The Severed Hand of Terror

Looking at the old man in the cabin with his back to him, Wang Ye felt a chill run through his entire body.

Could it be the one from the suburbs' cemetery?

How could he possibly appear here!

In an instant, Wang Ye's understanding of this world collapsed.

This old guy, is he human or ghost!

If a ghost, why didn't he kill anyone in Beijing!

But if human...

How could anyone possibly survive in such a ghostly place as this barren land!

Countless doubts filled Wang Ye's mind.

The mail coach continued on its way, taking a full twenty minutes before leaving the cemetery behind.

Wang Ye, who had been counting the entire time in his mind, looked on in shock.

This cemetery...

was at least ten li in size!

If below this ten li cemetery, like the one in the suburbs, were all buried ghosts...

Wang Ye could not imagine it.

Great terror...

As the mail coach left, the wooden door of the hut slowly opened.

An old man, holding an oil lamp in his hand, stood at the doorway at some point, silently watching Wang Ye's departing direction.

After a long while...

A trace of a bizarre smile suddenly appeared at the corners of the old man's mouth.

If Wang Ye were still here, he would surely feel his hair stand on end upon discovering that this old man was the very one who had watched him back at the suburban cemetery.

On the navigation, Wang Ye still had a full one third of the journey remaining to his destination.

Wang Ye could not imagine whether he could still be alive to deliver this letter.

The mysterious mail coach could no longer provide him with any sense of security.

In the pitch-black barren land, a peaceful mansion appeared in the distance. White cloths hung all over the mansion, as if someone had died inside.

"Mansion!"

Wang Ye looked on solemnly. Suddenly, the bone-picking knife tied to his leg, which had remained very steady, emitted a bizarre chill...

And...

Deep resentment.

Yes, resentment. Wang Ye could intuitively feel the resentment emanating from the bone-picking knife.

"It's the mansion from the memory shard in the bone-picking knife!"

Wang Ye instantly recalled the memory shard that had flashed through his mind when he first picked up the bone-picking knife in Room 404.

In it, the owner of the bone-picking knife had used it to peel the flesh off a skull in a mansion.

But he could not recall most of the other images clearly.

Sensing the anomaly of the bone-picking knife, Wang Ye's brain continuously spun in thought, struggling to recall the images from back then...

Abruptly, Wang Ye froze, his complexion turning pale as a bead of cold sweat rolled down his temple from some point.

The face of the severed head placed in the basin, whose flesh was peeled by the bone-picking knife...

Seemed to be his own.

Wang Ye shuddered with fear. Why...

Why did he feel it was perfectly normal when he first saw that scene, completely failing to notice anything off?

With his vigilance, how could he possibly have made such a mistake?

Wang Ye kept asking himself in his mind.

And as the mail coach left, the mysterious mansion gradually faded into the distance behind them.

At some point, the mansion's front door creaked open a sliver, a pair of eyes pressed tight against the crack, sinisterly watching the direction the mail coach departed in.

......

Wang Ye was still constantly recalling what had happened in the mansion. For the first time, he began to harbor some doubt toward his own mind.

"Damn it, the dead cannot come back to life!"

After a long while, Wang Ye fiercely pounded the steering wheel and cursed under his breath, readjusting his mindset.

Fortunately...

Nothing else happened for the remainder of the journey...

Just as Wang Ye was about to breathe a sigh of relief, abruptly, a bizarre red theater stage appeared before his eyes up ahead.

A woman in costume with thick stage makeup smeared on her face stood on stage, softly chanting.

Below the stage, a group of ghosts missing heads or limbs but emanating a terrifying aura sat in chairs, wholly absorbed in listening.

Faintly, the sound of opera flowed in through the car window, causing Wang Ye to become mesmerized despite himself and subconsciously want to stop the car and sit in the chairs below the stage.

With the last shred of clarity in his mind, Wang Ye forcefully bit his own tongue. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

The intense pain brought Wang Ye back to his senses. He was filled with trepidation in retrospect.

These bizarre sounds were full of temptation, countless times more terrifying than that wailing ghost from before.

Wang Ye retracted the hand that had reached for the car door, not daring to glance at the stage again.

Just then...

In the distant sky, a terrifying hand drifted by.

Wisps of black gas wantonly ravaged the hand, filling it with terror. At just a glance, Wang Ye's complexion paled as his heartbeat rapidly accelerated.

Blood seeped from the corners of his eyes.

Then, this horrifying severed hand floated above the stage and gently patted down.

The woman on stage bizarrely vanished into thin air, as if she had never been there. The ghosts seated below were fiercely smacked down to the ground by the hand.

The violent impact caused the mail coach to shake nonstop, and Wang Ye watched this scene through the rearview mirror, violently spewing a mouthful of blood mist.

Just one look nearly cost him his life.

Wang Ye's heart instantly rose to his throat as he frantically stomped the gas pedal. The mail coach swiftly passed by at great speed.

Soon, the hand disappeared from Wang Ye's sight.

Severed hand...

"Severed hand!"

For some reason, the cross stitch with a severed hand hanging on the living room wall in Room 404 came to Wang Ye's mind.

But while bizarre, that hand wasn't one ten thousandth as terrifying as this one.

It seemed to only have form without spirit.

But...

First the suburban cemetery, then the mysterious 404...

These two ordinary places in the seemingly safe Beijing actually had close ties to the barren land.

Things did not seem as simple as they appeared.

"Damn it, just what kind of existence is this postal service?"

Wang Ye couldn't help cursing softly. Each of these seemingly independent existences was bizarrely linked together by the mysterious postal service.

Finally...

Nothing else happened for the remainder of the journey, oddly peaceful.

"Could it have all been taken care of by that hand..."

Wang Ye could not be certain. Seeing there was less than 500 meters remaining on the navigation, he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

He had finally arrived alive.

Not far away, a plain and ordinary-looking residence appeared before Wang Ye's eyes.

Somewhat old bluestone and a slightly dilapidated front gate.

Two stone sculptures stood on either side of the front gate. But unlike traditional door guardians, these two sculptures were in the likeness of children, brimming with eeriness.

And surprisingly, a flower garden was planted in front of the gate.

It was difficult to imagine what kind of existence in this terrifying barren land could be so carefree as to have such refined aesthetic tastes.

The mail coach slowly pulled up in front of the residence.

Wang Ye sat guardedly in the vehicle, warily surveying his surroundings.

The mission prompt had said... to deliver the letter to the first person he saw.

But it didn't say he had to get out of the car.

This vehicle was currently Wang Ye's greatest protection.

Abruptly...

Through the rearview mirror, Wang Ye noticed a middle-aged man standing by his car with a smile at some point, quietly watching him.

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