The Evil Beginning

The moment Xiao Lan jumped out the window, Zhang Chen quickly rushed over to it. But Xiao Lan had already fallen into the lake in the backyard, sending up huge ripples before vanishing into the dark, tranquil waters.

"Zhang Chen, what was that thing that just jumped out?" Miao Shuangshuang, who had been behind him, had also arrived.

In truth, Zhang Chen found it extremely difficult to answer that question.

First, if he said that shadow was not Xiao Lan, everyone would wonder whether Xiao Lan had been eaten or killed by that monster. Such a huge creature had been right under their noses without them noticing it. They would start worrying about their own safety and want to leave, which would be extremely detrimental to the overall situation.

Second, if he said the shadow was Xiao Lan, everyone would naturally wonder whether they might turn into something like that too. It was impossible to guard against, and it would likewise cause unrest.

Just as Zhang Chen was struggling to answer, a voice rang out.

"The one who jumped out the window just now was Xiao Lan."

The speaker was unexpectedly Jia Xin, who had only just arrived.

"Something happened to Xiao Lan. Why did you only show up now?" Miao Shuangshuang, who had always obeyed Jia Xin, actually angrily reproached him this time.

"I've been observing the situation here from the balcony outside."

"Didn't you say that as long as we followed your instructions, we'd be safe? What's going on now?" Miao Shuangshuang demanded.

"First, before I ever spoke of your safety, I had already judged that something had happened to Xiao Lan. Second, the talisman paper I asked you to give her was only meant to be placed by her door. Third, Zhang Chen and I only just finished dealing with the resentful ghost in the swimming pool."

After Jia Xin said that, Miao Shuangshuang asked again.

"If you knew Sister Xiao Lan might be in danger from the start, why did you just stand by and do nothing?"

"It was only a guess. I originally planned to check on Xiao Lan after dealing with the resentful ghost in the swimming pool. Who knew something would have already happened? This was indeed my oversight. Tomorrow morning, I'll give everyone an explanation at the lake."

This time, it was Zhang Chen who spoke. From the start, he had suspected that Xiao Lan might have a problem after eating that strange fish meat, but he had ultimately failed to take it seriously.

After hearing this, Miao Shuangshuang could no longer say anything. After all, they were all human. This place was already incomparably dangerous, and others had been doing everything they could to protect them, yet she was still shouting and making a scene.

"I'm sorry. I got too emotional. But if possible, please do your best to bring Xiao Lan back tomorrow. Thank you."

After saying that, Miao Shuangshuang, who had the personality of a boy, actually began to cry. Shen Qiutian immediately stepped forward to comfort her.

"Everyone, go back to your rooms first. Don't worry too much. I'll go look for Xiao Lan tomorrow morning."

After Zhang Chen spoke, everyone returned to their rooms with anxious hearts.

"Brother Chen, is your body going to be alright? You just had a huge battle tonight, and tomorrow you have to go into the lake to find someone who may not even be human?" Er Wa asked.

"Since I promised, I have to do it. I just need to get a good night's rest and recover my energy."

Zhang Chen said nothing more. When he arrived at Wang Yizhi's room, everyone was deeply upset upon hearing that another person had met with trouble. But after Zhang Chen promised everyone that he absolutely would not let anyone in the class come to harm, their moods eased somewhat.

Everyone sat together and chatted for a while. Thinking that Zhang Chen was a little tired today, they called it a night early and returned to their rooms to rest.

As a result, just as Zhang Chen returned to his room and was about to sleep, his phone suddenly vibrated. He picked it up and saw that it was a text message from Wang Yizhi.

The two lay in beds only a few meters apart, continuously sending each other text messages, not stopping until they had gone from nine-thirty to eleven.

Zhang Chen lay in bed, ready to sleep, grinning from ear to ear. He had originally been somewhat exhausted, but a few messages from Wang Yizhi left him so energized that he could not fall asleep for a while.

Time passed bit by bit. Zhang Chen's excitement gradually faded, and he slowly drifted into sleep.

This time, in the dream, he was in an unfamiliar room. He held a fountain pen in his right hand and a notebook in his left, writing something in it. (It was impossible to make out any writing in the Dreamscape.)

However, judging from the paragraph format, it was undoubtedly a diary.

While writing in the diary, he bit the thumb of his free left hand. As he wrote, he became increasingly restless, and the words he wrote in the diary became heavier and heavier.

Suddenly, he accidentally bit down too hard and drew blood from his left thumb. A drop of bright red blood fell onto the diary. He stared at his own blood for a long while.

Then, to Zhang Chen's surprise, he actually licked the blood from the paper and sucked on his bleeding thumb.

Before long, the diary was finished. He closed it, skillfully placed it in the drawer on the right, and left the room.

Only then did Zhang Chen realize that the room where he had written the diary was the room marked with an "x" on the villa map. He had not paid attention to it over the past two days. It seemed necessary to take a look after waking up.

In the Dreamscape, he was the villa's owner, Auguste Rodin. As he walked through the villa's corridors, servants occasionally passed by him with their heads lowered. But he seemed irritated at the moment and did not want to pay attention to anyone, striding quickly toward the hall.

His wife was sitting in the hall, her belly swollen to the point that she was nearly due to give birth.

Seeing him approach, his wife's face brightened with joy, and she said a few words to him. Yet he acted as though he had not heard a thing. He picked up the hunting rifle hanging on the wall of the hall, strode out of the villa, and headed toward the woods.

Walking through the forest, he suddenly fired a shot wildly into the tranquil woods. It was easy to imagine the agitation and frustration in his heart.

He kept pressing deeper into the forest without any intention of stopping, as though he wanted to get as far away from this place as possible.

Just as he was about to leave the woods, a spotted deer resting beside a pool of clear water appeared before him. Without hesitation, he raised his gun and pulled the trigger at where the deer stood.

The deer was not hit. It was merely frightened away by the gunshot. He suddenly put away the gun in a panic and ran toward where the barrel had been aimed.

However, outside the woods, a five-year-old boy lay in a pool of blood. He was at a complete loss for what to do. After a while, seeing no one around, it seemed the child had run out alone to play.

A wicked thought arose in him. He grabbed the little boy's arm and dragged him into the woods. The forest was vast, and there was still quite a distance back to the villa. Dragging the boy's corpse all the way, sweat seeped from his forehead.

When walking became increasingly difficult, he unexpectedly saw Fichtek Salo, a Black servant planting trees not far ahead. When the servant saw him dragging a little boy covered in blood, he immediately came over and spoke with him. During their conversation, a sorrowful expression first appeared on the servant's face, but it gradually faded away.

The two then carried the boy's corpse together to an open space outside the villa. The servant ran into the villa and brought out a large burlap sack. Together, they placed the boy inside it and tied it shut with hemp rope.

After he signaled to the servant with his eyes, the servant hoisted the burlap sack onto his shoulder and carried it into the villa, while he followed him up to the third floor.

The rooms on the third floor were still so cramped. He sat quietly in a chair, while the burlap sack containing the boy's corpse lay before him.

Bright red, viscous blood had already seeped through the sack and spread across the floor to his feet.

He stared at it all without moving, and even swallowed.

He moved—or rather, Auguste Rodin moved. He walked over to the burlap sack, hurriedly untied the hemp rope around it, pulled out the little boy, and began sucking greedily at the bleeding wound in the boy's abdomen where the bullet had struck.

Before long, it seemed that all the blood in the little boy's body had been consumed by him.

As he looked at the blood-drained little boy before him, he seemed not yet satisfied. He stood up, opened the door to the third floor, went down to the kitchen, and after speaking with the old chef with the white beard, obtained a meat cleaver from him.

After returning to the third floor, he first dragged the boy's corpse into the bathtub. After using a mop to remove the bloodstains from the floor, he closed the bathroom door and slowly cut off the corpse's arm as it lay in the tub. The blood that continued to gush out was also consumed by him.

The arm tasted delicious. He gnawed from the upper arm all the way down to the five fingers, never stopping for even a moment.

After eating the arm, he seemed somewhat full. He hastily washed away the blood with water, put the corpse back into the burlap sack, and hid it in the corner of a huge wardrobe in his bedroom.

Several days passed. He seemed to have grown tired of the old chef's cooking, eating less and less at every meal. His family invited a doctor to examine him, but no cause could be found. Yet no one knew that before every meal, he would eat one of the little boy's limbs in his bedroom. Although the corpse rotted quickly, he still found it delicious.

Just after the doctor left, a young couple came to the villa and screamed hysterically outside, seemingly searching for something. After he impatiently ordered the servants to send them away, he returned to his room and opened the burlap sack beneath his wardrobe. Only several white bones remained inside.

One noon, as he looked at the dazzling spread of dishes on the dining table, he could not summon any appetite at all. Then his young wife unexpectedly went into labor and, through the efforts of the servants and doctor, safely gave birth to a snow-white baby girl.

When a young maid carried the baby girl before him, saliva unexpectedly dripped from the corner of his mouth.

The same natural light shone upon Zhang Chen's body.

"What a **man. So this was how it began? I wonder what happened afterward. After going to the lake to look for Xiao Lan this morning, I need to search that room for the diary that guy wrote. Maybe I can find some useful clues."

Zhang Chen's Dreamscape was almost as real as reality itself. The only difference was that there was no sound, so he could clearly remember every detail and every image.

"But there's still too little information. At least I know that the mastermind behind all this should be the villa's owner, Auguste Rodin. It would be great if I could sleep a little longer. Still, I should deal with Xiao Lan first."

After washing up and changing clothes, he went to the hall on the first floor. Everyone had basically already gotten up and gathered there.

Miao Shuangshuang had actually prepared breakfast for Zhang Chen. The moment he came downstairs, she personally handed it to him. Wang Yizhi, standing nearby, saw it, and a trace of displeasure appeared on her face. Zhang Chen could only scratch his head.

"Brother Chen, should I lend you my gear? You'll be able to swim faster that way." Er Wa popped out from somewhere, holding his professional swimming equipment.

Zhang Chen smiled. Not wanting to explain, he accepted it.

"These people really aren't scared at all. Every one of them has such a good mindset. But that's for the best. Keep it up, Zhang Chen."

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