"Eat, eat..."
It was already six in the evening.
The first door on the right on the 22nd floor was opened, and a girl in her thirties walked out.
Her hair was casually tied back with a rubber band. She wore a long coat over her pajamas and stepped out in slippers.
The condition of her skin wasn't very good. At first glance, one could see two prominent dark circles under her eyes.
Clearly, she hadn't slept well for a long time.
"How should I design the murder method..."
The girl stood by the elevator, waiting, and pondered with a troubled mind.
No one could have imagined that this was the author of the currently popular online comic, "Scare."
Fans of this comic had assumed the author was a burly man.
Because the work was too terrifying. After reading it, almost everyone had nightmares.
Even many boys who considered themselves brave felt scared.
It was estimated that only a robust man could remain calm and create such a work.
However.
Despite being scary, the plot was truly exciting.
It was too good, too stimulating.
Even in their nightmares, they were still trying to deduce the next plot.
It was maddening!
As a result, the fans of "Scare" wished they could send the author razor blades every day.
It was too torturous.
'Ding~'
The elevator arrived.
Just as the girl was about to step in, she was stunned the next second.
The interior of the elevator should have been smooth as a mirror, only a few square meters in size.
But this elevator seemed like a gateway to another world.
A shop with an ancient, elegant atmosphere came into view.
She took half a step back, looked around, and then looked at the elevator in front of her.
"Am I going to transmigrate?"
It was only then that she noticed how exceptionally quiet the surrounding space was.
It was dinner time, yet it felt as if she was the only person in the entire building.
"Hello, would you like to buy something?"
In the ancient shop, an old man in a gray robe asked.
"Otherworldly shop?" The girl's eyes lit up. "What do you have?"
"We have 'inspiration'."
The old man took out a set of modern drawing tools—a drawing tablet and a pressure-sensitive pen.
"Create with this, and inspiration will flow endlessly."
"That magical? Anything else?"
"You only need this."
The old man's voice was flat, his eyes like still water.
The moment he finished speaking, the girl's eyes dimmed, her pupils losing focus.
"Yes, I only need 'inspiration'."
...
'Ding~'
The elevator doors opened, and a family of three walked out.
The smell of hot pot still lingered on them.
The girl suddenly came to her senses. She was about to walk into the elevator but suddenly found something in her hand.
"Oh dear, how did I bring out the drawing tablet?"
She quickly turned around and walked back home.
In the corridor.
The smell of rice, the smell of braised pork...
Various aromas mingled, making the stomachs of those who hadn't eaten yet rumble.
The sound of spatulas clashing with iron pots also came from various households.
It was filled with the atmosphere of everyday life.
...
Late at night, the light in the first house on the right on the 22nd floor was still on.
The girl sat at her desk, holding the drawing tablet and pressure-sensitive pen, rushing to finish her manuscript.
Inspiration seemed to be pouring out endlessly, one after another.
Her eyes widened as she looked at the computer screen, her hands never stopping.
Characters and backgrounds were rapidly produced under her pen.
At this moment, she was at the peak of her creativity.
If other drawing masters saw this, they would want to borrow her hand.
This speed, this exquisite style, this bold creation...
Was it humanly possible!?
...
...
So uncomfortable...
So painful...
When Xu Asan regained consciousness, he only felt that the surroundings were dark, damp, and crowded.
His entire body felt as if it had been forcibly squeezed into a pickle jar.
Every part of him screamed discomfort.
Pain spread to every corner of his body.
Leave.
He wanted to leave this place...
What had happened?
He tried to recall the memories before he lost consciousness, but he only remembered walking into a courtyard.
Then, there was nothing more.
Suddenly, a new power surged in.
At that moment, his body felt as if it had been soaked in hot springs, and he felt comfortable all over.
Even the pain temporarily disappeared.
He didn't know what it was, but...
'So comfortable...'
'A little more, a little more...'
His heart began to pray and hope.
And the new power did indeed pour in continuously as he expected.
Washing over his entire body, alleviating the pain.
But.
As more and more power poured in, he gradually felt that something was wrong.
Those powers gathered within him, churning.
Gradually forming a violent force, impacting within his body, seemingly tearing him, the container, apart.
Until...
'I want more power, more!'
'That's it, that's it hahahahaha... Die, all of you die!'
Until another voice appeared within his body.
Violent, restless, filled with a desire to kill.
At the same time as this voice appeared, Xu Asan discovered.
As new power poured in, he could briefly 'see' the outside situation.
He seemed to have become stronger.
But this power clearly had another consciousness.
'Stop, stop...'
He saw a girl with dark circles under her eyes constantly drawing something under the warm light.
Streams of black mist emanated from the drawing, carrying the aura of death.
'Stop, don't draw anymore...'
'Draw more, keep drawing, such good power...'
The other violent voice sounded, with a hint of intoxication:
'Draw more terrifyingly, even more savagely, this isn't enough!'
Xu Asan's heart grew increasingly fearful. 'Stop! You're hurting people!'
'So what if it hurts people? What's wrong with ghosts and monsters hurting people?'
'The Underworld will find out sooner or later, they won't allow this!'
'Then just become stronger than them?'
After the violent voice fell, the girl at the desk's movements immediately quickened.
The black mist condensed on the drawing also became denser.
'No, don't do this, you'll die, you'll really die!'
Xu Asan wanted to cry. He didn't want to hurt people, nor did he want to be arrested by ghost officers.
He struggled, slowing down the girl's drawing speed.
'Don't stop!' the violent force roared, crashing within his body.
Pain came from all parts of his body, as if he were being torn apart.
But the mental pain was even more maddening, making him want to smash his head against the wall.
He curled up, unable to avoid or escape.
Help me...
Someone save him...
He didn't want to die, it was so uncomfortable...
He just wanted to write stories peacefully, he didn't want any power, nor did he want to hurt anyone...
'Let me leave, leave this place, let me go...'
'Hahahaha, you can't escape, you can't escape.'
In the darkness.
Piercing laughter echoed repeatedly, stimulating his nerves.
No one noticed, nor would anyone notice.
...
(PS: Xu Asan, a novelist, once chatted with Yang Siming at the entrance of the Shumo Zhai. Later, to write more exciting stories, he prepared to visit the human world and was ambushed and taken away by the ghost shopkeeper.)