won’t that make the festive atmosphere even better?”

Atulu said, “Then we’ll do that.”

After work, none of the officers left the station. They stayed in the office eating takeout and playing cards.

When night fell, three police cars were prepared, and Uncle Bing drove the pickup truck acting as the ghost car onto the road.

Car speeds on Highway 8 were indeed fast. Once they reached the town center, it was better, the speed decreasing naturally. But through the sand-table model, Wang Bo could see that the distant stretches of road still had cars flying by.

Soon, the ghost car entered the relevant section, and the first target vehicle appeared.

It was a Cadillac coupe traveling at least 150 km/h. The driver was recklessly using high beams. Then suddenly, the car left a trail of skid marks as it forcefully maintained control and began to slow down.

Wang Bo muttered to himself—this driver had nerves of steel. If there wasn’t at least a minor accident, that wouldn’t do. What if the car decided to chase the pickup? And without a minor crash, how would he receive the call to “warn the chicken by killing the monkey”?

While the car was slowing down, he gave the front end a little push, forcing the Cadillac to swerve, drive off the road, and plunge into a tree pit.

Wang Bo waved his hand, and the police cars rushed over with sirens blaring.

The Cadillac wasn’t badly damaged; by the time the police arrived, the car had already reversed back onto the road, preparing to leave.

Wang Bo showed his badge and said, “Sir, do you need assistance? We just received a report saying there was a traffic accident here.”

The driver, seeing the police, seemed anxious. “Thank you, officer, but I’m fine—damn it—I’m fine. I was just about to leave.”

Conely got out of the car and looked at the skid marks. “I’m sorry, sir, you might not be able to leave yet. I believe you were speeding earlier.”

The driver cursed the caller for meddling, but he had his excuse ready. He explained, “I admit I was speeding, but it wasn’t my fault—I ran into the ghost car earlier! I panicked and stepped on the gas instead of the brake!”

“Ghost car?” Wang Bo laughed. “That’s not a very good excuse. You should pick a better one.”

The driver pointed at his dash cam. “If you don’t believe me, you can check this! It recorded the whole thing—there really was a ghost car!”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice mysteriously. “I’ve heard about such a car appearing on Highway 8. I didn’t care at first—I thought someone was just playing tricks.”

“But—” he changed tone, sounding even more mysterious, “now I believe it. When I hit the brakes, nothing was wrong. But the car suddenly turned on its own—like some ghost outside pushed the front of my car!”

Wang Bo’s eyes lit up. Oh right—people weren’t stupid. If he only used the demon-sticker on the rear window, too many would catch on. He needed more supernatural “touches” to strengthen the effect and create better buzz.

But that was for later. For now, he had to dock points and issue the fine.

Points were docked so often these days that even Wang Bo felt helpless. Why were New Zealanders so stubborn? They all knew traffic violations meant demerits and fines, yet when they were speeding, everyone acted carefree. Truly, they’d go to any length for “enjoyment.”

Since the ghost car had already been deployed, he might as well use Halloween to blow up the news. He instructed Uncle Bing to continue patrolling the roads, while Atulu monitored the traffic cameras. Whenever he spotted a speeding car, he sent Uncle Bing to scare them.

Wang Bo controlled the overall situation through the sand-table model. The cars had to experience some incident—never serious, just things like hitting a tree trunk or a light fender-bender.

Because of recent rumors about the ghost car, most drivers were mentally prepared and didn’t crash easily, so Wang Bo had to intervene more.

His intended results appeared. Cars that had been traveling normally suddenly encountered mysterious external force—especially after encountering the ghost car. Drivers couldn’t help attributing everything to supernatural causes.

“My car had already stopped, but something bumped me, and I ended up sliding down the roadside!”

“Look, I braked early—I’ve been driving for forty years. My skills are fine! But the car still hit the guardrail!”

“I don’t even know what happened. I slowed down, but the car accelerated—and then hit the vehicle in front!”

Hearing these accounts again and again, even the policemen began feeling uneasy. Atulu asked nervously, “Chief, this doesn’t feel right. They couldn’t have coordinated their stories, but they’re all describing actual paranormal events.”

Wang Bo put on an iron-hearted expression. “You get caught by the police—won’t you try to find excuses? Ignore them. What supernatural events? Did Uncle Bing encounter anything?”

Uncle Bing replied, “Not this time. But back when I was on assignment in South Africa, I once encountered…”

Conely became interested. “What assignment? Tell us about it.”

Atulu quickly waved his hands. “Guys, forget it. It’s so late at night—are you sure you want to hear ghost stories? My wife isn’t here, I don’t dare!”

Everyone: “……”