Once the body was respectfully laid to rest, it was already noon. As they were about to leave, Meng Qiyan produced a small bundle of chrysanthemums from somewhere and placed it on Zhang Bin’s grave.

A strange feeling stirred within her—it wasn’t lost on anyone that, in such extreme conditions, any one of them could be the next victim, fated to die alone in the wilderness. This modest gesture of kindness was both a farewell to a fallen comrade and a small comfort to herself.

“Hope we don’t have to come back to this hellhole,” she muttered. Every visit left them more shaken than before.

Since the day was still young, Fang Chen recounted last night’s events, keeping the details sparse. After some discussion, the group decided to press on and investigate the locked courtyard.

The courtyard was similar to their current residence—village-style housing with a few small, scattered buildings surrounding a garden. One by one, they entered, looking around. Unlike other places they’d explored, this one actually looked lived-in. Although modestly furnished, everything was in its place.

Suddenly, the faint sound of barking echoed from a corner.

Fang Chen’s ears perked up as he looked in the direction of the sound.

“What’s up?” Li Duo asked, suddenly tense.

“Did anyone else hear a dog barking?”

“Nope,” Li Duo replied, frowning. “Not a thing,” confirmed Yan Xuan as he crouched down where Fang Chen was looking. “But, there’s definitely a doghouse here.”

“That’s freaky—I thought I heard it too,” Bai Li said, eyeing the doghouse suspiciously and stepping a few paces back toward the door.

“You’ve faced down worse, and you’re spooked by a dog?” Liu Mang scoffed, pushing the door open and striding in. “Let’s take a proper look.” He clearly hadn’t forgiven Bai Li for needing that “princess carry” before.

...

The house was an ordinary three-story dwelling, and the first thing they saw upon entering was the living room. To their surprise, it was extremely homey—there was an unfinished sweater lying on the couch, and a freshly prepared meal on the table, steam still rising from the soup.

The food, though simple, was enough to make the group, who hadn’t eaten a proper meal in three days, salivate.

Meng Qiyan had to wipe her mouth as she looked longingly at the food, eyes brimming with emotion.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” Lu Wanting muttered, tugging her toward the stairs.

The second floor was filled with several bedrooms, but the sudden dimness and stifling atmosphere that hit them was unsettling. Fang Chen moved from room to room, inspecting each one for anything unusual, until he came to the last room. The door looked as if it had been welded shut; there was no way it would budge.

He regretted not bringing the axe.

Outside the bedrooms, there was a window that offered a view of the room’s interior. Gathering around, they peered in, eyes adjusting to the dimness until things became clearer.

“That’s… our room, isn’t it?” Bai Li said.

To be more precise, it was identical to their room—the same layout, old wooden bed, wardrobe, desk… and the figure seated at the desk.

Fang Chen’s pupils narrowed.

The figure sat with its back to the door, arms limp at its sides, looking empty, like an abandoned shell.

Everyone recognized that back immediately—it was the carpenter!

Suddenly, the computer screen glowed with a dim light, and the man raised his hands slowly, mechanically tapping on the keyboard with stiff, robotic movements. The faint sound of an old video game drifted through the gap in the window. Fang Chen’s mind jumped to the line in the diary: “Immersing myself in the gaming world brings a bit of solace to my heart.”

It was as if the window was a portal, giving them a glimpse of the carpenter’s daily life, like watching a grainy, pixelated TV screen. Although it was just a view of his back, the weight of his crushed spirit was unmistakable—decay, defeat, and lifelessness seeped through every line of his posture.

Several of them were visibly alarmed, tense with apprehension, keeping a wary eye on him. The carpenter’s shadow still loomed large over them. But after a few moments, they realized he wasn’t even moving, entirely absorbed in his game, his body as still as stone.

The feeling in the air was infectious. A sense of spiritual decay drifted over them, their thoughts growing hazy and muddled.

“Maybe we should leave,” Lu Wanting whispered, barely holding it together. She took a few steps back, then froze in horror, a look of terror spreading across her face.

They all knew why she couldn’t leave.

Two distinct sets of footsteps echoed in the silence.

One was hers, retreating… the other, faint and measured, coming from downstairs.

Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle—

It was the sound of something dragging its feet against the floor, scraping as if wearing old slippers, moving steadily up the stairs.

Fang Chen scanned their group quickly; all seven companions stood beside him, alive and accounted for.

Then… who was downstairs?

Meng Qiyan opened her mouth, a silent scream trapped in her throat.

Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle—

It was coming up the stairs.

Their only exit was blocked by that sound.

The steps were like invisible hands pushing waves of cold, sinister air toward them, pressing the group back in clusters, retreating toward the end of the corridor. Even Liu Mang took a step back. Only Fang Chen and Yan Xuan stood firm, unmoving like twin guardians by the door.

The steps grew louder and closer. Fang Chen’s eyes narrowed with confusion when whatever it was finally entered his line of sight.

There was no one.

Despite the sound and the distinct presence, there was no figure—nothing but an empty space.

The footsteps halted in front of the carpenter’s door, and there were three soft knocks.

The man stayed engrossed in his game, showing no reaction at all.

“Dear,” a woman’s weary voice suddenly called beside them, “time to eat.”

No one dared to breathe.

Standing closest to the door, Fang Chen could feel her breath as she spoke, the breeze as she moved, and the faint aroma of food brushing his nose. She had no visible form, yet every one of his senses confirmed her presence in that spot.

Another knock sounded.

“It’s not your fault. The contract was flawed from the start. Stop dealing with your cousin.”

“We’ll find a way to repay the money somehow.”

“Can you open the door, please?”

The carpenter said nothing. The closed door was like his shut-off heart, blocking anyone from coming in.

“Oh, forget it.” Her voice turned bitter, laced with disappointment. “Remember to feed the dog. It’s afraid of me.”

With a heavy sigh, the corridor returned to silence.

The oppressive weight lifted, and they each exhaled in relief. Li Duo was drenched in sweat, barely able to stand.

Who would’ve thought that, despite his size, he’d have the weakest nerves?

Fang Chen took charge immediately. “Go catch some fresh air.”

“What about you?” Meng Qiyan asked.

“I’ll check the third floor.”

The group split up; while some hurried downstairs, Fang Chen and Yan Xuan continued up.

Fang Chen glanced back at Yan Xuan trailing behind, slowing his pace…