After learning what had happened, Cui Ying and Lu Manfeng naturally did more than just look at the hospital records and train tickets Old Guo showed them. They also used their network of contacts to verify a few key details, confirming that Haohao had indeed visited those hospitals before his "condition worsened."

In fact, specialists at two of the hospitals were still concerned about Haohao’s rare case, but the patient had stopped seeking medical attention after just two visits.

They also managed to confirm some key information through discreet, casual inquiries with Lu Manfeng’s uncle’s family and the surrounding neighbors.

Many neighbors complained that, for a time, Haohao’s daily howls had grown more frequent and his voice more terrifying.

It was enough to make their skin crawl as they tried to sleep at night.

Lu Manfeng even joked to Cui Ying that the editors and reporters for their online publication could practically be police detectives.

Jokes aside, the story they got from the Guo family was still extremely valuable. At the very least, it was guaranteed to grab their readers’ attention—a real-life horror story.

However, the people at the publication’s editorial department weren’t exactly thrilled.

The reason? The story was just too real.

Aside from not having witnessed the "master’s exorcism" firsthand, everything else was basically substantiated. Old Guo hadn’t exaggerated; in fact, out of a certain reticence, he had even downplayed some parts of it.

For example, regarding Haohao’s howls in the nights leading up to the exorcism, his mother had merely described them as very loud and sharp.

But the surrounding neighbors all had the same reaction.

"It was terrifying!" "We were too scared to sleep!"

And no one would believe you if you tried to claim that all the neighbors were just a bunch of cowards.

This all-too-real atmosphere of horror left everyone with the feeling that an unknown terror might be lurking in their own surroundings.

It was like when audiences first saw *Great White Shark*. On the surface, you couldn’t tell anything was wrong, but the fact that American beaches were practically deserted by tourists for a short time after its release spoke volumes.

Steeped in this mood, the content of the news story became even more atmospheric.

...

"Big Head, Cry-Birdie just updated with a new column! Looks like it’s supernatural stuff."

In a university dorm room, a guy on his phone shouted to his roommate, who was eating instant noodles.

"Cry-Birdie" was the nickname fans of *Where the Nightingale Flies* had for the publication, and by extension, its editor-in-chief, Cui Ying.

The online publication didn’t update frequently, but the quality of its articles was always high, so it had a lot of loyal fans who eagerly awaited new content.

It was usually published on its social media subscription pages.

The supernatural was a topic *Where the Nightingale Flies* had never touched in its year of operation. Fans wondered how "Cry-Birdie," known for its realism, would handle such a topic. Or maybe it would just be a fun, fictional story?

Readers who saw the new column, *Strange Tales and Ghost Stories*, were intrigued, and those with time on their hands clicked in to read it right away.

Big Head, holding his instant noodle spoon in one hand and tapping his phone with the other, started reading softly from the first line.

’Looks like it’s written in a documentary style? A fresh take for a ghost story.’

...

*Strange Tales and Ghost Stories*, Issue 1 — *Face-Changing*

"The twenty-third day of the twelfth lunar month. The Little New Year.

I took my son to visit his maternal grandmother. Dongdong (a pseudonym) had placed in the top five of his class on his final exams and was eager to go to his uncle’s house to show off.

As we passed an old house by the abandoned threshing ground, Dongdong told me there was someone inside.

The house’s doors and windows were all broken. I told my son it was probably just some kids playing in there.

After lunch, my son took a box of firecrackers his uncle had given him and went out alone to play with his friends.

The twenty-eighth of the twelfth lunar month.

Ever since we came back from his grandmother’s, my son had been complaining of being cold and was afraid to sleep alone at night. We just put more clothes on him and didn’t think much of it.

This morning, my son woke up sleeping under his bed, drooling unconsciously..."

...

Big Head’s soft reading voice caught his roommates’ attention. Although they were all busy with their own things, they perked up their ears, listening to it like a story.

"The seventh day of the first month.

We finally made it through the New Year’s period.

Visiting relatives and friends kept asking what was wrong with Dongdong’s face and telling me to take him to a dermatologist, but what they didn’t know was that recently, Dongdong had been crying in his room every night...

That crying sound... it gave you goosebumps...

Last night, I heard the crying and got up to check on him...

Dongdong was under the bed again. And... his mouth was pressed shut. I was terrified!

I don’t know how he was making that crying sound!

I was so scared!"

...

In the dorm room, Big Head and his roommates all felt goosebumps prickling their skin.

But Big Head’s voice continued.

...

"The twelfth of the second month.

Today, his uncle got bitten by him. Blood soaked through his pant leg...

Dongdong... his facial features are getting blurrier... his moments of clarity are becoming fewer and fewer...

We’ve been to four hospitals now. Dermatology, psychiatry, ENT... none of them can cure him. They can’t even give us an explanation.

I’m going to try hiring a spirit medium again..."

...

"The ninth of the third month.

We don’t dare take Dongdong out anymore. We don’t even dare let him wander freely around the house.

His appetite is growing by the day, and his facial features are now too blurry to make out.

I don’t know if my son... is even in there anymore!!"

...

"The fourteenth of the third month.

The barbecue shop has been opening off and on for weeks. Today, I decided to open for half a day. I think I just wanted to escape for a little while...

The shop wasn’t open for long before a few customers arrived.

At the time, I didn’t know they were our family’s saviors.

...

They were different from all the other masters! Completely different!"

...

Big Head softly read out the part where the protagonist brought in the "experts," who, using methods unlike those of typical charlatans, captured and eliminated the evil spirit from the son’s body.

Only when the protagonist drove the "experts" away did everyone in the dorm room let out a long sigh of relief.

It was only then, rubbing their arms, that they realized they were covered in goosebumps.

But then Big Head paused and read out the short editor’s note at the end.

"If you or someone you know has had a similar experience, please contact our editorial department. Perhaps we can help!"

Those words made the goosebumps rise all over again for everyone in the dorm.

They had seen this type of message many times before, in things like, "If you have seen this person, please contact our editorial department..." and so on.

It was practically the standard ending for an article from *Where the Nightingale Flies*.

But this kind of ending carried a certain implication.

"B-Big Head... what does Cry-Birdie mean by ending the article like that?"

Big Head’s instant noodles, still unfinished, had now soaked up all the broth and swelled to fill the bowl.

"Uhm... how about we team up for a game...?"

"Yeah, yeah, good idea!"

"Agreed!"