—Honestly, paying extra really does work.

Ming Po, who was still struggling with his equipment, thought to himself.

Running into ghosts was definitely terrifying, but running out of money was just as terrifying.

Ai Shiping walked over, helping Ming Po connect the gear while keeping his voice low to claim credit: "What do you think? Your bro is pretty awesome, right?"

"Not bad," Ming Po praised. "You actually look like you know what you're doing."

Although Ai Shiping had a great temper, it didn't mean he was a pushover.

The reason he got along well with everyone wasn't because he was so pliable that anyone could bully him—it was because he knew exactly what to say to different people.

Some people simply had ill intentions. If you were gentle, they would look down on you; if you treated them well, they would think you were easy to exploit. But if you pushed back directly, they would actually take you seriously and learn to respect you.

With the help of Ai Shiping, who was much more knowledgeable about electronics, Ming Po quickly finished tuning his streaming setup.

Displayed on the screen was the promotional image for the stream—

The streamer's name was Fox, and the invited master was surnamed Wang, going by the name Guo Wangqiongxiao—it seemed he was a disciple raised from childhood by a master surnamed Guo, who formally bestowed the surname upon him.

The promotional image spelled it out clearly: the four-million-follower streamer Fox was returning to stream tonight, attempting to explore a haunted, abandoned resort. There had to be over two thousand replies under his Weibo post—and even though half of them were hate comments, this level of engagement proved he was definitely a top-tier streamer.

A streamer of this caliber usually had their own team—yet he had only brought two people along, making the atmosphere feel incredibly eerie.

But there was no helping it.

After all, for this kind of stream, having too many people would just ruin the vibe.

"It's time. Eleven o'clock at night. Get ready to start the feed."

Ming Po reminded him as he lifted the camera.

He held the camera, while Master Wang held some sort of magical prop whose purpose was completely unknown.

As for Ai Shiping's phone, it served three functions: a flashlight, a secondary screen for the stream, and a monitor to read the chat.

Two cameras were recording simultaneously, allowing the stream to switch back and forth between them. This way, one captured Ai Shiping's first-person perspective, while the other filmed a third-person view over his shoulder.

Following Ming Po's countdown of "3, 2, 1," the broadcast officially began.

"Brothers, I missed you guys to death!"

A massive smile instantly bloomed on Ai Shiping's face. He turned around and blew a loud kiss right at the lens.

He didn't show the slightest hint of stage fright.

Watching Ai Shiping suddenly lunge at the lens, Ming Po jumped in fright.

He scolded in a low voice, "Don't touch my lens!"

Although Ming Po didn't know much about this stuff, he had a feeling that if the lens got fogged up with moisture, it might ruin the image quality.

"Hey, I know, I know."

Ai Shiping brushed it off casually. "How could I not know?"

He hadn't actually kissed the lens.

So Ming Po just curled his lip and didn't respond.

At that moment, a dense wave of comments flooded the screen.

[The streamer isn't dead yet?]

[He's really surviving, huh?]

[I can't believe he actually revived.]

[It's fine, he'll die again soon.]

[Starting a supernatural stream now? Who wrote the script?]

[Promoting feudal superstition, are we?]

[Brother Fox is so handsome, I love you!]

Ai Shiping ignored the earlier comments, his eyes locking precisely onto the last one. Beaming with joy, he turned around and blew another kiss: "I love you too, baby!

"—For those trying to flame the streamer, try harder, the streamer can't see it. The streamer only sees the comments he wants to see.

"Is that all you got? Put some back into it!"

Ming Po smiled silently.

Ai Shiping looked so hyped, so deeply immersed in his identity as a streamer—but that couldn't hide the fact that he was definitely scared.

After all, the resort in front of them truly looked dilapidated and sinister.

Just by getting close, Ming Po could clearly feel waves of chill spreading through his chest. It felt a bit like walking outside in late autumn wearing only a sweater—even though it looked thick, the freezing wind pierced right through the fabric.

—But the problem was, their entire group was dressed warmly. Ming Po was even wearing a windbreaker—

—Just a moment ago, while standing by the car, he had actually felt quite hot.

Yet simply getting closer to this place made it feel colder and colder.

Ai Shiping was definitely already terrified.

His current hyperactive state was nothing but a disguise.

"Look, brothers."

Ai Shiping held up his phone and approached the barricades at the edge of the resort, and Ming Po panned the camera over as well.

The intersection here was blocked by a row of yellow-and-black triangular barricades. They were crooked and wrapped in yellow-and-black caution tape that looked like chains. This was also why their car was parked outside instead of inside the resort.

"This caution tape only stops gentlemen, not scoundrels,"

Ai Shiping complained, lifting his leg and stepping right over it. "Oops, I'm inside. Oops, I'm outside again. I'm inside again. Come hit me, stupid~"

"Stop jumping around."

Ming Po shoved Ai Shiping slightly, urging him, "Hurry up and keep walking."

His deep, magnetic voice seemed to trigger an even larger influx of comments.

Ai Shiping stared at his phone, his voice suddenly rising in pitch: "Hey, you guys are curious about my bro, right?

"This voice, it's late-night radio host tier! They call him little Aizen. He's even got naturally curly hair. I'm honestly scared that one day he's gonna take off his glasses, slick back his hair with gel, and declare—no one stands before me!

"—Hey, what's that? Who said a good voice means an ugly face? Ignorant, aren't you? Let me tell you, my bro is super handsome. Let me give you a quick peek—"

Saying that, he swept his phone behind him.

Ming Po glared at him, which finally prompted Ai Shiping to keep moving forward.

As he walked, he continued to brag, "Handsome, right? Didn't lie to you, did I? Come on sisters, drop a wave of gifts, join the fan group, and I'll send you my cameraman bro's contact info—uh, if any brothers are interested, you can drop some gifts too."

If he wasn't holding the camera, Ming Po really would have kicked Ai Shiping in the ass.

He was dragging his feet, clearly reluctant to go inside, deliberately stalling for time.

Meanwhile, Master Wang, who was supposed to be hyping up the atmosphere with him, was uncharacteristically silent.

He hovered at the edges of the frame, seemingly unwilling to even be on camera.

But no matter how much Ai Shiping stalled, there was only one path from the entrance to the main building. One way or another, there was no avoiding it.

Outside stood an archway featuring very old-fashioned red characters that read '[Something] Resort'.

However, the '[Something]' part had peeled off, leaving no trace to indicate what the place was actually called.

This used to be a rather large hotel. The revolving doors in the center were jammed tight, stuffed with a massive bundle of cables. They had no choice but to enter through a side door.

The side door was also sealed with that black-and-yellow caution tape. And this appeared to be the Master's area of expertise.

He voluntarily stepped forward, and both cameras focused on him.

The Master was seen holding some sort of talisman, muttering under his breath—but his hand seals couldn't be seen, and his voice couldn't be heard clearly.

Then, exerting sudden force, he slammed his palm onto the caution tape.

A burst of red fire violently flared up, and the yellow-and-black caution tape ignited alongside it, both turning to ash simultaneously.

"Whoa!"

Ai Shiping exclaimed in awe, then instantly launched into a rambling monologue. "See that? A master is a master! Let me introduce him to you guys. This is Master Guo Wangqiongxiao, from the Qiong generation. I'm reminded of a poem, brothers. Ever heard Qian Qi's poem? The spring breeze scatters the sorrow of a dead end, a heart devoted to the sun hangs forever in the sky!—Oh come on, what do you mean bad luck? Bah, your words are the bad luck here!"

Ming Po, however, narrowed his eyes slightly.

He noticed that when the tape disintegrated, some sort of murky, dim yellow spiritual light dissipated along with it.

Ai Shiping didn't catch that, merely marveling, "It really does only stop gentlemen and not scoundrels. This door is just taped up and not locked?—So what if I'm a scoundrel? Ever seen a scoundrel this handsome? I'm a handsome little bro, fresh meat!"

While fiercely battling the chat, he forcefully pushed open the resort's glass doors and walked inside. The doors let out a harsh, teeth-setting screech as they opened, making Ming Po frown involuntarily.

Before the doors could close, the Master followed right behind as the second to enter. Ming Po brought up the rear, only stepping inside after confirming the doors could be easily pushed open for an escape at any time, then hurried after Ai Shiping.

"Pfft, cough, cough—"

The dust kicked up from the floor made Ai Shiping cough uncontrollably.

"Good lord—was this place raided or something?"

He gasped in surprise, pointing his phone around the lobby.

The lobby was quite expansive—from the main doors to the front desk, it was at least thirty meters deep. The sides had originally featured decorative artificial rockeries and water features, but now the fake mountains had toppled onto the floor, shattering into worthless gravel. The fake water in the pools had long since dried up.

The lobby had a rather old-fashioned marble floor. Yet, near the very center, it was inexplicably shattered. It looked as if some massive weight had smashed down upon it, leaving a circular depression surrounded by radiating cracks. Through the gaps, pale gray rubble could be seen underneath.

But right as they closed the front doors, the feed on Ming Po's camera suddenly flickered with multicolored spots of light.

The monitoring earpiece in his ear let out a sharp static hiss, sounding as if some sort of signal jammer had just been placed nearby. However, the interference vanished just as quickly.

"Fox," Ming Po suddenly spoke up. "Did your camera have any reaction just now?"

"What reaction?"

Ai Shiping turned around.

It seemed nothing had happened on his end.

But very quickly, he found out what had occurred from the chat.

"Blurry screen? Static?—Oh come on, what the hell. There are no ghosts in this world. Instead of saying it's haunted, it makes more sense to say there's a fugitive hiding here!—What is it, radiation?"

Ai Shiping continued sparring with his audience while simultaneously relaying the situation to Ming Po.

But that last comment clearly left him speechless.

"Honestly, yeah," Ming Po said quietly. "If there was actual radiation, that would definitely cause image noise."

"You might as well say it's a ghost then."

Ai Shiping looked deeply disgusted. "If it is a ghost, maybe it's a polite one. Or maybe it's a nice young lady. If I politely explain our situation, she might even let us go—

"Come on babies, drop a wave of gifts! I'm going to check out the front desk."

Ming Po followed Ai Shiping to the front desk.

A fair amount of documents had actually been left behind here.

Sitting right on top was a newspaper clipping concerning this very resort.

The headline was printed in bold font: [Water Mirror Resort Suspends Operations Due to Fire Safety Hazards, Undergoing Comprehensive Rectification to Ensure Tourist Safety]

"Recently, major safety hazards were discovered at Water Mirror Resort during a routine fire safety inspection. To ensure the personal safety of tourists, the resort has voluntarily suspended operations and is cooperating with the fire department to carry out a comprehensive rectification. The reopening date will be announced separately based on the progress of the rectification—"

Ming Po aimed the camera at the newspaper, reading the news out loud in a low voice.

Right then, Ai Shiping seemed to spot something in the chat.

"Huh? Where's the Master? Didn't the Master come in with us?"

Saying that, Ai Shiping turned around and scanned the area, but couldn't find the Master anywhere.

Only the tool bag the Master had been carrying sat peacefully on the floor right by Ming Po's feet.