Horror Game Designer

Chapter 57: The Butcher Shop is Not Just a Butcher Shop

Chapter 57: The Butcher Shop is Not Just a Butcher Shop

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

Blood had splashed violently across the ghostlike clay statues, creating a grim and haunting tableau. In the midst of this scene, Granny’s decapitated corpse was kneeling, encircled by an array of mystical talismans. An unsettling quiet permeated the room, disturbed only by the sinister sound of blood rhythmically dripping to the floor.

Situ An stood solemnly before the lifeless body of Granny, his demeanor unnervingly calm. His voice, carrying a chilling resonance, reverberated slightly in the confined space. “If fate refuses to give me what I desire, then I shall seize it by force,” he announced, his gaze icy and detached. He seemed utterly indifferent to the ghostly statues that surrounded him, their silent, judgmental stares unnoticed.

As he methodically cleaned his bloodstained meat cleaver, dark, enigmatic characters began to emerge on his skin. He recited his grim findings with a clinical detachment. “The six investigators from the Eastern District Investigation Bureau succumbed on average seventeen hours after consuming the meat. Their mental strength determined their period of sanity; the stronger their will, the longer they survived.”

A ghostly voice, eerie and disembodied, resonated through the room, seemingly in response to Situ An’s mutterings. “Once you are dead, your body belongs to me.”

Unperturbed, Situ An stepped over the scattered talismans and made his way out of the room. As he walked, he responded audibly, his tone tinged with defiance. “From the moment I ascended from the first underground level until this instant, you’ve attempted to possess my body seven times. Have you ever been successful, even once?” He consciously chose not to follow Gao Ming, instead redirecting his focus to the underground level, where Yan Hua was still under assault.

…

Gao Ming, having survived a nightmarish nineteen minutes of torture at the hands of an evil specter, had managed to escape, albeit with grave injuries. Initially, his movements were sluggish and excruciating, but gradually, an inexplicable vigor began to invigorate him.

His severe knife wounds slowly healed, yet with this healing, ominous black characters appeared on his skin, spreading with an unnerving persistence.

“The Heart of Mortality seems to differ from the other meats,” he mused aloud.

The various meats strewn around the building symbolized human desires and the self. To consume them was to engage in a dangerous exchange with the Flesh Immortal, where humans sacrificed everything in return for temporary power to fight against ghosts.

But the Heart of Mortality seemed to be the quintessence of the Flesh Immortal itself. Consuming it was more than a mere exchange; it signified a profound transformation, perhaps even a complete substitution of one’s very essence.

As Gao Ming’s legs steadily grew in strength, his mind was plunged into a maelstrom of chaotic sounds. A barrage of prayers, desperate cries for help, agonized wails, and hysterical screams filled his head. These voices, emanating from every nook and cranny of the Sishui Apartment, rang with disturbing clarity in his mind as though his essence was fusing with the very structure of the building.

“I remember when Xuan Wen launched her game, she too was besieged by many voices…” he reminisced.

These tumultuous, harrowing voices relentlessly assailed Gao Ming’s psyche, eventually becoming an intrinsic part of his blood and flesh. This was perhaps the most distinct and horrifying characteristic of the Flesh Immortal – the way memories and desires melted into one’s physical being, exposing the innermost self and deepest yearnings.

Externally, Gao Ming appeared unchanged, but internally, a radical transformation had occurred. All the implements and symbols of death within the building now seemed to echo within him, leaving strange, indelible marks on his soul.

His heart’s chambers had transcended their mere biological function; they were evolving into something akin to those of a malevolent specter. Every experience of pain, death, and ghostly encounters in Gao Ming’s life now manifested as imprints of torture instruments in these altered heart chambers.

Navigating the corridor towards Building A, Gao Ming called out for Brother Zhao Xi and Gong Xi on the fourth floor. His voice reverberated in the desolate space, meeting no reply. Instead, he was greeted by a haunting scene: all the red lanterns, once emblems of happiness and celebration, had transformed into a sinister white.

“From red to white? From joy to mourning?” Gao Ming whispered to himself, a tide of ominous foreboding engulfing him.

He glanced at his funeral photos, noticing the various cracks had formed on the surface. Feeling a growing unease, he hastened his steps, unwilling to stay in one place for too long, and swiftly ascended to the ninth floor.

Upon reaching the ninth floor, better known as the ghost market, Gao Ming discovered it had become a mere shadow of its former self. This area, which had once been the most bustling and lively part of the Sishui Apartment, represented a microcosm of the entire building – a distorted society anchored in the beliefs of the Flesh Immortal. But now, it lay abandoned. White lanterns dangled where red ones once hung, and paper money was strewn across the floor. Food stalls lay overturned, and peculiar, broken handicrafts were scattered about. The mutated adults and children who had once inhabited this uncanny marketplace had vanished. The corridors, which used to resonate with laughter and conversation, were now eerily silent, with only the monotonous drone of scripture chants permeating the air.

“Where have all the people gone?” Gao Ming mused aloud, his voice tinged with confusion and concern.

As he maneuvered through the cluttered space, pushing past tables that obstructed his path, his hands inadvertently brushed against something wet and sticky – blood. Drawn by the rhythmic sound of chanting, he found himself entering a butcher shop, where the thick, heavy scent of raw meat hung in the air. He pushed his way through dense blackout curtains to get inside.

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

Once inside, Gao Ming observed that the cages, previously used to hold what they termed “human sacrifices,” were now in ruins. Navigating carefully to avoid the chains scattered across the floor, his attention was captured by a grim scene in the farthest reaches of the shop. In the largest room, several investigators were crammed together in various states of distress. Some lay prone, while others sat hunched over.

Above them, the ceiling was a grotesque display of blood vessels entwined like gnarled tree roots, all converging at a central point. From this junction, blood dripped continuously into a central pool. This pool, seemingly bottomless, appeared to extend to a lower level. The investigators, drawn to the pool and seemingly numbed to pain, would jump in.

This act represented a trade-off: their “self” for “satisfaction.” Upon reemerging, each person would lose a body part but obtain a small piece of fragrant meat from beneath the pool’s surface.

However, these investigators were denied the chance to savor the flesh they had acquired through such agony. A “butcher,” lurking in the shadows, would confront them, knife at their throats, forcing them to hand over their hard-earned prize.

After meticulously sorting the freshly collected meat, the butcher indifferently shoved aside an investigator who had lost an arm.

Then, noticing Gao Ming observing from the entrance, the butcher, wielding a large cleaver, directed his attention towards him.

“New around here? Did the Bureau Director send you to assist?” The butcher’s face was a tapestry of scars, and he regarded Gao Ming with curiosity, particularly the black characters visible on his skin.

“Who are you?” Gao Ming inquired, his voice laced with caution.

The butcher revealed his identity, “Deputy Director of Huanmen Investigation Bureau from the Eastern District, Li Xiu.” He opened his coat to display the bureau’s uniform beneath. “But I’m expecting a promotion soon. The old director has now become a part of your power source.”

“You’re an investigator as well?” Gao Ming asked, disbelief coloring his voice.

“Surprising, isn’t it?” Li Xiu studied Gao Ming with an intense gaze. “Yes, I’m an investigator. This butcher shop is actually run by the Investigation Bureau. The director has orchestrated everything. We just have to follow orders.”

Gao Ming, who had previously assumed the butcher shop was operated by ghosts and that the human sacrifices were offerings to the Flesh Immortal, was taken aback by this revelation. “So, the meat in Situ An’s possession all came from here?”

At this moment, he finally fully grasped Situ An’s machination within this apartment complex. Not only were the man’s tactics ruthless and inhuman, they were fiendishly cunning and evil.

After Situ An had seized control over the six major investigation divisions in the Eastern District, a deep-seated corruption had taken root within their ranks.

Then by sacrificing the lives of unwilling investigators to draw power from the consciousness of the Flesh Immortal, they’re using the harvested flesh to turn the remaining willing investigators into his personal arsenal against the malevolent spirits in Building B…

Once the evil ghosts are eliminated, and he seizes the Heart of Mortality, Situ An intends to target the consciousness of the Flesh Immortal itself, aiming to capture the Heart of Deity as the second step.

He also knows about the impending catastrophe drawing near, that’s why he plans to exploit the moment when the living stands defenseless against ghosts, maximizing the potency of the flesh.

“If that man manages to usurp control over the city, he poses a greater threat than any disaster that might arise!” Goa Ming cursed, the flame burning within his eyes, “You’re an accomplice to a monster; you deserve to die as well!”

“What does the sacrifice of a few matter if it grants us power over ghosts?” Li Xiu countered, raising his cleaver high. “They’re doomed either way; better to die serving a higher purpose.”

As Li Xiu lunged forward to strike, his words were cut short, his actions swift and deadly. The butcher was physically superior, his strength overwhelmingly greater than Gao Ming’s.

Despite recognizing his physical disadvantage, Gao Ming remained unwavering in his conviction that he could overcome Li Xiu. Throughout their fierce combat, he constantly repositioned himself, each move calculated and strategic.

“Do you really believe that merely consuming a piece of flesh will enable you to withstand everything?” Li Xiu taunted, swinging his cleaver with increased velocity. Gao Ming, however, didn’t dodge.

As the cleaver sliced into his flesh, Gao Ming, in a rapid and deliberate action, looped his chain tightly around Li Xiu’s neck. Ignoring the searing pain from the cleaver’s blows on his own body, Gao Ming, driven by a blend of desperation and resolve, threw himself at Li Xiu. This maneuver had been part of his strategy from the outset of the battle.

In a sudden and dramatic twist, both men, bound together by the chain, plummeted into the blood pool.

In a state of panic, Li Xiu desperately tried to free himself, but Gao Ming’s hold on the chain was steadfast, relentlessly tightening it around the butcher’s neck.

As they struggled, a voice, seemingly emanating from the Flesh Immortal, resonated within their minds. This was accompanied by the strong, unmistakable scent of meat that filled the air, mingling with the scent of the blood.

The pool was deceptively shallow, and they rapidly hit the bottom. Yet, it felt as if their consciousness was sinking into a much deeper abyss.

Gao Ming’s heart raced wildly as he opened his sole remaining right eye, and he was confronted with a striking vision at the bottom of the blood pool. Before him stood eight spectral statues, each featuring four faces and eight arms, all cradling a stone heart entangled in blood vessels.

Amidst these statues, a dense, ominous shadow materialized, capturing a woman in the throes of transformation. She was caught in a fierce battle against the overpowering will of the Flesh Immortal that permeated the building. Encircling the eight ghostly statues, the blood water transformed into eight terrifying female heads, savagely tearing at her flesh.

“Xuan Wen?” Gao Ming gasped out, his voice laden with shock and a sense of recognition upon seeing the woman.