"So it seems there are quite a few people helping me."
The arrival of multiple Red Cloaks made Ying Chen feel the pressure. The entire building trembled, and corpses embedded in the walls began peeling off in large numbers. Each one harbored deep-seated resentment and curses.
Ying Tong's door-world seemed to have been used by the Nether Fetus as a breeding ground for curses. The curses hidden behind this door were more numerous than any door Chen Ge had entered before.
"Chen Ge, only one of Ying Chen's faces is real, and that face is his weakness." Ying Tong reopened his eyes and found his anchor. Compared to Ying Chen, this child felt that Chen Ge was more like a real older brother.
Even in a world of complete pitch darkness, even when he himself couldn't see a thing, Chen Ge had stubbornly continued describing a beautiful world full of color to Ying Tong.
For a child trapped in despair and darkness, Chen Ge's words had steadied his heart and kept him from wavering.
That he could open his eyes at all was something Chen Ge had fought for with his life.
The door-world was woven from the memory of the one who opened the door. Ying Tong would never forget the things Chen Ge had said to him. He would hold them deep in his heart, a warmth to carry with him for the rest of his life.
This child had not become the same kind of person as Ying Chen. The fact that he had held out until now was no small feat.
In truth, through their earlier conversation, Chen Ge had come to understand Ying Tong's thoughts. This child had bet everything on a fourth escape attempt. If that fourth attempt failed, he might choose to give up entirely.
Phobia of sharp objects, phobia of enclosed spaces, phobia of screaming — three escape attempts had left Ying Tong with profound psychological trauma. Even so, he still hadn't surrendered. That already made him stronger than most adults.
The corpses, wrapped in black curses, lunged toward the tunnel ghost's son. They latched onto his massive legs, using what they believed to be righteous conviction to block the monster before them.
When eyes were blinded, all these people could see were illusions — and that was precisely what Ying Chen had been doing all along.
In appearance, the tunnel ghost's son truly did look more monstrous than anyone else present. In the eyes of onlookers, this grotesque giant spider was hunting down Ying Chen, so the spider must be the evil one.
But was that really the case?
Ying Chen had exploited exactly this kind of thinking. He edited videos, tortured cats, twisted the truth, and the most ironic part was that he posted those very videos on websites frequented by cat lovers — all to turn a profit.
Sowing discord. He used a mask of human skin to conceal a heart festering with sores.
In this moment, Chen Ge once again felt the depth of Ying Tong's suffering — stripped of freedom, unable to speak, and after the few who knew the truth were killed, his world had been left with nothing but darkness.
"Don't worry. I'll tear off every single one of Ying Chen's faces." Chen Ge's pupils contracted as he locked his gaze onto Ying Chen.
That bastard was devouring the curses, sneaking his way into the "crowd" and using the surrounding corpses as cover.
This scene was exactly like how Ying Chen had driven off his relatives. When he lacked the confidence to kill them outright, he turned to manipulating those around him. The phrase "stop at nothing to achieve one's goal" was perfectly embodied in him.
"The greatest challenge of Ying Tong's door was learning to open his eyes. The Nether Fetus has already missed its best chance to kill me."
Among the nine children's doors, only one Nether Fetus was the true body. The other eight were residual consciousnesses attached to objects. That consciousness could not make subjective judgments — it could only act according to the rules of the door-world, and all its actions had to fall within the memory-based rules of the door-opener.
As Chen Ge's understanding of "doors" deepened, he had begun learning to exploit the rules of the door-world. The blood-colored world and reality were connected through the door-opener's memories. As long as you found the corresponding nodes in those memories, you could formulate a corresponding strategy to break through.
Therefore, to gain more initiative within a door-world, one first had to understand the door-opener's past — grasp what they had lived through and know the deepest pain they carried hidden in their hearts.
Working in concert, the Red Cloaks sent blood-red threads seeping into the building. A crimson gleam appeared in the eyes of the corpses.
Chen Ge had chosen the most direct method to seize control of this door-world. This door had been woven from Ying Tong's memories, and Ying Tong was now standing beside him. He had every reason to be confident he could pull this off.
The tunnel ghost's son and the Stench were likely drawing the vast majority of the corpses' attention due to their massive size.
The remaining Red Cloaks slipped through gaps in the corpse encirclement. Little Cloth in particular — every corpse that came near her dissolved into a puddle of stinking blood. This girl's power exceeded Chen Ge's expectations.
Screams and wails echoed throughout the building. What surprised Chen Ge somewhat was that
More and more helpers were joining the fight. Chen Ge also noticed that Mr. Wood and Miss Red were remarkably capable as well — especially Miss Red.
This woman was the same age as Ying Chen, with a small frame and slender arms. Her outer clothes were soaked through with blood, making her the only person in the entire door-world who was drenched in it.
Her strength rivaled that of a Red Cloak, yet she was different from ordinary Red Cloaks. She couldn't manipulate blood threads, and the curses on the walls that targeted the living had no effect on her either.
When she had been standing beside Ying Tong earlier, Chen Ge hadn't felt much. But once she struck, he realized this woman was less like a human and more like a cat — an elegant, cold-blooded cat drenched in crimson.
"Miss Red?"
This Miss Red only stood with Ying Tong and never left his side. She was hostile toward everyone, unwilling to approach even Mr. Wood or Aunt Wu.
Chen Ge had never encountered such a peculiar person before. He was curious to know what kind of memories had given rise to Miss Red.
"Perhaps outside the door, Miss Red might be a special Red Cloak." With that thought, Chen Ge steeled his resolve, planning to help all the people Ying Chen had murdered find liberation once he left this door — to deliver a belated sense of justice.
The tunnel ghost's son and the Stench had tied down most of the corpses. The remainder posed no threat to Chen Ge, and the distance between him and Ying Chen continued to shrink.
The roles of pursuer and prey had reversed. The tide of battle had turned.
"Once Ying Chen absorbs the curses from the entire building, he'll become even harder to deal with. I can't give him the time." Chen Ge's killing intent was absolute. Even though he knew this was a door-world and the Ying Chen before him was merely a memory of Ying Tong's, he still had no intention of letting the bastard go.
It was too dangerous. From the moment he had entered this door-world to the time he opened his eyes, the whole process hadn't actually taken all that long, but every single step had been fraught with peril — the slightest misstep would have cost him his life.
A high-intensity life-and-death struggle, his mind taut the entire way. Chen Ge's stamina had been drained enormously. Now that he had finally seized the initiative, he had to pull up the roots and leave the enemy no chance whatsoever.
There were too many corpses, and Ying Chen had hidden himself within the crowd. Even the Red Cloaks couldn't locate him quickly. But Ying Tong could.
Ying Tong knew Ying Chen's true face. No matter how Ying Chen hid, Ying Tong could find him in an instant.
Under the coordinated efforts of the numerous Red Cloaks, Ying Chen was ultimately driven to a dead end.
He stopped in front of his own door on the seventh floor. Both passages left and right had been sealed off. The entire corridor was covered in blood-red threads and webs of silk.