Wang Wenlong sat hunched at the bottom of the old well, knees drawn to his chest, fists punching the empty air in front of him with frantic, desperate swings. His knuckles were raw from scraping brick, but he didn't seem to feel the pain—his face was a mask of blind panic, eyes wide and unseeing as if battling invisible enemies that only he could perceive. The sand around him was churned into chaotic patterns, footprints and drag marks overlapping like a frantic dance. Each punch carried a choked sob, his breath coming in ragged gasps that echoed off the curved walls. The well, already oppressively deep, felt like a tomb closing in, the circle of daylight above shrinking with every passing second.
"Stand here and don't move. I'll pull him out," Chen Ge ordered Pei Hu, his voice cutting through the muffled hysteria below. Pei Hu nodded numbly, still clutching Wang Wenlong's phone like a guilty secret. Wang Wenlong froze at the sound of Chen Ge's voice, his fists slowing until they hung limp at his sides. He lifted his head with painful stiffness, eyes lifeless and glassy, staring upward as if emerging from a trance. When his gaze finally focused on Pei Hu's face framed against the well's mouth, something ignited behind those dull pupils—recognition, betrayal, raw fury.
"You f*cker!" Wang Wenlong roared, the words exploding out of him like a dam breaking. "You dare come back to face me?!" His voice cracked with a mix of rage and lingering terror, the anger momentarily overriding the shock that had paralyzed him. He scrambled to his feet, sand cascading from his clothes, but his legs buckled, forcing him to grip the wall for support.
Pei Hu flinched, hands raised defensively. "Listen to me—it was dangerous! If I hadn't run, we'd both be trapped down there!" His voice pitched higher with each word, justification tumbling out in a rush. "I used myself as bait to lure the worst of it away! Ask the boss—he saw everything!"
"You lie!" Wang Wenlong spat, tears of frustration mixing with the sand on his cheeks.
Chen Ge dropped into the well without another word, landing beside Wang Wenlong with a soft thud. "Keep your voices down," he said calmly, gripping the man's arm to steady him. "You can argue all you want outside." With Pei Hu's reluctant help from above, they hauled Wang Wenlong up, his body heavy and uncooperative, legs still numb from cold and fear. Once on solid ground, Wang Wenlong sagged against the wall, chest heaving, but the fire in his eyes hadn't dimmed.
Chen Ge didn't rush to leave. He crouched at the well's edge, peering into the darkness below. That morning he had placed only two nametags and a thin layer of sand—no buried mannequins, no hidden horrors. Yet Wang Wenlong's terror had been real, the claw marks on the walls fresh. The lingering spirits were testing boundaries, or something from the fused Hai Ming rooms had seeped through. He filed it away for later; the visitors needed out first.
Outside the well, Wang Wenlong and Pei Hu immediately resumed their argument, voices rising in a heated tangle of accusations and defenses. Chen Ge tuned them out, helping Wang Wenlong to his feet. The man's anger had burned off the worst of the shock, but fear still lingered in his trembling hands and the way his eyes kept darting to shadows. "You good to walk?" Chen Ge asked. Wang Wenlong nodded stiffly, leaning heavily on Chen Ge's shoulder as they started back.
It took considerable effort—half-carrying, half-dragging—to shepherd all five visitors through the twisting corridors and up to the surface. Dou Menglu clung to Wang Hailong's arm, mascara streaked down her cheeks; Xia Meili walked in stunned silence, one heel missing; Pei Hu kept glancing behind him as if expecting pursuit. When the final wooden board was pulled aside and sunlight poured into the tunnel, the crowd outside the Haunted House entrance collectively gasped.
Five young adults emerged looking like survivors of a war zone: clothes disheveled, faces pale and tear-streaked, eyes wide with lingering horror. The queue fell silent, phones rising instinctively to capture the spectacle. Whispers rippled outward: "What did they see in there?" "Only half an hour…" Uncle Xu abandoned his ticket booth in a heartbeat, rushing forward with outstretched arms. "Good heavens! What happened to you kids?" he demanded, helping support Wang Hailong and Xia Meili.
"Just a little scare," Chen Ge said with a reassuring smile, releasing Wang Wenlong's arm. "Nothing serious. Can you all walk on your own now?" The visitors stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. At his words, the entire crowd took a subtle, collective step backward, the line parting like the Red Sea. Chen Ge's innocent tone, paired with the five wrecked souls behind him, painted a picture no advertisement ever could. The Haunted House's reputation had just gained a very visceral, very viral boost.
"He could not even walk properly, and you dare call that just a little scare?" one visitor shouted from the crowd, pointing accusingly at Wang Wenlong, who was still leaning heavily on his friends, his legs wobbling like a newborn foal's. The accusation rippled through the queue, faces twisting with a mix of concern and outrage. Phones rose higher, capturing every stumble, every tear-streaked cheek. The five visitors looked like survivors of a disaster, their clothes disheveled, eyes haunted, and the crowd's sympathy quickly turned to suspicion aimed at Chen Ge and his Haunted House.
"Are you trying to lie to us?" another voice called, a woman this time, her tone sharp with disbelief. "We heard the screaming from outside the park! How can you stand there and say it was nothing serious?" The murmurs grew louder, the line shifting restlessly as people exchanged glances, some already stepping back as if reconsidering their tickets. Uncle Xu hovered nearby, his face pale, hands wringing the ticket roll as he shot Chen Ge worried looks, silently pleading for him to defuse the situation before it spiraled.
Wang Wenlong, embarrassed under the weight of so many stares, forced himself upright, brushing off his friends' supporting hands. He waddled forward two shaky steps, like a toddler taking his first walk, his face flushed red from humiliation and lingering fear. The effort cost him; his knees buckled slightly, but he caught himself, refusing to collapse again in front of everyone. The crowd watched in stunned silence, the sight of a grown man reduced to such a state more effective than any warning sign.
"Wenlong! Pei Hu!" A booming voice cut through the tension as a large man in a black tank top shoved his way to the front, the tattoo of a snarling wolf's head flexing on his broad shoulder. He rushed to Wang Wenlong's side, slinging a muscular arm around him for support. "What the hell happened to you guys? I heard screaming from clear outside the park!" His eyes darted over the group—Dou Menglu's tear-streaked makeup, Xia Meili's missing heel, Pei Hu's trembling hands—and then fixed on Chen Ge with open accusation. "What did you do to my brothers?"
Chen Ge met the man's glare evenly, recognizing him instantly as the sixth member of the group, the one meant to swoop in for the prize after the others scouted the nametags. "Brother?" he repeated lightly, noting the protective fury, but he didn't dwell on it. Instead, he stepped forward, facing the entire crowd, his expression shifting to serious sincerity. "I warned everyone before they went in that our scenarios are divided by difficulty levels for a reason. You have to clear the easier ones first to handle the scarier ones. They insisted on jumping straight to Mu Yang High School, and… well, you can see the result for yourselves." He gestured at the five shaken visitors, letting the visual speak louder than any defense.
Standing before the Haunted House's gate, Chen Ge gripped the iron bars, his voice carrying clearly over the murmurs. "When I first announced the level system, many accused me of trying to squeeze extra money from you—and I get it, it sounds suspicious. But it's genuinely for your safety. Western Jiujiang's Haunted House has operated for years with ratings never below ninety percent because we put visitors first. We aim to give you the scariest experience of your life, but everyone's fear threshold is different. For first-timers or those with lower tolerance, jumping into a two-star scenario like Mu Yang High School can be overwhelming. That's why we created the levels—to protect you while still delivering the ultimate thrill."
The new rules needed acceptance, and Chen Ge was laying the groundwork carefully. On one side, the 20,000-yuan reward tempted the brave to challenge the hardest scenario directly; on the other, Wang Hailong's group served as a living cautionary tale, warning against skipping steps. The crowd's anger began to fracture—some nodded thoughtfully, others still grumbled, but the dramatic evidence of the five exhausted visitors shifted opinions. Chen Ge's balance was perfect: entice with riches, caution with reality, and build a system where every scenario, from one-star to two-star, had its place and purpose.
"If you want the big reward, follow the rules," Chen Ge concluded, his tone firm but fair. "Start small, build up your courage. That way, when you finally tackle Mu Yang High School, you'll survive it—and maybe even win the prize." He released the gate, stepping back as the message sank in. The level system would funnel visitors through all his scenarios, maximizing engagement and revenue while minimizing real danger. More importantly, as he unlocked higher Scream Factor scenarios, the truly fearless would flock here, laying the foundation for the horror theme park he dreamed of—a sprawling maze where every corner hid a new nightmare, and New Century Park rose from its ashes as Jiujiang's undisputed king of fear. The crowd began to murmur again, but this time with excitement rather than outrage, the five shaken visitors already becoming the Haunted House's most effective advertisement.