Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Haunted House (Part 2)

As soon as that comment appeared on the screen, a pop-up warning flashed in front of Su Man, alerting her of a violation. Quick as lightning, she grabbed the old woman—whose skin looked like ancient tree bark—by the collar, yanked her forward, and practically shoved her face up to the livestream camera, wearing a smile that never touched her eyes. “Take a good look. This is a kindly old grandmother.”

She said this without the slightest concern that the old woman was hovering above the ground, feet dangling in midair.

[...Got it. No need to put her so close and scare me.]

Right after that, a silent tycoon in the chat sent her ten virtual candies.

Su Man’s irritation vanished in an instant. Money really did make things easier; it was a wonderful thing.

“Su... Su Man, who are you talking to?” Chen Meng, ignorant of the situation, watched her with goosebumps covering her arms, suspecting she might be possessed. She furtively tugged at Su Man’s sleeve, signaling her to look at the old woman’s feet.

Su Man didn’t need to look; she already knew this “grandmother” was not ordinary. But compared to her livestream being suspended, this was nothing. She had just gathered that if the room was forcibly closed, it would be at least three days before she could broadcast again. By then, the whole thing would be over—she might even be gone from this book, and all her earnings would go down the drain.

Without money, she really wouldn’t be able to cover that mountain of waste disposal fees.

She could not allow that to happen.

Compared to being penniless, ghosts and monsters were the least of her concerns. If they truly provoked her, she’d fight gods or demons alike—if she couldn’t beat them, she’d bite them anyway.

The more she thought about it, the calmer she became. Her gaze toward everyone softened with a kind of benevolence. She looked at Chen Meng and said, “Don’t overthink it. She’s just a kindly old grandmother. I’m not talking to anyone—you know me, I have an overactive imagination, love to talk to myself.”

Chen Meng, seeing her like this, grew even more frightened. She quickly let go of Su Man’s hand and instinctively turned to Hu Chai for comfort, but seeing his indifferent expression, she thought better of it. Awkwardly, she clasped her hands behind her back and fell silent.

The “old grandmother” had worn a dark, sullen face, but after all this commotion, she looked bewildered, as if she’d forgotten why she’d come out in the first place.

At her age, she’d never been treated like a chick held up by the scruff of the neck. After a moment’s delay, an embarrassed flush crept across her bark-like face, quickly replaced by anger—after all, even monsters had their pride.

The “grandmother” twisted free from Su Man’s grasp, her face contorted as she invited them inside. “You’re already here, so why not come in for a cup of tea?”

Her voice was so hoarse it was like fingernails scraping down a wall, making everyone uncomfortable.

“No, thank you. We’re still waiting for someone,” Chen Meng immediately refused. They were here for an adventure, not to risk their lives. Knowing something was off, she’d be a fool to go in. Not having everyone together gave her the perfect excuse.

But how could the old woman possibly let them leave? Her bark-like face, crisscrossed with deep lines under the lamplight, looked even more sinister. “Your companions are already inside. They’re waiting for you.”

Chen Meng looked to Su Man for help—she really didn’t want to stay.

“Grandma, do we have guests? Why aren’t the new guests coming in? Do they not like us?”

Suddenly, a voice drifted from inside the house. Su Man looked over and saw four figures standing side by side at the large bay window—two adults on the ends, two children in the center.

The voice came from the little girl clutching a porcelain doll.

They stood with their backs to the living room light, their pitch-black eyes and expressionless faces making them look eerily unsettling.

Just standing there, Su Man felt as if their stares were burning holes straight through her.

“Don’t be silly, Ai Ji,” the grandmother barked impatiently over her shoulder. “Children shouldn’t say such things, or you’ll scare the guests away!”

She turned back to Su Man and the others, her face even darker. “Are you really going to refuse an old woman’s invitation?”

A sudden chill swept through the air. Su Man, unwilling to waste another moment, shoved the old woman aside and strode into the house. “Sorry to intrude.”

The task had to be completed here anyway—no matter how much they resisted, they’d end up going inside, so why make things more difficult?

The old woman was dumbfounded by the shove, her malevolent aura dissipating. She opened her mouth, but didn’t dare utter a word. Watching Su Man stroll around her courtyard as if she owned the place, the old woman’s hunched frame seemed to shrink, her wary gaze betraying a hint of fear. This girl was something else—vicious, disrespectful to her elders, impolite. Best to stay away from her.

She turned her glare on Chen Meng, venting her frustration elsewhere. “Well, aren’t you coming in? Do you need me to invite you twice?”

Chen Meng had wanted to leave, but seeing Su Man enter unharmed, she relaxed a little. More importantly, she didn’t dare leave—the old woman’s glare was sharp as a knife, and Chen Meng had no doubt she’d be killed on the spot if she tried to escape.

Meanwhile, as Su Man entered the villa, a new task appeared before her.

[You have entered the Domain of Obsession. Please dispel the entity’s obsession before you leave.]

The screen helpfully explained the concept: an entity’s deep-seated obsession forms a domain, called the Domain of Obsession. Over time, this domain would grow, eventually disturbing the order of the entire horror world, so it must be resolved before it expands.

The task seemed simple, but Su Man knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

At least there was no immediate rush.

Once the three entered the house, the old woman followed, and the door slammed shut behind them, sealing off the outside world.

The four figures who had stood by the window now approached, standing nearby to welcome the newcomers.

“Hello, my name is Qian Yuan,” said the man in the formal suit, introducing himself in a flat, expressionless tone that made it clear the welcome was only in name.

Then the woman in the floral dress spoke, her voice as mechanical as her movements. “Hello, I’m Jing Hua, Mr. Qian’s wife.”

The two children did not introduce themselves, but Jing Hua covered for them. “These are my two children. This is the older brother, Qian Ji, and that’s the younger sister, Ai Ji.”

Ai Ji, the little girl holding the porcelain doll, looked like a doll herself, dressed in a frilly Lolita dress, her gaze innocent and dreamy, as if she’d stepped straight out of a storybook.

But her older brother, Qian Ji, was nothing like her. He seemed to belong to a different world. His face bore bruises, his clothes looked washed and rewashed until the colors had faded, and his eyes were wary and downcast. He only nodded silently in greeting.