In the pitch-black darkness, it was as if one's hand could not be seen in front of their face. In such a state, the imagination of fear reached its pinnacle. The lack of information was, as always, the greatest source of terror.
Had the ghost already drawn near? Was it standing before them at this very moment? If the high heels weren't retrieved, would death come in the next breath? The script, after all, was delivered in real time; perhaps the moment the ghost was about to strike, they wouldn't even have time to react.
Yet, the high heels would only prove effective the instant they were drawn from the pocket. If the ghost wasn't present right then, retrieving them would be nothing more than a wasted opportunity. After that, within the next half hour, they would be utterly defenseless. Therefore, no matter how overwhelming the fear, without certainty, none would dare use the cursed item. But this hesitation, too, risked death in the next instant—and perhaps they wouldn't even know how it happened.
This was a torment beyond measure. The short walk from the living room to the kitchen was not long, but to Allen, it stretched on interminably. Yet, in the end, it was all a false alarm.
Upon entering the kitchen, Hank turned on the gas stove, and at last, light filled the space. He then began to rummage through the cabinets in search of candles.
After retrieving a few white candles from a cupboard, he immediately handed them to Allen and Zoe, then used the flame from the stove to light them. Neither he nor Allen smoked, so neither had a lighter on hand.
With the candles lit, Allen breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he felt somewhat reassured. Tucking the remaining candles into another pocket, he turned to Zoe, asking, "Zoe, you said… you saw a shadow pass by? That corridor… I remember it extends from the basement entrance, right?"
At these words, his own voice wavered.
"Yes," Zoe replied, her face ashen. "I-I'm sure of it. There was definitely someone there! What… what has the Ouyang family done to this villa?"
"I don't know," Hank responded, taking a deep breath. "But no matter what, we must remain cautious. The power is completely out in this villa; we'll have to rely on these candles to get by for now."
At 2:00 AM, the movie would reach its end.
Hank's heart clenched painfully. Could they last until then? Could they endure until the film concluded? From all appearances, the danger was only escalating.
"Alright…" He took a step forward, leading the way out of the kitchen, the natural leader in this moment. "Whatever it is, let's go see."
At this point, there was no point in avoiding it by using death-reversal tokens. After all, there was so little time left; hiding was futile. It would only allow everything to spiral out of control, and once they deviated from the script, the consequences were entirely unknown.
Allen and Zoe followed Hank closely behind. The three of them, each holding a candle, stayed tightly together in the darkness. The light from the candles was limited; the farther they went, the less they could see. But for now, at least what lay before them was visible. It gave them a small window of opportunity to retrieve the cursed item. However, Allen's high heels, unlike Ivan's—who had purposefully chosen pants with large pockets—barely fit into his own. His pocket was swollen with the bulging heels, making it harder and slower to retrieve them. A mere second or two could decide life or death. But there was no choice; the spare clothes he had brought, along with the pants in the villa's wardrobe, were all similarly sized.
The Truth of the Basement
Speaking of clothes...
Allen's mind wandered to the garments in the villa—both men's and women's clothes were present, indicating that this was not a residence for a single person. Moreover, there were outerwear, undergarments, and clothing for various seasons. It was clear that the one who had employed them as tenants did not consider the villa a temporary place, nor one merely inhabited for a day or two, but rather a permanent residence, a fixed abode. This suggested that this was, by no means, a mere "supernatural testing ground."
So, what was the Ouyang family's true purpose? He could not possibly believe it was for the purpose of feeding zombies, as some had suggested. If that were the case, they could easily have captured a few homeless individuals and coerced them into performing such tasks. The Ouyang family was immensely wealthy; why would they leave any trace on the internet to be discovered? The police would surely investigate after three days if they failed to return. While this was a horror movie, it still belonged to a real world, one that couldn't simply afford such plot holes.
So, if such a deduction were accurate, Allen began to think that perhaps it was not the Ouyang family who had lured them here at all.
Then, if not them...
Who, in fact, had summoned them here?
At this moment, they had reached the corridor where Zoe had seen the shadow pass by. Hank, who led the way, kept his eyes fixed ahead, while Allen frequently glanced behind, wary of the all-too-familiar cliché in horror films—when the ghost is just behind you, inching closer, yet you never turn around to look, oblivious to its presence.
As they proceeded down the corridor, unexpectedly, they found themselves standing before the very warehouse in which Allen had been trapped before.
That warehouse, having been left unattended after Hank had broken into it, remained in its original state. As they passed by, Allen deliberately kept his distance, remembering how close he had come to death in that very space.
Beyond the warehouse door, their steps continued, weaving through various corridors. They followed the script's instructions, moving forward with caution...
At a turn in one of the hallways, there was an ornamental plant. At that moment, Allen suddenly felt a chill rise up from within. The plant, standing in their path, was an ideal obstruction, blocking their line of sight.
Could the source of the coldness be lurking behind the plant?
Allen raised his candle high, straining to see, but the distance made it impossible to discern. According to the script, they were required to press forward. As for what would happen upon passing that point, only time would tell, for the script would reveal it when the moment arrived.
Reluctantly, Allen slowed his pace. He would rather proceed more cautiously, perhaps sacrificing a death-reversal token, than risk walking into an ambush. The cursed item's effect seemed to be weakening; he could not afford to act rashly.
Hank, too, noticed the ornamental plant.
In the dark villa, dangers lurked in every corner. A moment's inattention could lead to irreversible doom.
In the end, they made it through without incident, and the script confirmed that there was no danger as they passed the plant.
Once they turned the corner, Allen quickened his pace, eager to stay close to Hank.
And then...
A deafening crash shattered the silence.
They all whirled around, only to witness... the ornamental plant had been shattered, its soil spilling across the floor.
And buried within the soil, to their astonishment, was a book!
Hank immediately rushed over, retrieving the book. The title read, "Ouyang Family Blood Porcelain Crafting Method."
Blood porcelain! The Ouyang family's closely guarded secret!
It had been hidden inside the plant!
Hank brushed the dirt off and opened the thin booklet, which looked almost like a martial arts manual.
As he carefully examined its contents, Hank's face turned ashen.
The Ouyang family, a mysterious lineage since the late Qing Dynasty, had long been surrounded by rumors. In truth, they possessed no ability to control zombies—such tales were mere folklore.
The blood porcelain crafted by the Ouyang family, however, could seal the restless souls of the dead, preventing them from harming the living owner of the blood infused within it.
During the late Qing years, China was mired in turmoil. Even though the Xinhai Revolution had overthrown the Qing Dynasty, and Yuan Shikai had usurped the position of president, the country remained entrenched in a semi-colonial state, with warlords clashing and fires of conflict erupting across the land. In such an era, the lives of common folk were as fragile as weeds, giving rise to vengeful spirits and malevolent ghosts.
It was during this time that a notorious warlord, plagued by the restless souls of those he had slaughtered, sought the Ouyang family's help. He begged them to create blood porcelain for him. The process involved mixing the warlord's blood into the porcelain kiln. Once the porcelain was formed, it would be placed in the corpse of a deceased person and buried with them. The blood porcelain would bind the vengeful spirit, preventing it from attacking the warlord. After seven days, the spirit would be forced into the underworld, unable to return to the mortal realm. Grateful for this service, the warlord gifted the Ouyang family three chests of gold. This marked the beginning of their family's rise to wealth. Contrary to rumors, the Ouyang family had not achieved prosperity during the Guangxu period.
However, the process of making blood porcelain was far from foolproof. Its success rate was dismal—one out of every ten attempts would succeed. Yet, the failed porcelain still held great artistic value, and the Ouyang family preserved them as works of art. Their porcelain-making expertise originated from the renowned Jingdezhen, famous for its porcelain craftsmanship. Judging by the porcelain in that room, it seemed they were the failed attempts at blood porcelain.
Yet, blood porcelain had a critical flaw. If, within the last three days before a soul descended into the underworld, the spirit turned into a vengeful ghost and killed four young individuals, the blood porcelain would transform the spirit into an immortal, terrifying specter. However, during those three days, the vengeful ghost would remain bound within a fixed distance around the blood porcelain, and the Ouyang family would ensure no living person ventured near the tomb.
"Blood porcelain... does that mean...?"
Four individuals...
Could it be Ivan, Liu Ying, Wu Jun, and Cheryl?
"Let's go... to the basement!"
Without hesitation, Hank rushed toward the basement.
He moved swiftly, and before long, he burst into the basement.
Running at full speed, he arrived before the door.
"Could it be... Could it really be...?"
He took long strides and retrieved the key from Wu Jun's body. Trembling, he inserted the key into the lock. By this time, Allen and Zoe had not caught up with him, as he had run too quickly. But he paid no heed.
The door creaked open.
And what lay beyond the door was revealed!
The flickering candlelight illuminated a room of over fifty square meters.
"This... this... this is..."
Hank's face contorted in sheer horror.
Before him, sprawled at the doorway, was a disheveled man, his face gaunt with dark circles around his eyes. Nearby, there lay a corpse.
The body was clearly long dead, its throat slashed by a sharp blade, its limbs cold and stiff.
Yet, as Hank gazed upon the body, he realized, with mounting dread, that it was unmistakably...
Zoe Xiaoya!