Chapter 530: Singing to Death

　　How did the chest move here?

　　Wang Xiaoqiang stared in fearful confusion.

　　The solid wood chest was too heavy to have been accidentally knocked over by rats or anything like that.

　　The slightly opened lid gap resembled a half-opened eye, coldly watching Wang Xiaoqiang.

　　Wang Xiaoqiang felt chills crawling over his entire body.

　　After waiting a while and seeing the chest remained still, he gathered his courage to try stuffing it back under the desk.

　　But as soon as he reached out, the white sleeve suddenly came alive, coiling around his wrist. His vision blurred, and the opera costume now stood weightlessly before him.

　　He froze in terror, not daring to move a muscle.

　　"Ee-yah-yah--"

　　After several seconds of standoff, the opera costume suddenly flicked its sleeve at him, emitting a melodious operatic tune.

　　"Ghost!"

　　Wang Xiaoqiang's scalp crawled. He scrambled toward the door, crashing headfirst into something cold and soft in his panic.

　　Looking up,

　　he truly wet himself with fear.

　　The opera costume floated by the doorway, as if looking down at him from above.

　　"I was wrong! I shouldn't have sold you. I'll return you tomorrow. Please spare me..."

　　Wang Xiaoqiang knelt trembling on the floor, kowtowing to the opera costume as he begged for mercy.

　　"Ee-yah-yah——"

　　A plaintive operatic voice rose as the costume's elongated sleeves lashed towards him again, coiling around his body like water snakes, forcing him to stand and assume a dramatic stage pose.

　　"Th-this is an opera stance?"

　　Terror-stricken, Wang Xiaoqiang finally realized after prolonged panic—the opera costume seemed to demand him to perform alongside it.

　　After warbling mournfully, the costume turned to face him.

　　His heart clenched—he knew nothing about opera singing.

　　When the costume detected his stillness, an icy malevolence erupted. The sleeves plunged into his mouth, coiled around his tongue, and began slowly pulling outward.

　　No singing? Then lose your tongue!

　　In desperation, Wang Xiaoqiang bellowed random phrases he'd heard from opera troupes, his voice screeching like a rooster being strangled.

　　But at least sounds emerged.

　　The frigid sleeve released his tongue.

　　The costume continued its aria.

　　Lotus steps shifted lightly, water sleeves danced gracefully, every movement flowing like brushstrokes—beautiful, terrifying.

　　Wang Xiaoqiang struggled to keep up, enduring this torment all night.

　　Dawn came before the costume returned to its chest.

　　Every bone in Wang Xiaoqiang's body felt shattered, his throat scorched raw.

　　Now he finally understood why the troupe leader had been so desperate to return this costume to Granny Liu.

　　The damn thing was haunted!

　　A sliver of light filtered through the narrow window as the sun rose.

　　Wang Xiaoqiang was exhausted and terrified, but dared not rest, wanting to dispose of the opera costume before daylight.

　　Yet the moment he stepped out carrying the box, he collapsed unconscious.

　　When he awoke,

　　he found himself back in the room with the heavy camphorwood chest pressing on his chest, a deep tear-stain mark around his neck.

　　The opera costume seemed to warn him - another treacherous thought would mean death.

　　That night,

　　Wang Xiaoqiang spent another entire night singing opera with the costume.

　　But this time, the costume demanded more: its long water sleeves coiled around his body like puppet strings, forcing him into grueling acrobatic poses.

　　During some movements, he even heard his bones creaking.

　　"Manager Lu, if I refuse to sing with it, it'll tear out my tongue! But if I obey, these impossible poses will snap my bones - I'll be tortured to death either way...

　　Wang Xiaoqiang wept pitifully, pulling open his clothes to reveal

　　bruises covering his entire body.

　　"Serves you right! Scheming fool!" Hu Zi snorted, though not without pity.

　　"Brother Hu, look at me! I've learned my lesson! Never again!" Wang wailed.

　　"Where's the costume now?"

　　Lu Fei asked calmly.

　　"At my home. I sneaked out before sunset."

　　"Lead the way."

　　Lu Fei glanced at the darkening sky and stood up.

　　After their last meeting, he had become very interested in that opera costume.

　　Singing opera until death - it sounded truly terrifying.

　　But he sensed this costume was probably more complicated, otherwise the troupe leader wouldn't have mentioned being unable to afford enshrining it.

　　"Boss Lu, I... I don't dare. Could I hide here tonight and return at dawn?" Wang Xiaoqiang pleaded fearfully, watching the darkened sky as he waved his hands.

　　"What's the use of going daytime?" Hu Zi glared at him, "We need to go at night to understand how the evil thing manifests. Only then can we deal with it. If you don't want to get rid of that ghostly costume, keep hiding! See if you can escape the first moon, let alone the fifteenth."

　　"Th-then... alright."

　　Seeing his unyielding tone, Wang Xiaoqiang had no choice but to grit his teeth and agree.

　　Bringing Xiao Hei along, they drove off.

　　They headed straight for Wang Xiaoqiang's home.

　　The area was notorious for its "handshake buildings" - structures where landlords partitioned each floor into multiple coffin-sized rental units, barely better than pigeon cages.

　　They parked outside.

　　Lu Fei's group followed Wang through narrow alleyways that twisted like entrails, finally entering one building.

　　"W-we're here."

　　Standing at the door, Wang Xiaoqiang pulled out his key with trembling hands, repeatedly missing the lock.

　　"Look at your pathetic self, let me!"

　　Hu Zi snatched the key, only to find the door wasn't locked at all - it hung slightly ajar.

　　"You didn't lock it?"

　　Hu Zi shot Wang a suspicious look.

　　"I... I can't remember, I was too scared..." Wang stared at the dark crack of the door, eyes flooding with terror as he instinctively stepped back.

　　Even Hu Zi felt his nerves tighten at that expression.

　　"Hu Zi, open the door."

　　Lu Fei was very calm, and Xiao Hei showed no reaction either.

　　Hu Zi pulled out the Demon-Head Broadsword, held it horizontally in front of him, took a deep breath, and forcefully yanked open the door.

　　It was pitch black inside.

　　Dead silent.

　　Hu Zi turned on his flashlight and shone it into the room.

　　The room was sparsely furnished—just a single bed, a crude wardrobe, and a computer desk.

　　After sweeping the flashlight beam around, Hu Zi found the light switch and turned it on.

　　Lu Fei entered the room, looked around, but didn't see the old camphorwood chest.

　　"Where's the opera costume?"

　　"I-it was right by my bed." Wang Xiaoqiang dared not enter, pointing at the bed from outside.

　　"There's nothing here!"

　　Hu Zi flipped open the stinking thin quilt and crouched down to check under the bed, but found no trace of the chest.

　　"Wang Xiaoqiang, are you pulling our legs again?"

　　"How could it be gone?"

　　Wang Xiaoqiang froze, then mustered his courage to enter. After searching everywhere, his face lit up with mingled fear and relief.

　　"Did the costume... let me off?"

　　"Dream on! Once haunted by evil, it's a death sentence. I've never seen evil spirits leave before their victim dies." Hu Zi crushed his delusion outright.

　　Having followed Lu Fei for so long, he knew exactly how these malevolent entities operated.

　　"Then... what happened? Where's the costume?"

　　Wang Xiaoqiang's face turned deathly pale, filled with bewilderment.

　　Lu Fei glanced at the dilapidated door and mused thoughtfully, "Could someone have taken the costume..."

　　At that moment.

　　A wavering opera aria began drifting through the door.