This Taoist priest is so unprofessional!

Zhang Chen's scalp instantly tingled.

The hairs on his body stood on end instantly, and a chill ran from his tailbone straight to the top of his head.

He saw it clearly; it wasn't a pattern, nor was it a refraction of light.

It's a face.

The distorted, painful, and desperate faces of children are sealed inside each crystal-clear marble.

"Snapped!"

Almost instinctively, Zhang Chen used all his strength to close the lid of the iron box.

The movement was so fast that it created a gust of wind.

The dull metallic clanging sound was particularly jarring in the deathly silent room.

The moment the lid closed, the shrill laughter that filled the entire room, seemingly capable of piercing eardrums, came to an abrupt halt.

The chilling cold that could freeze one's bones dissipated quickly, like the receding tide.

The air was no longer so thick, and the heaviness pressing on my chest lessened.

Zhang Chen was panting heavily, and a fine layer of cold sweat had seeped out of his forehead.

He pressed down hard on the metal box, as if it contained a bomb about to explode.

Wang Xiaoer's face was as white as paper. He looked at the box in Zhang Chen's hand, his eyes filled with lingering fear.

For a brief moment, he even felt that the faces inside those marbles were smiling at him.

"Zhang...Brother Zhang..." Lin Qingya leaned against the door frame, almost unable to stand, "What...what is that?"

Zhang Chen did not answer immediately. He glanced at Lin Qingya, then at the still-shaken Wang Xiaoer, his expression extremely grave.

"Miss Lin, you can no longer live in this house."

Lin Qingya's heart sank suddenly, and she was so anxious that she almost cried.

"What...is in the box? Why...why can't we live here anymore?"

Zhang Chen took a deep breath and placed the rusty iron box on the ground, but his hand remained on the lid.

"There's more than one ghost in here."

His gaze swept across the entire room, his voice low.

"These are the spirits of a group of children trapped inside these marbles."

"A group?" Lin Qingya covered her mouth, her eyes widening in disbelief.

Wang Xiaoer also felt a sense of helplessness.

One is already tough enough, but a group of them would be unbearable.

"You said before that the previous tenant of this house was a kindergarten teacher?" Zhang Chen looked at Lin Qingya and asked a question.

Lin Qingya nodded blankly: "Yes... that's what the agent said..."

A knowing glint flashed in Zhang Chen's eyes.

He pointed to the floor beneath his feet, then pointed out the window.

"I suspect something happened in this building, or on this piece of land, before."

"And it was a major accident involving children."

Zhang Chen's deduction caused the air to freeze again.

He continued, "Whether intentionally or unintentionally, that kindergarten teacher used these marbles as a medium to 'collect' the spirits of those children who died tragically."

"She may have meant well, wanting to comfort these poor children and wanting to 'take' them with her."

"But she used the wrong method; what she did wasn't salvation, it was imprisonment."

Zhang Chen's voice carried a hint of coldness.

"These child spirits themselves don't harbor much malice. They've just been trapped for too long, too lonely, and their resentment and obsession have gathered together, creating this chaotic magnetic field."

"The strange things you encountered, such as the cup falling down by itself or hearing footsteps, are just external manifestations of this chaotic magnetic field."

"They don't want to harm you, they just want to get your attention and find someone to play with."

Lin Qingya felt a chill run through her body as she listened, her emotions shifting from fear to shock, and finally to a touch of sorrow.

She couldn't imagine that such a cozy-looking apartment was imprisoning a group of children who couldn't find peace.

Wang Xiaoer also fell silent.

Now, when he recalls those bare footprints running across the walls and ceiling, he no longer feels so horrified; instead, he feels a pang of sadness.

That wasn't a vengeful ghost seeking revenge; it was just a group of lonely children playing an endless game in their own cage.

Just then.

"Click".

A soft, crisp sound broke the silence of the room.

The three of them were startled at the same time and looked down sharply.

The metal box that Zhang Chen had been holding down tightly had its lid latch slowly pop open on its own.

The lid of the tin box, without any external force, tilted upwards and created a gap.

"whee……"

"Waaah..."

The child's voice floated out of the box again.

This time, however, the voice was no longer a purely eerie laugh.

The laughter was mixed with obvious pleas and low sobs.

An even more intense, chilling aura, mixed with endless sorrow and loneliness, emanated from the cracks in the box.

Wang Xiaoer's pupils contracted again.

Within his "spiritual vision," countless illusory, semi-transparent little hands reached out from that tiny gap.

Those little hands stretched out desperately, scratching wildly in their direction, as if drowning people were craving a lifeline.

They are crying for help.

Wang Xiaoer's breathing stopped.

He looked at those illusory little hands, at their futile struggles, and felt as if his heart was being tightly gripped by an invisible giant hand.

He murmured unconsciously.

"They... don't seem to want to harm anyone..."

His voice was soft, tinged with uncertainty, but more so with a spontaneous pity.

"Are they... begging us to play with them?"

These words, like a ray of light, instantly pierced through the horror and fear that enveloped the room.

Lin Qingya was stunned. She stared at the iron box that was constantly emitting cold air, and the fear in her eyes was gradually replaced by a complex sense of sympathy.

Zhang Chen's hand, which was resting on the box lid, paused slightly.

He slowly raised his head, looked at Wang Xiaoer, and a hint of approval appeared in his eyes.

This kid can not only see, but he can also "understand".

This goes beyond the scope of mere "vision"; it is an innate capacity for empathy.

The crying in the room grew clearer.

"Play with me..."

"...It's so cold..."

"Mother……"

Those intermittent, childish voices no longer send chills down your spine; instead, they bring a pang of sadness to your heart.

Zhang Chen remained silent for a moment.

He released his grip on the metal box and slowly stood up.

He looked at Wang Xiaoer, the solemnity on his face turning into a resolute decision.

"They've been trapped here for too long, and their obsession has become so deep that it can't be dispelled."

Zhang Chen's voice wasn't loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly.

"Conventional methods of deliverance, such as chanting scriptures and drawing talismans, may no longer be effective for them."

He paused, his gaze returning to the metal box that was constantly extending its illusory little hand outwards.

"If you want to get rid of them, you must first get rid of their obsession."

Zhang Chen turned his head and met the gazes of Wang Xiaoer and Lin Qingya, saying something that surprised both of them.

"—Play one last game with them."