Horror Game Designer

Chapter 83: What Have You Done to Me!

After an intense and prolonged gaze at Gao Ming, a voice, weary and old, emerged from within the large canine form: “I presume this is your first visit to this mysterious shadow city, isn’t it? This place is a mirror image of our tangible world, yet it’s filled with the forgotten remnants of human memories and their darkest nightmares. Joy, happiness, and light are foreign concepts here. What prevails instead is an unending cycle of despair, death, and impenetrable darkness.”

Gao Ming inquired with puzzlement, “But why does this justify you in capturing and holding people against their will?” He had begun to suspect that the blind man, despite his sensory limitations, possessed an extraordinary understanding of their bizarre situation.

“The moment any creature is tainted by the shadow, upon awakening, they are instilled with a singular purpose by this world,” explained the dog, settling onto the ground. “This shadow city is on the brink of collapse. We need more living souls here. Only when the living outnumber the ghostly inhabitants will this calamity cease, and entities like me might find true liberation.”

“The living must outnumber the ghosts?” Gao Ming questioned, scanning the seemingly deserted city. “How many would it take? Hundreds? Thousands? The city doesn’t appear to be overrun by ghosts.”

“You are blinded by hope. Only eyes clouded by despair can see the true extent,” the dog responded, its jaws opening once more. “Do not resist; allow me to assist you.”

As the dog’s massive maw engulfed Gao Ming, he was enveloped in a bone-chilling sensation.

What terrors could a person who lives in a world devoid of sight and sound experience? No imagery, no hues, no auditory stimuli – just an endless expanse of darkness and sudden, overwhelming despair.

Gao Ming felt himself sinking deeper into this nightmarish abyss, eventually reaching its darkest depths. This darkness seemed to serve as a conduit to another realm.

Sharing his perceptions with the blind man, their heartbeats synchronized. They opened their eyes simultaneously, and Gao Ming was struck by an astonishing transformation.

The once desolate shadow city had morphed into a chaotic landscape overrun by rampant nightmares, echoing with shrieks and moans of agony.

A thick black fog shrouded the horizon, from which dilapidated structures and tombstones emerged, symbolizing memories long abandoned.

Within this tumultuous fog, a colossal whale bore an island composed of skeletal remains, attracting every flawed soul in this world, desperately clawing their way onto it.

In the distance, a city drenched in blood loomed, making Gao Ming feel inconsequential, a mere speck in comparison.

“Have you discerned the true number of ghosts here?”

Spewed out by the dog, Gao Ming sat on the ground, his mind still reeling from the horrors he had just witnessed.

“Is that the true essence of the shadow world?”

It was only after witnessing the shadow city’s inner horrors that Gao Ming understood the profound exhaustion Xuan Wen experienced the night she escorted him home as if she had been drained of life just by traversing the city.

“I encountered this world in the depths of a nightmare long ago. It beckoned to me. When I awoke, I had become this,” the dog said, lifting Gao Ming. “If you align with reality, then strive to eliminate more ghosts on the other side; however, if you side with the shadow, join me in drawing more people into this world to fill its void.”

While the dog presented him with two paths for his future, Gao Ming recalled how some players in horror-themed “games” had already started colluding with shadow world monsters, mutually benefiting while plunging the entire city into further chaos.

“How can we possibly ensure that the living outnumbers the ghosts of the shadow world? That could only happen if both worlds fully merge, an impossible feat!”

“The ghost population is not as exaggerated as you think. You probably haven’t encountered true ghosts yet. Wrapped in resentment and hatred, they are far more formidable than shadow-assimilated beings like myself…” The dog’s voice trailed off, suddenly interrupted. It began to pound its chest with its paws as if trying to dislodge something that had burrowed inside.

Gao Ming soon sensed something amiss. Despite being released from the dog’s grasp, he could still feel the heartbeat of the blind man. Their hearts had voluntarily synchronized, perhaps activating the abilities of the Flesh Immortal.

“Did I ingest something tainted?”

The dog’s fur bristled like tumultuous waves, its eyes glowing a fierce red as it glared at Gao Ming. “What have you done to me!”

“I don’t know!” Inside Gao Ming’s transformed heart, where the Flesh Immortal resided amidst an array of torture instruments, tendrils of blood began to burrow out towards the cellar as if sensing the presence of another offering.

“A ghost? You’re carrying a ghost with you!” Realization dawned on the dog. It swiftly burrowed into the cellar, transformed into a shadow, and vanished into darkness and silence.

“It’s a misunderstanding!” Gao Ming was exasperated. Having “twisted” Dr. Lu’s memories, the Flesh Immortal seemed to have expended significant energy, hence the reason why it remained hidden from the blind man’s perception until now, where their hearts had voluntarily synchronized with the Heart of Mortality, possibly causing the Flesh Immortal to perceive it as an offering.

“This won’t be easy to explain.” Gao Ming peered into the cellar before diving back in.

He had to rescue Wei Dayou and eliminate Qing Ge. Departing now was not an option.

As he re-entered the cellar, a domain covered by the blind man’s memories, Gao Ming realized his senses of hearing and sight remained intact. His heart continued to beat, even enhancing his sense of smell while he used his phone for illumination.

At the entrance lay heaps of decomposed fruits and food encircled by paper money. An unmarked tablet stood in the center, engraved with various expressions of regret.

“If I had known this would happen, why bother in the first place? What’s the use of offering worship after death?”

It appeared that the blind man, despite his cellar confinement, was more forgiving; otherwise, other vengeful spirits would have long since fled to wreak havoc.

Further in, the cellar branched into several descending passages, their walls adorned with a multitude of talismans and scraps of clothing littering the floor.

Gao Ming examined a talisman, finding it strikingly similar to those in the Sishui Apartment. “Could Situ An be responsible for these? Why would he send children here?”

Unable to decipher the talismans’ text and the air growing increasingly thick with the scent of blood, Gao Ming soon stumbled upon the first corpse.

It was an investigator from the Queen’s Investigation Bureau, reeking of Mothballs, metal piercing his ears, and his eyes void of color.

“Mothballs? Was this investigator lured away by the jacketed man instead of following the stench?”

The darkness he had navigated earlier was fraught with unseen perils. A misstep could have led to catastrophic consequences.

Regardless, the large dog was an ally of the shadow world and unlikely to show mercy to living intruders.

Rounding a corner, the complexity of the talismans and wall patterns increased, seemingly depicting scenes of ancient blood sacrifices.

“It seems Situ An set this up long ago. Was he attempting to enlist the blind man’s aid through these means?”

The number of corpses in the passageway grew, each meeting a different end: some beaten to death, their bloated bodies exuding a sweet osmanthus scent; others burned, carrying the smell of fire; and some who took their own lives, reeking only of decay.

Initially, Gao Ming believed the blind man to be compassionate and inclined towards Buddhism, reluctant to leave the cellar for revenge. But these discoveries led him to reconsider. The blind man’s kindness was reserved solely for the person who ultimately saved his “mother.”

Reaching the cellar’s deepest point, Gao Ming shone his phone light across the space. Numerous people stood in the excavated underground area.

Most were motionless, their pale eyes trembling, trapped in illusions.

One figure, however, stood out. Qing Ge, brandishing a knife in each hand, his eyes shut. Within a five-meter radius around him lay only butchered corpses.

Unsure of Qing Ge’s actual state, Gao Ming directed his phone’s light towards him, only to witness an even stranger occurrence. Still clutching his knives, Qing Ge began moving towards the light with his eyes closed.

“Is he really ensnared in an illusion?”

After a brief contemplation, Gao Ming reached a conclusion. Regardless of Qing Ge’s actual condition, he could not be allowed to leave alive this night.

“Missing this opportunity would make it challenging to find another.”

Gao Ming flicked his phone, attracting Qing Ge like a moth to a flame.