Thriller Paradise Chapter 44: Shanchi Haunted House (4) - Novel Cool

Chapter 44: Shanchi Haunted House (4)

Chapter 44: Shanchi Haunted House (4)

The first-floor living room’s walls were adorned with several paintings, most resembling works by psychiatric patients—hallucinatory, obscure, and incomprehensible. Yet one stood out as oddly literal.

This painting depicted a narrow, elongated tunnel. Its low, smooth walls were pristine and unbroken, sloping downward like a tomb’s entrance. Subtle details hinted at its location deep within basement levels. No exits were visible, nor any artificial light sources, yet an eerie, unnatural glow permeated the scene, casting ghostly shadows.

Feng Bu Jue stared for five seconds before an unknown force froze him, silencing his voice and paralyzing his body. Darkness swallowed his vision. When his senses returned, he found himself inside the tunnel, flashlight in hand.

He didn’t know how the teleportation worked or whether Xiao Tan and Long Ge had witnessed his disappearance. Either way, escaping would be his own burden to bear.

A stone wall blocked his retreat, immovable. The low ceiling offered no escape routes. Sighing, Feng Bu Jue retrieved the Eye of Hostility from his satchel and secured it over his eyes. Flashlight in one hand, pipe wrench in the other, he descended the slope.

Thanks to Jazzy Moves, his stamina bar (1100 points) wouldn’t deplete from mere walking. With equipment reducing exertion, he could moonwalk through this labyrinth indefinitely—even if it rivaled Castlevania’s scale, he’d map every inch.

Ten minutes in, his flashlight flickered. He shook it, tapped the casing. Battery low? Impossible… I barely used it in the last scenario. Loose contact? Unlikely. This thing’s Made IN China—quality’s solid…

A whisper slithered from ten meters ahead: “Let me out…”

As Feng turned, the flashlight died. Darkness swallowed him. A heartbeat later, the light stuttered back, illuminating a gaunt, bloodstained woman in white. Her face vanished before he could register details.

The light died again, leaving her image burned into his retinas. Another wail pierced the void, followed by scraping wood, creaking hinges, and distant, anguished screams echoing through the dungeon corridor.

Thirty seconds later, the flashlight stabilized. Feng exhaled calmly. “So it’s not broken—just plot-induced flickering.”

A system prompt chimed: [Side Task Progress Update].

He checked. The Ghost Palace quest had advanced to 2/6. Presumably, the others had found another verse.

Meanwhile, Wang Tan Zhi and Long Ao Min crouched by the kitchen fireplace, studying the second Ghost Palace stanza scrawled on the bricks in soot-like ink:

*The golden banners wave with pride,
High in the palace, they flutter wide.
All but ashes now, a bygone age—
Soft breezes stirred those peaceful days.
Along white walls, a fading scent,
A fragrance lost to time’s descent.*

“Ugh, I don’t get it at all!” Wang Tan Zhi groaned, already forgetting the words. He stuck his head into the chimney. “Too narrow. No escape.”

Long Ao Min ignored him initially, but seconds later, his expression twisted. He mouthed words silently, his voice absent. Wang froze—realizing his own voice had vanished.

Two clueless men flailed in exaggerated gestures, their frantic lip-reading and charades yielding nothing.

The scene begged for banter like:
“You’re sick!”
“You’ve got the cure!”
“How much?”
“How much did you take?”
“Take it all!”
“Swallow every drop!”
“You’re sick!”

But their actual exchange:

Wang: “What’s happening? What are you saying?!”
Long: “The black stuff on your face—it’s cursed!”

From Long’s perspective, the soot on Wang’s face writhed like a living mask, grinning grotesquely, detached from Wang’s expressions.

Long grabbed a rag, mimed wiping clockwise, then pointed at Wang’s face.

“Oh!” Wang scrubbed his face furiously. When he pulled the rag away, both regained speech.

“Wtf?!” Wang stared at the rag, now imprinted with the black mask’s face. His own face was spotless.

“Not sure why the system added this harmless prank,” Long muttered, “but burning it’s safest.” He snatched the rag, striking flint stones near the stove…

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end

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