Chapter 4835: The Little Devil in Charge (Thirty-Three)

The champagne tower was smashed flat by a corpse. The splashing wine drenched Natasha to the bone. More importantly, she hadn't even gotten a sip; not a single glass of the fine wine remained.

But no one cared about her condition now. Everyone's gaze was fixed on that corpse. The deceased was a middle-aged man of about forty, shot in the head. Judging by the twisted state of his limbs, he had likely been tortured before death.

"Mr. Helly!" someone shouted. "Good God! Mr. Helly has been called to the Lord!"

Some screamed, some fled. But amid this spreading fear, most weren't just afraid of a murder case. These violent emotional swings made them even less able to control themselves, delirious to the point of near madness.

"What the hell is going on?! What the fuck!!" someone roared in anger. "What exactly do you want?! I paid that much compensation, you want to take the money and deny responsibility?!"

"Why are you doing this to me? I didn't do it on purpose either, why can't you understand a mother's feelings? You heartless bastard! You deserve to rot to death in the slums!"

"You know why I did it, you betrayed me first! You clearly promised me, then went back on your word, how can you blame me?!"

"You're all crazy, crazy! There's no such thing as ghosts, you're just scaring yourselves!"

"Let's not talk about this, okay, Mr. Rodriguez? Aren't you going to come out and handle this? Are you just going to let people ruin your party......"

"Captain Cassel! Where are you? Where are you?"

The entire banquet hall was in chaos. Some had broken down, some muttered to themselves, some stubbornly refused to believe, loudly calling the Punisher's name, or raising phones to call the police.

Besides the champagne tower, the wine and candelabras on other tables had also been knocked over. Various liquids soaked everyone; the rich scent of alcohol mingled with the stench of blood, brewing an atmosphere terrifyingly close to fear itself.

Immediately after, bang—another shot. Another person fell. Someone screamed: "This isn't a ghost! A gunman got in!"

"There's a killer, a killer! Bodyguards, where are the bodyguards?!"

"Help, don't kill me! I'm not your enemy!"

This shot thoroughly ignited the flames of chaos. Everyone screamed and ran for the door, but bang—the door slammed shut. And the manor's front door, which didn't look all that heavy, seemed to have been welded shut by some mysterious force; no matter how they pounded, it wouldn't open.

Their desperate weeping and wailing failed to move the ghosts in this manor. On the contrary, the total collapse of their psychological defenses made them see even more terrifying hallucinations, until those hallucinations manifested in reality, dealing them even more grievous fatal blows.

Unable to escape through the front door, some thought of the back and side doors. Because the back door was closer, most people turned and ran toward the rear, and the shortest route from the front door to the back door had to pass through the collapsed champagne tower.

After the champagne tower was smashed, all the glasses had turned to shards, and the floor was covered in wine. And most of the ladies wore evening gowns and high heels. One woman, running through the wreckage of the champagne tower, tripped on glass shards, and with the wine making it slippery, fell headlong onto the broken glass. Shards pierced straight into her eyeballs, and an even sharper sliver slit her throat.

She let out only a brief scream, then could only clutch her throat and roll on the floor, choking on blood in her trachea. But the floor was covered in glass shards, and she was quickly slashed all over.

Just as she was about to breathe her last, she looked in a certain direction, her face revealing an expression of utter terror. And those glass shards, at this moment, actually rose into the air, piercing into her from all directions like swords from every side.

Because it happened in the center of the banquet hall, no one missed this scene. The originally clamorous hall fell eerily silent for an instant, leaving only everyone's heavy breathing.

"No, this is impossible. It's been this long......" a voice came. "There can't be ghosts. We clearly hired the church......"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaah!!!"

Another scream rang out. Those who had rushed out the back door into the rear garden came scrambling back in panic, because the trees in the rear garden had actually extended branches and hoisted the foremost person into the air. They had no choice but to run back in terror.

At this time, some near the west gate had already rushed out the side door. Immediately after, the swimming pool on the west side drowned two people, scaring them so they didn't dare run west either.

Some thought to circle outside the house to the front door to drive away, but the ghosts wouldn't let them off so easily. Two more people fell in the snow, even vanishing instantly.

Some wanted to run upstairs, but clearly the stairs were a highly lethal trap. Just a slight misstep, or a single step giving way, was enough to kill someone. Not to mention the second floor had no lights, and not many dared charge straight into the darkness.

"What's going on?" A voice suddenly rang out in the banquet hall. The tone was very slow, sounding very calm, completely out of place with the atmosphere in the hall, making it all the more jarring.

Everyone looked. A figure in a black suit walked in through the back door. They knew this was precisely the manor's owner, Rodriguez. So, like seeing a lifeline, they said: "Quick! Quick, get us out of here! Let us leave!"

"Don't rush," Pride said. "A homicide occurred at the banquet; I require that no one leave this place, to facilitate the investigation......"

"Investigate my ass! Staying here is waiting to die?! Let us out now!!!"

"A few days ago you weren't saying that." Greed crossed his arms, walking out from the second floor, giving Natasha a "watch me get back at you" look. "Isn't Hampton's tradition to detain all guests first, wait for the police, then investigate carefully?"

"What kind of bullshit tradition is that! Think of a way to open the door, let us out!!!" someone roared like a madman.

"My opinion is still to wait for the police." Pride said unhurriedly. "The police were just called; they should be here soon."

People had already started cursing. Clearly, no one could maintain composure in this situation. But Pride and Greed both turned a deaf ear. And Natasha, holding a surviving wine glass, appreciated the fear and despair of the people in the hall.

Have to admit, having a protective friend feels great. Although Natasha wasn't caught by them, and even gave the guy trying to catch her a slash. But Greed still paid them back in their own coin, using their own words to shut them down.

The police did arrive very fast, even pushing the door open and walking in, but easy to enter, hard to leave. After a squad of police rushed in, the door slammed shut again with a bang.

The chief realized something was wrong, turned to draw his gun and shoot the glass. A bullet flew out; by a freak coincidence, the stray bullet ricocheted, hitting a man not far away, triggering a new round of screams.

The chief's face was ugly, but he quickly locked onto the culprit. He looked at Greed and said: "Mr. Rodriguez, you must let us leave. Otherwise......"

"You mean I locked the door?" Greed said with feigned incredulity. "Then how did you get in?"

The chief was speechless. At this moment Pride said: "Since the police are here, I believe you'll investigate thoroughly. At this banquet, you can take whoever you want; we'll fully cooperate with the investigation. Please."

Pride gestured, signaling the police to take people away. But the problem was the police couldn't open the door either now. And everyone realized this Mr. Rodriguez was completely out of the loop—he hadn't seen any paranormal phenomena at all.

This was truly despairing. Because if he didn't know what was going on, then all of this was the ghosts' doing, and they had no hope of leaving this place.

Just then, the Punisher Frank descended like a god. "Shiler, some supernatural phenomena have appeared here. I think it's best to evacuate the people first."

"Supernatural phenomena?"

"You can also understand it as a superpower outbreak. In short, things science can't explain. If we stay here, more people might die. Are there any other routes out of the manor?"

Pride feigned thought, then said: "Then we can only leave from underground. But it's not easy going down there; are you sure you want to go?"

"Quick quick quick! Quick, take us out of here!!!"

Some had already seen approaching ghosts, and impatiently rushed at Pride, wanting him to take them away. Pride dodged without changing expression, then said: "Alright, this is the manor's secret passage. But since the situation is urgent, follow me."

He walked toward the kitchen at the rear of the banquet hall. Everyone hurriedly followed. In the process several more died, all caught and killed by ghosts. Crying and wailing everywhere.

Reaching the corner of the kitchen, there was a cellar door. Pride, Greed, and the Punisher jumped down first; the others followed in a staggering scramble. The cellar was empty, nothing inside. But in the innermost room, under the carpet, there was another passage door.

Pride walked over, lifted the carpet, opened that door, then said: "This leads to the boat dock under the cliff. Once there you can row away. I'm not going down; there's still a mountain of mess in the banquet hall waiting for me to clean up."

These people couldn't be happier that he wasn't coming; they squeezed into the passage in a frantic panic. Pushing each other to be first, brothers and sisters turning enemies, parents and children showing no quarter.

This was indeed a secret passage the manor originally had. The manor's east side was a cliff, below it the sea. This passage was buried in the mountain, its lowest part roughly level with the sea surface, then bored eastward to connect to a dock on the sea, for emergency escape.

Watching the last person descend the passage, Pride finally revealed a cold smile. The arriving Avengers were somewhat baffled, but Pride returned to the manor, exited through the east side door, and came to the cliff edge.

The crowd followed behind him, looking down at the cliff bottom. Before long, one small boat after another rowed out from under the cliff. They were clearly disoriented, unsure where to go, but soon a local pointed the way. They rowed toward the nearest beach.

"'The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.'" Pride spoke slowly. "The unknown divided in two: half sky, half sea."

The sky was overcast, the wind howling. As heavy snow fell again, a thin mist rose over the sea. When the waves churned, the small boats were like another layer of shadow on the water; though still on the surface, they seemed already swallowed. Cries faded, wails vanished; only the familiar yet strange sound of the tide remained.

Ordinary people are powerless before ghosts, but before nature all people are even more lonely and helpless. This is an insoluble fear; even the superheroes standing on the shore could feel that overwhelming, irresistible terror.

But this was still not the end. Just as the mist that had disoriented them and trapped them above the deep sea gradually dissipated, a massive black shadow slowly rose from the depths of the ocean.

The crowd on the shore felt the same suffocation. That gradually approaching pressure, the horror and eeriness that made their hearts pound wildly, caused their fingertips to begin trembling. The people on the ship remained completely unaware, until that black shadow had already drawn close to the bottom of their hull.

The instant the colossal entity surfaced, the Avengers on shore heard only the reverberation of countless mental defenses collapsing. Faint yet heavy, like snow yet like water, like the three feet of clear sky above their heads, like the boundless sea of desire beneath their feet. Traversing between the barriers of fame and profit over hundreds of years, each contact amplified the echo unceasingly, until it became deafening, much like their arrogance and greed.

?? "Humanity's most primal... fear of the unknown." Quoted from Lovecraft's "Supernatural Horror in Literature".