Terror has inertia. Even though the desperate long night had finally passed, even though the thick, ink-like darkness outside the window was being replaced by faint, struggling rays of dawn penetrating the dense fog, everything experienced last night remained firmly lodged in my mind like a nightmare I couldn't wake from.

  I curled up in the cold sleeping bag, my body as stiff as a stone. The headlamp had long been extinguished, but my eyes were bloodshot, dry, and stinging from a sleepless night and extreme fear. Outside the tent, the abandoned house gradually revealed its dilapidated and gloomy silhouette in the morning light. Light slanted through holes in the roof and broken windows, forming mottled beams in the dusty, eerie air, like sighs left behind when God abandoned this place.

  Dead silence. Still dead silence.

  But this daytime dead silence was different from the malicious and restless dead silence of the night. It was more like the calm after a storm, a state of exhaustion and numbness after enduring a catastrophe. It seemed as if the entire village, after a night of madness, had temporarily retracted its claws and sunk into a brief dormancy.

  However, this fleeting, false sense of security did nothing to soothe the panic in my heart.

  Scene after scene from last night replayed in my mind like the clearest movie: the heavy thud of the door closing like the gates of hell; the terrifying symphony of mixed weeping, chanting, and scratching sounds; and... the soul-shattering "ghost wall"!

  I clearly remembered leaving the tent, going no more than twenty meters, yet instantly falling into a desperate maze formed by cold stone walls, menacing thorns, and boundless thick fog. The extreme fear and despair of distorted space, completely lost sense of direction, no way to survive, no response to cries for help – even recalling it now made me shiver and struggle to breathe.

  Was it really a hallucination? A mental derangement caused by extreme fear and fatigue?

  I wasn't sure.

  But the touch of the cold stone walls, the sting of thorns tearing my clothes, the damp chill of the thick fog entering my nostrils... it all felt too real. And the sudden gust of wind, the bizarre sight of the scenery twisting and dissipating in the wind...

  I'd rather believe it was a hallucination, but deep down, a voice told me it wasn't. Last night, I truly touched the deepest, darkest, most incomprehensible side of this village. The "door" the old man mentioned might have really "closed" in some supernatural way after dark. And I had almost been locked outside the "door" forever.

  And those sounds...

  I carefully recalled them. The low sobbing, like countless冤魂 (wronged souls); the monotonous, eerie chanting that seemed capable of capturing one's soul; and... the extremely faint, yet scalp-numbing "sha sha" sound, like fingernails scratching against a wall, seemed to come from just outside my tent, near the wall by my head!

  I sat up abruptly, ignoring the stiffness and soreness of my body, scrambled to the tent entrance, and with trembling hands, slowly unzipped it, warily peering out.

  The morning light barely illuminated parts of the room. I carefully examined the ground, the walls.

  Besides thick dust, bird droppings, and scattered trash, there were no unusual marks on the ground. No footprints (except my own), no drag marks, no signs of anything having been moved.

  I turned my gaze to the wall where I heard the scratching sound last night. It was a mottled brick wall, most of the plaster peeled off, revealing the greenish-gray bricks and yellowish mud mortar underneath. The wall was covered in cracks and mold stains. I moved closer, examining it carefully, inch by inch.

  Nothing... absolutely nothing.

  No new scratches, no fingernail marks, no evidence that "something" had been scratching there last night.

  A deeper chill crept into my heart. If it wasn't a physical scratching, then what was it? Did the sound itself have penetrating power? Or... did the sound not come from outside the wall at all, but... echo directly in my mind?

  This thought made me feel dizzy and nauseous.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  And the eerie children's song... the one heard at dusk, and the one faintly heard amidst the cacophony of terrifying sounds last night... its innocent yet twisted tune, thinking of it now, still felt like cold little hands stroking my spine.

  I collapsed onto the cold ground, feeling extremely exhausted and weak, both physically and mentally. Fear, like a slow-acting poison, had deeply permeated every cell of my being during the night-long ordeal. I began to doubt my judgment, my senses, even my sanity.

  Staying here, I would be driven mad.

  Leave! I must leave as soon as possible!

  This thought surged up again, strongly.

  But... how to leave?

  The way here was difficult and vague, and last night's "ghost wall" experience told me that finding the right way out, even during the day, would be far from easy. Moreover, the old man had warned that the "door" was already closed...

  I took out the GPS device. The screen still showed a weak signal, the little red dot representing me flickering alone in a green area without detailed markings. It could indicate direction, but couldn't tell me which path was safe, and which path... led to a dead end.

  I dejectedly put down the GPS, feeling a deep sense of powerlessness.

  Just then, my gaze fell on the audio recorder placed aside.

  Right, the recording!

  I practically lunged for it, grabbed the cold recorder, put on the headphones with trembling hands, and started replaying last night's recording.

  The recording began before I went out to investigate. The first half consisted of those chaotic and terrifying background noises – weeping, chanting, scratching... The sounds were amplified in the headphones, clearer and more terrifying than hearing them live last night. I held my breath nervously, listening intently, hoping to find some different clues.

  Then, there was the rustling sound of me crawling out of the tent, and... my terrified screams and hoarse cries for help!

  "No! No!!" "Xiao Zhang! Meiling! Help!!"

  The recording faithfully documented my despair and terror when encountering the "ghost wall" last night. Even listening again, the immersive feeling of suffocation still made me tremble all over.

  In the recording, besides my screams and cries for help, the background sounds remained the same chaotic noises, seemingly unchanged by my appearance.

  Until... the sound of that gust of wind!

  The recorder's microphone was clearly disturbed by the strong wind, emitting a loud "whooshing" sound that nearly drowned everything out. But in the gaps between the wind's howls, I thought... I thought I heard an extremely faint sound, different from the other background noises.

  The sound was like... a contemptuous, cold... snicker?

  I slammed the pause button, my heart pounding wildly.

  Was it an auditory hallucination? Or...

  I turned the volume to maximum and repeatedly played that short segment obscured by the wind noise.

  "Whoosh... (Tch...) ... Whoosh..."

  Yes! There really was an extremely brief and faint sound, like a cold laugh! It was mixed in with the wind noise, fleeting, yet filled with indescribable malice and mockery!

  It was as if, at my most desperate, most terrified, on the verge of collapse, "something" was watching coldly from the side, letting out a disdainful snicker!

  A chill shot from the top of my head to the soles of my feet!

  I frantically ripped off the headphones, as if the sound coming from them carried some kind of curse.

  This village... this village really has "something"! And that "something" seems... to possess intelligence, to understand how to play with people's minds!

  I could no longer control my emotions, slammed the recorder hard on the ground, held my head, and let out a suppressed, desperate groan.

  Fear, exhaustion, confusion, helplessness... all negative emotions burst forth like a flood, completely overwhelming the last remnants of my sanity.

  I don't know how long it took before I recovered from this near-breakdown state. The tears had long dried, leaving only a burning pain in my eye sockets.

  I picked up the recorder from the ground again; luckily, it wasn't broken. With trembling hands, I pressed the record button again.

  "Cough cough... I... I must record this..." My voice was hoarse and hollow, devoid of last night's sobbing, left with only a near-numb despair. "Last night... last night's 'ghost wall'... might not have been a hallucination. The recording... there's a sound in the recording... a kind of... snicker... right when the wind was strongest... It... it was playing with me..."

  "This place... is too evil... I don't know how much longer I can hold on..."

  "And... Xiao Zhang and Meiling..."

  My voice paused here. Last night's terror had made me almost forget their existence. But thinking of their reckless and fearless manner now, a strong sense of unease welled up.

  How were they? Did they also hear those terrifying sounds last night? Did they encounter the "ghost wall"? Are they... still alive?

  Although I felt helpless about their recklessness, although their noise last night might have disturbed something, in this desperate place, they were the only ones I could call "companions". If something happened to them... then I would truly be completely isolated and helpless.

  I must find them! Or at least, confirm if they are safe.

  This thought gave me a little motivation to act.

  I struggled to my feet, feeling my legs as heavy as lead. Leaving the tent and most of the supplies behind, I only put on a small backpack, took the camera, recorder, water, a little food, trekking poles, and that wooden stick, took a deep breath, and stepped out of this gloomy stronghold once again.

  The fog outside seemed slightly thinner than at dawn, but the sunlight was still weak, unable to penetrate the thick mist, only enveloping the entire village in a dull, lifeless gray light.

  The aftershocks of terror still lingered over me. Every dark window, every swaying shadow of a tree, seemed to hide danger.

  But I forced myself to lift my head, square my shoulders, grip the weapon in my hand tightly, and slowly, cautiously walked in the direction I remembered the couple heading yesterday.