Chapter 4
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Chapter 4: Title
"System, initiate the first step – create the illusion of a ghost in red adorned with bridal garments…" Ye Linlang commanded, her fingers dancing across the system panel that blossomed with various options.
The system automatically retrieved cultural elements from humanity’s collective history as she spoke, offering selections specifically filtered for Zhongxia’s spectral folklore.
"First sculpt an exquisite countenance, then implant the biographical chronicle I’ve composed." Her deft adjustments finalized the female ghost’s visage on the holographic interface.
This fabricated biography served dual purposes – both as tonight’s mandatory supernatural phenomenon that would persist until conquered, and as foundational lore for the impending Awakening of Spiritual Energy. When that cosmic shift arrived, her crafted illusions would transmute into undeniable reality, their fictional origins forever obscured.
"You gained existence through my will, and shall achieve immortality through mortal remembrance… perhaps too dramatic." Ye Linlang chuckled at her own theatrics, then shrugged – youthful passion should never be restrained.
From her rooftop vantage point, she observed shadowy figures advancing through the campus grounds.
"Try not to faint from terror," she whispered, activating the system with a pulse of anticipation. "Commencing inaugural illusion trial. System handles documentation; I’ll manage real-time adjustments."
[5 Fantasy Points consumed. Mass hallucination deployed: Perimeter locked from No. 3 Middle School gate to teaching building. Duration: 60 minutes.]
Every intruder would now experience her meticulously designed nightmare. As for the live stream broadcast? Maintaining connectivity was crucial – this haunting performance needed maximum visibility to harvest Fantasy Points from terrified viewers.
All cameras within school boundaries would capture nothing but her manufactured reality.
"Six hundred thousand witnesses… don’t disappoint me," she murmured, watching the system’s holographic display of the chattering live stream.
＊
[Huahua Er Shao: Why hasn’t this decrepit teaching building been demolished yet?
Suan Cai Yu: Doesn’t anyone notice? Autumn’s here but the ivy’s thriving like summer…]
The comment from Suan Cai Yu vanished in the scrolling tide of bullet messages. Above them all, Ye Linlang’s lips curved in satisfaction – the curtain was rising.
"I’ve got this… unnatural chill," Jiang Yao whispered, edging closer to the lean-framed young man.
"Seasonal change," Brother Bai Ye replied with characteristic brevity.
"Since when does autumn air crawl like spider legs?" Her protest coincided with a keening wind that plucked at her skirt, drawing involuntary shivers.
The hulking figure hauling camera equipment – Big Black – grunted ahead: "Teaching building’s here. Proceed?"
[A Cup of Iced Cola: Justice for Big Black’s faceless labor!
Lemon Essence: Behold our lens-lugging legend!]
"Should’ve brought warmer clothes," Jiang Yao confessed to the camera, rubbing her arms.
Without ceremony, Brother Bai Ye draped his jacket around her shoulders.
[Little Apple: Bai Ye radiating ultimate boyfriend energy!
A Big Plush Toy: Dog food avalanche incoming!
Poor Daoist, Single and Unmarried: Must I endure romantic displays during paranormal investigations?!]
"Thank you, let’s get inside the teaching building first. The wind’s picking up out here," Jiang Yao suggested, fastening her jacket while glancing at Bai Ye who remained in just his shirt.
As they crossed the threshold, Jiang Yao froze momentarily. An icy sensation crept up her nape like spectral breath grazing her skin.
To her credit, the streamer suppressed any scream, rationalizing it as mere winter gusts from the north.
The group halted near the stairwell entrance.
"This place clearly hasn’t been maintained for decades. Should we explore a classroom or proceed directly to the rooftop?"
Though every instinct warned against ascending, Jiang Yao’s professional demeanor prevailed. "Why don’t we head straight to the rooftop? We can always check the classrooms afterward," she proposed with forced cheer.
"Legend says counting steps while climbing might trigger paranormal phenomena. Shall we test this?" Her cheerful tone belied growing unease since entering the compound – an undefined wrongness prickling her senses despite logical reassurances.
[BigPlushie: Standard staircases have twelve tiers here. Thirteen’s considered unlucky. Count at midnight and an extra cursed tier appears!
DarkLord: Childhood fairytales. Only morons buy into this.
DarkLord – Sent 100 Roses: Prove them wrong, Yaoyao!]
The tiered gift system on Honghu Live Platform featured roses priced at $1 each, sports cars at $100, yachts at $1,000, planes at $10,000, and aircraft carriers valued at $100,000.
"Appreciate the roses, Dark Lord. Our Spirit Seeking team exists to authenticate supernatural phenomena," Jiang Yao declared, her camera-ready smile unwavering.
Most supernatural investigations conducted by these pampered heirs resulted in either uneventful explorations or material better suited for educational documentaries.
But tonight differed. Ye Linlang’s orchestrated haunting would finally satisfy their craving for genuine terror.
As the group commenced their tier-counting ritual, an unnatural silhouette materialized beyond the teaching building. Corpse-pale skin mottled with decay stretched taut over its frame, crimson robes hanging motionless despite the howling wind.
From her vantage point on the rooftop, director Ye Linlang observed proceedings with gleeful anticipation.
"The Ghost in Red makes her debut! Let’s hope our audience doesn’t faint too quickly~" The thrill of her first staged supernatural event had shattered any remaining professional restraint.
Gales tore through Ye Linlang’s position unhindered, as if the space she occupied existed beyond physical reality.
System alerts flickered:
[…0.1 Fantasy Points acquired]
[…0.1 Fantasy Points acquired]
[…0.2 Fantasy Points acquired]
[…0.1 Fantasy Points acquired]
[Jiang Yao: +1 FP | Big Black: +1 FP… Total: 215 Fantasy Points]
The spectral entity, systematically designated "Ghost in Red" in Ye Linlang’s interface, floated obediently as notifications continued cascading.
Ye Linlang dismissed the notification with an indifferent flick, resolving to examine it later. These Fantasy Points originated partly from the streaming quintet and partly from their audience, yet only emotions stirred by her crafted illusions qualified as harvestable points – other sources remained beyond her perception or utilization.
"This mere prelude hasn’t even featured our crimson specter yet," she mused, fingertips brushing across holographic displays. "Some skittish soul must’ve panicked at the endless staircase."
Her gaze drifted toward the fourth floor projection where Jiang Yao’s group wandered. The white-shirted youth gulped audibly. "Yaoyao… we’ve climbed these stairs five minutes without reaching fifth floor." His voice trembled like plucked violin strings.
Jiang Yao’s pallid face mirrored the ghostly lighting. "Don’t scare me, Xiao Bai!" Her protest rang hollow, both knowing the truth – each ascending step revealed yet another identical flight above.
【Nine Pounds Fifteen Pence: Convincing performance!
Sauerkraut Fish: Yaoyao’s floor number?】
Bai Ye’s knuckles whitened on the stair rail. "Let’s try the corridor." The suggestion hung heavy as their abandoned footsteps echoed through the helical void.
Big Black adjusted his streaming rig with sweat-slick palms. "Classic Ghost Wall phenomenon," the burly man muttered, equipment lights casting eldritch shadows. Their neglected live stream scrolled with unanswered comments as the quartet focused on survival.
When they breached the corridor’s threshold, empty classrooms gaped like toothless mouths. Darkness pooled in each doorway, viscous and watchful.
Above this theater of fear, Ye Linlang observed from her rooftop command post. Chronoscopic displays replayed tragic student phantoms perpetually leaping into oblivion. "Time Rewind?" She arched an eyebrow at the system’s notification. "Accidental poetry."
Her secondary screen zoomed on Jiang Yao’s frightened face, stirring unfamiliar guilt. "Consider this… educational," she whispered, marking the streamer for observation while imprinting spiritual tags on the quartet. Two lifetimes’ experience armored her against shame, though perhaps not enough.
"System," she commanded, "deploy Jumping Ghost illusions. Configure parameters: confused phantoms trapped in endless falls, non-aggressive, subordinate to Ghost in Red." Her fingers danced across interfaces, weaving digital hauntings.
As crimson fabric billowed from the first floor ascent, Ye Linlang’s lips curved. Her inaugural specter moved with gruesome grace, its hourglass already streaming silver sands.
