I Got My Cheat Skill by Acting My Way into a Horror Protagonist Role Chapter 35

Inside the door was a completely different world.

As Xu Zisheng followed the Writer through the entrance, he felt as if he had stepped into another dimension entirely.

Winding attic pathways, garden scenery belonging to the last century, antique pavilions and towers—every window was meticulously carved with intricate openwork patterns.

Only occasionally were there one or two discordant spots, faint traces of scorching, deep black and rotten, completely out of place in this magnificent courtyard.

The Writer, Yan Tingchen, strolled leisurely ahead, openly exposing his back to Xu Zisheng, seemingly completely unconcerned about being attacked from behind.

Occasionally, when passing certain scenic spots, he would pause briefly to share interesting stories from the past with Xu Zisheng.

Looking out across the entire courtyard, Xu Zisheng couldn't quite grasp how large this ancient mansion actually was.

At the very least, the distance they had just walked was far more than what the sixth floor of a residential building could possibly contain.

Some areas remained empty, not yet filled with the scenery that should have been there, like blank spaces that had been forcibly erased.

As he spoke, the gentle, jade-like young man with long hair revealed a trace of melancholy in his expression, like someone reminiscing about things long gone.

After winding through the twisting courtyard paths and passing through a vermilion door emitting a faint sandalwood fragrance, they entered a quiet small courtyard.

Bamboo and cypress stood tall, a gentle breeze drifted by, hot water was already prepared on the stone chair in the courtyard, steam rising, with tea sets and everything else ready.

Was this an illusion?

No, it didn't seem like it. Xu Zisheng leaned more toward the idea that the ghost before him had power sufficient to construct such a microcosmic space, this place being similar to the ghost's domain.

The flow of time also seemed different, even capable of interfering with the dungeon's progression.

Looking at the countdown timer on his mission panel, Xu Zisheng noticed it had clearly slowed down significantly—the flow rate here was two to three times slower than the outside world.

"Please—"

The Writer, Yan Tingchen, performed the tea brewing with fluid, seamless movements. He still wore the same Tai Chi outfit from when he was practicing sword downstairs, carrying himself with dignified propriety and impeccable etiquette.

The environment was too leisurely, the ghost's state too relaxed—it was easy to let one's guard down.

In such a mentally corrosive environment, if one's spirit suddenly relaxes after being highly tense, the body can instantly lose strength, and that powerless state is difficult to readjust from.

As with previous feedback, he didn't sense any negative malice or emotions.

Had he really been overthinking things?

After direct contact, the other party felt like a true gentleman, casual and natural.

He wouldn't harm me.

Such a thought actually surfaced in Xu Zisheng's mind, which he immediately crushed.

The fact that he could unconsciously generate such thoughts was the most terrifying part!

Who knew when this mansion might transform into a beast that devours people without spitting out bones.

What form might the ghost before him mutate into?

"Young friend, have some tea..." The Writer, Yan Tingchen, behaved in a way that made Xu Zisheng feel like he was truly facing an appropriately aged elder.

Xu Zisheng understood propriety, with standards to measure everything in his heart—he was a good child, even someone who would earn praise for his manners in many situations.

So he accepted the teacup and instinctively replied, "Thank you..."

Speaking of which, should he drink this or not? His gaze fell on the teacup in his hand.

If he didn't drink, would it anger the other party?

If he did drink, was this truly tea, or something like blood—

He couldn't see through the tea's true appearance.

Perhaps the teacup's real form was broken and shabby, with worms crawling in the so-called tea.

If it was just dirty or disgusting, that was unimportant compared to survival—he wouldn't hesitate to drink it directly.

His main concern was whether it contained some high-level source of corruption; drinking it might cause his Horror Value to skyrocket instantly.

Xu Zisheng's hand hesitated for a moment, planning to secretly observe the Writer's expression.

Unexpectedly, he happened to meet the other's gaze directly.

The other was also carefully observing him, seemingly waiting for his reaction to drinking the tea.

Those slender, bony fingers tapped irregularly twice on the stone table—Xu Zisheng caught this, clearly indicating some hidden nervousness.

As if worried that his tea wouldn't suit Xu Zisheng's taste.

The Writer didn't expect to make eye contact with Xu Zisheng, coughing lightly to cover up, his eyes actually seeming somewhat evasive, "It's been a long time since anyone has shared tea with me, I don't know if you'll like it..."

This reaction was somewhat unexpected for Xu Zisheng.

Thinking back to when he was caught peeking earlier, there was also a touch of youthful spirit occasionally revealed by the elder.

If this wasn't any form of disguise, the other probably died at this age.

The Writer actually looked about the same age as them. If this were the Republican Era, he might have already started a family and career; converted to modern times, he'd just be a college graduate with two or three years of experience.

Warm tea went down, leaving fragrance between lips and teeth, slightly bitter but with a light, refreshing aftertaste.

Xu Zisheng waited for adverse reactions to occur.

But he felt nothing unusual.

He felt completely normal, as if his limbs had warmed up, and he even wanted another cup of tea.

After brief testing revealed no issues, Xu Zisheng decided to get straight to the point. He pondered how to address the person before him, eventually settling on "Sir." "Sir..."

The Writer continued his sentence, "My surname is Yan, the Yan from 'the world is at peace,' and I am a writer."

"Mr. Yan..." Xu Zisheng smoothly changed his address, but his next words tensed the previously relaxed atmosphere.

"I'd like to ask if you saw my friend about ten minutes ago—the black-haired young man who was with me."

Given the level of the ghost before him, it was unlikely he hadn't noticed the commotion from their fight downstairs. Since Tong mentioned seeing threads, that basically confirmed the other had interfered...

Although he didn't know the purpose behind the other's actions, he couldn't miss this opportunity. As long as there was a glimmer of hope, he had to fight for Gui Yi!

"You would ask that..." the Writer said leisurely, taking a small sip of tea. Though he didn't answer directly, his attitude and reaction revealed the truth.

He seemed somewhat troubled about being discovered but didn't intend to hide it. "This is the second time... young people these days are truly sharp."

"There were unpleasant presences downstairs, I just took a glance." The Writer set down his teacup, describing it lightly. "Some fellows clearly couldn't sit still anymore, even sent little insects in..."

Unpleasant presences—did he mean the terrifying forbidden power Chen Ze used?

That indescribable, unspeakable power.

With such an attitude of being equal or even superior, was the Writer's level and status potentially stronger than that unspeakable power?

"As for your friend, I didn't see him." Next, the Writer shifted his words.

This was the truth.

He truly hadn't seen.

Although both clearly knew the reality, the Writer still denied it. Xu Zisheng's heart sank slightly.

Even knowing now that the being before him had tampered with things, with his current abilities, he couldn't do anything for Gui Yi.

But if he missed this opportunity, whether he could return to this neighborhood in future game dungeons was another question entirely.

Think of a way...

Think

That time—

What about that unidentifiable sealed object? Could it be related to the Writer before him?

Speaking of which, that unknown sealed object had elevated this dungeon to S-level to some extent, meaning if the Writer before him was truly related to the sealed object, he must be at least an S-level existence.

S-level—what did that concept even mean?

This wasn't something that could be handled by stacking A-level ghosts—they were essentially different species, right?

Xu Zisheng's hand at his side involuntarily twitched slightly, then began trembling faintly uncontrollably.

He struggled to maintain calm, using the Blood Book to suppress the rapidly rising Horror Value. He retrieved the sandalwood box from his Sealed Space and gently placed it on the stone table.

The Writer's gaze fell upon the sandalwood box, then he fell silent.

He didn't speak, just watched quietly, as if seeing distant past events through that box. The two sat facing each other like this for quite some time.

"Let's finish this game first; perhaps everything will have answers in the end." The Writer's expression grew even gentler. He didn't touch the sandalwood box nor open it to see what was inside. "Give it to me at the final moment. If I accept it now, I would feel guilty."

So that meant—

Anything was possible!

Putting the sandalwood box back into his Sealed Space, Xu Zisheng nodded heavily.

Although he knew it contained a severed finger inside, he didn't dare let his gaze fall on the other's hands again—that would be disrespectful to the being before him. "Alright, I'll hurry."

The Writer smiled, then politely saw Xu Zisheng out until the door completely separated them.

Before the door, as soon as it closed, "Whoosh—" Xu Zisheng sprinted toward the upper floors, taking several steps at a time.

Only when blocked again at the top floor did he stop, feeling his wildly beating heart, leaning on his knees while panting slightly.

"Holy—, that's S-level..."

A wildly terrifying idea surfaced in his profound eyes, carrying a determination others wouldn't dare approach.

A visible, tangible S-level ghost.

An existence that inspired immense fear, beyond imagination.

But by the same token, among ghosts, wasn't it equally an existence that would make other ghosts submit in terror?

As long as one dared to think, dared to act—

If what was inside truly was the Writer's finger, then he, as the one returning it, might be able to establish favorable relations with the other.

If he had an S-level backing him, he might not run completely wild in the horror game dungeons, but he could probably swagger around without problems—

———————————————

Behind the door, as soon as it closed.

After the Proxy System confirmed that Xu Zisheng had gone far away, couldn't hear any movements, and hadn't left any surveillance devices behind.

The originally refined and elegant Writer immediately broke character and ran wildly, circling the courtyard several times before stopping.

Xiao Gui'an took a deep breath, exiting that immersive acting state, clutching his long-silent heart that nonetheless felt like it was about to jump out.

Don't be so intense!!!

Let him carefully review—had he revealed any flaws just now—