WTNL Chapter 58

Antai Community
Chapter 58: Evil Spirit Believer

The color blocks before his eyes spun chaotically, and a familiar sense of dizziness churned and pulled at his internal organs.

Wen Jianyan stumbled and fell to the ground.

Before he even opened his eyes, a bizarre stench rushed into his nose, making him unable to help but feel a chill in his heart.

A dead silence echoed in his ears.

“…”

Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth, took a few seconds to mentally prepare himself, and then forced himself to slowly open his eyes.

Before him was a narrow room.

The curtains were tightly drawn, the lighting was dim, and the air was murky. Dirty green wallpaper covered the walls, and water stains seeped out from underneath, leaving yellowish-brown marks. The room was extremely messy; the surface of the sofa was covered in grease, completely obscuring its original color, and trash and dirty clothes were piled haphazardly on top of it.

The layout of the room looked somewhat familiar.

Wen Jianyan froze for a moment, taking two seconds to realize that he was currently inside Room 1316.

He reached out and patted his pocket—his phone hadn’t been brought in.

The translucent live stream interface icon was also grayed out and couldn’t be opened. However, there was a fifteen-minute countdown above his head, the seconds slowly ticking down.

Could this be the effect of the item [Mr. Mirror]? Allowing him to see what had happened in this room in the past?

Wen Jianyan blinked.

If that was the case, then spending twenty thousand points was really quite worth it!

Suddenly…

“Clack, clack.”

“Clack, clack.”

A familiar sound, like bones grinding against each other, rang near his ear. Wen Jianyan’s pupils shrank, and he abruptly turned his head toward the source of the sound.

He saw a deathly pale hand slowly reach out from underneath the sofa. The crimson nail polish on the nails was chipped and peeling, the nail plates incomplete. Pitch-black, knotted, dirty long hair spread out from the gap below, as if something was trying to crawl out from under the sofa.

Fuck!

It’s a ghost!

Wen Jianyan’s hair instantly stood on end.

The familiar system voice affectionately rang in his ear: [If the streamer dies while using the item, the live broadcast will end, and the live broadcast room will be closed. To provide viewers with a better viewing experience, please ensure the live broadcast remains smooth and do not disconnect!]

“…”

Wen Jianyan’s expression twisted for a moment.

He decided to take back what he had just said.

Twenty thousand points to buy a fatal crisis, worth my ass!

Wen Jianyan turned and rushed toward the front door, forcefully twisting the doorknob, but to no avail. He had to give up the idea of escaping through the front door and turned to sprint toward the bedroom!

Just like the living room, the lighting in the bedroom was also dim and murky.

The grease-stained bed was a mess, with cigarette butts and trash everywhere.

The bloody stench in the air had grown stronger.

“Clack, clack.”

“Clack, clack.”

The sound that made Wen Jianyan’s scalp tingle rang out again.

This time, the sound came from under the bed.

A deadly pale arm reached out from under the bed, wearing a twisted and mangled bracelet on its wrist. A stiff, smiling face slowly emerged from the darkness, a pair of cloudy, deathly white eyes staring fixedly at Wen Jianyan.

Thick, dark-red blood slowly oozed out from beneath the bed.

A pungent, rotting stench filled the air.

Wen Jianyan subconsciously took a step back.

“Clack, clack.”

The distinct grinding sound came from behind him again. It seemed the ghost from under the sofa had completely crawled out and was slowly approaching him from behind.

A pincer attack from both sides!

Wen Jianyan was scared pale. He looked at the sofa for a moment, then at the space under the bed. Pressing his back against the bedroom wall, he inched backward little by little, trying to distance himself from their attack range while frantically poking the grayed-out live stream panel in front of him. But no matter what he did, there was no response.

He couldn’t use items, couldn’t leave the room, and was locked in with two ghosts…

This fucking item was specifically designed to screw him over, right!

Wen Jianyan was somewhat breaking down.

As he backed away, he glanced at the countdown above his head. This was the first time he had so desperately hoped an item would expire quickly.

“Thud.”

Wen Jianyan’s arm bumped into the closet nearby.

The closet had no lock. The door, which was only loosely shut, slowly drifted open from the bump.

The putrid stench he had been smelling since earlier hit him directly in the face.

A deadly pale, tear-stained face appeared deep within the closet.

Wen Jianyan froze.

…A living person?

Huddled inside the closet was a girl with disheveled clothes. Her hair was dirty and knotted, and she stared at Wen Jianyan outside the closet with a terrified and bewildered gaze, occasionally sobbing and whimpering.

While Wen Jianyan was stunned, the other two ghosts had already closed in.

And he had nowhere left to retreat, nowhere to run.

Just then, he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock from the living room. Through the thin wall, the metallic turning sound was clear and distinct; it seemed someone was entering from outside.

In that instant, the two ghosts before his eyes vanished.

“…?”

Wen Jianyan blinked, taking a moment to process what happened.

Before he could breathe a sigh of relief over the crisis being averted, a familiar voice sounded from the living room.

“You were right to come to me.”

The voice was old and raspy, almost instantly awakening Wen Jianyan’s memory.

It was Granny Wen! That malicious old woman who tried to refine all the streamers into the Soul-Locking Urn!

Wen Jianyan gasped.

He made a prompt decision.

The young man with amber eyes leaned down, looking at the girl huddled inside the closet. He pressed a finger to his lips and mouthed: “Shh.”

Immediately after, he ducked his waist and slipped inside as well, conveniently pulling the closet door shut, closing it silently.

Although the space inside the closet could be considered spacious, Wen Jianyan still couldn’t avoid making physical contact with her.

The girl’s body was very cold, like ice. Even a simple touch made one involuntarily shiver.

The air was enclosed and murky, mixed with a strong stench of rotting corpses and blood.

By the faint light, Wen Jianyan noticed that something seemed to be pasted on the wall behind him.

Footsteps came from outside the closet. Granny Wen seemed to be pacing around the room. Wen Jianyan had no intention of paying attention to the sounds outside; instead, he leaned closer to the wall behind him, held his breath slightly, and carefully scrutinized the things pasted inside the closet.

Light spilled in through the cracks of the closet, barely illuminating this narrow space.

These seemed to be news reports and photos meticulously cut out from newspapers. Some fragments were even carefully circled with a red pen. The fly-sized text was densely packed, making it extremely difficult to read under the dim light.

The bold headlines, however, were faintly discernible.

It seemed… to be about a series of serial murders that occurred in the city, involving the disappearance of multiple young women.

One of the photos caught Wen Jianyan’s attention.

In the photo was a female corpse lying in a pool of blood, the corpse’s nails painted with crimson nail polish.

Wen Jianyan froze.

He stepped back slightly and began to search for something across the entire wall covered in newspaper clippings.

In the upper right corner, a photo taken in a blurry darkroom faintly showed a deadly pale arm and a mangled bracelet worn on it.

Both matched.

Wen Jianyan frowned slightly.

Suddenly, a deadly pale, stiff arm reached over from the side, slowly climbing onto Wen Jianyan’s shoulder.

Wen Jianyan couldn’t help but shiver, turning his head toward the girl.

She had leaned in close at some point. That tear-stained, deathly pale face pressed close to him: “I want to go home.”

She said in a breathy whisper.

“Please, I want to go home.”

Pitch-black, dirty hair hung down, brushing against Wen Jianyan’s arm, making his entire body stiffen, unable to move.

Wen Jianyan tried to move his eyes—

Suddenly, he saw that right in the upper left corner of the closet, there was a photo that looked freshly pasted.

The girl in the photo was lying flat on the cold concrete floor, her lifeless eyes staring up at the sky, a crimson pool of blood beneath her.

Wen Jianyan’s gaze landed once again on the face of the girl huddled with him inside the closet.

…It was exactly the same facial features.

In that instant, Wen Jianyan felt a layer of goosebumps instantly crawl up his arm, and a chill began to well up from the depths of his internal organs.

Not a living person.

This girl in front of him… was also a ghost.

Just then, an unfamiliar male voice came from outside. His voice was full of emotion, trembling slightly under a fiery passion, harboring a bone-chillingly intense zeal deep within:

“Yes, I came to find you the moment I discovered them appearing.”

“You did the right thing.” Granny Wen’s voice was old and loving: “They are the servants of that evil spirit. The Bodhisattva sees all your good deeds. As long as the evil spirit is sealed, the Bodhisattva will surely bestow blessings upon you.”

Following that, the man’s ecstatic voice of gratitude rang out again.

Bizarre clinking sounds came from outside the closet. Accompanied by the scent of burning incense, the old woman’s voice chanting strange incantations sounded, echoing in his ears.

“Clack, clack.”

“Clack, clack.”

The familiar sound of bones grinding against each other came from beside him.

“I want to go home.”

The girl’s eyes widened. Her deathly pale, icy body began to move under some bizarre external force. The bones all over her body made cracking sounds as they were bent, twisted, compressed, shrinking bit by bit into…

The size of a jar.

Her pale face was pressed against where the mouth of the jar would be, her skull completely caved in, her entire body balled up within an extremely narrow space.

Her silent, cloudy, dead-gray eyes slowly shifted slightly.

Her cracked lips moved, speaking slowly:

It hurts so much.

It hurts so much.

I want to go home.

In that instant, Wen Jianyan felt his arm begin to burn with pain. The pitch-black, talisman-like tattoos beneath his skin seemed to struggle against invisible restraints, attempting to break through his skin.

…Fuck.

A strong emotion rushed straight to his head.

Wen Jianyan narrowed his eyes.

The questions that had remained unanswered were finally solved in this moment.

For example… the probability of ten mass family murders occurring in a single building was simply too low, but there were already seven urns in 1316. Where did the previous urns come from?

He leaned down, gently stroked the ghost’s pale face with his fingertips, and said in a low, soft voice: “Shh.”

Immediately after, Wen Jianyan glanced up at the countdown above his head—less than two minutes remained.

He pushed open the closet door and dashed straight out!

The chanting stopped. The two people in the living room looked up in shock, clearly not expecting someone to suddenly run out from the bedroom.

Wen Jianyan quickly scanned the setup in the living room.

A small altar on the floor, a brass statue of the evil Bodhisattva, and placed in the center of the altar, a small black pottery jar.

Beside the jar lay a Bagua mirror, a scarlet talisman pasted over its surface.

Granny Wen’s gaze landed on the back of Wen Jianyan’s hand hanging by his side. Upon touching the pitch-black talismans winding across his skin, her pupils abruptly shrank, and a flash of fear darted through the depths of her eyes.

She screamed in a shrill voice:

“He is a follower of the evil spirit, quick! Catch him!”

[Countdown: 01:02]

The man stood up. His face was deadly pale with a heavy layer of livid blue under his eyes. He had a burly and robust build, and deep within his eyes shone a frightening light of madness.

He lunged violently at Wen Jianyan!

“A follower? Bah.”

Wen Jianyan ducked, easily dodging the man’s attack. His movements were nimble and light; in the blink of an eye, he bypassed the man’s attack range and dashed straight toward Granny Wen on the side.

Granny Wen fell to the side in a panic—

But Wen Jianyan changed direction in an instant.

He kicked the altar over. The black pottery jar shattered on impact. Amidst the chaos of fluttering yellow paper and toppling candles, he scooped up the Bagua mirror from the floor.

[Countdown: 00:12]

Granny Wen slowly climbed up from the floor. A vicious glint flashed through her cloudy eyes. Her lips twisted and trembled under intense emotion as she began to mutter incantations.

[Countdown: 00:04]

Wen Jianyan glanced at the countdown overhead with less than five seconds remaining, and casually raised his hand to rip the talisman paper off the Bagua mirror.

Then, the young man curved his lips, revealing an airy, harmless smile:

“I am your evil spirit grandpa.”

__

Author’s Note:

The evil spirit himself, who inexplicably got a wife, lost his wife, and had his identity impersonated by his wife all in one day: ?