Chapter 47: Three Different Strategies for Clearing the Level
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
Upon hearing the name ‘Situ An’, Wu Bo’s reaction was immediate and visceral. He seemed to shrink in on himself, his back curving more deeply as if his body was trying to disappear into thin air, a clear instinctive reaction to hide from something terrifying. He warned in a grave tone, “You must be extremely cautious around this individual.”
Gong Xi, intrigued and concerned, asked, “Have you had any personal experiences with him?”
Wu Bo’s expression darkened, and he began recounting his eerie encounters. “Before meeting Situ An, I believed ghosts were the essence of fear. But that changed after I encountered him in Sishui Apartment.” As he spoke, Wu Bo absentmindedly licked the wound on his lips, a clear sign of his nervousness. “Since then, I’ve been trapped in Sishui Apartment. I’ve only managed to survive by pretending to be mad. It’s all because of this man, Situ An. I can’t leave Hanhai. If I show even a glimmer of sanity, I fear for my life. I once considered handing over some incriminating tapes to the Hanhai police. However, there was an incident before where a young volunteer tried to expose something to the press. He was overheard, and the recording somehow found its way to Situ An. That volunteer then vanished without a trace within the confines of this building.”
At this point in the conversation, Gong Xi’s grandmother suddenly became visibly disturbed. The mention of the young volunteer struck a chord – could this be Gong Xi himself? This thought seemed to unsettle her deeply.
Gong Xi, oblivious to these implications, continued to listen intently, showing utmost respect by prostrating himself on the ground.
Meanwhile, Gao Ming felt a surge of emotion, “It seems we need to devise a plan to permanently trap Situ An in this paranormal event.” He realized he had never met Situ An personally, yet he felt an overwhelming sense of hostility and a desire for vengeance, as though they had a shared history filled with animosity.
Wu Bo, his eyes betraying a hint of terror, added, “That man is no less than a demon masquerading in human flesh.” He then revealed a chilling connection: “The perpetrator’s heart from that horrific family massacre, and the spiritual heart in the clay figurine, they must never end up in Situ An’s hands. From what I can tell, the charity operating out of Sishui Apartment is cultivating ghosts specifically for these two hearts.”
He then took a piece of yellow paper and drew several lines on it, explaining, “There’s a murderous ghost residing in one of the rooms here. It only emerges to kill. I can’t determine its exact location, but you can start by destroying the clay figurine of the Flesh Immortal.”
“Intrigued, Gao Ming asked, “Where can we find this figurine?”
Wu Bo described its location with ominous detail. “In Building A, on the first basement level, there’s a concealed shrine. It’s situated in the most foreboding part of the entire apartment complex. That’s where the figurine of the Flesh Immortal is enshrined.” Following this, Wu Bo handed over a bunch of talisman papers, explaining, “I’m old and my legs aren’t what they used to be. I would only slow you down. Keep these talismans; they might prove useful.”
Gao Ming accepted the talismans, then turned his attention to the paper figures present. “Are all of you planning to join us? The killer who took all your lives is in this building right now. That’s a deep grudge you all have with him.”
The paper figures remained still, save for the oldest one, who suddenly took a handful of rice from the altar and stuffed it into Gao Ming’s pocket.
Gao Ming, puzzled, asked, “What is this for?”
“This rice,” Wu Bo elaborated, holding up the grains, “is an offering I make to the deceased. If you ever find yourself in a dire situation where consuming meat is the only option for survival, this rice can temporarily preserve your sanity.”
Gao Ming understood the implication. The ‘meat’ Wu Bo referred to wasn’t ordinary; it was the kind that could drive a person into a state of madness, rendering them almost invincible and uncontrollable.
Gao Ming acknowledged the grim possibility: “It seems you’re preparing for the worst.” He then left the haunted room with Zhu Miao Miao. Shortly after their departure, Gong Xi also hurried out.
The paper figures had agreed to a deal: they would protect Gong Xi’s grandmother, but only if Gong Xi assisted Gao Ming in destroying the clay figurine of the Flesh Immortal.
Gong Xi’s devotion lay not with the Flesh Immortal, worshipped by most residents of the building, but in caring for his grandmother. His faith was rooted in his family’s well-being, and he was willing to do whatever it took to keep them safe.
“I know where the shrine is; I’ll lead you there,” declared Gong Xi, effectively becoming an informant for the group.
Gao Ming followed silently, carrying Zhao Xi. This eerie venture into a ghost story game was revealing to him the intricate and shadowy workings of this otherworldly realm.
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
He pondered the nature of this place. The building’s residents were divided into four distinct groups, each maintaining a fragile equilibrium. This place was a microcosm of the broader shadow world, a realm with its own unique set of rules and dynamics.
“The shadow world,” Gao Ming mused, “isn’t just a calamity; it’s a world in its own right, governed by its own laws.”
…
Xuan Wen was navigating the building’s corridors when she suddenly paused, hearing Gao Ming’s voice faintly in the distance. Turning back, she saw Gao Ming and Zhu Miao Miao walking together, everything appearing as normal.
As she continued onward and rounded a corner, Xuan Wen’s demeanor shifted dramatically. She swiftly pulled out a sharp knife from her backpack.
“What’s wrong?” Yan Hua asked with a puzzled look.
“Gao Ming and Miao Miao has been replaced while we were in the shadows,” Xuan Wen stated coldly, her tone markedly different from when she was with Gao Ming.
“You’re certain of this?”
“I have a sense of where the real Gao Ming is. The person we saw isn’t him.” With these words, Xuan Wen concealed the knife behind her and approached the imposter Gao Ming with a feigned smile.
The imposter, puzzled by Xuan Wen’s approach, was about to speak when suddenly, her knife, shrouded in shadows, struck, piercing his neck. No blood emerged. The neck-pierced imposter shifted from surprise to a frenzied state, lunging at Xuan Wen despite the blade lodged in his throat.
As the struggle ensued, Xuan Wen’s eyes turned a vivid blood-red. She pressed her hand against the imposter’s heart. The entity inhabiting Gao Ming’s form began to lose control, its inner shadows consuming it from within.
As the tense confrontation escalated, “Zhu Miao Miao,” realizing their cover was blown, lashed out with a fire axe aimed at Xuan Wen. However, her arm was abruptly seized by a powerful grip, the five fingers clamping down with the strength of steel.
Yan Hua, displaying incredible speed and power, unleashed a flurry of blows upon the imposter “Zhu Miao Miao.” His fists descended like a relentless storm, each strike precise and forceful. Remarkably, there were no sounds of blood splattering or bones shattering. Instead, with every punishing blow he delivered, the ominous ghost tattoo on Yan Hua’s body seemed to animate, hungrily consuming the dark shadows that were being released from Zhu Miao Miao’s form.
After a brutal onslaught, the impostor “Zhu Miao Miao” was reduced to fragments, and only then did Yan Hua cease his assault. He looked over to see Xuan Wen had similarly subdued the false “Gao Ming.”
“Don’t just recklessly use your fists for the final blow,” Xuan Wen cautioned, her attention fixed on Yan Hua’s left hand.
Yan Hua, following her gaze, noticed several black, sinister characters that had materialized on his skin, resembling some kind of malevolent curse. Despite Xuan Wen’s apparent concern, Yan Hua seemed indifferent to this ominous development. His mind was focused on finding Gao Ming, emphasizing the urgency: “We need to find Gao Ming first. He’s the only one who knows my sister’s whereabouts. We can’t afford to lose him.”
Xuan Wen, gripping her knife in a reverse hold, commented somewhat cryptically, “Men really do like to hide secrets.”
Yan Hua, his tall and robust stature making concealment difficult, made no attempt to hide as he moved forward. He was prepared to confront whatever challenges lay ahead. The giant ghost tattoo on his body grew increasingly vivid, almost as if a real spectral entity lurked behind him. Concurrently, the black, curse-like characters on his skin multiplied.
Xuan Wen observed Yan Hua’s recklessness and remarked, “Are you planning to just fight your way through? This is a Level Four paranormal event.” She knew persuading him would be futile. Individuals like Yan Hua, who could potentially become super criminals in the future, often harbored deep-seated paranoia. Apart from Gao Ming, who acted as a unifying link, it was difficult for them to place trust in others.
Yan Hua, undeterred, declared his resolve: “I don’t care about some Level Four paranormal events. As long as my fists can hurt them, I have nothing to fear.”
As the black characters on his body continued to increase, Yan Hua’s strength seemed to grow proportionately. The ghost tattoo on his body evolved, becoming more intricate and terrifying, as though an actual malevolent spirit stood behind him, ready for battle.
…
Meanwhile, Wan Qiu, who had been quietly trailing behind the group, suddenly found himself alone in the corridor.
“Has the hallway changed?” he wondered aloud, his voice tinged with unease.
He felt a creeping sense of dread as shadows converged from all directions. The building’s atmosphere had grown more malevolent, the air heavy with a sinister, unidentifiable odor, adding to the growing sense of foreboding.
With his heart racing, Wan Qiu found himself anxiously tucked away in a corner, overwhelmed by a sense of dread about the uncertainties that lay ahead. Despite the bizarre and unnerving events unfolding around him, they didn’t quite shatter his mental fortitude, a resilience forged through the trials and tribulations of his past experiences.
Softly, almost in a whisper, he called out, “Gao… Gao Ming…”
He hoped for a reply, a sign of reassurance, but there was only silence. Gao Ming, the very person who had vowed to stand by him, to protect him, was nowhere to be found.
His instincts, which were unusually sharp and attuned to danger, sent a clear warning signal. Confused and uncertain about his next move, Wan Qiu retreated further into the seclusion of the hallway’s corner, drawing his knees close to his chest in a protective embrace.
Minutes ticked by in this tense atmosphere. Then, abruptly, his heart started pounding even faster as if jolted by an electric shock. A profound sense of imminent peril took hold of him, urging him to flee without delay.
Panicked and unsure of a safe refuge, Wan Qiu hurriedly dashed into rental room 506, which was just a few steps away.
No sooner had he shut the door behind him than a man wearing a rat mask appeared on the scene. The man, carrying a set of keys and sporting a building manager’s badge, paused at the very spot Wan Qiu had vacated moments before.
The man, idly chewing on something unknown, removed his mask. To Wan Qiu’s horror, beneath the mask was not a human face, but that of an actual rat. The man’s nose twitched and turned, as if he were a predator on the prowl, sniffing out the scent of living prey.
From his hiding place, Wan Qiu cautiously watched through the peephole, his hand covering his mouth and nose in shock and fear. The revelation was chilling: the building manager, a figure whom everyone in the apartment complex regarded with fear, was in reality nothing more than a monstrous rat, seemingly engorged from a feast of flesh and blood!