I'll also work hard to conquer the dungeon today.

Chapter 675 2.5 15-1 The House of Silk and the 'Dollhouse'

"Hmph, if I didn't want to upset Dad, I wouldn't have let you off so easily," Miss Lily said coldly, crossing her arms and turning her head away.

"Lily, are you in there?" A man's voice suddenly came from outside the door.

Miss Lily panicked for a moment, but quickly calmed down.

Miss Lily glared at Ling Tong and said, "If you don't want Dad to find out, you'd better hide. Don't misunderstand, I'm not helping you, I just don't want to bother Dad. If you know what's good for you, hurry up and get moving!"

"I understand." Ling Tong nodded, then walked behind the door.

"you!"

Ling Tong explained, "There's nowhere else to hide but here."

"Hmph, of course I know that," Miss Lily said awkwardly, blushing for a moment.

Miss Lily opened the door, looked up at the man standing in the doorway, and said softly, "Dad."

"Lily, have I not told you that my studio is not a playground for you?"

"Sorry……"

"come out."

“Yes, Father.” Miss Lily glanced at Ling Tong hesitantly before leaving the room, then went out.

The door was gently closed, and the studio returned to its original silence.

A gentle breeze stirred the thin curtains, and the sky outside the window gradually darkened, night was about to fall.

Ling Tong walked to the table again, looked down at the gentian flowers swaying in the wind in the vase, and involuntarily reached out her hand.

The moment they touched the vase, a loud 'boom' was heard, and the ground not far from the room slowly opened, revealing a secret staircase leading down to an unknown destination.

As you walk down the stairs, the visibility becomes increasingly dim.

Ling Tong paused, as if she had reached the end of the road.

The next second, a bright light appeared before their eyes as the candles automatically lit up the dark room, revealing its true appearance.

This is the doll showroom, displaying various exquisite and beautiful dolls, but without exception, all of them have their eyes closed.

Ling Tong walked through the exhibition hall, observing the dolls. Most of them were quarter-sized, dressed in beautiful gowns and styled with elegant hairstyles, demonstrating the creator's exceptional aesthetic sense. For some reason, she suddenly felt a pang of regret, perhaps because their eyes were all closed. She longed to see them open their eyes and come to life.

As you get closer to the inside, the height of the dolls gradually changes. They are no longer limited to a quarter of the doll's height, but become larger and closer to life-size.

Finally, he stopped in front of the suitcase at the finish line.

This was the only thing in the showroom besides the dolls, and it seemed a bit out of place, but Ling Tong thought the box was meant to hold the dolls.

Ling Tong reached out and opened it, revealing a beautiful soft cushion, a golden wind-up key, and a folded card.

The box was empty; what should have been inside had disappeared.

Pick up the card and flip it over. The first thing you see is this passage: A creator who cannot bring a doll to life is just a puppeteer. After I made a deal with him, I realized that using someone else's power to bring one's own doll to life is just defiling the work. This is not my child.

Ling Tong lowered his eyes, put the paper back, and closed the suitcase. He had just turned around when he saw a face that could only be described as terrifying suddenly appear in front of him. He was so startled that he took half a step back to brace himself against the suitcase behind him.

His face was horribly covered in white powder, and the traces of stitches were faintly visible. If those stitches were removed, his head might suddenly split open, revealing white brain matter. His blue eyes were cloudy and dark, making it impossible to fathom his current mood.

The exhibition room was dimly lit, filled with lifeless dolls or puppets.

The puppeteer's appearance is completely unlike that of a human; he looks more like a ghost from a horror movie.

His expression was contorted, and his tone was agitated and frantic, "What did you see?"

Ling Tong tightened his grip on the sword slightly. He didn't speak, but he remained vigilant towards the puppeteer in front of him, ready to draw his sword at the slightest sign of trouble.

"Are you here to mock me for not being able to make puppets?" The puppeteer tilted his head and looked at Ling Tong, asking, "Why can't I give my puppets life? I want them to move, why can't my children hear my calls? I've clearly given them all my emotions."

As the puppeteer spoke, a rustling sound came from beside him, as if something was crawling over him.

"Why aren't they moving?" Joan stared with her bloodshot blue eyes, a mad smile spreading across her terrifying face.

"There probably aren't enough offerings," he muttered to himself, lowering his eyes. "How about I kill you instead?"

"Hahahaha, I'll kill you!!" Amidst his maniacal laughter, the dolls in the display case stood up one by one, stiff and numb like puppets being manipulated by threads.

The tiny puppets rushed towards Ling Tong, wielding cold, sharp weapons. Despite being controlled, they were extremely agile and showed no mercy in their attacks.

While dodging the attacks of the puppets, Ling Tong wielded her sword and slashed at the endless stream of puppets that were surging towards her.

The puppeteer stood in the center of the puppet, staring at him coldly, as if he were looking at a dead man.

The exhibition hall was filled with cabinets, extremely narrow, and densely packed with about a thousand dolls.

With a 'thud,' Ling Tong braced herself against the cabinet behind her, observing the location of the exit. The doll in the cabinet beside her was constantly banging on the glass in front of her, trying to break free and rush out.

Ling Tong asked, "Do you want to destroy your doll?"

The puppeteer showed no reaction; he had no desire to listen to the dying man.

“I am not human. The blood of the Caronas is called liquid flame. If you don’t want them all to be burned, you’d better not hurt me or make me bleed. But if you don’t care what your children will become, then I will grant your wish.” Ling Tong stretched out a finger and pressed it against the blade. If the puppeteer refused to cooperate, he would immediately cut his finger and set it on fire.

"Do you think I'd believe your fabricated stories?" the puppeteer said coldly, looking at him.

The puppets stopped for a moment and looked at the puppeteer, seemingly waiting for his instructions.

"If you don't believe me, you can try it," Ling Tong said slowly, looking back at the puppeteer.

"What is your purpose?" the puppeteer asked. "What are you doing here?"

Ling Tong considered a possibility and hesitated whether to speak up, but looking at the puppeteer's expression, it seemed impossible to end the matter without giving him a satisfactory response. Of course, he could indeed burn these puppets, but he couldn't guarantee there wouldn't be any impact later, so it was better to try his best to preserve them.

After all, they are controlled by puppeteers; they have no independent thought and are merely puppets.

"I'm here to help you, to bring your puppet to life," Ling Tong said softly, gazing at the puppeteer.

Although he had no idea how to bring the puppet to life, it was the only answer that could stop the puppeteer, Joan.

(End of this chapter)