In the afternoon, we arrived at a restaurant called Crab King. We were already starving, and many members of the Ghost Burial Squad had been running around helping us all day.
"Thank you, everyone, really, thank you so much." As soon as I walked in and sat down, I immediately stood up again, repeatedly expressing my gratitude.
"Brother Zhang, it's nothing. We didn't have anything else to do anyway, haha."
After we sat down, we started chatting. During the conversation, I heard them mention that in recent years, supernatural incidents in N City had gradually decreased. The squad originally had over fifty members, but about twenty had been transferred back to headquarters.
With a creak, the door to the back room opened, and a delicious aroma wafted in. I swallowed and turned my head. Suddenly, I screamed—standing behind me was the little ghost I’d seen in the elevator, holding a bowl of human head soup.
The soup was blood-red, bubbling and steaming. In a flash, I cried out in shock and fell hard onto the floor. Inside the bowl, the severed head opened its eyes—it was my father, Jack Zhang.
"Sir, are you alright?"
I blinked, sitting on the floor. Rachel Lan squatted beside me, calling my name over and over, while more than a dozen Ghost Burial Squad members stood up.
Only then did I see clearly—in front of me was a giant pot of steaming crabs.
My heart pounded, every hair on my body standing on end. Rachel Lan kept patting my chest, and then I told everyone what I had just seen.
"Something’s not right, Brother Zhang. None of us felt anything strange."
Rachel Lan looked at me suspiciously. For the rest of the meal, I kept glancing at the pot, feeling uneasy, and couldn't enjoy the food at all.
"Ethan, are you alright? You look pale."
Later, Rachel Lan and I were pulled away by Mason Wang, who took us to a three-star hotel to check in. Mason Wang then left.
It was a standard double room. After entering, I pressed my hand to my forehead and sat down on a chair, my mind filled with what I had just witnessed.
"What exactly is going on?"
Just thinking about my father’s horrific state made me shiver uncontrollably, anxiety gnawing at my heart.
"Ethan, wash your face, clear your head, and get some rest early."
Rachel Lan’s voice drifted over. I responded with a simple "Mm," lowering my hand.
"Ethan..." In a basin of blood-red water, my father's head was soaking inside. His eyes were gone, blood streaming from his seven orifices, mouth agape, whimpering as he spoke.
It was still that little ghost, holding a basin. I roared and clenched my fist, swinging at him.
My fist barely landed before—bang—the basin spilled, blood and water splattering everywhere. But the little ghost grabbed my hand, grinning menacingly.
"Ethan, Ethan, what are you doing? Wake up!"
I snapped back to consciousness. Rachel Lan was gripping my fist, looking at me with worry. When I looked again, there was no blood, no severed head—just a spilled basin of water and a wet towel.
"I..."
Just as I was about to apologize, Rachel Lan covered my mouth.
"Ethan, even though I didn’t feel anything, the hallucinations you saw are real, right? It’s okay."
Rachel Lan tried to comfort me, but inside, I was full of rage. I clenched my fists and shouted.
"Who is it? Who the hell is it? If you’ve got the guts, come out!"
I looked over and suddenly saw that little ghost again, clinging to a corner of the ceiling, grinning. I lunged at him, fist raised, but couldn’t reach him—I still couldn’t unleash any Deathbane Aura.
"Did you forget something?" the little ghost said coldly, then vanished.
My head buzzed and my consciousness grew fuzzy. Then, with a thud, I collapsed to the ground.
It was a dream. I found myself in a vast wilderness where the grass reached up to my knees. Across from me was a forest.
The words 'Riverbend Village' stood out before me. I was startled, remembering the book Horror Stories. Was I really dreaming?
Everything was silent around me—no sound at all. Fear crept in as I looked down the dark, hollow path ahead. I checked my pockets; no phone.
"Young man." An old, seasoned voice called out. I jolted in fright and sat down hard on the ground as footsteps drew closer.
A light appeared on the path. An elderly man in a vintage cadre uniform, carrying an oil lamp, walked toward me.
"What’s wrong? Lost your way?"
I shook my head, then nodded.
"Come on, I just ran into a young girl who was lost too." The old man turned and started walking.
I looked around—there was nowhere else to go. I hurried after him, but when he mentioned the lost girl, I was surprised. Could it be Rachel Lan? Was I really dreaming?
But then I remembered what the old man said—a young girl, also lost. Suddenly it struck me: wasn’t the opening of the first story in Horror Stories exactly like my current situation?
"Sir, how much farther is it?"
We walked for ages without seeing any destination. I couldn’t help but ask, but the old man just kept walking, ignoring me. I hurried to catch up.
"Sir, are we there yet?"
I raised my voice. Suddenly, the old man stopped.
He slowly turned his head, his deeply lined face twitching.
"Don’t rush. We’re almost there."
As the old man opened his mouth, I saw a row of sharp teeth, stained with something dark.
I didn’t think much of it and followed him. Even though it was a dream, everything felt terrifyingly real—just like meeting Ironmask in a dream.
The old man ahead walked quickly. I clenched my fists, waiting for him. I tried again—sure enough, I couldn’t release any Deathbane Aura. All I could do was follow him and see what lay ahead.
Suddenly, the old man stopped and turned his head.
"Young man, you dropped something."
I gasped, startled, and looked down. There it was—Horror Stories, thick and bound in kraft paper. I hurried to pick it up.
The light vanished. I looked around in confusion—the old man with the lamp was gone. Darkness swallowed everything. I shouted.
"Who’s there? What do you want?"
A cold wind swept past. I felt a hand land on my shoulder. I spun around and threw a punch without hesitation.
Suddenly, I stopped. It was Rachel Lan. Moonlight filtered through the trees, illuminating her shoes and clothes—I was sure it was her.
"Rachel, are we dreaming?" I asked, but she just stood there, unmoving. I grabbed her shoulder—suddenly, it felt wet, and a foul stench hit me.
Rachel Lan moved. Suddenly, she appeared right in front of me, her face crawling with maggots, oozing green and black slime. I screamed and yanked my hand back.
It felt like my hand was covered in maggots—a crawling itch.
Terror engulfed me. Then Rachel Lan reached out and grabbed my shoulder.
"Ethan, did you forget something?"
A crackling sound echoed. I turned—dim lights appeared everywhere as people carrying lanterns emerged.
Instantly, I screamed. The people surrounding me were all familiar: Hugh Thompson, Miles Mao, Chief Stone, other Ghost Burial Squad members, my cousin, uncle, aunt, and more relatives.
A sharp slapping sound snapped me awake. I was drenched in sweat, my face throbbing. Rachel Lan was straddling me, raising her hand to slap me again.
I quickly grabbed her hand.
"Ethan, sorry, but I had to use this rough method." After I got up, I touched my swollen cheek, unsure how many times Rachel Lan had slapped me.
Then I told Rachel Lan everything that happened in my dream.
"Come on, Ethan, let’s keep investigating. It’s already ten o’clock. Mason Wang and the others are waiting downstairs."
I mumbled in response, then stared blankly at Rachel Lan.
"Investigate what?"
Rachel Lan looked at me suspiciously.
"To keep looking into the other rumors, and those who’ve seen the book Horror Stories."
I mumbled in response.
"What Horror Stories?"
Rachel Lan stared at me in shock, one hand on my shoulder, the other on my forehead.
"Ethan, we have to hurry and find out what happened to that book Horror Stories. Did you forget?"
I was dazed for a long time before I realized we were in N City, just here for a trip—after all, Rachel Lan and I had only just gotten together.
"Weren’t we supposed to go out today? Rachel, what’s wrong?" I smiled, putting my arm around her waist, but she quickly pushed me away.
"Ethan, don’t you remember? Your father, Jack Zhang, and your mother, He Mengjie."
"I have parents?" I looked at Rachel Lan, confused, then stood up and touched my forehead.
"Rachel, are you sick? Maybe it was the crab yesterday, did you get a fever?"
"Ethan, what’s going on?" Rachel Lan shook me violently. I stared at her, feeling she was acting strangely today. Ever since coming back from the Ghostrealm, she’d been gentle—except for that incident on the plane.
"I don’t have parents. I grew up in an orphanage, Rachel. I’ve told you before—I have no parents."
"What about your cousin? What about Howard Zhang?"
Suddenly, I slapped my forehead, then gave myself a smack.
"Ah, no time to play now—I need to go talk to Uncle and Aunt about Howard Zhang."