Chapter 83: The Carnivore and the Painter of Blood (4)

A slightly rundown amusement park caught Wu Zui’s eye, and as everyone knows, large amusement parks always have haunted houses. Besides scaring people, they serve as mazes—there was no better battleground. He parked the Xianglong No.1 at the haunted house’s entrance and pulled the somewhat frightened Xiao Ke’ai inside.

The haunted house was dimly lit, barely revealing the cheap plastic models scattered around. Faded paint depicted grotesque ghosts, flying past as the two of them ran. Occasionally, eerie music drifted from speakers overhead. All in all, it was a rather low-budget haunted house, but its layout suggested a considerable size. The door wasn’t locked, so the original owner had likely left Binhai. It was perfect for their purposes.

“Mas… Master, c-can we pick another place?” Xiao Ke’ai looked at the gloomy decorations, her heart pounding wildly, gripping the hammer in her right hand and stammering.

“You’re actually scared of this?” Wu Zui noticed Xiao Ke’ai’s left hand was icy cold and spoke in surprise. He had never seen her so frightened. Whether at Haishan or during the ghost marriage incident in Nanshan Village, she had been uncomfortable, yes, but never had she been so terrified that her hands and feet were cold. He’d always thought she was quite brave.

“I have… psychological trauma,” she managed, trembling even more, her whole body limp like a noodle.

A faint wailing sound echoed from behind; Wu Zui guessed their pursuers were almost upon them.

“Close your eyes and hold onto me. Send Cat Commander out to scout—find the surveillance room. We’ll pick a defensible spot and give them a good fight,” said Wu Zui, lifting Xiao Ke’ai in his arms and running deeper into the haunted house.

“Okay.” Xiao Ke’ai buried her head in Wu Zui’s shoulder, responding softly and shutting her eyes tight. Cat Commander leaped from her body, its blue fur turning ethereal as it passed through walls searching the area.

Lying on Wu Zui’s shoulder and sharing Cat Commander’s vision, Xiao Ke’ai gradually calmed down.

“Master… The surveillance room’s down the left path,” she murmured, eyes still closed, tapping Wu Zui’s shoulder.

“Got it.” Guided by Xiao Ke’ai, Wu Zui reached the surveillance room smoothly. Fortunately, the monitors were still running—nine screens, not many, but covering key points.

On the monitors, Chen Jack and Man Tu had just entered the haunted house. Three screens showed a torrent of skulls, but there were several secret doors along the path to the surveillance room—apparently, Chen Jack hadn’t noticed them yet.

Wu Zui carefully set Xiao Ke’ai down and locked the surveillance room door. He then turned to the haunted house’s floor plan and began to study how best to deal with Chen Jack and Man Tu.

The haunted house was roughly divided into four zones, each with a unique theme. The scene with the most rooms was the Seven Deadly Sins, composed of seven small chambers. One end was the entrance, the other connected to the backstage makeup room—effectively eight rooms. Within the Seven Deadly Sins scene were two manual secret doors. Best of all, perhaps due to functional needs, the final chamber of every scene connected to the backstage, allowing quick access to any area from there.

“Is my blood still here?” Wu Zui asked Xiao Ke’ai. This was now an essential item she always carried.

“Yes, right here.” Xiao Ke’ai retrieved a bottle of blood from her backpack and handed it to Wu Zui.

“Link the surveillance feed to our phones, then let’s head to the backstage. We’ll use the blood to seal the doors to the final chambers of all four scenes, then take them down one at a time,” Wu Zui said, taking the bottle.

Xiao Ke’ai agreed and quickly got to work. Within minutes, the video was linked to her phone. Wu Zui then smashed all the monitors, and together they hurried to the nearby backstage room.

At that moment, Chen Jack and Man Tu, along with the horde of skulls from Baita, were still wandering the maze in circles. Baita’s rage had smashed holes in every partition, nearly connecting the first three rooms of several scenes.

Soon, Wu Zui and Xiao Ke’ai smeared blood across the doors of the final chambers in all four scenes and the backstage entrance. Now, if those damned skulls tried to break down the doors, they’d be burned for sure.

Wu Zui handed the remaining half-bottle back to Xiao Ke’ai for self-defense.

Meanwhile, Chen Jack, as seen on the monitors, suddenly became excited. Even in the darkness, the feverish glow in his eyes was undimmed.

He started acting completely unlike his usual self, sniffing the air as if sensing something. Baita recognized this as Chen Jack’s reaction to finding top-quality paint—apparently, this was the best yet.

“Baita! Smash it all! Tear this place apart! Oh~ I can feel it… the finest paint I’ve ever encountered,” Chen Jack declared, his face flushed with excitement.

The skulls wasted no more time playing hide-and-seek with Wu Zui. They formed a ring and spun rapidly. The walls cracked and soon began collapsing, but the falling debris was deflected by the skulls, leaving Chen Jack and Man Tu unharmed.

Within moments, Baita had demolished nearly half the haunted house.

The secret doors were smashed open, and the spinning skulls quickly approached the backstage.

Suddenly, some of the skulls ignited, burning fiercely—the flames, despite the resistance of the lingering resentment, reduced the skulls to gray ashes. Before Chen Jack and his group, two doors smeared with blood stood tall.

The spinning skulls slowed, having just felt the devastating power of the flames—a force even more restraining than golden weapons. If not for being made up of many skulls, Baita couldn’t imagine the consequences.

“This one—smash it!” Chen Jack’s red eyes shone with excitement, but his command was as resolute as ever.

With no other choice, Baita’s skulls attacked the blood-stained door. As dents appeared, dozens of skulls were burned to ash by the flames, the resentment unable to restore them.

During this, Chen Jack approached the other blood-stained door that Baita hadn’t attacked, reaching out to touch the crimson blood. The instant his hand met the blood, he felt a burning sensation—like touching fire.

Just like Scarface, the resentment within Chen Jack roused the wrathful fire. If he had been overtaken by Baita, turning half-human, half-monster, the fire would have consumed him. For now, the flames brought a stabbing pain, nothing more.

Yet, the pain only made Chen Jack more frenzied. He summoned resentment from his hand, forcibly tore a skull from Baita’s body, and used it as a brush to paint on the blood-stained door.

As he painted, he let out a sick, manic laugh. Even Man Tu dared not approach, stepping back for fear Chen Jack might kill him in his madness.

Chen Jack had forgotten the battle, forgotten the danger of the wrathful fire lurking in the blood. Brandishing the burning skull, he painted with wild abandon, the lure of perfect art eclipsing everything.

Soon, several more skulls were turned to ash by the fire—this time, at Chen Jack’s own hand. Baita could only rage in silence.

Quickly, the blood on the door became a hellish tableau—ghosts of varying shapes tormenting humans, monstrous beings retracting tongues, atop which people writhed in agony. Scenes like this filled the painted door.

Just a glimpse could drain ordinary people of the will to live—not only was the imagery realistic and horrifying, but it was imbued with Chen Jack’s resentment, a psychic contamination.

As Chen Jack finished his masterpiece, red flames flared from the door, igniting the psychic contamination and transforming the painting into a fiery inferno. The twisted light made the ghosts seem alive.

Chen Jack grew ever more excited, even though he could not touch the painting—he was ecstatic.

“Perfect paint—I’ve finally found it!” Chen Jack licked his bloodied, burned fingers, eyes bloodshot and wild with madness.

As the wrathful fire burned away the psychic contamination, it gradually died down. The painting faded, reverting to a featureless blood-stained door.

Chen Jack’s manic smile froze. His perfect work was ruined! With the wrathful fire in the blood, his contamination could not endure. Unless he solved this, he could never create lasting masterpieces, no matter how perfect the paint.

Black smoke began to swirl around him, and the evil faces in the cloud above his head screamed in fury.

Chen Jack was furious at the outcome!

With a wave of his hand, resentment surged from his body, causing the iron door to crack and soon be torn apart. But the massive release of resentment triggered a counterattack from the wrathful fire, which followed the current back, burning the black smoke away, threatening to reach Chen Jack himself…