Earlier, I had already suspected it—the bathroom had been deliberately renovated. The landlord must've been trying to hide something.
And that buried secret, long covered up by time, was probably tied to some other murder.
I sorted through the clues in my head. Peace Inn had never been a place where anyone could actually find peace. The balding driver had said that years ago, people had gone missing near here.
I didn't know the exact reason, but all the evidence pointed straight at this dilapidated inn.
I scrolled through my inbox, recalling the call I'd gotten when this whole task started. That strange woman on the other end had said she was hidden in the walls, under the floor, behind the bathtub.
A chill ran down my spine—was that call from a ghost?
I looked at the tub, half-mounted on the wall, and steeled myself. I went back into the room to grab a pair of scissors and started prying open the tiles, one by one.
"This place is cold, damp, and full of filth. The yin energy's strongest here—makes sense it would attract restless spirits," Liu Banxian from Qingcheng Mountain was still giving remote instructions through the stream, warning me not to let my guard down.
Once the tiles were all removed, I saw it: beneath the tub was pitch-black. The tub sat on four bricks, and the space in the middle was hollow.
"Banxian, what if the ghost brings reinforcements? I'm just an amateur here. Can I even handle this?" I hesitated, hands gripping the underside of the tub. "The thunder talisman's glow is fading—can't use it much longer. If those vengeful ghosts swarm me, I'm toast."
"No need to worry. The thunder talisman was forged with energy from a natural lightning strike—pure yang, solid power. Just having it on you will keep you safe."
If even Banxian said that, I couldn't really back out. I braced myself and lifted the tub.
"What the hell...?"
Beneath the tub wasn't a corpse, like I had guessed—but a black, bottomless pit.
Roughly 1.5 feet wide and a foot across—just enough for an adult to squeeze through.
"Where does it lead?" The inn's layout was bizarre and disordered. Room numbers didn't follow any logic. No one stayed on the first floor. The second and third had guest rooms. I was currently in Room 203, but I couldn't say for sure if Room 103 was right below me.
I used my phone to shine some light into the hole. It ran deep. Along the dirt walls were scraps of torn fabric, the same dusty color as the soil.
"Synthetic fiber—probably someone's clothes, ripped on the way down."
This was a manmade tunnel that had since been hidden on purpose. So the real question was—who dug it? And why?
The truth, long buried, was likely inside. Standing at the edge of this literal and figurative pit, I decided to go down.
The camera was too bulky to take with me, so I set it aside.
"Alright, friends—one last reminder. This is not a prank. This is not staged. If I don't return in one hour, remember this address—and call the cops!"
I didn't even know if there'd be a signal down there, or what kind of danger I'd face. Too many unknowns. All I could rely on now were the folks in the livestream.
"Go with peace, bro. I'll call 911 for you."
"Just woke up. Did the ghost show up yet? Say something, you coward!"
"Solid acting. Ever thought about joining our B-movie production team?"
Handsome & Skilled Girl: "Don't know if you're faking or not, but livestreaming a hookup is definitely illegal. I reported you half an hour ago!"
"Chill, bro. There's real haunting going on. We all saw it! Didn't catch her face, but it was def a ghost chick!"
Handsome & Skilled Girl: "Fake effects or extras—same old tricks. Can't wait to watch you get banned."
Hearing that someone already called the cops, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"Well, guess I have nothing holding me back now."
I braced myself against the tunnel walls and slid down.
"Where'd the streamer go?"
"Right there—he just dropped into the pit."
Took about ten seconds for my feet to hit solid ground. The vertical tunnel was nearly three meters deep, with footholds dug into the sides every few feet.
"This should be the first floor." The space below was tight but breathable—I could still hear air moving.
I crouched and crawled forward, pressing the thunder talisman close to my chest, every movement deliberate.
Without the camera, Liu Banxian couldn't monitor me anymore. I was on my own.
I raised my phone. The pale light from the screen was my only guide. I could barely see past a few dozen centimeters, terrified something would suddenly appear in the beam—like a face.
After crawling for a while, the wall beside me curved inward. I turned and saw a double-faced Buddha carved into the stone.
One face was calm and benevolent, the other twisted with rage. I didn't know which god it represented, so I just took a picture and moved on.
After crawling maybe ten meters, I finally saw a faint light. I turned off my phone and crept toward it silently.
"Old man, there was a commotion in 203. That young guy might not make it."
"Serves him right, messing with that cursed girl."
"Sinners… all of us…"
I heard them whispering, clearer as I moved closer. The tunnel split—one path went deeper into darkness, the other led to the inn's first floor.
The old couple stood in a room mixing cement. They were sealing off the tunnel entrance.
"Block this up. Let's never do this again."
"I just want to see our son one last time."
"That little bastard's not coming back… sigh."
I didn't dare breathe. So they were the ones who dug the tunnel—but why?
After they left, I crept toward the other path.
The ground was damp. At the end was a shallow well, covered with a wooden lid.
I lifted the lid—and a wave of stench hit me.
"Holy shit…"
Inside, it was pitch black. Most people would've shut the lid and run. But not me.
I knew that smell. I'd smelled it at a crime scene before. It was the stench of death.
I turned my phone's brightness all the way up. What I saw wasn't moss or weeds—it was a tangled mess of long, rotting hair and corroded bones.
My face went pale. Based on the visible skulls poking out of the hair, I made a rough estimate.
"There's at least four bodies."
I gagged, slammed the lid shut, and staggered back the way I came.
"Call the cops. This is a major case!"
I rushed back to the vertical tunnel and scrambled up.
But just as I was halfway up, I heard a door creak open above me.
"Xiaofeng?"
I looked up—and locked eyes with a scarred face.
"It's the old man!"
"Shit!"
I let go and dropped back into the tunnel. Spun around and ran.
"The path to the first floor's not fully sealed—I can get out through there!"
I bolted, kicked aside the wooden planks the old couple used to cover the entrance, and burst into the room.
It was filled with junk. In the corner were two sealed iron barrels. I didn't stop to look. I sprinted for the door.
Grabbing the handle, I yanked it open—and there she was. The short, fat old woman.
"I thought I smelled something rotten. So you lifted the lid." In her hand, half-hidden behind her back, was a butcher's cleaver. The blade caught the light.
"I'm waiting here for my son. So I'll have to ask you to keep quiet."
She swung the knife. I slammed the door shut.
"Great. Trapped between a ghost and a psycho. This is how I die."
BANG! The knife slammed into the lock. From the tunnel came the sound of footsteps—her husband.
Trapped on both sides, exhausted and terrified, I froze in panic.
Time ticked by. Despair mounted.
Then—just as the scar-faced man stepped out of the tunnel—sirens wailed outside the inn.
"Inside! We have a confirmed report of illegal activity!"