Volume One: The Phantom Mansion Chapter Twelve: Decisive and Resolute

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Seeing the female ghost break free from her restraints so swiftly, you are struck with alarm, realizing that as time passes, the blood’s suppressive effect on the ghost weakens once again.

Your hairs stand on end as you turn and flee, with Zhao Linxuan close behind.

Passing by Zhou Cheng’s corpse, you cast a glance at the dead blond youth and vaguely grasp a certain truth.

Behind you, just as expected, the ghost floats swiftly in pursuit, her focus locked onto you.

Listening to the howling cold wind behind, well-prepared, you abruptly whirl around and hurl the blood bag you had torn open earlier at the woman in red.

The ghost is trapped once more.

Without hesitation, you and Zhao Linxuan escape to the upper floors.

Yes, because the ghost remains on the nineteenth floor, you must temporarily forgo examining the oil painting.

Like two stray dogs bereft of hope, you sprint relentlessly down the corridor until your energy is drained, then hide in a storage room on one of the floors.

Inside the storage room, you catch your breath momentarily before casting a questioning look at Zhao Linxuan.

You wish to ask her certain questions.

Yet before you can speak, a cold, eerie wind sweeps through the room.

Sensing the anomaly, Zhao Linxuan reacts swiftly and rushes out first.

Your reflexes are quick as well, but as you start to run, the dizziness caused by blood loss returns.

Under the haze of dizziness, your pace slows; when you finally shake it off, you see the door has shut by itself.

You try pushing and pulling, but the door remains immovable.

In that instant, you realize the room has been sealed; under the ghost’s supernatural power, you are trapped inside.

At the same time, you detect something strange above.

Instinctively looking up, you see the ceiling has become covered with hair, though you cannot tell when it happened.

In the center is a ghastly pale face, features grotesquely twisted.

More deadly still, as you spot the ghost, a dense shower of hair suddenly cascades from the ceiling.

You are instantly engulfed and ensnared by countless strands.

You are dead.

Simulation ended.

Your body jolts violently as Cheng Fan opens his eyes.

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This scene is witnessed by Zhao Linxuan, who is seated below.

Seeing the young man’s body twitch inexplicably, she cannot help but ask with curiosity, “Cheng Fan, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Cheng Fan replies quickly, aware the simulation has ended, shaking his head to deny, “I just had a cramp in my thigh.”

“Alright then.”

Satisfied that Cheng Fan is unharmed, Zhao Linxuan doesn’t dwell on it and turns her attention elsewhere.

Though she rests without worry, in truth, neither she turning away nor Zhou Cheng’s panting notice one vital scene:

The moment Zhao Linxuan looks away, Cheng Fan’s expression shifts abruptly.

His eyes, when cast toward Zhao Linxuan, suddenly brim with vigilance.

Without hesitation, he turns his back to both of them.

Once certain no one can see his face, Cheng Fan’s expression becomes more intense—sometimes pale, sometimes bluish, his lips twitching uncontrollably.

A storm of thoughts surges through his mind.

The cause: the simulation he just ran.

Indeed, through the recent simulation, Cheng Fan has obtained a wealth of valuable information—both in quantity and significance—far surpassing his previous three attempts.

The specifics break down into three points:

First, his judgment was correct: despite the disarray of the building’s floors caused by the ghost’s maze-like influence, following the bloodstains as markers still leads to the nineteenth floor.

Second, whether by intuition or not, besides himself, the woman in red also seems deeply concerned with the nineteenth floor, appearing almost fearful of him returning there to examine the oil painting.

As for evidence?

There is plenty. If the ghost were indifferent to the nineteenth floor and unafraid of explorers checking the painting, why would she repeatedly place dead bodies as the three ascend the stairs? Clearly, it’s a tactic to sow panic and apply psychological pressure.

Moreover, when the three reached the nineteenth floor, the ghost had already ambushed there and launched a direct attack—an overt attempt to conceal something.

From these observations, one can conclude that the ghost knows the oil painting on the nineteenth floor benefits explorers.

Once they observe and comprehend its hidden meaning, the ghost will quickly lose her targets, as the explorers would immediately find a way to escape the building.

Third, if the first two points concern the supernatural dimension, the third relates to a certain individual...

Zhao Linxuan is off—very off.

In Cheng Fan’s mind, Zhao Linxuan has always been a clever woman—though slightly less sharp than himself, at least adept at reading people. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have decisively abandoned the elevator on the twentieth floor to team up with the seemingly unusual Cheng Fan.

Yet since teaming up, many inexplicable and eerie occurrences have unfolded.

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Namely, whenever encountering the woman in red, the ghost consistently ignores Zhao Linxuan and attacks others first.

The first time on the nineteenth floor, though Zhao Linxuan was closest, the ghost targeted Cheng Fan first.

Recently, when hiding in the office, though the ghost slipped under the bed and almost caught sight of Zhao Linxuan beneath, it ended up attacking Zhou Cheng hiding behind a cabinet.

Again, in the latest simulation when the three reached the nineteenth floor, Zhao Linxuan was nearest, yet the ghost struck Zhou Cheng from behind first.

After killing Zhou Cheng, the ghost shifted focus, still ignoring Zhao Linxuan, and charged at Cheng Fan without hesitation.

Layer upon layer of suspicion builds, and gradually Cheng Fan senses a conspiracy.

These are all the valuable clues Cheng Fan gleaned from the simulation.

Yet precisely because of this bounty of information, as his thoughts settle, when he turns back toward Zhao Linxuan, his gaze has evolved from vigilance into sheer terror—deep, primal fear.

Glancing at his phone, he notes five minutes have passed.

Cheng Fan pockets the phone and struggles to stand.

“Hey? Leaving already?” Zhao Linxuan frowns, assuming he’s ready to move on.

Likewise, Zhou Cheng, still catching his breath, shakes his head repeatedly, “Hey, Cheng bro, it’s barely been five minutes. Can we rest a little longer?”

“Ah, don’t misunderstand,” Cheng Fan says calmly, clutching his stomach, “I’m not saying we’re leaving now, just that my stomach feels a bit off. You two wait here; I’ll step out nearby.”

Hearing this, the two finally understand—it’s a natural emergency nobody can stop, especially something as delicate as a bathroom break.

“All right, then hurry back. Zhou Cheng and I will wait here.”

Sure enough, as soon as Cheng Fan finishes speaking, Zhao Linxuan nods instinctively and offers a reminder, while Cheng Fan simply nods and strides toward the nearest floor.

From behind comes Zhou Cheng’s well-meaning advice: “Don’t forget to bring some paper!”

Maintaining a strained expression and clutching his stomach, Cheng Fan ignores the remark and hastens upstairs.

But...

Once in the corridor, after confirming he has vanished from the others’ sight, Cheng Fan’s expression changes.

His earlier urgency vanishes, and instead of seeking a restroom, he quietly backs away.

He retreats several dozen meters, then without a word, spins around and bolts toward the stairwell on the right!