Movie variety show soul travels between two worlds to become a rich man

Chapter 549 Evil Spirits of Songdan Bailu Palace

The evil child's eyes grew even more bloodshot as it absorbed the essence, revealing an expression of ecstasy, as if it were savoring a heavenly delicacy. When the last wisp of white mist was absorbed, the evil child licked its lips contentedly, while Mark's head tilted limply to one side, its chest no longer rising and falling.

The other three security guards were completely unaware of the horrific scene unfolding just two meters away. It wasn't until Jacques happened to glance at Mark that they realized something was wrong.

“Mark? Mark!” Jacques nudged his colleague, then withdrew his hand in horror. “My God, he…he’s dead!”

Pierre and Luca jumped up immediately to check on Mark. Mark's body was already cold, his face frozen in an expression of extreme terror, his eyes wide open, but his pupils were dilated.

“That’s impossible!” Pierre said, trembling. “He was just snoring!”

Just then, the door to the monitoring room slammed shut with a loud bang, and all the monitor screens flickered simultaneously before turning into static. The children's laughter rang out again, this time coming directly from a corner of the room, clear enough to send chills down your spine.

The three men huddled together in terror, Jacques even beginning to pray softly. The laughter faded, but the temperature in the monitoring room remained unusually low. Only when the first rays of dawn shone through the window did the terrifying feeling of being watched slowly dissipate.

The door to the monitoring room was completely blocked by furniture. Three pale-faced security guards huddled in the corner, while Mark's body remained in that horrific position in the chair, as if silently recounting the indescribable horror that had occurred the previous night.

At 6:23 a.m., the tranquility around Fontainebleau Palace was shattered by the sound of sirens. Four police cars and an ambulance were parked in front of the palace's main gate, their flashing blue lights casting eerie shadows on the ancient stone walls.

Sheriff Durand strode into the monitoring room, his sharp gaze sweeping over the three trembling security guards and the oddly positioned corpse. Mark's obese body remained slumped in the chair, his ashen face frozen in a look of pain, his lips an unnatural bluish-purple.

“So,” Durand opened the notebook, his voice tinged with professional skepticism, “you claim that a ‘ghost’ killed your colleague?”

“Not a ghost!” Jacques interrupted excitedly, beads of sweat forming on his dark skin. “It was a child. An invisible child! It came through the wall, and then…”

"Enough!" Durand snapped, "All three of you are suspects. Begin questioning separately from now on."

The three officers took Pierre, Jacques, and Luca to separate rooms. Durand personally checked the surveillance equipment, and as he retrieved the footage from the first half of the night, a mocking smile played on his lips—he'd heard too many of these clichéd ghost stories; they were mostly just security guards getting into a drunken brawl, then making up ghost tales to cover up the truth.

However, when he saw the surveillance footage of the porcelain showroom, the pen slipped from his hand.

The screen clearly showed that at 1:17 a.m., a blue-and-white porcelain vase floated up from the display shelf without warning, hovered in the air for a few seconds, and then shattered. No one touched it, there were no ropes, no magnetic devices—it was as if an invisible hand was holding it up.

Durand's hands began to tremble slightly. He quickly switched cameras and saw that at 1:23, the crystal chandelier in the central hall was shaking violently, while other surveillance footage showed that all the doors and windows in the palace were tightly closed, with not a breath of air.

“This is impossible,” he muttered to himself, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Forensic pathologist Lavoisier knelt beside Mark's body, his gloved hands gently prying open the deceased's eyelids. "Dilated pupils, ruptured facial capillaries," he frowned, "but no signs of external injury or asphyxiation."

"Cause of death?" Durand asked, his voice an octave lower than usual.

Lavoisier shook his head: "An autopsy is needed to confirm, but it looks like someone drained his life force." He paused for a moment, surprised that such an unprofessional description came from the mouth of a seasoned forensic pathologist like himself.

Durand's body trembled slightly. He knew that this case was no longer something he could handle and had to be reported.

At 9:00 AM, the special investigation team's black van arrived at the scene. Six DGSI personnel, dressed in heavy work clothes, took over the monitoring room and quickly used special equipment to block the signal throughout the room.

“Sheriff,” the bald man in the lead showed his badge, “I am Delacroix. From now on, we are in full charge of this matter. You and your men need to sign a confidentiality agreement.”

Before Durand could retort, the other person had already handed him a tablet. On the screen was a document marked "Top Secret," bearing the joint seal of the Department of the Interior and the Department of Homeland Security.

“You have 24 hours to consider,” Delacroix’s voice was firm, “but every minute of delay increases the risk of a leak.”

Unfortunately, the warning came too late.

The people who took over the morning shift at Songtanbalu Palace had already spread the news, and even recorded a blurry surveillance video clip on their phones.

When Clement, the news editor of L'Express Paris, saw the video sent to him by his incredibly excited subordinate, he nearly spat his coffee onto his computer. He immediately contacted his informant at the police station, and twenty minutes later, he had the basic facts: four security guards at the Songtanabalu Palace had encountered supernatural phenomena the previous night, one of whom died mysteriously, and the authorities were attempting to cover it up.

Around 10 a.m., the headline "Evil Spirits Murder at Fontainebleau Palace" appeared on the front page of the online edition of L'Express Paris. The accompanying photos included an exterior view of the palace and a blurred portrait of Marc Marquez. The article, citing "insider sources," detailed the events: a porcelain vase floating on its own, a chandelier swaying by itself, and a security guard being killed by an "unseen force."

When Gao Dongxu took Su Yan and the two sisters, Ru Xin and Ru Qing, to visit the Louvre and returned to the hotel, they learned about the paranormal event from the TV news. The whole incident had already exploded on social media.

The hashtag #FontainebleauGhosts is growing at a rate of thousands per minute on Twitter. Various "analysis videos" are circulating on YouTube, with some people slowing down surveillance footage tenfold and claiming to have seen "transparent child silhouettes."

"Oh my god, do evil spirits really exist in this world?" Su Yan looked at the surveillance video playing on a loop on the TV, her beautiful face showing fear as she murmured in disbelief.

The two sisters, Ruxin and Ruqing, frowned slightly as they turned their gaze away from the television and looked at Gao Dongxu.

They had just visited Songdan Bailu Palace yesterday afternoon, and then the evil spirit murder occurred that night. The two sisters had seen Gao Dongxu use some extraordinary methods, so they immediately thought that it was Gao Dongxu's doing.

Sure enough, upon seeing Gao Dongxu's mocking smile, the Ruxin and Ruqing sisters were not only shocked by his unpredictable methods, but also excited and thrilled by his strength.

So, under Su Yan's incredibly shy and dumbfounded gaze, the two sisters directly hugged Gao Dongxu from both sides, launching a pincer attack on him on the sofa that was too much for anyone to bear.

Su Yan had never seen such a fierce and primitive fighting scene before. She quickly staggered and fled in a sorry state, hiding in the guest room. She pressed her ear against the door and eavesdropped on the screams of the fight outside.

As Gao Dongxu was being welcomed by the two sisters, who were extremely excited about his strength, countless onlookers and journalists had already gathered outside the Songdan Bailu Palace.

Local residents were gripped by panic. Churches in Fontainebleau were packed with worshippers, and hardware stores were emptied of salt and ironware—items believed to ward off evil spirits, according to online rumors.

At 6 p.m., the Ministry of the Interior was forced to hold an emergency press conference. The spokesperson, his face grim, read a statement: "Preliminary investigations indicate that the death of the Fontainebleau Palace security guard was caused by natural causes. The so-called 'paranormal phenomenon' was the result of a combination of surveillance equipment malfunction and witness stress reactions."

A chorus of boos immediately erupted from the press box. A reporter from *Paranoia Exploration* magazine stood up and demanded, "Then how do you explain the floating porcelain bottle? Is the government concealing evidence of paranormal phenomena?"

Meanwhile, in the palace's underground archives, Delacroix and two assistants were reviewing Mark's autopsy report. "All organs are intact, with no pathological changes," he said, removing his glasses and rubbing his nose, "but cellular energy metabolism has completely stopped, as if... something has sucked away his life force."

Assistant Julia pulled up an old file: "Sir, it's basically confirmed that this is a draugr..."

As a special department of DGSI, they have handled many paranormal events, and based on ancient archives, they also have some knowledge of these supernatural ghosts.

Besides the familiar ghost forms found in various ghost stories, such as a pale sheet or sail with a blurry human silhouette floating in the air, there are more walking corpses.

They categorized ghosts in paranormal events into two types—haugbi and draugr. Haugbi are harmless unless their graves are disturbed, but draugr are malevolent spirits that roam at night, destroying property and killing people and animals.

Delacroix's expression turned serious. "Notify headquarters," he said in a low voice, "we need the priest of Sacred Heart Church..."

Night fell once more at Fontainebleau Palace. Outside the police cordon, dozens of curious onlookers refused to leave, holding up their phones and cameras, waiting to film the "paranormal phenomenon."

Unbeknownst to anyone, behind a window on the third floor of the palace, a translucent child's figure was watching everything with blood-red eyes, the corners of its mouth slowly widening to an inhuman width.

Under the cover of night, a black Mercedes pulled up in front of the main gate of the Songtanabata Palace, which was illuminated by all its lights. The head of the palace, Delacroix, with two assistants, immediately approached the car, personally opened the door, and respectfully greeted the people inside, saying, "Good evening, Father Amans—"

Sitting in the car, dressed in a loose-fitting black robe with a hood, holding a 20-centimeter-long wooden cross with the crucified Jesus on it gleaming silver, the bald, round-faced priest with a full beard nodded slightly to Delacroix. He got out of the car, looked up at the magnificent and resplendent Songtanbury Palace, now illuminated by all the lights, and frowned.

The place is too big, with too many rooms; even if there are evil spirits, they won't be easy to catch.

“How could an evil spirit suddenly appear here? That shouldn’t be the case—” Father Amans said in a low voice, his brows furrowed.

Delacroix said, "Father, would you like to take a look at the surveillance footage?"

“Alright.” Father Amans reached out and pulled up the huge hood of his black robe, following Delacroix into the Songtanbury Palace, the image of Jesus on the huge cross in his hand gleaming silver under the lights.

(End of this chapter)