The phone slipped from Zhu Jianing's trembling fingers, clattering onto the stained tiles of the corner toilet, the faint glow of its screen casting eerie shadows as Brother Yuan's voice crackled through, unanswered, from the other end. "Youliang's phone is not reachable. What happened to you guys in there? Xiao Zhu? Can you hear me? Zhu Jianing? Are you alright? Talk to me?" The words echoed in the cramped cubicle, but Zhu Jianing was paralyzed, his voice stolen by the sight of the disjointed face atop the third cubicle door, its patchwork features a grotesque mosaic of fear and pain, amplified by the spirits tied to the twenty-four name tags pulsing through the Mu Yang High School scenario. His pupils rolled back, his muscular frame collapsing like wet laundry against the toilet's cold surface, the flickering light and dripping faucet amplifying the dread, the name tags' legacy turning the cubicle into a claustrophobic nightmare where the hanging woman's bloated face and bulging eyes merged with the disjointed visage, overwhelming his senses entirely.
Chen Ge, standing in the third cubicle, removed his skin mask, its sewn-together features slipping into his pocket as he surveyed Zhu Jianing's convulsing form on the floor, a grim satisfaction mingling with concern at the effectiveness of his Haunted House's scare tactics. "Didn't I warn you not to take pictures and videos inside the Haunted House? Why didn't you listen?" he muttered, his voice low as he reflected on the disclaimer agreement's necessity, the spirits' energy tied to the name tags humming subtly in the paper box he carried in his Doctor Skull-cracker outfit. Unlike typical Haunted Houses that relied on actors leaping from corners with screams, Chen Ge's approach was insidious, crafting an atmosphere so oppressive that visitors like Zhu Jianing walked willingly into their own terror, the flickering lights and stained tiles of the toilet amplifying the psychological trap, the name tags' connection to Mu Yang High School's tragedy making the scare feel unnervingly real.
Zhu Jianing's collapse was a testament to Chen Ge's method, his fear so intense it lodged like an ice cube in his throat, choking his breath and chilling his bones, the spirits' presence amplifying the cubicle's dread to unbearable levels. Even though Zhu Jianing had been warned about the scenario's intensity, his prepared mind had crumbled under the weight of the Pen Spirit's manifestation, the hanging woman's spectral form a horrifying reality tied to the name tags' energy. The toilet's oppressive silence, broken only by the dripping faucet and Zhu Jianing's faint convulsions, underscored the effectiveness of Chen Ge's atmospheric terror, the scattered papers and stained tiles evoking a space where the supernatural thrived, the name tags' legacy ensuring that the fear was inescapable, leaving Zhu Jianing a trembling wreck on the floor.
Chen Ge stepped out of the third cubicle, his flashlight beam cutting through the dimness as he retrieved Zhu Jianing's phone, sliding it into the man's pocket before dragging his limp form out of the toilet and into the corridor, the spirits' energy pulsing subtly as if watching his every move. "Why haven't the spasms stopped? But he's still breathing, so he should be fine," Chen Ge thought, applying pressure to Zhu Jianing's temples until his pupils regained focus, the corridor's fire-scarred walls and lingering scent of burning amplifying the scenario's dread. "Can you hear me? Where is your friend who came in with you?" he asked, his voice calm but insistent, the paper box in his hand humming with the name tags' energy, their connection to Mu Yang High School's tragedy urging him to uncover Fei Youliang's fate, the corridor's oppressive atmosphere a constant reminder of the scenario's supernatural stakes.
When Zhu Jianing remained unresponsive, his eyes glassy with lingering terror, Chen Ge sighed and gave up, his concern for Fei Youliang outweighing his patience. "Stay put, or else you might run into an actual ghost," he warned, his tone firm as he removed his bloodied Doctor Skull-cracker outfit, tucking it under his arm to avoid overwhelming Zhu Jianing further, the spirits' presence tied to the name tags pulsing with subtle menace. The corridor's dimness deepened, the fire-scarred walls seeming to close in, the name tags' legacy amplifying the sense of unseen watchers as Chen Ge left Zhu Jianing slumped against the wall, his mind racing to locate Fei Youliang, the memory of Zhu Jianing's frantic flight from the female dormitory suggesting a horror that had shattered their plan to sabotage the Haunted House.
Chen Ge hurried toward the female dormitory, his footsteps echoing through the corridor, the paper box in his hand humming with the spirits' energy, their connection to Mu Yang High School's tragedy guiding his path. He searched every bedroom, his flashlight beam sweeping over dirtied bedsheets and scattered papers, but Fei Youliang was nowhere to be found, the absence heightening Chen Ge's curiosity and concern. Stopping in the Pen Spirit room, he noted the broken taped pen on the floor, its fragments scattered beside the paper marked with "YOU WILL DIE!" in jagged red ink, the spirits' energy pulsing stronger, their legacy amplifying the room's dread. "There is no sign of fighting in the room, so where could the bespectacled man have gone?" he wondered, the preserved crime scene aesthetic—overturned furniture, rippling bedsheets—evoking a ritual interrupted, the name tags' presence a silent force urging him to continue his search.
Exiting the dormitory, Chen Ge reached the corridor junction, his mind racing through possibilities, the spirits' energy tied to the name tags guiding him toward the other route, which led to the deep well and school office. "Could he have gone down the other way?" he thought, navigating the uneven path, the fire-scarred walls and creaking doors amplifying the scenario's oppressive atmosphere, the name tags' legacy pulsing with anticipation. After passing several offices, he found Fei Youliang sprawled near the deep well at the corridor's end, his condition far worse than Zhu Jianing's—white foam bubbling around his lips, his glasses shattered, and one hand clutching the well's edge as if he had been about to plunge into its depths. The spirits' energy surged, their connection to Mu Yang High School's tragedy manifesting in Fei Youliang's broken state, the well's dark mouth a silent witness to the terror that had driven him here.
Chen Ge's eyes widened at Fei Youliang's state, his mind reeling with questions. "What in the world happened to this guy? Looks like he has angered more than just the Pen Spirit!" he thought, noting the absence of surveillance in the new scenario, leaving him without clues to the events that had unfolded, the spirits' presence tied to the name tags pulsing with malevolent intent. The well's oppressive energy, combined with the fire-scarred walls and lingering scent of burning, suggested a confrontation with forces beyond the Pen Spirit, the name tags' legacy amplifying the scenario's dread. Kneeling beside Fei Youliang, Chen Ge checked his pulse, his touch gentle but firm, the man's condition eerily similar to He San's during his first visit, the spirits' energy a constant pressure that urged caution, their connection to Mu Yang High School's tragedy a reminder of the scenario's supernatural stakes.
With considerable effort, Chen Ge dragged Fei Youliang's limp form back through the uneven corridor, the spirits' energy tied to the name tags pulsing with each step, their legacy amplifying the scenario's oppressive atmosphere. Returning to Zhu Jianing, he hauled both men toward the scenario entrance, prying open the wooden boards with a grunt, the paper box in his hand humming with the spirits' presence. Just as he dragged them onto the first floor, the sound of raised voices reached him—an argument outside the Haunted House, the members of Qin Guang's studio clamoring to enter, their commotion a chaotic backdrop to the scenario's lingering dread. The spirits' energy pulsed stronger, their connection to Mu Yang High School's tragedy urging Chen Ge forward, the fire-scarred walls and creaking doors a silent testament to the terror that had unfolded within.
The argument outside grew louder, the voices of Qin Guang's studio members sharp with urgency, their intent to barge into the Haunted House clear, the spirits' presence tied to the name tags amplifying the tension even beyond the scenario's confines. "So much trouble today," Chen Ge muttered, his muscles straining as he dragged Fei Youliang and Zhu Jianing outside, their limp forms heavy in his arms, the paper box humming with the spirits' energy, their legacy a constant reminder of the supernatural forces at play. Dropping the two before the studio members, Chen Ge's eyes swept over the group, his expression stern as he demanded, "What is the commotion about?" The spirits' presence pulsed subtly, their connection to Mu Yang High School's tragedy lingering in the air, the name tags' legacy a silent force that underscored the chaos, urging Chen Ge to confront the intruders and uncover the full extent of the night's terrifying events.
The sight of Fei Youliang and Zhu Jianing, once brimming with confidence and bravado as they entered the Mu Yang High School scenario, now reduced to lifeless husks dragged out by Chen Ge, sent a ripple of shock through the gathered crowd outside the Haunted House. Fei Youliang's condition was particularly alarming—white foam dribbling from the corner of his mouth, his shattered glasses askew, his body limp as if the terror had drained his very essence, the spirits tied to the twenty-four name tags pulsing subtly in the paper box Chen Ge carried in his Doctor Skull-cracker outfit. Zhu Jianing, though slightly more responsive, was a shadow of his former self, his muscular frame trembling, his eyes wide with lingering fear, the name tags' legacy amplifying the oppressive atmosphere even outside the scenario's confines. The crowd instinctively stepped back, clearing a space around the two men, their pale faces and broken states a stark testament to the horrors within, the fire-scarred aesthetic of the underground scenario lingering in the air like a ghostly echo of Mu Yang High School's tragedy.
"Xiao Zhu! Youliang!" The members of Qin Guang's studio surged forward, their voices laced with panic as they knelt beside their fallen comrades, their hands shaking as they tried to lift Zhu Jianing and Fei Youliang from the ground. Zhu Jianing was beginning to recover, his eyes flickering with recognition as he responded weakly to their calls, though his legs wobbled, unable to support his weight, the spirits' energy tied to the name tags still pulsing through him, their connection to the Pen Spirit game leaving a lingering dread that clung to his senses. Fei Youliang, however, remained a cause for alarm—his eyes wide open, staring blankly into the distance, unresponsive to the voices calling his name, the white foam trailing from his lips a chilling sign of the terror that had overwhelmed him, the name tags' legacy amplifying the horror that had driven him to the edge of the deep well, his shattered glasses a silent testament to the supernatural forces at play.
The middle-aged man, Brother Yuan, rounded on Chen Ge, his face flushed with anger as he pointed accusingly, his voice booming with indignation. "What have you done to the both of them‽" he demanded, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the broken states of Fei Youliang and Zhu Jianing, the spirits' energy tied to the name tags pulsing subtly, their presence a hidden force that intensified the confrontation. The crowd murmured, their attention drawn to the escalating argument, the air thick with tension as Brother Yuan's accusations echoed outside the Haunted House, the fire-scarred walls and lingering scent of burning from the underground scenario seeming to seep into the moment, amplifying the dread. Chen Ge's calm demeanor only fueled Brother Yuan's fury, the name tags' legacy a silent undercurrent that made the scene feel like an extension of the scenario's terror, urging the studio members to seek answers for their comrades' collapse.
Chen Ge's expression remained impassive, his voice steady as he met Brother Yuan's accusations with a shrug. "Why would you ask me? How would I know?" he replied, his honesty disarming yet infuriating, the paper box in his hand humming with the spirits' energy, their connection to Mu Yang High School's tragedy a subtle reminder of the scenario's supernatural stakes. When he had entered the underground, Zhu Jianing was already fleeing in panic, and Fei Youliang was sprawled by the well, their conditions a mystery even to him, the name tags' legacy amplifying the scenario's dread in ways he hadn't fully anticipated. The crowd's murmurs grew louder, their curiosity piqued by the confrontation, the spirits' presence pulsing subtly, their energy weaving through the scene, making Chen Ge's calm denial seem almost defiant in the face of the visitors' broken states, the Haunted House's reputation for terror now vividly apparent.
Brother Yuan's anger flared, his voice rising as he jabbed a finger at Chen Ge, his words dripping with accusation. "We talked to each other earlier. Xiao Zhu said that your employees stepped on Youliang's shoulders! How dare you allow your workers to assault the visitors? We are definitely going to sue!" he shouted, his assumption that the hanging woman was a costumed actor fueling his outrage, unaware of the spirits tied to the name tags that had manifested the spectral terror. The crowd leaned in, their phones raised to capture the drama, the spirits' energy amplifying the tension, their legacy from Mu Yang High School turning the confrontation into a spectacle. Chen Ge's gaze flicked to Fei Youliang and Zhu Jianing, their limp forms a stark contrast to Brother Yuan's accusations, the name tags' presence a silent force that underscored the supernatural truth behind their collapse, urging Chen Ge to maintain his composure in the face of the escalating conflict.
Chen Ge's lips curled into a faint smile, his voice calm but firm as he countered, "Who saw my employees assault him? Feel free to call the police. I can guarantee, other than their own hands, you won't be able to find foreign fingerprints on the rest of their bodies." The spirits' energy pulsed subtly, their connection to the name tags amplifying his confidence, the fire-scarred aesthetic of the underground scenario lingering in his mind as a reminder of the scenario's power. The crowd's murmurs grew louder, some nodding in support of Chen Ge's logic, while others whispered about the possibility of real ghosts, the name tags' legacy weaving a subtle dread that made his words carry an eerie weight. Brother Yuan's face reddened, his frustration mounting as Chen Ge's calm defiance challenged his narrative, the spirits' presence a hidden force that turned the confrontation into a battle of belief versus skepticism.
Uncle Xu, the park's manager, stepped forward, his voice weary as he tried to defuse the situation, his hands raised in a calming gesture. "Stop arguing, I'll call the park's doctor. The most important thing now is to help them," he said, his tone heavy with the headache of dealing with yet another crisis at Chen Ge's Haunted House, the spirits' energy tied to the name tags pulsing subtly, their legacy amplifying the tension. Fei Youliang's foam-flecked lips and Zhu Jianing's trembling frame underscored the urgency, the crowd's attention shifting to their dire conditions, the name tags' presence a silent force that made Uncle Xu's practical approach feel inadequate against the supernatural terror that had unfolded. The fire-scarred walls and lingering scent of burning from the underground scenario seemed to linger in the air, the spirits' legacy urging action, their connection to Mu Yang High School's tragedy a haunting backdrop to the chaotic scene.
Brother Yuan's eyes flashed with defiance, undeterred by Uncle Xu's intervention, his voice rising as he pointed at Chen Ge. "They're in this state, and you still refuse to admit your fault? Thankfully, we came prepared!" he declared, kneeling beside Fei Youliang's backpack and pulling out a laptop, his movements brisk as he connected the wireless camera from Fei Youliang's chest and the audio recorder from the backpack, the spirits' energy pulsing stronger, their presence amplifying the stakes of the evidence he sought to reveal. The crowd leaned closer, their phones still recording, the name tags' legacy weaving a subtle dread that made Brother Yuan's actions feel like a challenge to the Haunted House's supernatural forces, the fire-scarred aesthetic of the underground scenario a silent reminder of the terror captured on the devices. Chen Ge watched impassively, his mind racing to anticipate the footage, the spirits' presence a constant undercurrent that urged caution, their connection to Mu Yang High School's tragedy a force that could not be easily dismissed.
Chen Ge's voice was calm, almost amused, as he commented, "Indeed, you people sure came prepared." He had noticed the cameras while dragging Fei Youliang and Zhu Jianing out, their presence confirming his suspicions about Qin Guang's studio's motive to sabotage his Haunted House, the spirits' energy tied to the name tags pulsing with subtle menace, their legacy amplifying his confidence. Unlike other Haunted Houses that banned recordings to protect costly set designs, Chen Ge welcomed the exposure, his scenarios supplied by Trial Missions, their rapid updates unmatched by any competitor, the name tags' presence a silent force that made his Haunted House unique. The crowd's anticipation grew, their whispers speculating about the footage, the spirits' legacy weaving a subtle dread that made Chen Ge's nonchalance seem almost defiant, the fire-scarred walls of the underground scenario a haunting echo in the air as he awaited the reveal.
Brother Yuan's voice boomed, drawing the crowd's attention as he set up the laptop, his words dripping with accusation. "You won't be so smug in a bit. I will keep the video of your employees physically assaulting the visitors as evidence!" he declared, his tone loud enough to attract passersby, the spirits' energy pulsing stronger, their connection to Mu Yang High School's tragedy amplifying the confrontation's stakes. The crowd pressed closer, their phones capturing every moment, the name tags' legacy weaving a subtle dread that made Brother Yuan's confidence seem precarious, the fire-scarred aesthetic of the underground scenario lingering in the air like a ghostly warning. Chen Ge wandered closer to the laptop, his curiosity piqued about what had driven Fei Youliang to the well's edge, the spirits' presence urging him to uncover the truth, their energy a silent force that made the footage a potential revelation of the scenario's supernatural horrors.
"We are absolute professionals; we didn't lay a finger on your people. How many times do you want me to repeat that?" Chen Ge said, his voice steady as he leaned toward the laptop, his eyes narrowing with genuine curiosity, the spirits' energy tied to the name tags pulsing subtly, their legacy amplifying his calm defiance. He, too, wanted to know what had happened to Fei Youliang, the mystery of his collapse by the deep well gnawing at him, the name tags' presence a constant reminder of the scenario's supernatural stakes. The crowd's murmurs grew louder, their anticipation palpable as Brother Yuan opened the laptop, the spirits' energy weaving a subtle dread that made the moment feel like a reckoning. The screen flickered to life, dark and filled with static, only random noises audible, suggesting Fei Youliang had activated the recorder before entering, the camera still tucked away, the name tags' legacy amplifying the suspense as the footage began to play.
The laptop screen remained dark, the audio crackling with indistinct sounds, the recorder capturing the moments before Fei Youliang and Zhu Jianing entered the Haunted House, the spirits' energy tied to the name tags pulsing with anticipation, their connection to Mu Yang High School's tragedy amplifying the tension. The crowd leaned in, their phones recording the laptop's screen, the name tags' legacy weaving a subtle dread that made the lack of visuals feel ominous, the fire-scarred aesthetic of the underground scenario lingering in the air like a ghostly echo. Several seconds passed, the noises growing louder, until Chen Ge's voice cut through the static, clear and unmistakable. "Let me remind you, the last person who made a claim like yours came out on his back," he said, his recorded words sending a chill through the crowd, the spirits' presence amplifying the moment's dread, their energy a silent force that underscored the warning, urging all present to brace for the horrors the footage might reveal.