Haunted House.

A place that, for most people, doesn't exist in reality.

It's rather absurd that the vast majority of visitors to haunted houses aren't actually there to see ghosts.

This strange psychology, reminiscent of Lord Ye's professed love for dragons, was truly quite nuanced.

Perhaps it's precisely because they know it's all fake, like a dream from which you'll eventually wake, that they can immerse themselves in the transient fear and experience a rare thrill and sense of wonder.

But to think like that makes it feel like a shortcut to Hell, much like the Chef Demon competition.

Within the gloomy haunted house, Huai Shi looked around calmly, his mind still free to wander with random thoughts. Despite its artificiality, the atmosphere gave him a precious sense of familiarity, as if he had entered a cozy inn designed for complete relaxation.

But it was not, in fact, an inn. It was a hospital.

Visitors were intentionally separated, unable to huddle in groups to dispel loneliness and fear. They could only explore the dusty, abandoned building with their companions, trembling with apprehension.

Dim, flickering lights, strange stains on the floor—long dried and of unrecognizable origin—and the scratches and struggle marks left on the walls.

Pain was written everywhere.

Like the diary of a sixteen-year-old, overly dramatic artistic youth, looking at it didn't inspire fear, but rather a shared sense of secondhand embarrassment.

"How cute," Huai Shi remarked softly, scrutinizing the blood-stained electrotherapy chair.

"Hm?" Zhenxi was confused.

"I mean, the decorator here is really quite tender-hearted," Miss Huaizhi said with a slight smile. "It would be nice if the truly deep places of descent were this tranquil."

Something felt amiss. Zhenxi felt a hundred thousand question marks materializing over her head.

What about the fear, the promised shivering in her arms? Why, after entering the haunted house, did Miss Huaizhi seem like she was in a sanatorium? Even the air seemed refreshingly crisp to her.

Isn't this place supposed to be frightening?

She opened a cabinet and, peering at a dripping, severed hand inside, pondered: To be honest, this is actually quite terrifying, isn't it?

Could it be that Miss Huaizhi feared something different?

Right, some people might not fear physical threats like zombies and other monsters, but they might be scared of ghosts!

Hearing the faint screams of other visitors ahead, Zhenxi silently clenched her small fists in anticipation: STAFF, please work hard! Show Miss Huaizhi the power of the Yokai of Yingzhou!

After passing through the dilapidated lobby and entering a ward hung with prop corpses, they finally approached the main event.

—The morgue!

The morgue, such a terrifying place. The final resting place of the dead, a hotspot for supernatural stories, and the source of many a nightmare.

Oh, this chilliness hitting me—the air conditioning must be turned up really high, right?

Those STAFF members lying on the floor, pretending to be corpses to scare people, must be working so hard. Please, you have to succeed in scaring Miss Huaizhi!

Full of anticipation for the haunted house, Zhenxi, holding Miss Huaizhi's hand, stepped into the thick fog rolling towards them.

"Through the bars, through the bars, the bird in the cage wants to break free~"

A faint singing seemed to reach her ears, its mournful song echoing through the silent corridor. And with the song, wisps of crimson began to seep from the walls, carrying the distinctively sweet scent of fresh blood.

It was as if pairs of eyes had opened on the pale walls, their hollow gazes fixed on Zhenxi. Wandering souls within the walls sang out, "Through the bars, through the bars, the bird in the cage wants to break free~"

Zhenxi stared in shock.

This is amazing! Is this what they call surround sound in the Current Circumstances?

And this blood on the wall, it looks just like the real thing... And the eyes on the wall, they seem real too! They even blink if you poke them.

Haunted house, you're incredible!

"Miss Huaizhi, Miss Huaizhi, look at this!"

She turned around excitedly, eager to show her companion her discovery, but found the space behind her empty. The familiar figure had vanished without a trace.

A strange silhouette slowly emerged from the acrid-smelling fog, advancing towards her.

A mournful song swirled through the deathly silent corridor.

Zhenxi froze on the spot.

They sang softly, whispering in her ear:

"...on that night before dawn, who is the one looking over your shoulder?"

.

.

"Through the bars, through the bars, the bird in the cage wants to break free~"

The moment the song began, Huai Shi sensed something was wrong—everyone else's Source Fluctuation had vanished, as if they had all departed in an instant.

The entire haunted house was plunged into darkness.

Something's wrong here!

By the time he was certain of this, he had already grasped the cold, trembling hand beside him, feeling the sharp nails almost piercing his palm.

There was no warmth whatsoever.

When he turned around, he saw that Zhenxi, whose hand he had been holding, had at some point transformed into a pale, head-bowed specter.

From between strands of pitch-black hair, a pair of crimson eyes lifted, their venomous gaze fixed on the nearby Miss Huaizhi.

In a flash, it lunged at him.

Then, Huai Shi raised his hand and pushed forward.

With a dull thud, his arm, brushing past the eerie woman's head, slammed against the wall. Tremendous force erupted, leaving deep cracks spiderwebbing across the surface.