Chapter 56: The Resentment of the Cursed Spell (8)

The sky was thick with dark clouds, and puddles dotted the narrow alleyway's ground; the streetlamp flickered erratically, as if the wiring were faulty.

The two-story wooden house at San Dingmu No. 4 was hidden in dim shadows, revealing not a single glimmer of light.

"Wu—wu—"

A strange sound echoed through the alley, like the wailing of a wronged spirit or the howling of a vengeful ghost.

"." Duizhan Qibing turned slowly, eyes fixed on the source of the music. "Uh, could you turn off the music?"

Li Cheng complied without protest, slipping the portable speaker playing the eerie background music into his backpack slot, then resumed his stern gaze toward the haunted house, still clad in the Maoshan robe.

Duizhan Qibing sighed inwardly, regretting why he'd agreed to accompany Master Pi Fu on this midnight exploration of the haunted house.

The curse-resentment was not a ghost with individual will, but rather a dense, mindless mass of intense resentment.

It could not communicate, had no clear target for revenge or emotion, and would blindly attack any living person tainted by its curse.

In such a case, a player hiding in a desolate mountain forest had the same chance of being attacked as one standing in a busy street shouting, "I'm a paratrooper." There was no point in staging anything.

"The drone scan shows no thermal signatures."

Jingzhe Xiazhi's voice came through the Bluetooth earpiece; the unfinished safehouse was not far from San Dingmu, and she was monitoring the house via drone.

Beside her, Little Red Riding Hood gripped a standard-issue Japanese Bureau of Anomalous Affairs fruit knife, trembling as she guarded four ordinary civilians against possible curse-resentment attacks.

"Expected. You and Little Red Riding Hood, maintain vigilance and protect the three targets. Report any developments immediately. I'm entering the courtyard with Master Pi Fu."

Duizhan Qibing took a deep breath, reached out, and pushed open the low wooden gate of the front yard, stepping into the estate.

His foot touched solid ground, but the expected surge of chilling dread did not spread through his body.

Duizhan Qibing scanned left and right. The house, unoccupied for a month, clearly lacked any human presence: wild weeds choked the flowerbeds, spiderwebs draped the eaves, and a thin layer of dust coated the glass windows.

Shu-la shu-la.

A rustling noise came from the side; Duizhan Qibing turned to see Li Cheng, mask on, gloved hands opening several garbage bags piled in the courtyard's corner, rummaging through their contents.

". What are you doing?"

"Rummaging through trash."

Li Cheng spoke as if it were obvious. "The traces on garbage reveal plenty. Kitchen waste shows dietary preferences; household waste reveals daily habits—even toilet paper stained with feces can indicate illness—"

"If the feces are black, it may indicate upper gastrointestinal or small intestine bleeding."

"If the feces are black and glossy, it may mean a large volume of blood has accumulated in the intestinal cavity."

"Mucopurulent stool suggests bacterial dysentery; oily diarrhea points to small intestine disease; clay-colored stool may indicate a tumor or gallstones in the bile duct."

"Ugh."

This bizarre monologue left Duizhan Qibing speechless. After a pause, he asked, "How do you know all this? Did you learn it from forensic textbooks?"

"Nope," Li Cheng said. "I picked it up during my internship at the East University Anorectal Clinic, watching seniors. Our department's motto was, 'Keep your hemorrhoids lofty, your intestines warm.'"

???

This time, not only Duizhan Qibing, but Jingzhe Xiazhi on the earpiece too were baffled.

Thanks to the internet's rich resources, Li Cheng, as a mystery enthusiast, had read countless eclectic books; his knowledge wasn't necessarily cutting-edge, but it was vast and varied—useful anywhere.

His performative madness wasn't just for fun—he adopted the persona of a mentally unstable person to distinguish himself from his real-world self.

Gathering his thoughts, Duizhan Qibing asked, "We have Suzuki's son and daughter-in-law in custody. Why not just ask them if their parents were ill? Why go through all this?"

Li Cheng set down the garbage bag. "Even children may not know their parents' current health. Many elderly don't even realize they're sick."

"Determining the true cause of death is critical. If the Suzukis died from sudden illness and drowned in the bathtub, we'd misjudge the exact time the curse-resentment appeared."

Duizhan Qibing asked, "Did you find a clue?"

"Hahaha, none at all." Li Cheng removed his mask, grinned confidently, revealing eight gleaming white teeth in the dark, then picked up an empty soda can and crushed it effortlessly under his foot.

Then why are you so confident?! Aren't you just making up an excuse to satisfy your trash-rummaging urge? And why is your can-crushing motion so practiced? Are you a sanitation worker or a scavenger in real life?!

Duizhan Qibing took a deep breath, suppressing his urge to retort, and said calmly, "I'm opening the door. Get ready."

He grasped the doorknob, pressed lightly, and pushed—the unlocked door creaked open.

Stale, musty air rushed out, untouched by ventilation for months. Under the flashlight's glow, the interior's layout was fully visible.

As in Suzuki Kazuya's photos, the house was modest: past the entrance, a hallway ran straight ahead, with a shoe cabinet and bathroom on the right, kitchen and dining area on the left, and the living room at the end.

In the corner of the living room, stairs led to the second floor. The staircase's bend was especially dark, radiating a strong sense of unease—as if something might crawl down from there.

"We confirmed this neighborhood had electricity, yet the lights still won't turn on…"

Duizhan Qibing pressed the wall switch—no response. Suddenly, a tremendous force slammed the door handle, forcing the wooden door shut against his resistance.

Thud!

The wooden door slammed shut, sealing the inside from the outside. Worse—the figure of Li Cheng, clad in the Maoshan robe, vanished into thin air, nowhere to be seen.

The entire house was now empty except for Duizhan Qibing.

"Eh-eh-eh—"

A strange, gurgling moan, as if blood choked the throat, drifted from the stairs at the end of the hallway.

Something was crawling down the stairs.

————

Wait, where'd he go?

Li Cheng stood at the entrance, frowning.

In his view, the moment the door slammed shut, Duizhan Qibing vanished—"whoosh"—leaving only himself.

The Bluetooth earpiece, supposedly resistant to complex electromagnetic interference, crackled with static. The glass windows in the living room, previously just dusty, had turned inexplicably blurry, obscuring any view of the outside.

This place was no longer the old Fujita residence—it was somewhere else.

After a moment's thought, Li Cheng confirmed that even his talisman-covered Mantis Bone Blade could not cut through the door, then turned and stepped past the entrance, beginning his exploration of the house.

(End of Chapter)