Chapter 45: Shanchi Haunted House Arc (Part 5)
Chapter 45: Shanchi Haunted House Arc (Part 5)
Feng Bu Jue continued down the tunnel without hesitation. The horrifying scene from earlier had left him unfazed—he pressed forward with steady resolve.
Soon, he reached the tunnel’s end: a cramped, damp cellar.
A heavy iron door stood within. This wasn’t unusual; in bygone eras, such cellars beneath grand mansions often served as dungeons for dark purposes. Now, it functioned as a mortuary. The floor and corridor walls were sheathed in copper plating. The massive iron door groaned loudly when pushed open, its hinges shrieking unnaturally. At the center of the chamber lay a coffin. Even from several paces away, the beam of Feng Bu Jue’s flashlight revealed the coffin lid was neither nailed shut nor properly closed.
Feng Bu Jue strode in, the door creaking behind him. Instead of rushing to inspect the coffin, he swept his flashlight across the walls. His search paid off—a new segment of the Ghost Palace poem, written in blood:
*[Clad in sorrow’s robe, the demon
Slays the noble king;
(Ah! Let us mourn—dawn shall never grace him again!)
The glory that once adorned his halls,
Like blooming flowers, now fades,
Buried by time’s relentless march.]*
"Hmm... the fifth stanza", Feng Bu Jue murmured.
A system voice chimed: [Side Task Progress Update]
The task log updated: [Find all six segments of the Ghost Palace – Progress: 3/6]
Approaching the coffin, Feng Bu Jue raised his flashlight in one hand and rapped three sharp knocks on the wooden lid with the other. "Hey, Miss Madeline—are you still here?" How he knew the name remained a mystery.
———
Yongzhe Wudi’s Terror Value had steadily climbed to 15% and stabilized. His panic stemmed not from monsters, but from his inability to locate an exit from the second floor after prolonged searching.
Every corridor, every room, the paintings on the walls, the sconces, the decor—all felt eerily unfamiliar yet vaguely recognizable. The mansion’s architecture defied logic. Its interior stretched far larger than its exterior suggested. Corridor lengths shifted unpredictably; counting the doors along a hallway yielded different results each time. Worse still, Yongzhe Wudi had yet to reach the end of any corridor. Every time he neared a terminus, a new junction or T-intersection materialized.
Normal walking consumed negligible stamina, but prolonged movement drained energy—a realistic touch. A common person walking continuously for twenty minutes would feel mild fatigue, forty minutes brought aching legs, and an hour demanded rest. This applied to ordinary individuals, not athletes.
Yongzhe Wudi’s exhaustion compounded rapidly under fear’s influence. When his stamina began visibly depleting, he didn’t pause to recover. Instead, he quickened his pace.
He wasn’t exploring anymore—he was fleeing.
A chilling thought gripped him: If he didn’t act swiftly, entrapment would be the least of his worries. His weakening body might attract something lurking in the dark.
"Ha… ha…" Yongzhe Wudi gasped for breath, checking his menu. His stamina bar still showed 1,000 points—plenty, considering he’d only been walking briskly. He halted, hands on knees, swallowing hard. A strange sensation stirred in his abdomen, indistinct but unsettling.
"What the hell…" He muttered, self-talk steadying his nerves.
Suddenly, something caught his eye. Turning, he spotted a mirror—a two-meter-tall rectangular frame embedded in the corridor wall, its wooden border carved with simple yet elegant patterns.
"Strange… was this here before?" He frowned.
Until now, he’d ignored his surroundings, fixated on charging ahead. But this mirror—a first in these corridors—was impossible to miss.
Bent forward with hands on his knees, he’d faced the mirror sideways. Now, instinctively straightening, he confronted his reflection head-on. The sight nearly stopped his heart.
The mirror showed no distortion—until he focused on his abdomen. There, his body gaped open. No skin, no clothing—just exposed intestines.
Yongzhe Wudi recoiled, slamming his back against the opposite wall, his breath hitching for ten seconds.
"Hallucination… just a hallucination…" Regaining composure, he snarled and stomped toward the mirror. "Who do you think you’re scaring? So I see my guts—who cares?" His bravado couldn’t mask his terror. Fear often bred defiance.
His gaze locked onto the writhing organs in the reflection. Closer inspection revealed something grotesque—the intestines’ cross-sections resembled… corridors.
A chill crawled up his spine, his neck stiffening. With a roar, he kicked the mirror, shattering it.
But as he turned to flee, the corridor walls erupted with mirrors. Doors vanished; reflections replaced reality.
"Aaaahhh!!!" Yongzhe Wudi charged forward blindly, uncaring whether this was illusion or reality. Fear and danger drove him to escape at any cost.
Crash! Glass shattered. A silhouette plummeted from the second floor, bursting through the window.
One moment, he’d been running down a corridor. The next, pain lanced through his body—glass slicing skin, impact jolting his senses. He fell, weightless, staring at the world outside.
Mold-crusted stone walls. Withered trees twisted like sentinels. The mountain pool below churned with a vast, warped black reflection. Oppressive dread seeped from the water, the mansion, the very air.
In the suffocating silence, Yongzhe Wudi plunged into the marsh. The eerie, mist-laden waters swallowed him whole. Not a sound escaped his throat. Above, the mansion loomed—a cold, spectral giant—watching another life fade.
The last thing he saw? A blood-red moon, sinking listlessly into the west.
———
[Team Member: Yongzhe Wudi – Deceased. A story item has been transferred.]
The system alert jolted Wang Tan Zhi and Long Ao Min.
"No way! A Level 5 player just died?!" Wang Tan Zhi blurted, checking the team menu. Yongzhe Wudi’s name grayed out, the "Surviving" tag now "Deceased."
By now, the duo had scoured numerous rooms, finding little beyond spike-filled trapdoors in the basement. No clues. No rewards.
"If we’d split up, those traps could’ve killed us too", Long Ao Min said grimly. "I wonder if Feng Bu Jue’s solo path is dangerous."
"Relax", Wang Tan Zhi replied. "He knew the risks when he suggested splitting up. Oh—back in the Login Space, I read the game notes. If a player dies holding a story item, it respawns near an ally."
Long Ao Min, more experienced in team scenarios, nodded. "Let’s search then."
They combed the area. Though they missed the letter, they uncovered another Ghost Palace stanza beneath debris:
*[Travelers in the joyous valley,
Through twin bright windows see:
Elves dance gracefully,
To lute and lyre’s harmony,
Around the monarch’s throne—
Sovereign Reason, regal,
A nation’s pride, majestic.]*
[Side Task Progress Update]
[Find all six segments of the Ghost Palace – Progress: 4/6]
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
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