Chapter Four: Deep Within the Warehouse
2
This screech wasn't heard through the ears; it drilled directly into the brain, like a red-hot iron rod twisting inside the skull. Chen Mo let out a howl, his laptop clattering to the floor.Liu Qiang clutched his ears and curled into a ball. Lisa screamed in terror, her high heels flying from her hands. Wang Hu and Zhou Ming doubled over in pain, their faces drained of color.
Only Zhao Yan, Old Zhang, Erin, and Wu Feng remained standing, though their faces were deathly pale. Zhao Yan felt his temples throbbing violently. A wave of heat washed over his nose, and two streams of blood began to flow down his cheeks. He roughly wiped at them, forcing himself to stare at the "face" bulging from the pool of blood.
The face kept changing. The blurred features grew clearer—a woman's pain-twisted visage, eyes like two black holes, mouth gaping wide as if in a silent scream.Even more terrifying, beneath that face, the pool of blood began to bulge again—a second, a third... Each face was different, male and female, old and young, but every expression conveyed extreme agony and hunger.
"They're 'Suffering Spirits,'" Wu Feng's voice whispered in Zhao Yan's ear, faint and trembling with suppressed fear. "Not complete ghosts, but the lingering, tormented obsessions of the dead, collected and amplified by the ritual array... They have only two instincts: hunger and pain. They drain the vital energy from the living, turning them into beings like themselves."
"How do we deal with them?" Zhao Yan asked through gritted teeth, the screeching in his head still tormenting him like relentless noise.
"Light, fire, purifying agents, or..." Wu Feng paused, "satisfy their hunger."
"Satisfy them? Feed them?" Old Zhang spat out a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva and cursed.
"Not food. Emotions. Pain, fear, despair... These negative feelings are their sustenance. The more we fear them, the stronger they grow."
The moment he finished speaking, the blood-soaked faces turned as one toward the crowd. Their black, gaping "eyes" seemed to lock onto Liu Qiang and Wang Hu, who were the most terrified. The pool of blood suddenly accelerated toward them, crawling more than twice as fast as before!
"Don't be afraid!" Zhao Yan roared, but his voice sounded weak amid the screeching chaos in his mind. "Control your emotions! Stop imagining terrifying things!"
But the more he told himself that, the harder it became to control.Liu Qiang watched the blood pool crawl toward them, saw the wailing faces, and his mind filled with all the things that usually annoyed him: the exhaustion of delivering two hundred packages a day, unreasonable customers, the never-enough money in his bank account... All these everyday frustrations were magnified now. The grayish light surrounding his body visibly dimmed, while the light emanating from the blood pool suddenly grew brighter!
"No! He's feeding them!" Erin exclaimed urgently. Though her face was pale, the silver-white light around her remained steady. She snatched a roll of bandage from the first-aid kit, tore off two pieces, and stuffed them into her ears. She then signaled to Zhao Yan and Old Zhang: "Plug your ears! Physical isolation might just work!"
Zhao Yan and Old Zhang hurriedly complied. The screeching in their heads didn't vanish entirely, but it did lessen enough for them to focus.
"Chen Mo!" Zhao Yan turned to the programmer, who was still clutching his head and trembling. "Bullet hell! Is there any way to deal with this thing?!"
Chen Mo struggled to lift his head, his face smeared with tears and snot, but forced himself to look at the screen in the sky. The bullet comments scrolled rapidly:
[It's a Suffering Spirit! This thing is disgusting—physical attacks won't work!]
[You need purification items or skills!]
[Where would they have those? They only have two fire axes!]
[Isn't that painter knowledgeable? Quick, draw a talisman!]
[You need cinnabar and yellow paper for talismans. Does he have that?]
[Use blood! Human blood carries strong yang energy—it can temporarily drive them away!]
[Who's gonna bleed? What if it attracts more?]
The information was chaotic and contradictory.
But the words "human blood" made Zhao Yan's eyes light up.
He glanced at the wound on his arm, corroded by the black miasma of Prajna, the gauze long since soaked through with blood. Then he looked at the pool of blood on the floor, creeping closer, and at those faces growing hungrier by the second.
There was no time for hesitation.
"Old Zhang, cover me!" Zhao Yan growled, tearing the bandage from his arm. The wound exposed to the cold wind throbbed excruciatingly, but he couldn't spare a thought for it now. He raised the fire axe and, using the edge of the blade, scraped it hard across the wound!
More blood gushed out, streaming down his arm and dripping onto the ground.
Sizzle—!
The blood landed beside the dark red mass, sizzling like water hitting hot oil, emitting a faint crackling sound and a wisp of smoke. The pool of blood immediately retreated backward, and the closest blood-covered face let out a silent shriek, stumbling back.
It worked!
But the cost was steep. Zhao Yan's blood, along with the "living scent" emanating from his wounds, acted like a torch in the night, instantly drawing the attention of all the suffering spirits. More bulges emerged from the pool of blood. Seven or eight, perhaps a dozen faces, all "gazing" at Zhao Yan. The screeching in his head suddenly grew several times louder!
"Zhao Yan! You're insane!" Erin shouted, lunging forward to pull him back.
"Don't come near!" Zhao Yan gritted his teeth, squeezing a few more drops of blood onto the ground to form a crooked little circle. He stood inside it. The pool of blood outside the circle writhed, hesitating to approach for now. But the blood-faced spirits closed in layer upon layer, their gaping, black "eyes" fixed on him. Their hunger was becoming almost tangible.
"My blood won't hold out much longer!" Zhao Yan's forehead veins bulged. The screeching in his head combined with the dizziness from blood loss threatened to overwhelm him. "Wu Feng! You understand this stuff. Is there a permanent solution? Or can we seal the warehouse?"
Wu Feng glanced at the fading blood circle beneath Zhao Yan's feet, then shifted his gaze to the warehouse door. His eyes flickered. "There is. But it requires time, materials, and... someone must go inside. Find the core of the formation, or shut the 'gate' itself."
"Go in?" Old Zhang's eyes widened. "We don't even know what's inside. Going in is suicide!"
"I know what's inside," Wu Feng's voice was soft but clear. "When I dipped my finger in the blood and sniffed it just now, I sensed it. The formation inside isn't complete—it's broken. It's not summoning things; it's 'leaking' them—gradually releasing whatever was originally sealed inside. These suffering spirits are the first remnants to leak out.The true source remains inside. Unless we seal the gate, these things will multiply until they devour us all."
Countdown: 05:32:19.
The singing outside the window had reached the convenience store entrance. The wooden clogs fell silent, replaced by the slow, deliberate scrape of fingernails on glass—like a cat scratching at a door, sending shivers down your spine.
Outside, the "songstress" kept watch; inside, the tormented spirit drew nearer.
The blood circle beneath Zhao Yan's feet had faded to near invisibility. Less than ten centimeters from his shoe tip, the blood-soaked face of the young woman slowly opened its mouth—black and bottomless within.
"Who's going in?" Zhao Yan's voice was hoarse as he scanned the crowd.
Old Zhang stepped forward. "I'll go. I'm fast and pretty agile. If anything happens, I can get out."
"No way," Erin objected immediately. "You're our main combat power. If something happens to you in there, the rest of us outside won't be able to hold out against the next wave. I'll go. My observational skills are sharp—I might just find a weakness in that magic array."
"You're going to your death too!" Wang Hu shrieked. "If you both go in, who's going to protect us?!"
"I'll go."
Zhou Ming suddenly spoke up.
The rich kid loosened his tie, his fingers still trembling slightly, but his back was ramrod straight, his eyes gleaming with a reckless resolve."You all have your strengths. Old Zhang can fight, Erin can analyze, and Zhao Yan is the backbone. I'm the least useful. And—" He paused, his voice dropping slightly. "I've studied some geomancy and feng shui, understand the Five Elements and their interactions. Maybe I can decipher the array inside."
Everyone froze. No one expected this arrogant, self-preservation-obsessed rich kid to step forward now.
Zhao Yan studied Zhou Ming intently. He saw the cold, silver-mirrored glow surrounding him, its cracks seeming slightly wider at the edges. Yet at its core, something different shone through—was it courage? Or something else?
"I'll go with you," Zhao Yan declared.
"No way!" Old Zhang and Ailin shouted in unison.
"My blood can temporarily repel these things. I'll lead the way. You follow. Find the core, shut it down, and we'll get out together." Zhao Yan gave them no chance to object. "Lao Zhang, Erin, you stay outside. Watch over the others and keep an eye on that 'songstress' out there. Wu Feng, tell us what to watch out for inside and how to close the door—now."
Wu Feng glanced at Zhao Yan, then at Zhou Ming. After a two-second pause, he quickly replied, "The core of a magic array is usually the focal point—could be a special object or the center of the runes. Find it and destroy it, or reverse its function. The door might be a real door or just a mental construct. If you see a door that 'shouldn't be there,' just shut it.Remember, the 'source' inside loves to deceive. It targets your deepest fears and desires. Don't let it lead you astray."
Zhao Yan nodded, took a deep breath, and glanced at the fading blood circle beneath his feet, along with the restless blood faces lurking within it.
"Go!"
He growled, flinging his last drops of blood forward. He forcibly "burned" a narrow path through the pool of blood, then charged toward the warehouse door without looking back!
Zhou Ming gritted his teeth and hurried after him.
Old Zhang and Erin immediately took their places, using their bodies and makeshift weapons to barely hold back the blood tide that had begun crawling toward the warehouse door again after Zhao Yan's departure.
Zhao Yan reached the warehouse door, gripped the cold handle, and twisted it with all his might—
Click. The door swung open.
A stench ten times stronger than outside hit him like a wave—rot, incense ash, and a sickly sweet, fishy odor that made Zhao Yan wrinkle his nose. The warehouse was pitch black, save for a sliver of light seeping in from the convenience store, illuminating only the small area around the doorway.
The floor was covered in viscous, dark red "blood," spreading into the depths of the darkness. Stepping on it produced a squelching sound, and it stuck to his feet.
And in that pitch-black depths, Zhao Yan caught a glimpse of a faint, eerie green glow.
Like a pair of eyes, silently watching them from the darkness.
"Go in," Zhao Yan's voice was dry and strained as he stepped first into the sticky darkness.
Zhou Ming glanced back at the people in the convenience store—Ailin's face was tense, Old Zhang gripped his axe warily, the others huddled in fear, and Wu Feng's eyes remained inscrutable—then gritted his teeth and stepped inside too.
The metal door slammed shut behind them with a clang. Zhao Yan spun around and latched the clasp.
The light outside vanished, and the screeching in his head faded considerably. Only absolute darkness remained in the warehouse, thick with an indelible stench, the sticky sensation beneath his feet, and...
that faint, eerie green glow, drawing ever closer.
And a clear, echoing giggle drifted from the depths of the darkness: "Hehe... Come play..."