In that instant, Ning Qiu Shui felt every nerve ending in his body scream. A paralyzing chill locked him in place.
Scraaaaaape—
Scraaaaaape—
The icy, metallic scraping echoed from directly behind him, raising the hairs on his neck and sending primal terror lancing through his skull.
Knife and fork. That was the sound of metal on metal. The sound of cutlery.
It was right behind him.
And it was… getting closer.
Simultaneously, the blinds covering the window at the far end of the hallway flew open with a violent snap.
A frigid wind, thick with the cloying, metallic stench of blood, rushed in, assaulting his nostrils, clawing down his throat into his lungs.
Fear… absolute, consuming fear… flooded his veins.
Was this it?
An inarticulate wave of terror crashed over him, threatening to drown him where he stood.
His hand shot up instinctively, fingers scrambling for the light switch beside the stairwell.
Light… he needed light!
Only light could banish this suffocating, predatory darkness!
His fingertips were a hairsbreadth from the switch when he froze mid-reach.
Words from the mysterious letter he'd received earlier flashed with searing clarity in his mind:
...
Wind, no lighting lamps
Rain, no burning candles
Day, no climbing towers
Night, no closing eyes…
— Wind, no lighting lamps.
Ning Qiu Shui gritted his teeth. A strangled sound escaped his throat as he fought against the crushing weight of terror. Don't touch the light.
He forced his trembling hand down.
Step by agonizing step, he pushed forward into the freezing, blood-scented wind blowing down the corridor.
The hideous scraping sound seemed to follow him, grating against his ear, scraping raw against his nerves.
It felt as if the thing behind him could drive its sharp implements into his back at any moment, rending him apart.
Ning Qiu Shui sucked in a ragged, icy breath. He clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened, ignoring the screeching metal at his back, and forced himself onward. One step. Then another.
He was gambling with his life.
Gambling that he hadn't triggered its kill condition. Gambling that the thing behind him… couldn't touch him yet.
One step…
Two steps…
Adrenaline spiked, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs. Every footfall was an excruciating test of will.
He couldn't run. The wind was too strong, too cold – a bone-deep chill that seeped through skin and muscle, locking his joints. It felt like wading through frozen tar.
Somehow… his gamble paid off.
The terrifying presence behind him seemed restrained, held back by an unseen barrier. As he finally reached his own door, his hand closing around the cold metal knob, the awful metallic scraping ceased abruptly.
The bloody wind in the hallway died down. In the weak moonlight filtering through the now tightly closed blinds at the end of the corridor, Ning Qiu Shui could see… nothing but empty darkness.
"Just… an illusion?" he gasped, leaning heavily against the doorframe, his mind racing, trying to make sense of it.
The oppressive, bone-chilling cold that had dogged his heels began to dissipate, as if the entity following him had… simply vanished.
His mind felt numb, wiped clean by the sheer intensity of the fear.
He pushed the door open and stumbled inside. Only then did he realize his clothes were soaked through with cold sweat.
In the darkness of the room, Liu Cheng Feng's rough voice trembled with fear: "Brother… are you… are you okay?"
He'd clearly heard the horrific sounds from the hallway.
Ning Qiu Shui shook his head, though Liu couldn't see it. "I'm fine."
Liu Cheng Feng fumbled forward in the dark, grabbing Ning Qiu Shui's arm, feeling for the reassuring warmth of living flesh beneath the damp sleeve. He let out a shaky, explosive breath. "Brother, you're a fucking legend," he breathed, his voice thick with awe and residual terror. "I thought… I thought you weren't coming back! Was that… was that it out there?"
Ning Qiu Shui nodded, his voice flat. "It showed itself."
Liu Cheng Feng's eyes widened in the gloom, disbelief warring with horror. "It… it didn't kill you?"
Ning Qiu Shui was silent for a long moment.
"It can't kill us indiscriminately," he finally said, his voice low and steady. "It can only act... when we trigger its kill condition."
Liu Cheng Feng remembered the previous encounters, a tumult of emotions crashing through him. "So... Brother, do you know what those conditions are?"
"Partially," Ning Qiu Shui murmured. "I already told you some. But those aren't all of them. How many there are... only it knows for sure." He paused. "What we need to do now... is uncover the truth of this place as quickly as possible."
Liu Cheng Feng's breathing hitched, sounding ragged in the dark room. "But even if we know the truth, how does that help us survive?"
Another pause hung heavy in the air before Ning Qiu Shui responded. "The truth likely holds the key to fighting it. Remember what the man in the suit told us? 'Blood Gate worlds always have more than one path to survival. They seem impossibly dangerous, but resistance is never entirely futile.'" He let the words sink in. "Besides, the woman in the red dress specifically warned us against the third floor. That has to be significant."
Liu Cheng Feng's expression shifted in the gloom, warring emotions playing across his face. Finally, resolve hardened his features. "Alright!" he hissed, clenching his fists. "You say when, Brother, I'm with you! At least we won't die alone!"
"Not yet," Ning Qiu Shui replied. "We wait."
They settled back into the oppressive silence of the room, the only sounds their own breathing and the creaking of the old house. Time crawled.
Then, deep into the dead of night, it came again.
The sound.
That skin-crawling, metallic scraping echoed from the hallway beyond their door.
Both men knew instantly what it was.
The sound of knife on fork.
The thing from the third floor... was hunting again.
Even braced for it, Liu Cheng Feng felt every hair on his body stand on end. His hands trembled uncontrollably, his feet felt like blocks of ice.
Who would it be this time?
Scraaaaaape—
Scraaaaaape—
Scraaaaaape—
The grating noise drew closer, each scrape syncing with the frantic pounding of Liu Cheng Feng's heart. He glanced desperately towards Ning Qiu Shui's shadowy form.
And froze.
The man was... drinking tea.
Liu Cheng Feng stared, dumbfounded. Then, a wave of pure, incredulous admiration washed over him.
"Brother," he whispered, the sound barely escaping his parched throat, "being able to sip tea calmly... now... you've got to be the first person I've ever met who could do that."
Ning Qiu Shui set the cup down with a soft click. "I'm terrified too," he admitted, his voice unnervingly level, betraying none of the fear he claimed. "People just show it differently. When I'm tense... I eat or drink. If it helps."
Outside, the horrific scraping halted directly in front of their door.
The sound of metal grinding on metal filled the air, relentless, hungry. It felt like a starving demon was right there, just beyond the thin wood, salivating over its trapped prey...
Liu Cheng Feng felt shame at his own fear, but couldn't stop the clammy sweat soaking his palms. He was petrified. Petrified the thing would burst through the door at any second.
But the imagined horror didn't materialize.
After an agonizing pause at their threshold, the entity seemed to find them... inaccessible. The scraping sound shifted, moving away down the hall.
This time...
Just like the previous night.
The noise... stopped outside the door to the next room.
Five tense minutes crawled by. Ning Qiu Shui, pressed against their door, heard nothing further. Slowly, cautiously, he eased the door open a crack.
He peered through the narrow gap, scanning the dark, deathly silent hallway. Nothing moved. Only the cold wind whistled through the open blinds at the far end.
"Now," Ning Qiu Shui breathed, the word slicing through the tension. He beckoned sharply to Liu Cheng Feng. "Go!"
Together, they slid out the door like shadows, moving with agonizing care across the creaking floorboards. Silently, they ghosted down the corridor, heading for the stairwell leading up...