Metaphysics Live Stream, Going Viral Across the Internet Ch. 10

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His lower back hit the bed corner just right, sending a sharp tingling pain from his back all the way to the top of his head.

The pain made tears well up and roll down his face, and for a moment he couldn't straighten up.

It hurt so much.

He felt like the lower half of his body didn't belong to him anymore.

Meanwhile, the headless female ghost floating in the air hesitated, reluctant to get closer.

It was like she felt guilty?

Shen Huo thought it had to be a numbness from the pain messing with his mind—ghosts couldn't possibly feel guilty.

Since the headless ghost appeared, the room's temperature dropped.

The furniture closest to her was covered in a layer of white frost.

The red on her embroidered shoes grew deeper and deeper, the intense red slowly turning into a dark black liquid that dripped from the tips onto the floor.

Plop.

The blood dripped onto the cold floor, but instead of freezing, it formed a small puddle.

Drop after drop of blood kept falling.

Leaning against his lower back and slowly resting on the edge of the bed, Shen Huo caught his breath a couple of times.

Suddenly, he felt the room get cold again, and only then remembered there was a fierce ghost in the room.

Shen Huo painfully shuffled a few steps, his back throbbing faintly, moving away from the headless ghost until he reached what others might call a safe distance.

"Sister, it wasn't me who hurt you, so why do you keep following me?"

After this whole crazy day, he was on edge and almost losing his mind.

The ghost lifted her red, lacquered fingernails and pointed at the painting on the wall.

A cold gust of wind suddenly blew through the room.

It was bone-chilling.

The painting of the red embroidered shoes flew off the wall and landed beside Shen Huo.

Then the red fingernail pointed at Shen Huo.

Shen Huo looked confused. "Are you trying to tell me something through this painting?"

He tapped his head. "Sorry, forgot you can't talk."

He picked up the painting—the paper felt nice just by touching it, clearly good quality.

He had learned a bit of everything during his part-time jobs, including ink painting.

Xuan paper comes in three types: raw xuan, semi-raw xuan, and cooked xuan.

This painting was probably raw xuan—the paper's strong absorption and ink-spreading effect created that "water runs, ink stays" artistic style, which meant the painter knew what they were doing.

Though, their taste was a little weird.

Why paint embroidered shoes of all things?

Hmm?

A lightbulb went off in Shen Huo's head.

"This painting is of you, sister..."

He compared the painting to the shoes on the headless ghost's feet.

At this point, he no longer cared if she was a ghost.

He scrutinized every detail, not missing a single thing.

After comparing, Shen Huo couldn't help but click his tongue.

Exactly the same!

Who was the person who painted this? And why did they paint a pair of embroidered shoes identical to the ghost's?

"Sister, how did you die?"

"Wuuu—"

The headless ghost let out a miserable, piercing wail.

Bang!

The window was blown open by the wind, slamming hard against the wall.

The room was tossed by the wild wind, furniture swaying and tipping over.

Shen Huo instinctively grabbed the bed edge tight, afraid the sudden wind would blow him away.

"She was fine just now, why is she angry all of a sudden?"

Women really were unpredictable creatures, he couldn't help but think.

The wind was so strong it made him squint; he held the painting roll up, using his arm to shield his eyes from the gusts.

After who knows how long, the crazy wind stopped, and the ghost had vanished without a trace.

Only the messy, toppled furniture in the room proved he hadn't just imagined the whole thing.

Shen Huo turned on the light and shut the window again.

Hiss!

But as he closed the window, the thorny edge accidentally pricked his finger.

Fresh blood dripped outside onto the ground.

That's when Shen Huo noticed an ancient withered tree right outside his window.

In the glow of the room's light, the tree was huge and tall, looking like it towered over the hotel, reaching straight up to the clouds.

In the pitch-black night, the withered tree stood silently like a towering mountain.

Strangely, Shen Huo hadn't noticed such a huge dead tree outside the window when he first came in.

Curious, he glanced once more before shutting the window.

In a gloomy, majestic scene, a massive palace—like it was crafted by supernatural hands—rose above a ground littered with white bones and skulls.

Within the eerie, pale green flames, iron cages held captive malicious spirits. The flames licked at them, making the demons wail in misery and scream, their cries echoing through the somber sky.

At the palace's solemn courtyard stood a giant ancient tree, its leaves slowly turning yellow and withering. One lone leaf, caught by a cautious, chilly breeze, drifted into a lavish hall.

Inside the grand hall, a stunningly handsome man sat upright—his gaze cold, or rather, devoid of desire—like a solemn, dignified statue of a god.

He held a brush in his right hand, writing something carefully.

Suddenly, he paused, reaching out to catch the drifting yellow leaf.

The deadness faded from the leaf, and a golden pillar shimmered through its veins. Within the leaf, a drop of crimson blood glowed faintly.

The man's slender, defined fingers lightly poked the blood drop.

The blood burst open with a blinding red light, transforming into a red thread that floated away into the distance.

Staring at the red thread on his fingertip, the man's eyes turned cold as frost. He pinched the corner of the leaf, intent on crushing the small, fragile thing into powder.

From the palace came a low, emotionless voice that neither sounded happy nor angry:

"Fate's thread..."

Shen Huo took a set of disinfecting tools out of his bag and cleaned himself up. He got hurt all the time during rehearsals, so he always carried a first aid kit around.

This place they'd come to had a note on the contract warning about potential danger. So besides the med kit, he also brought some emergency supplies. But hopefully, he wouldn't need to use them.

Otherwise, he'd be done for before even earning that one million.

All credit goes to the original author
Feel free to pinpoint us if there are any grammar error or typos
Please don't use Guazi's translations to re-translate in other languages

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