July 11th, early morning.

I wanted to ask them what they were doing here. Maybe they were some bored streamers from nearby, doing a Haunted House challenge or something.

This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened since the apartment building emptied out.

The expressions on those two were strange. Their skin was as white as a corpse’s.

The young man just smiled at me, and before I could even react, the sharp weapon in his hand had pierced my throat. I collapsed heavily to the ground, my vision filled with their leather shoes and sneakers as they stepped past my head and walked straight into the room.

I wanted to get up, to stop them. But I didn’t have an ounce of strength.

Blood just kept gurgling out of my throat.

It took me a long time to realize that I was dead.

Soon, the silver-haired young man who had gone inside came back. He forcefully picked up my corpse and placed it on a chair for the time being, positioning me to face the door.

Three more people came in from outside. Their accomplices, I guess. I wasn’t sure.

One was a girl wearing a strange, heavy dress. Another was a guy in a white shirt. The last was a woman with messy hair and two scars stretching out from her lips, who looked completely unhinged.

They conferred for a moment, then moved my body into the study. They stuck a pen in my hand and placed the journal in front of me on the desk, posing my corpse to look like it was diligently writing in it.

Then, the big, bulky guy hid in the bookshelf across the room, the unhinged woman hid under my chair, and the silver-haired guy stuck to the ceiling like a spider. I don’t know where the other two hid.

They just stayed hidden like that, needing no food or drink, no rest or sleep.

I watched helplessly as they took over my room and my study, unable to do a single thing.

Because now I’m just a corpse. Besides thinking, I can’t even blink an eye or lift a finger.

...

December 30th, rainy.

Still sitting at the desk.

I don’t know how much time has passed since I died. I just made up the date.

A spider crawled across my neck, and a fly laid eggs in my shoe. I felt utterly miserable from head to toe.

But I’m just a corpse now. I can’t even shift my position.

The Living Human Apartment has opened again. I can hear a large number of tenants moving in, living on the third and second floors below me.

Now, this fourth floor, just like the fifth floor before it, has become a supernatural forbidden zone for the living.

How laughable. How ironic.

Do those new tenants downstairs have any idea that a former apartment manager is listening from right above their heads as they move in?

THUD. A fresh corpse fell at my feet, motionless. Its eyes were wide open, as if it couldn’t believe what had just happened to it.

Some adventurous tenants also tried to come up to the fourth floor to explore.

But when they walked into this study and saw the journal in front of me, most of them would cautiously approach, read my journal, and marvel that they had discovered the secrets of the previous tenants—

That’s also when their guard and concentration were at their lowest.

As I’ve said, the group of five that killed me is still hidden in the corners of this study.

They’ve been hiding for several years, motionless. So quiet I’d almost forgotten about them.

The big guy hiding in the bookshelf, the most bloodthirsty of them all, is always the first to charge out and kill the unlucky new tenant reading my journal with a single strike.

Month 14, Day 45, sunny.

Again, I just made up the date.

I’ve been here for too long, been a corpse for too long. I’ve gradually lost my sense of time.

Whether a day passes or ten thousand years, it makes little difference to me.

Every day is exactly the same.

The only small change in my life is seeing if any new tenants will come to explore the fourth floor and find their way to this study.

Thinking they’ve discovered the apartment’s secret, only to be cut down by the hidden group of five.

Corpse after corpse has piled up in the living room. There’s almost no space left.

I’m starting to wonder just how many more people this group of five needs to kill before they’re satisfied.

Don’t they ever get bored?

...

...

...

The study owner’s journal was still being faithfully read aloud.

In fact, when the journal mentioned "the group of five killed the room’s owner and disguised the corpse to look like it was writing a journal," Jiang Yang and Zhao Zhenjia felt that something was wrong.

"A silver-haired young man, a guy in a white shirt, a girl in a cumbersome dress, a big guy, and a crazy woman.

"Isn’t that me, you, Gao Tian, Xia Ta, and Lan Chu?

"Why do the five ghosts that killed Lin Nan’an have the same makeup as our group?

"Is this just a coincidence, or am I overthinking things?"

When they heard the study’s owner say that after killing him, the ghosts hid in the study, waiting for new tenants to arrive so they could kill them while they were reading the journal—

Jiang Yang’s breath caught in his throat, and Zhao Zhenjia’s pupils shrank to pinpricks.

’Isn’t this exactly our situation?’

’Are there ghosts hiding in the cabinet, on the ceiling, and under the desk?’

’Is the tragedy about to repeat itself now that we’ve read this passage?’

Jiang Yang didn’t have the patience to listen to the rest of the journal’s story. He was already moving.

If they didn’t move, the two of them might become the next victims.

After coming to the fourth floor, he activated his Supernatural Artifact for the first time.

Jiang Yang’s Supernatural Artifact was the most unique of them all, and was jokingly referred to as "American-style exorcism."

He pulled a large-caliber revolver from his belt and aimed it at the wardrobe across the room where a ghost was supposedly hiding. The cylinder began to spin. It held six rounds in total, the most common being silver bullets. While they couldn’t kill a ghost, they could slow its regeneration to the greatest extent and make it feel physical pain.

In addition, the revolver’s cylinder also held different types of bullets, each with a unique effect, allowing for flexible responses to various supernatural situations.

This time, he rapidly fired the revolver, shooting bullets named "Nails."

Three Nails struck the wardrobe. The effect of these bullets was to seal the entire wardrobe shut; whatever was hiding inside wouldn’t be getting out for a while.

"What in the world is that..."

It was Zhao Zhenjia’s first time working with Jiang Yang, and seeing his so-called "Supernatural Artifact," his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

’Why is this guy’s style so completely different from other Ghost Hunters?’

’This is allowed?’

While attacking the wardrobe, Jiang Yang simultaneously pointed his other hand toward the ceiling. He drew a second revolver from his back and unloaded six silver bullets. Whatever was stuck to the ceiling was about to be riddled with holes, American-style exorcism.

Only after doing all this did he lower the pistols in both hands and look up at the ceiling.

Amidst a scorched black patch, there was a human-shaped blank space. Apparently, a human-shaped object had indeed been clinging there before.

For some reason, Jiang Yang and the others hadn’t noticed it at all when they first came in. The thing must have been invisible. If not for the barrage of silver bullets, it would still be clinging up there.

Having dealt with the two major threats mentioned in the journal, Jiang Yang breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Old Zhao, use the Wind Attendant Buddha. Check if there’s a ghost hiding under the desk."

The Wind Attendant Buddha lowered its head and checked the area around the corpse’s legs. Zhao Zhenjia shook his head.

"No one’s there, but I see a clear set of footprints.

"It must have escaped."

What exactly were the five "people" hiding in this room?

After killing Lin Nan’an, they had actually hidden in this room for seven or eight years, relying on sneak attacks to kill any new tenants or explorers who entered.

This was certainly beyond the realm of human capability. Only a ghost could wait for seven years without eating or drinking.

If Lin Nan’an’s journal hadn’t warned them, Jiang Yang and Zhao Zhenjia would have likely been ambushed by now.

Zhao Zhenjia was still bewildered, unable to figure out how this study came to be, what the origin of these five people was, or why they looked so much like his team that had come upstairs.

In short, it was all a confusing mess.

"This place is seriously wrong. From the group of five that killed Lin Nan’an back then, two more are hiding in the room and haven’t shown themselves. They’re hidden so well that even the dead Lin Nan’an didn’t know where they were.

"Let’s get out of this damn place first and find Xia Ta and the others.

"This journal is important, take it. Don’t bother with Lin Nan’an’s corpse."

Following Jiang Yang’s plan, Zhao Zhenjia didn’t hesitate. He directed the Wind Attendant Buddha to snatch Lin Nan’an’s thick notebook, while he himself strode toward the study door and tried to turn the handle.

The lock didn’t budge, as if it were welded shut.

The study’s window was barred with iron grilles. Besides, the window opened out onto the dark and bizarre Mirror Alley, which was clearly not a good place to go.

"Open!"

Zhao Zhenjia slammed a heavy fist into the door. Blood trickled from between his knuckles. The door warped slightly, but it was far from breaking.

He was, after all, only flesh and blood, a far cry from Xia Ta.

"Old Zhao, get back!"

Jiang Yang reloaded his revolver’s cylinder and aimed at the door again.

A single bullet shot the lock right off. The door creaked halfway open.

Outside the study was a living room thick with dust. From the sofa to the coffee table, everything was gray and grimy. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling corners, and there were no signs of human life for a long time.

The moment the door was open, "Zhao Zhenjia" didn’t linger in the study for a second. Grabbing the journal Lin Nan’an had written in life, he strode out purposefully.

The next moment, a pair of pale hands that had been waiting outside the door raised a rusty axe high and brought it straight down, chopping "Zhao Zhenjia"’s neck clean in two before kicking its head away.

Of the group of five that had killed Lin Nan’an, someone had been waiting outside the study all along, ready to finish off any survivors who made it out.