Survival in an apartment, starting with a stroke of luck on a plane

When the hands of Lin Yu's watch precisely aligned with the number "12", an invisible chill instantly gripped the entire stronghold.

"Ugh—!"

A heart-wrenching wail, sharp enough to tear the soul apart, suddenly erupted from behind the tightly closed door on the fifth floor.

The sound, filled with resentment, pain, and twisted madness, was like a tangible sound wave that instantly swept through every corner of the stronghold.

Immediately afterwards, with a loud "Bang!", the door to Liu Xiangxiang's room on the fifth floor was blasted open from the inside as if by an invisible force.

Thick, viscous black mist, like ink, carrying a biting chill and a pungent, burnt smell, gushed out like a burst dam.

The black mist spread and expanded at an alarming speed, completely enveloping the entire fortress in just a few breaths.

The waning moon and starlight in the sky were instantly cut off, plunging the fortress into an absolute, suffocating darkness where one could not see their own hand in front of their face.

"ah--!"

"A ghost! The ghost is out again!"

"Help! Open the door! Let me out!"

"Mom! I'm scared!"

Throughout the walled city, the already frightened residents completely collapsed.

The doors and windows were smashed loudly, and desperate cries, frantic screams, and hysterical curses intertwined to form a tragic song.

Fear, like a plague, frantically grew and spread within the black fog.

Lin Yu stood in front of the apartment window. Even through the reinforced glass, the extreme resentment and chilling aura emanating from the black mist still sent shivers down his spine.

His expression was solemn, his eyes sharp as an eagle's, fixed on the rolling fog outside the window, his magical power quietly circulating within him, ready to deal with any unexpected situation at any moment.

Wang Junyue was already so frightened that she huddled in the corner, clutching the copper coin sword and the Bagua mirror tightly. Her body trembled like a leaf in the wind, and even her teeth were chattering.

"Hahahaha—!!! I did it! I, the Daoist, have finally succeeded!! I am now invincible!!!"

At the height of this chaos and despair, an extremely arrogant and triumphant laugh exploded like thunder in the sky above the center of the fortress, forcefully drowning out all the cries!

Lin Yu's pupils contracted as he looked in the direction of the sound. Above the relatively open space in the center of the stronghold, a figure was suspended in the swirling black mist! It was Wang Xiangxian!

At this moment, he is completely different from how he was before.

His hair was disheveled, his Taoist robe fluttered in the cold wind, his face showed extreme madness and twisted joy, and his eyes were bloodshot, flashing with inhuman light.

He held a simple, eight-sided Han sword aloft with both hands. The scabbard was black, with intricate patterns faintly visible on it.

He laughed wildly, as if he were holding a priceless treasure.

"Twenty years! A full twenty years! Master, can you see this?! I have finally forged this 'Demon Sword'! You are wrong! I am stronger than you! Hahaha... Ugh—!!!"

Wang Xiangxian's maniacal laughter suddenly turned into an extremely shrill scream!

Just as he was feeling triumphant and thought he had accomplished his mission, a scroll flew out of his arms without warning.

The painting was of the deity he worshipped day and night and regarded as a priceless treasure.

The statue unfolded, appearing as if it were alive, and precisely covered Wang Xiangxian's laughing face!

"No—! God! Ancestor! What...what are you going to do?! I am your believer! I am your chosen successor! No—!!!"

Wang Xiangxian let out a terrified and desperate roar, frantically trying to tear the scroll from his face with both hands, but the scroll stuck to him like a branding iron, the clear light and black mist colliding and eroding his face violently.

"Hiss hiss hiss..."

A chilling sound rang out.

Wang Xiangxian's facial muscles melted and twisted like wax, and the color of her skin faded rapidly, turning into something like old yellow paper with stiff and eerie texture.

His facial features were distorted and displaced under the opulent light of the painting, and finally solidified completely.

It was no longer a human face, but a portrait face that had come to life, with a distorted and painful expression.

Where the eyeballs were, there were only two empty ink dots, and where the mouth was, there was a torn ink mark, frozen with a horrified expression.

"Hehehe... Hahaha..." A twisted laugh, neither male nor female, mixed with Wang Xiangxian's remaining consciousness and the eerie will of the portrait, came from the paper "mouth" and echoed in the deathly silent fortress, more terrifying than the previous wails and maniacal laughter.

Inside the apartment, Lin Yu looked at Wang Xiangxian, whose face had been completely transformed into a "painted skin" in the air, and gasped, instantly realizing the truth.

"So that's how it is... This old fellow, after scheming for twenty years, ended up doing all the work for someone else."

No, perhaps this so-called 'idol' and 'legacy' are themselves a trap? The real hunter has always been this 'idol'?

A chill ran down Lin Yu's spine. The game's background was far more bizarre and dangerous than he had imagined.

In the air, the "Idol King Xiangxian," who had completed the "possession," seemed to have adapted to his new body, and the distorted paper turned downwards towards the hellish fortress.

"What a pity... it's still just a little bit short of perfection." Its voice rose and fell, carrying a metallic, hoarse sound and the rustling of pages turning in a portrait, making it incredibly eerie.

It looked down at the eight-sided Han sword it held tightly in its hand, the ink marks on the paper slightly opening and closing as if sighing, or perhaps appreciating it.

"However..." The ink-like "eyes" suddenly turned downwards: "That's enough!"

Before he finished speaking, "Idol King Xiangxian" suddenly raised the eight-sided Han sword in his hand high.

The sword was not drawn, but a deeper, more malevolent, and chilling aura suddenly burst forth from the scabbard.

"bass--!!!"

A sharp, female scream, seemingly capable of piercing eardrums, suddenly burst forth from the sword sheath.

"Hahaha! Eat! It's all yours! All of this is yours! Enjoy it to your heart's content, my good sword spirit!" "Painted Skin King Xiangxian" issued a frenzied command.

At its command, a dense, almost tangible black shadow suddenly shot out from the scabbard.

As soon as the dark figure appeared, the towering black mist that permeated the fortress, formed from Liu Xiangxiang's resentment, seemed to have found the center of a vortex and frantically converged towards the dark figure.

The shadowy figure rapidly expanded and solidified!

One breath! Two breaths! Three breaths!

A female figure, nearly ten meters tall and so enormous it was suffocating, suddenly appeared in the open space in the center of the fortress.

She was shrouded in churning, sparking black mist, and one could barely make out that she was wearing tattered, charred clothes.

Her face was ashen white, lifeless, like a poor-quality paper doll, her eyes were two huge, bottomless holes, without pupils.

Within this hollow eye socket, two lines of thick, dark red "tears," resembling congealed blood, flowed silently down, dripping onto the scorched earth below with a hissing, corrosive sound.

This ghost naturally transformed into an evil spirit, and Liu Xiangxiang was tormented for more than 20 years!