Lu Hua's voice choked with emotion: "She was terrified of ghosts when she was little..."
The three people arrived in front of the haunted house. Since the murder, no one had lived in the vicinity, so there were no streetlights and they could only be lit by the dim moonlight.
Every now and then a gust of wind blows by, rustling the leaves and making a chill down your spine, even in the sweltering summer heat.
Lu Hua hugged his arms tightly, hunched his neck, and pressed himself close to Su Lenghe.
She lowered her voice and said, "Host, do you feel the temperature dropping? Why are all the hairs on my body standing on end?"
It's July now, the hottest time of the year. Even the wind is hot; it's never cold enough to feel like you've fallen into an icebox.
"The yin energy here is heavy; this is your body's instinctive reaction."
Su Lenghe glanced around and saw thick black gas floating in the air—this was resentment.
The stronger the resentment, the stronger the yin energy.
With a gentle wave of her hand, all the black gas dissipated, and Lu Hua felt his body quickly warm up.
Su Lenghe walked in front, Lu Hua walked in the middle, and Rong Yan held his phone. Although his heart was pounding, his expression remained calm.
He has been through so much with Master Su, he must not show any fear.
The rotten wooden door slowly opened, and a damp, decaying smell wafted out, faintly mixed with the stench of blood.
Thirty years have passed since the crime, yet the smell of blood still lingers.
Rong Yan sniffed hard, puzzled, and the smell of decay mixed with blood quickly filled his nostrils.
His internal organs churned violently, and he almost vomited.
Su Lenghe looked around the room. It was a courtyard house, with a courtyard right outside the door, and houses on the north, south, and west sides.
Su Lenghe turned around and stared at the door. Rong Yan followed her gaze and saw a bright red bloody handprint on the door.
The color is very new, as if it was just printed on recently. Judging from the size of the handprint, it should belong to a child under five years old.
The door was right in front of them, and they were just one step away from escaping, but they still couldn't escape their fate.
It's unimaginable how desperate he must have been at that time.
Rong Yan lowered his eyes, a hint of sympathy flashing in them.
Su Lenghe withdrew her gaze, stepped into the house on the east side, and Rong Yan and Lu Hua followed closely behind.
With a loud bang, the door slammed shut.
Lu Hua's mind went blank, and he and Rong Yan stared at each other in bewilderment.
Lu Hua's voice trembled: "Did you close the door just now?"
Rong Yan shook his head. Lu Hua felt her hair stand on end. She reflexively ran over to pull the door open, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't open it.
There were only three people in the live stream, who closed the door?
Of course it's a ghost, no doubt about it.
Rong Yan then realized what was happening and ran to help, but no matter how hard the two of them tried, the door remained firmly shut.
It's a wooden door, but now it feels as heavy as if it were filled with lead.
"It's no use." Su Lenghe's gaze fell on the two people's arms, each with a child hanging from it.
Rong Yan and the others were completely unaware, because they were not human, but ghosts.
Their arms were slinged over their shoulders, their bodies covered in blood, their pale faces streaked with blood and tears, and their dark, empty pupils staring directly at them.
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