Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Whispers of the Dead

[Translation By Divinity]

Night had fallen.

The suburban night was remote and vast. Darkness, like a massive curtain, draped heavily over the wilderness, casting deep shadows. Jingou Village was already submerged in darkness, with only scattered lights flickering, like tired eyes struggling to stay awake in the night.

The shadow of the back mountain loomed over the entire village like a giant, suffocating black screen.

The occasional bark of a dog pierced the village’s silence. The anxious or low barks seemed to convey a sense of unease in the darkness.

This unsettling atmosphere, like an invisible haze, silently seeped into every household.

In the two-story building on the west side of the village, the Lu family was completely caught in a vortex of immense terror.

For two days now, the mysterious phone call, the terrifying blood-soaked mask, and the horrifying woman crying in the night – these inexplicable things had been haunting their home, inside and out.

Lu Shiran stood by the window, gazing into the darkness outside, his heart filled with unspeakable fear and confusion. His face bore the marks of exhaustion and tension, his eyes bloodshot.

Every time he closed his eyes, the blood-soaked mask would appear in his mind, preventing him from sleeping peacefully.

His wife, Chen Ye, curled up on the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her gaze fixed blankly ahead. Her heart raced, and she could still hear the woman’s cries in her ears. The sound was sharp and shrill, as if piercing through time and space, striking directly at her soul.

Every time night fell, she felt a pair of icy hands gently tapping on her shoulders, the sensation making her hair stand on end.

They didn’t know what the appearance of these things signified.

These terrifying occurrences had brought them an unprecedented fear, their minds tormented by the constant dread.

Humans are, in fact, incredibly fragile. We often fear things beyond our world, things we cannot foresee. In many unexpected situations, people cannot control their own fate, unable to decide their own life or death.

Just like the Lu family, facing this sudden terror, they were helpless, consumed by fear.

They seemed to sense an invisible, evil force closing in on them, the pressure growing stronger, as if it might devour them at any moment.

The series of terrifying events over the past two days had left Lu Shiran in a state of extreme tension. His mind had become fragile, and he harbored an indescribable fear of the night.

He couldn’t understand why these horrifying things had suddenly descended upon him.

Who was the woman on the phone?

What did that strange and inexplicable sentence mean?

Was the woman crying outside at night a human or a ghost?

What did the appearance of that terrifying blood-soaked mask signify?

These were all incomprehensible mysteries. Had he committed some sin in a past life, and now the evil spirits were coming to collect their debt?

The night deepened, and the wind seemed to grow stronger. The lush branches and leaves of the two banyan trees outside rustled incessantly, as if conveying a sense of unease.

This unease spread invisibly, enveloping every corner, hinting at the imminent arrival of some inevitable horror.

Until past one in the morning, Lu Shiran finally drifted into a fitful sleep, still gripped by the fear of the darkness.

As usual, nightmares plagued him the moment he closed his eyes. The horrifying blood-soaked mask haunted his dreams like a relentless specter. That grotesque face, those bloodshot eyes, that twisted smile—all seemed to mock his helplessness and fear.

In the dream, Lu Shiran felt compelled by an unseen force, drawn inexorably towards the direction where the blood-soaked mask floated.

The surroundings were deathly silent, only the sound of his own footsteps echoing in the vast darkness.

After walking an unknown distance, he arrived at a chaotic graveyard.

The scene was as terrifying as hell itself. Sinister moonlight filtered through gaps in the dark clouds, casting eerie shadows on the haphazardly arranged graves. Tombstones tilted precariously or lay crumbled on the ground, and the earth was covered in a thick layer of black moss, exuding the stench of decay.

The surrounding trees twisted like ghostly figures, their branches resembling monstrous claws, poised to strike at any moment.

Each step felt like treading on the slumbering dead, the earth beneath his feet soft and yielding, as if ready to swallow him whole.

The cold wind howled in his ears, carrying faint whispers, like countless lost souls lamenting their eternal suffering.

These whispers sent shivers down his spine, piercing his very soul and filling him with despair and fear.

A chill crept up from the soles of Lu Shiran’s feet, enveloping his entire body until he stood frozen in place.

Just then, the blood-soaked mask suddenly vanished into a grave, disappearing without a trace. The black moss on the grave spread like fresh blood, an ominous stain in the moonlight.

As Lu Shiran wandered through the dreamscape in a daze, a woman’s soft weeping pierced the midnight silence.

The cries were filled with sorrow and resentment, emanating from the depths of hell, chilling him to the bone.

The cries grew louder, becoming increasingly shrill, like a chorus of countless souls wailing in unison.

Vaguely, Lu Shiran thought he heard the woman calling his name. Her voice was weak and mournful, yet held an irresistible allure.

Lu Shiran’s wife, Chen Ye, was startled awake by the cries. She sat up in a panic, the woman’s sobs still echoing in her ears.

The cries seemed to possess a supernatural power, striking her soul and filling her with an unprecedented terror.

She was about to wake Lu Shiran to investigate when she realized he was already out of bed.

Strangely, instead of immediately grabbing his flashlight and rushing out as he usually would, he slowly changed his clothes, put on his leather shoes, and meticulously groomed himself. He even found a comb in the darkness and combed his hair.

His movements were unusually slow and mechanical, as if performing some bizarre ritual. His eyes were vacant and expressionless, devoid of their usual liveliness.

His stiff movements and empty gaze terrified Chen Ye. It was as if he were no longer the Lu Shiran she knew, but a puppet controlled by some malevolent force.

After completing these actions, he slowly walked out, his expression blank, like a sleepwalker.

His movements were rigid, seemingly controlled by an unseen power, devoid of any life.

His eerie behavior so frightened Chen Ye that she forgot to call out to him.

She watched him walk towards the door, her heart filled with an overwhelming sense of dread.

By the time Chen Ye snapped out of her trance and fumbled for the flashlight in the darkness, rushing out of the house,

Lu Shiran and the woman had vanished without a trace…