Chapter 106: Spreading Fear

As he was about to reach the little girl, she suddenly looked up at him. Her black eyes shone as if sparkling in the night, fixed intently on his. The abruptness of her gaze caught him off guard, tightening his chest with unease. Then, he noticed her eerie smile and those unnatural black eyes. The light cast upon her formed a shadow behind her that was enormous and grotesque—nothing human at all.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to remain calm. “Well, she’s Chinese; black eyes are normal enough. And the shadow must be some kind of angle trick. Nothing unusual.” If everything was normal, then what was there to fear?

With that thought, he stepped closer to the girl until they were less than a meter apart, then crouched down. “Oh, little lady, why aren’t you sleeping at night? What are you doing sitting here?”

The girl’s smile stretched even wider than before, accompanied by a strange, eerie giggle. Then, in a cold and awkward voice, she said, “I’m waiting for you.”

That terrified him. He dropped to the ground, stunned and unable to regain his composure for a long moment. Then, just as he stood up, the girl vanished without a trace.

“Mengting, where are you? Come out quickly, don’t scare me,” he stammered, his lips trembling, sweat barely visible on his forehead.

Mengting was the name given to her by the orphanage director when registering her, so everyone there called her Mengting.

His call was soon answered. A sweet voice came from behind him: “That little girl seemed to go that way.”

The voice was lovely, obviously belonging to a beautiful woman, though her accent was a bit off for this part of the world.

“Thanks,” he said, turning to smile in gratitude. He saw a striking Chinese woman pointing in a direction with slender, delicate fingers, stirring something in his young heart. Of course, it would be better if she weren’t transparent.

“Gh… ghost!” he shouted, then turned and ran—recklessly fleeing in the exact opposite direction from where the ghost had pointed.

But as he ran, a creeping unease grew. The more he ran, the more unfamiliar the surroundings became.

When he reached the base of a wall, he realized he was lost in a place he had lived for over twenty years.

“What’s going on? This feels like a maze.” He stared dumbfounded at three new paths that had mysteriously appeared behind him.

Each path was dark and deep, identical, and he couldn’t even tell which one he had come from.

Fear made him lean against the wall, his eyes darting between the three paths as he tried to decide which to take.

“Take the left one. There’s an old Chinese saying: men to the left, women to the right, and the middle for the rest.”

The voice came from above, so he looked up—and realized it wasn’t a wall at all, but a gigantic doll’s head, grinning down at him.

“Ah!!!” Snail screamed again, then hurriedly dashed into the middle path. Why the middle? He didn’t dare ask or explain.

The path was exceedingly eerie. Unknowingly, he had run quite a distance when, glancing back, he saw the way behind him was pitch-black, with no end in sight.

But when he looked forward again, the path ahead had vanished, replaced by an endless void of darkness.

Looking back once more, the path behind him was gone, too.

He was engulfed in darkness so complete that even reaching out a hand revealed nothing but blackness.

Darkness felt like a demon that could consume human sanity. When trapped within it, negative emotions exploded—fear, loneliness, despair swept over him.

What do humans do then?

They walk endlessly forward until exhaustion claims them; it’s an instinct.

He was an ordinary man. To ease the terror and hopelessness inside, he kept moving forward, faster and faster, until he began to run.

Suddenly, something tripped him up.

Falling to the ground, he instinctively looked toward the obstacle—a doll lying on the floor. As he looked, the doll turned to face him, its grotesque expression forever etched in his memory.

“The orphanage wasn’t lying; this doll really is sinister!”

With that thought, he scrambled to his feet, ready to flee again. But as soon as he stood, he bumped into something furry.

He took a few steps back and saw—it was a toy bear, magnified to an enormous size!

He wanted to run backward but was too afraid of the doll. Glancing back at where the doll had lain, he found it gone.

Without hesitation, he ran backward, but the place grew increasingly unsettling.

What was wrong? The ground beneath him felt uneven and unstable.

As he ran and glanced down, he saw countless doll faces covering the ground.

“Ah!” he screamed, terror rendering him speechless.

Then he noticed ghosts, toy bears, and in the distance, the Chinese little girl smiling at him.

This scene terrified him so utterly that he fainted.

In reality, Feng Tianlin and other strange creatures watched the human collapse and laughed quietly. This guy was too timid.

Others had endured the same horrors repeatedly—at worst, they wet themselves. This one had actually fainted.

Feng Tianlin shook his head at Snail. “He’ll probably be sent to the hospital soon. He’ll resign and spread the story everywhere. Our goal will be achieved.”

Feng Tianlin was unaware of the orphanage’s relationship with those demons. Initially, he targeted the director, but the orphanage staff, scared silly yet still working there without calling in spirit masters, baffled him.

Of course, would the orphanage dare summon spirit masters or diviners?

If they exposed her as a follower of the Holy Master Church, according to the laws of the Sunset Kingdom, she would be publicly executed.

As for resignation? That was a joke. She was loyal to the Holy Master Church, and the orphanage was the church’s property.

Though no strange creatures had come by recently, she needed to protect the church’s interests.

Sure enough, the next day, Snail was found and sent to the hospital. Upon waking, the first person he saw was the orphanage director.

She immediately warned him not to seek out diviners or spirit masters and handed him a resignation letter along with some money.

Snail was resigned—he would face the coming days alone.

But Mei Mei couldn’t help but drown her fears in the lively atmosphere of bars, and when drunk, she recounted the tale to anyone who would listen.

Feng Tianlin noticed Snail never returned after that and knew half his plan had succeeded.

Sure enough, not long after, some came to inquire about the Chinese little girl at the orphanage, but the director blocked them all.

Feng Tianlin wasn’t disappointed that they hadn’t been frightened off; he knew human curiosity was a powerful force. Those people would find other ways to enter the orphanage.

Indeed, some chose to climb over the wall at night, just for the thrill of exploration.

Feeling their presence, Feng Tianlin smiled quietly.

“This plan is easier than I imagined.”