105: Chapter 105 Live Stream Adventure

Midnight, the Hour of the Rat.

A bleak, chilly drizzle began to fall from the sky once again.

Yellow police tape surrounded Jiangda Affiliated Elementary School, and tactical agents from The Ninth Bureau guarded the main entrances and exits.

Big A-Wei wore a black waterproof windbreaker and held up an extended selfie stick.

Behind him followed Xiao Hei, the cameraman, carrying heavy equipment.

Relying on their familiarity with the school's layout, the two bypassed the infrared detectors at the main gate, used hands and feet to climb up the thick drainpipe behind the red-brick building, and reached the second-floor balcony.

On the camera screen, eerie green static flickered constantly, accompanied by a harsh electronic buzz.

Big A-Wei wiped the rainwater off his face and forced a fan-pleasing, professional fake smile at the camera.

"Brothers and sisters! Keep those gifts coming! Streamer is risking getting raided to successfully reach the door of Class 2, Grade 3! Where's top donor bro's sports car? Let's go!"

Big A-Wei aimed the camera at the front door of the classroom.

"Look at the chains on this door; there are actually dark red water stains slowly dripping from them."

"This definitely isn't ordinary red ink. It smells like a dead rat in a sewer."

Big A-Wei pulled an expired hard plastic membership card from his pocket, inserted it into the door crack, slid it downward with practiced force, and pushed back the old latch.

Creak!

The long-neglected wooden door let out an agonized groan as it was slowly pushed open.

The beam of the flashlight swept into the classroom.

The classroom was terrifyingly silent, filled only with the sound of their rapid, heavy breathing and an extremely rhythmic dripping of water.

Drip.

Drip.

With every drop that hit the floor, the tightness in Big A-Wei's chest grew heavier.

Shoulder camera in tow, Xiao Hei followed Big A-Wei into the classroom.

He pointed the lens at the large blackboard at the very front of the classroom.

The blackboard surface had been wiped unnaturally clean by something, reflecting a faint, gloomy light like a giant black mirror.

On the camera's display screen, Big A-Wei was standing beside the podium, waving excitedly at the camera.

Three seconds later.

The arm of the "Big A-Wei" inside the display screen abruptly froze.

Meanwhile, the real Big A-Wei's arm remained suspended in midair as he enthusiastically greeted the livestream viewers.

Xiao Hei rubbed his eyes, thinking he was seeing things.

He stared intently at the monitor.

The "Big A-Wei" in the monitor slowly lowered his arm.

The corners of his mouth pulled grotesquely outward, flesh tearing, revealing an utterly non-human, hollow smile that stretched almost to his ears.

"Wei... Brother Wei..."

Xiao Hei's voice trembled uncontrollably. He reached out and tightly grabbed the hem of Big A-Wei's windbreaker.

"Look... look at the blackboard..."

Big A-Wei turned around impatiently.

The sight before him shattered the materialistic worldview he had built over the first half of his life.

In the middle of the room, dozens of blue-and-white school uniforms suddenly stood upright at their desks.

Though there were no bodies inside, the sleeves bulged outwards.

Bright red scarves floated in midair despite the lack of wind, their knots turning in unison to point toward the two on the podium.

On the blackboard, the large words written in red chalk began to frantically melt.

The handwriting dissolved into streams of dark red, viscous blood, trickling down the wall and tracing a giant red 'X' across the floor.

A two-meter-tall phantom formed from countless exam papers stitched together slowly emerged in front of the podium.

It had no arms, its sleeves completely empty.

Its face was a blank sheet of white paper, with two large circles drawn in black ink to represent eyes.

"Xiao... Xiao Hei..."

Big A-Wei turned his head, seeking comfort from his companion.

He found that Xiao Hei had already collapsed limply onto the floor.

Xiao Hei's eyes rolled back, and a large wet patch stained his crotch.

A warm, foul-smelling liquid trickled down his pant legs and dripped onto the floor, giving off the stench of urine.

Xiao Hei didn't even get to scream before fainting dead away from fright.

On the screen of the phone in Big A-Wei's hand, the chat had gone completely wild.

At that instant, the viewer count in the livestream room surged past three million.

Countless gift special effects bombarded the screen.

Accompanying them was a screen full of exclamation marks and prayers expressing extreme terror.

"Holy crap! Streamer, run! That thing has a ferule in its hand!"

"This isn't scripted! Look, the cameraman pissed his pants!"

"Bullet comments shield me! Bullet comments shield me! Prosperity, democracy, civility, harmony!"

Big A-Wei's legs went weak. He wanted to run, but the soles of his feet felt rooted to the floor, unable to move even half a step.

The "Class Monitor," assembled from exam papers, slowly raised a pointer rolled from test sheets and aimed it right at Big A-Wei's forehead.

Taiping Old Street, inside a bedroom.

Lin Ye lay comfortably on a three-meter-wide bed. A dim wall lamp glowed softly in the bedroom.

Leng Yue lay on her side beside Lin Ye, looking like a lazy and noble Persian cat.

Her silver tresses spilled across Lin Ye's firm chest, her gentle warmth blending with his scorching skin in an exquisite balance of temperature.

The faint, cool fragrance of Manjusaka filled the entire room, soothing the restlessness brought by the night.

Lin Ye held his phone, which was playing Big A-Wei's late-night death-seeking exploration livestream.

Looking at Xiao Hei, who had pissed his pants in terror, and the deathly pale Big A-Wei on screen, a sneering cold smile tugged at the corner of Lin Ye's lips.

"These days, people really risk their lives just for a bit of traffic."

Lin Ye swiped his finger across the screen, watching the chat spamming gifts, secretly complaining in his heart.

"His forehead is so dark it's practically dripping ink, yet he dares to barge into such a malevolent place. Does he really think he's a nine-lived cat demon who can resurrect infinitely?"

Leng Yue slightly tilted up her slender, swan-like neck, resting her chin on Lin Ye's collarbone.

She followed Lin Ye's gaze toward the phone screen, a trace of disdain flashing in her deep crimson eyes.

"Such low-level vengeful spirits, playing tricks in a school relying on a few lingering regrets. Husband, if you find them noisy, your servant will go right now and burn that wall of waste paper to ashes."

Leng Yue's voice was soft and lazy, yet her words carried an undeniable domineering chill.

Lin Ye reached out and pulled her slender, supple waist close, his large hand gently caressing her smooth silk nightgown.

"No rush. Let the bullet fly for a bit."

Lin Ye locked his phone screen and casually tossed it onto the nightstand.

"The folks at The Ninth Bureau must be overwhelmed right now, and the bounty for this school hasn't reached a number I'm satisfied with yet."

"When these streamers blow the matter out of proportion and the principal is stomping his feet in panic, we'll take the job. When the time comes, we'll ask for five million, not a cent less."

He rolled over and gathered Leng Yue completely into his arms.

The scorching heat of Pure Yang and the subtle chill of a Hanba intertwined beneath the covers.

"The night is long, my wife. Instead of watching those fools seek death, why don't we engage in some proper marital cultivation?"

Leng Yue's red lips curled slightly upward, an indelible tenderness pooling in her eyes.

Offering no resistance, she obediently closed her eyes and pressed her cool, soft lips against the corner of Lin Ye's mouth.