Illusionary realm.
By the time they returned to the apartment building, it was already late. No lights were on in any of the units, and from below, the entire building loomed in complete darkness.
Lu Congxing lightly tapped the hallway light switch. The dim bulb flickered weakly before quickly going out again.
“The hallway light is broken,” He Zhouyan said, reaching out to hold Lu Congxing’s hand. “Be careful.”
His eyes, now adjusted to the darkness, reverted to their pale, slit-pupil form, allowing him to see with perfect clarity. Taking advantage of the moment, he gently rubbed the small golden bell wrapped around the cub’s wristbone.
It was a gift from him—one that had been worn obediently ever since. It was almost like a mark of ownership.
His pupils shrank with excitement, resembling those of a predator locked onto its prey.
Lu Congxing, oblivious as ever in this regard, simply let himself be led forward. But after climbing a few steps, something felt off.
“Is it just me, or is the yin energy getting stronger in this building?”
He Zhouyan, more focused on the warmth of their interlocked hands, only gave a distracted nod in response.
Unaware of his companion’s absent-mindedness, Lu Congxing extended his free hand, summoning a wisp of blue fire that faintly illuminated their surroundings.
They continued upward as Lu Congxing silently counted the floors in his head.
One, two, three, four…
He stopped abruptly, his sharp gaze locking onto the nearest doorplate.
1024.
A door number that shouldn’t exist here.
This building’s numbering only went up to the six-hundreds at most.
Was this a ghost wall?
The tiny flame flickered upward, attempting to break the supernatural trap, but it merely brushed against empty air. This was clearly more than just an optical illusion.
Defeated, the flame drooped, landing on Lu Congxing’s shoulder and rubbing against him pitifully.
The hallway stretched forward like the gaping maw of a beast, hiding unknown things in the depths of darkness.
Lu Congxing’s expression remained cold as he withdrew his gaze. He raised his hand and knocked on the door of Unit 1024.
No response.
Without hesitation, he twisted the doorknob. Despite appearing locked, the door swung open effortlessly.
Behind it was nothing but a cold concrete wall, smeared with bloody handprints that trailed downward as if something had been dragged across it. Aside from that, there was nothing.
It was the kind of scene straight out of a horror story. Unfazed, Lu Congxing closed the door again.
The door, which had looked relatively new just moments ago, now appeared rusted and decrepit, as if it had aged in an instant. It was as though he had shut an entirely different door.
Blood began seeping from the cracks of the 1024 doorplate, dripping steadily onto the floor. Drop by drop, the crimson liquid spread, until it nearly engulfed the entire door.
Then, as if guided by an invisible hand, the blood formed shaky, deliberate strokes, spelling out three words: Kill you.
Unfortunately, the only two people present had no interest in the message. One was too focused on figuring out how to leave, while the other was too absorbed in watching his companion’s serious expression to care.
Lu Congxing took a few more steps forward and, without hesitation, pushed open the door to Unit 1025.
This time, there was no concrete wall—but it wasn’t a normal room, either.
Instead, it was a cramped, angular space.
At its center, a little girl crouched on the floor, sobbing.
Everything about the scene screamed trouble.
Lu Congxing paused for two seconds, then decided to pretend he hadn’t seen anything and began closing the door.
The moment he did, the girl’s cries grew louder.
Previously, her sobbing had been soft and pitiful. But as soon as she sensed the door closing, her wails erupted into a deafening shriek—
It was unbearably noisy with wailing and shouting.
He had no choice but to open the door again. Just like in a cliche horror scene, he asked, “Little friend, why are you crying here all alone?”
The little girl remained with her back to him, but at least she had stopped sobbing. Between sniffles, she answered, “I… I lost my mom and dad. Big brother, can you help me?”
Lu Congxing said, “Sure.”
“Thank you, big brother.” The little girl stood up and slowly turned around. “You’re so kind.”
Her face—no, that couldn’t even be called a face. There were no features at all.
She tilted her head, and from that smooth, featureless surface came a voice: “What’s wrong, big brother? Is there something on my face?”
The expected scream never came. Lu Congxing simply stared at her with an unsettling calm.
Now it was the little girl’s turn to feel uncomfortable. She tugged at the seam of her dress, unwilling to give up, and took two steps forward. To make sure he could see clearly, she even lifted her head.
Under the blue glow of the flames, it was unmistakable—she had no facial features at all.
Lu Congxing said, “I know where your parents are. Come with me.”
If she had a face, her expression right now would probably be quite something.
Lu Congxing pointed to the door marked 1026, speaking with absolute confidence: “They’re in there. Go in and find them.”
The little girl stiffly walked to 1026 and, under the heavy pressure of his gaze, opened the door.
This time, what lay beyond was finally the interior of a normal home—except for one thing. It was engulfed in roaring flames.
The sofa and television were almost entirely consumed, and from inside, the faint sound of people screaming in agony could be heard.
Lu Congxing calmly analyzed, “This must be a moment frozen in time—a family trapped in a house fire, unable to escape. They’ve likely been stuck here for a long time, reliving their final moments of pain over and over.”
He had thought the malevolent ghost behind this illusionary realm was only capable of copying horror scenes from old ghost stories. He hadn’t expected it to trap real, tormented souls here as well.
What a shame for that family. They hadn’t committed any sins in life and should have been able to reincarnate. But instead, they were caught in this endless suffering—just because they were unfortunate enough to be targeted by a stronger, more sinister force.
And who knew how many more scenes like this existed within this illusionary realm? Behind every door could be another “surprise.”
The screams grew louder. The people inside were approaching the moment of their deaths once again.
Lu Congxing reached out and gave the faceless little girl a push, speaking with complete justification: “Go on. The parents you’re looking for are inside.”
The little girl: ?
Didn’t you just say that this was a family that died in a fire? What does that have to do with me?
Locking eyes with a featureless face should have been terrifying, but Lu Congxing didn’t feel even the slightest bit of fear or guilt.
The little girl took a step back from the raging fire inside, clearly unwilling to enter.
But the moment she retreated, a searing heat erupted behind her—far hotter than the flames in the room. It was a heat that burned straight into the soul.
The ghostly blue fire flickered menacingly behind her, and its master smiled serenely. “Going in or not?”
Lowering her head in humiliation, the faceless little girl’s blank face actually began to form a crude, awkward expression—like the 囧 character. Under the threat of the blue flames, she obediently rushed into the inferno of 1026.
Two spaces that should never have intersected had been violently forced together by Lu Congxing. Like parallel lines being forcefully bent to meet.
The illusionary realm around them cracked.
Lu Congxing hadn’t expected his casual action to completely shatter the realm. He blinked, realizing they were still standing in the same place.
Standing in the hallway on the first floor, with the malfunctioning button just within reach.
It seemed the malevolent ghost had hidden the realm’s trigger inside the light switch. When the light flickered earlier, they had already been pulled into the illusionary realm.
But now, it was completely destroyed.
Though he wasn’t sure if it would help, Lu Congxing pulled out a Rebirth Talisman and set it alight, hoping the smoke would guide the trapped souls into reincarnation.
He pressed the hallway light switch again. This time, the light turned on.
“Let’s go,” Lu Congxing said, turning to the silent guardian demon who had been watching the entire time.
Then, he noticed the other’s distraction. Lu Congxing hesitated for a moment before asking, “What’s wrong? Did you the scent of the Southern Abyss just now?”
He Zhouyan, who had been focused on the cub and hadn’t paid attention to the environment, suddenly felt a little guilty. He cleared his throat and said, “It’s nothing. Let’s go.”
A sense of pride welled up inside him.
As expected of the cub—truly impressive.
Lu Congxing blinked in confusion. Why did it feel like Bai Ze wasn’t on the same wavelength as him?
As they reached the fourth floor, a faint noise came from above.
Lu Congxing called out sharply, “Who’s there?”
The shadow on the fifth floor stiffened for a moment before slowly making its way down.
The old man didn’t look well. He stared at the two people coming up the stairs and asked, “Why are you still here?”
It was the old man from the fifth floor.
Lu Congxing hadn’t expected anyone to still be wandering the building this late. What surprised him even more was that the elderly man, who supposedly had Alzheimer’s, seemed completely lucid—nothing like the confused, feeble-minded act he had put on before.
Did he see something just now?
Lu Congxing probed cautiously, “Did you see anything just now?”
The old man snorted. “I just saw the two of you sneaking around downstairs for a long time.”
Lu Congxing asked, “Why do you want us to leave so badly?”
From the very first time they met, the old man had urged him to leave. Back then, others explained it away as his Alzheimer’s, so Lu Congxing hadn’t taken it seriously.
Yet now, the first thing the old man asked was why he was still here, as if he genuinely wanted him gone.
Setting everything else aside, the old man’s advice wasn’t wrong—this building was filled with people hiding secrets, and even a malevolent ghost had taken root here. It truly wasn’t a place fit for living.
Since the old man already knew, why did he stay? Lu Congxing still remembered what Zhou Zijie had once said: this old man never leaves the building.
Only earthbound ghosts are trapped in buildings for years, yet this old man was clearly not bound—he was an ordinary living person who could leave whenever he wanted.
The old man’s face looked awful: “Just go back quickly, don’t ask so many questions.”
Lu Congxing, with sincerity, slightly widened his eyes. “Did you know there was something wrong with this building all along?”
The old man’s face seemed to freeze, and his eyes widened in shock, as if the question hit a nerve. He didn’t answer immediately, but instead stared, his voice trembling, “You… you knew there was something wrong with this building? Why are you still here?”
His face looked terrible, but he lowered his voice to avoid being overheard.
Lu Congxing took out a talisman, and without a word, the old man understood.
The old man straightened his back slightly, his hands trembling with excitement. “You… you are?”
Lu Congxing calmly added, “A ghost exorcist.”
The old man, disoriented, leaned against the wall. “So it’s true… Are you here to capture the malevolent ghost?”
He took a few steps forward, and a glimmer of hope appeared in his cloudy eyes.