This twisted, sunken, and smashed face was smashed out by Damon himself. Although it was his own masterpiece, looking at it at such a close distance… the visual impact was unimaginable unless one experienced it personally. Damon felt every hair on his body stand on end. His entire body felt as if it had fallen into an ice cellar. Even the most daring person would react instinctively when faced with such a horrifying sight.
"Hehe… you're here… hehe… you're here…"
The female white-collar worker's lips were rotten, yet she still smiled with her teeth exposed. Her mouth kept emitting a stench like rotten salted fish—enough to make someone faint.
"Boom!"
The female white-collar worker grabbed the bed frame with both hands in opposite directions, and then the entire bed flipped over. Damon rolled and got up from the ground, but at this moment, the female white-collar worker had already charged at him.
"AH!!!!!!"
A piercing scream rang out.
But the scream was not made by Damon—
it was from the female white-collar worker.
At this moment, the woman had actually come back, and beside her stood an old man with an aged, wrinkled face. The two of them grabbed the female white-collar worker's upside-down legs and lifted her up.
The woman and the old man were clearly not ordinary people. When Damon turned on the flashlight in his hand, he saw that both their faces were deathly pale, and their bodies emitted the same icy green glow one sees when opening a freezer. Thick white vapor curled around their feet.
They were ghosts.
No—
they were ghostly things.
Damon took a deep breath, forcing himself to suppress the chaotic emotions inside his mind. He was a calm person—whether taking exams, falling in love, or committing murder, he was always unnervingly calm. But facing something that completely exceeded the boundaries of normal logic… even he found it hard to maintain absolute composure.
And truthfully, Damon had no idea what to do.
The living don't know what to do…
But the dead—
They know.
"Fire! FIRE! Burn her! Burn her!"
The woman shouted at Damon while desperately holding onto one of the female white-collar worker's feet.
But as the female white-collar worker struggled wildly, it was clear both the woman and the old man were being overpowered. Even with her legs lifted off the ground—meaning she could not walk, crawl, or flip herself—she still managed to attack furiously. She bit into the woman's abdomen, ripping out flesh, and her claws tore the woman's legs open. Black smoke seeped from her fingers as she clawed, like the hands themselves were burning.
The woman's body trembled violently. Even though she was a ghost, her form had limits. The female white-collar worker was clearly stronger. Damon watched as pieces of the woman's abdomen opened, leaking a tangle of darkened intestines.
The old man on the other side bared his black teeth, gripping the female white-collar worker's legs with both hands. He twisted her toward him, trying to prevent the woman from being torn apart.
"Fire! Fire! FIRE!"
Damon's eyes darted around the room until he spotted a simple gas stove in the corner. He sprinted toward it and twisted the knob.
"Pap…"
"Pap…"
"Pap…"
He kept striking the igniter, but no flame appeared—not even a spark.
When he looked back, the old man was already being chewed into a pulp. His body was moments away from collapsing entirely.
"Damn it!"
Damon squatted, grabbed the gas can, and shook it violently. Then he stood up again, trying to ignite it—
"Pap…"
Fire! FIRE!
A burst of flame finally flared up.
Immediately, Damon turned around. He remembered the banners and big-character posters under the bed earlier. He rushed over, grabbed an armful of them, shoved them into the fire, let them catch flame, and then charged toward the female white-collar worker.
He no longer cared whether the fire would burn the two ghostly figures helping him. He flung the burning banners and posters toward them.
But something unexpected happened—
The woman and the old man recoiled in pain from the flames, clearly afraid of fire. Yet despite that fear… they pulled the burning banners onto themselves, wrapping their bodies in the flames—and then threw themselves entirely onto the female white-collar worker.
They intended to burn together with her.
What kind of hatred was this?
Even in death, they refused to let her go.
As the firelight illuminated their faces, Damon felt a sudden, chilling jolt in his mind. He had seen these two somewhere before—he was sure of it—but he couldn't recall where.
"AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"
The female white-collar worker shrieked, struggling wildly. She feared fire. But the woman and the old man held her tightly, refusing to loosen their grip.
At last, all three dead spirits burned together completely. The flames flickered with a strange green tint.
"Boom!"
The final scream echoed, then faded.
All that remained on the ground were three piles of black ash.
At that moment, the sound of the radio returned.
Damon was no longer in the car, but the unfinished building—and yet the broadcast was still crystal clear. Even covering his ears wouldn't have helped.
["Listeners, at the end of tonight's story, I just want to say:
Good and evil will be repaid in time. If the time has not come, the reward simply has not arrived yet.
Thank you for listening to today's 'Horror Radio.'
Follow us for the latest updates.
On Facebook, click 'Add Friend' and search our official ID: kongbu66.
Maybe next time… you will be the protagonist of our story."]
As soon as the broadcast ended, Damon felt dizzy and collapsed to the floor. When he regained consciousness, he was stunned to find himself lying at the side door of the Ranqing Bar.
He jumped to his feet.
There was no car.
No unfinished building.
No ashes.
Nothing.
"Didi—your ride has arrived. The driver has accepted your order. Please wait by the roadside."
The familiar notification from the taxi app sounded from his phone.
Damon checked the time. He was extremely sensitive to timing—after all, he came to the bar to kill someone. Every minute mattered.
But the time displayed…
It was the exact moment he had walked out of the bar earlier.
What happened?
Was it all a dream?
He quickly checked his body—no wounds, no torn clothes, no blood. Everything was perfectly clean, exactly as before.
It felt like a dream.
But could a dream feel so real?
Had he hallucinated the female white-collar worker coming back to claim her life?
While Damon's thoughts tangled, a BYD pulled up. The window rolled down and a young, thin-faced driver yawned.
"You called a Taxi?"
This wasn't the same driver from the "dream."
Damon got in immediately. Dream or not, staying here any longer was dangerous.
He sat in the back seat this time.
The car started moving.
Then the ID mentioned in the radio flashed across Damon's mind.
He opened Facebook, tapped "Add Friend", typed:
kongbu66
Then pressed search.
Suddenly Damon felt his chest tighten.
Because the account…
actually appeared.
This wasn't a dream.
It might never have been a dream at all.
He clicked in.
"Welcome to the Horror Broadcast official Instagram.
As our listener, we sincerely hope…
you survive long enough to give us more views."