Caleb Turner seemed to have anticipated his reaction and put away his smile. “Let me be honest. I wasn’t planning to apologize at first, and I didn’t think I was wrong—after all, it’s survival of the fittest, and everyone here acts this way. But now Samuel Brooks is definitely dead, and we need someone to check the situation in the elevator. You’re the strongest and safest among us, so I’ll admit fault and ask you to do me a favor. Could you help us out?”

Caleb Turner: “You have the skills, I have the experience. There’s really no need for us to be enemies—we could totally benefit each other.”

Caleb Turner had spoken so sincerely that Ethan Clark felt he couldn’t refuse. He stubbed out his cigarette and curved his lips slightly. “Alright, I’ll go take a look.”

Ethan Clark lowered his head and said to Owen Grant, “Wait for me outside.”

Because Ethan Clark had won the game with the ghost infant, he was absolutely safe tonight no matter what happened. Owen Grant wasn’t worried about Ethan Clark at all and nodded obediently.

Ethan Clark put on white gloves and opened the elevator door. As expected, a strong stench of blood hit him, and he frowned slightly.

Blood was spilling out of the elevator. The newcomers, seeing the gruesomely dead Samuel Brooks for the first time, were terrified.

Samuel Brooks was sitting on the ground, his head tilted back at a bizarre angle, his belly grotesquely swollen like a woman about to give birth.

Standing close, Ethan Clark saw that he had been disemboweled—his heart and lungs stuffed into his abdomen, bulging as if about to burst out.

There were even a few cigarette butts scattered in the filthy blood.

Caleb Turner followed right behind, casually patting Ethan Clark on the shoulder as if by accident.

A glint of interest flashed in Ethan Clark’s eyes. Deliberately luring him into the elevator where someone had just died, sticking something unknown onto him—the intention was obvious.

Caleb Turner seemed guilty, squatting down to examine the corpse to cover it up. “Why do you think the ghost stuffed Samuel Brooks’s heart and lungs into his belly? Looks like a pregnant woman… The way a ghost kills can reveal some information. Look, here’s a half-smoked cigarette…”

As Caleb Turner spoke, his elbow “accidentally” hit the elevator’s close button. The doors instantly shut, trapping the two of them inside with the gruesome corpse at their feet.

Caleb Turner thought Ethan Clark would rush to open the door, so he’d already moved to the entrance, ready to block him and buy time for the ghost. But Ethan Clark suddenly smiled, leaning against the clean wall of the elevator beside him. “Actually, I’m pretty sorry too.”

With his back against the elevator wall, Ethan Clark blocked Caleb Turner’s view, hiding the Satan’s Eye on his back. Caleb Turner grew anxious and distractedly asked, “Sorry for what? For hitting me?”

Ethan Clark smiled gently, about to say something, when his gaze landed on Caleb Turner’s back. “You got some blood on you. Let me wipe it off.”

Ethan Clark patted Caleb Turner’s back shoulder.

Caleb Turner was confused, not understanding the sudden friendliness. Did he realize the consequences of offending him and decide to make peace?

“What I’m sorry for is—” Ethan Clark paused, glancing at the evil eye on Caleb Turner’s back, and smiled. “Sorry I forgot to tell you, no matter how many ghosts I run into tonight, I won’t get a scratch. I played a game with the ghost infant, and he lost. Tonight, no ghost can kill me.”

The fake smile on Caleb Turner’s face finally collapsed.

Thirty points, wasted.

“And I’m also sorry—” Ethan Clark’s eyes were gentle, “Sorry I forgot to remind you of something.”

A sense of foreboding swept over Caleb Turner. “W-what…?”

With a “plop,” a drop of water suddenly dripped from the top of the elevator onto Caleb Turner’s shoulder.

Ethan Clark smiled innocently. “Please look up.”

Chapter 8: The Vengeful Spirit in Red (7)

Just as Caleb Turner was about to look up, a searing pain suddenly shot through his back shoulder. He howled, desperately reaching his right hand for his left shoulder, only to feel… something shaped like an eye.

The eye on his left shoulder blinked, its lashes brushing across Caleb Turner’s palm, sending a wave of unbearable, terrifying itchiness.

There was an eye on his back!

“Satan’s Eye!” Caleb Turner suddenly realized, screaming as he clawed at the eye. A chunk of flesh was instantly torn off, blood streaming down his back, but the eye remained firmly embedded in his flesh.

Another drop of warm, sticky water dripped from the top of the elevator.

Caleb Turner finally remembered what Ethan Clark had said. Stiffly and slowly, he looked up. The next second, a pair of icy, deathly pale hands suddenly dangled down from the elevator ceiling, wrapping around his neck and lifting him up—Caleb Turner was hoisted into the air!

Ethan Clark met Caleb Turner’s bloodshot, bulging eyes and smiled faintly, raising his head.

He finally got a clear look at the female ghost’s face.

She was hanging from the elevator ceiling, her bright red dress soaked in blood. Her belly sagged, the abdomen split open like a clam shell, half her intestines dangling in the air, threatening to spill out at any moment.

Beneath her filthy, matted black hair was a rotting face and bulging eyes, the eyeballs devoid of pupils, filled only with cloudy, grayish whites.

“H-help… help!” Caleb Turner squeezed out the words with difficulty. Within a few breaths, his face turned purple from suffocation, like an onion.

Ethan Clark remained unmoved, his expression indifferent, as if the terrifying female ghost and the corpse at his feet didn’t exist at all.