Chapter 11: The Second Evil Night

After He Qiong left.

Wen Chao sighed; Fang Zhi frowned in silence; Shi Ji and Yue Mei wanted to say something but held back; everyone lost interest in discussion and dispersed.

Qi Zhiyong’s behavior today made the others wary of him; on the surface they still treated him as leader, but in truth all of them had turned against him.

If he treated Wu Xian like this today, would he do the same to them after Wu Xian died?

Qi Zhiyong sat alone downstairs, then sighed after a moment.

“It seems ‘Jing Ke’ was right—I really am not suited to lead others; being a lone wolf has more potential.”

“Then let it be this way.”

Qi Zhiyong had never cared about leadership.

“Alright, believe your son.”

When Fang Zhi saw his master angry, he hesitated.

The corpse of the man across from him still hung there, his eyes fixed on Wu Xian, but Wu Xian didn’t care—he couldn’t move anyway.

He found some plastic bags, wrapped them around his face, leaving small holes for eyes and nose, then stood by the door holding an alcohol spray bottle.

But Qi Zhiyong thought: since someone had to die anyway, why not let the high-value person live and the low-value one die?

Someone like Wu Xian, even if he survived, would just be one more survivor.

As Fang Zhi pressed the makeshift stethoscope made from a cup against her chest, Yu Yinghua finally couldn’t bear it and let out a piercing scream.

Creak!

“But…”

Time passed slowly.

“Sure enough, time inside the blessed land is chaotic; I hope nighttime is more stable.”

The scream pierced Fang Zhi’s eardrums; Yu Yinghua seized his momentary distraction, scrambled away with limbs twisted in unnatural motion.

But if Wen Chao survives and gets the chance to spread the knowledge in his mind, the world could become better.

“This is the second night—what will happen tonight?”

…

Fang Zhi stopped before his door, his palm trembling slightly.

The woman stood at the door for a moment, then smiled.

Everyone gradually returned to their rooms.

…

Fang Zhi’s face twisted; he stubbornly shook his head: “Master, you know I never believe in such heresies—I believe in science!”

While it was still dark and the malevolent spirits hadn’t emerged, Wu Xian picked out the last piece of fatty pork intestine from his lunchbox and smeared it carefully over the door hinges.

Fang Zhi’s door opened; he stared directly at Yu Yinghua.

Fang Zhi waved his hand impatiently.

This young man never believed in science—he believed in a religion he built around his own self-perception, called “science”; he rejected everything outside it.

A gentle-faced, slightly plump woman gripped her son’s arm: “Ah Zhi, let’s not buy this house—I heard from neighbors it’s haunted.”

…

Watching Fang Zhi frantically busy himself, the malevolent spirit Yu Yinghua felt an unusual chill crawl up her spine.

But now she was stunned.

Once night fell, everyone would shut their doors and windows; no matter what happened outside, no one would risk stepping out.

“Whoever else is afraid, you can’t be!”

Warm sunlight fell; a family of three stood beneath the residential building—they were here to buy a house.

Most who enter the blessed land must die; even the most outstanding can only save themselves.

Since he didn’t die in that instant, he must live more precisely from now on.

“Don’t go! Don’t hide your illness!”

“You’d better think carefully—no one knows if that mark targets people or rooms; if you two share a room, you might both die.”

Fang Zhi jolted awake from his nightmare, a bottle in hand, face pale, sweat pouring down—completely different from his outward bravado.

Hiss!

Even when the truth lay before him.

So the father and son entered the building and signed the purchase agreement with the agent.

Wu Xian returned to his room holding his lunchbox, stood by the window, gazing into the distance.

Just then, Qi Zhiyong, who had just come upstairs, walked over and said casually:

“You…”

Their son had been admitted to a top university; they decided to buy a house in this city and settle down here.

But standing at the door, they hesitated.

“What ‘but’? If you don’t believe me, why send me to college at all?”

The middle-aged woman outside was covered in mud, her face streaked with blood, mouth full of dirt and ash—terrifying to behold; she had come here to harm people.

The woman still hesitated.

“Don’t believe her!”

In essence, he was no different from religious fanatics.

Wu Xian looked forward to this.

Wen Chao wanted to refute Qi Zhiyong, but Qi Zhiyong had already slipped into his room and shut the door.

“Hello? Is anyone there? Can I come in for shelter? I’m Yu Yinghua, the hostel owner—my husband’s gone mad, he’s trying to kill me!”

Wen Chao also noticed his oddness; his expression changed slightly.

Before returning to his room, he realized: a muddy palm print was clearly on his door!

He didn’t believe in ghosts or gods.

Finally, Fang Zhi heard a knock at the door.

After hearing Qi Zhiyong’s words, Fang Zhi made up his mind—he stepped back, shut the door, locked Wen Chao out, ignoring all his calls.

“Ah!”

After sitting there blankly for a moment, he gulped down several swallows of liquor, slapped himself twice, then growled fiercely.

Fortunately, the time displayed on his phone also became chaotically synchronized—otherwise, time would have been impossible to judge.

“Don’t be afraid—even though I’m not a doctor, I’ll help you.”

“What ghosts? It’s all self-induced fear—just the cabinet doors opening by themselves? Must be a design flaw. Since I’m the one buying this house, trust me—it’s science!”

Before Yu Yinghua could think it through, Fang Zhi sprayed disinfectant all over her, then dragged her arm into the room and forced her to sit down.

…

A middle-aged man with white hair smiled: “Who else would our brilliant son believe in?”

“Don’t believe her! There are no ghosts or malevolent spirits in this world!”

Fang Zhi rushed out the door immediately—Yu Yinghua was already gone.

But if what everyone said earlier was true, then the next victim might be him!

Wen Chao brought him along hoping to correct his mistaken beliefs; he never expected to be trapped in the blessed land before he could even teach him.

The corridor’s hanging lamp swayed; dim yellow light flickered, creating an uneasy atmosphere—just standing there sent a chill through the bones.

Then he carefully washed up, shaved his beard, trimmed his hair, washed his head, face, feet, socks, and underwear—cleaned and tidied himself thoroughly.

“You’ll stay with me tonight—don’t go back.”

“You’ve probably been infected by some virus?”

Wen Chao stamped his foot in anger, slapped him: “Science explains reality—what you believe must not require distorting facts to accept. That’s not science!”

“Let me examine you first—there’s no equipment here, but I can give you a preliminary…”

“This location is excellent—close to the school, convenient transport; at this price, you’ve scored a steal.”

He cared only about value.

A man must treat himself well.

The couple had little education; their son was one of the few high achievers in the family; their entire later life depended on him—future family decisions would be his to make.

This isn’t right!

When Wu Xian first returned to his room, the sun was still far above the horizon; now it had sunk halfway—the digital time on his phone was flashing wildly.

Wen Chao stood at the door for a long while, then sighed helplessly and returned to his room.

Who opens the door so readily? Doesn’t he worry it’s a trap? And after opening, he wasn’t even frightened—his gaze was downright chilling?

That man has a plastic bag over his head—could he be a malevolent spirit who died of suffocation?

Fang Zhi leaned against the wall, staring at the ceiling lamp, smiling strangely.

“Ha… ha…”

(End of Chapter)