28: Chapter 28 The Seven-Day Pact
The image on the screen shifted.
It was data that Larry had dug up from the depths of the internet.
An old, yellowed photograph.
In the photo was a gloomy little girl wearing a white hospital gown, standing alone on a desolate ranch.
Samara Morgan.
The protagonist of the American version of "The Ring."
"She was nearly drowned by her biological mother, Evelyn, right after birth."
Larry's mechanical voice echoed in the room, recounting that tragic and horrific story.
"After being adopted by the Morgans, her abilities spiraled out of control, causing the horses on the ranch to go mad and commit suicide."
"Her adoptive mother, Anna, suffered a mental breakdown."
"Finally, on a rainy day, Anna suffocated her with a black trash bag and pushed her into a deep well."
"She lived at the bottom of the well for seven days."
"Her fingers clawed at the well walls until her nails fell off; amidst the darkness, cold, and hunger, her resentment transformed into a curse."
Qin Ming listened to these backstories.
There was no sympathy whatsoever.
In his eyes, this was all just a process of increasing his points.
The heavier the resentment, the higher the points.
"Did you get the digital copy of that videotape?" Qin Ming asked.
"Of course."
Larry hesitated for a moment. "Boss, that video... it truly has a certain type of rule-based curse code attached to it. Even when transcribed into a digital signal, the curse takes effect as soon as it is played."
"Are you sure you want to watch it?"
Generally speaking.
Normal people would avoid something like this as much as possible.
But Qin Ming was not a normal person.
He was a hunter.
"Play it."
Qin Ming pulled the curtains shut.
The room was plunged back into darkness, with only the eerie, cold light emitted by the television set.
He sat on the sofa, leaning forward, positioning himself as if he were about to watch a blockbuster movie.
"Very well."
The screen flickered.
Zzz—!
A harsh white noise erupted.
The image began to distort, with black and white static dancing across the screen.
A montage of illogical, oppressive imagery appeared before his eyes.
A solitary, dried-up well.
A herd of horses jumping into the sea to commit suicide.
A comb brushing long hair.
A fly crawling on the black and white screen.
And that woman brushing her hair in front of a mirror.
The entire sequence lasted only a few minutes.
There were no cheap jump scares, only a bone-chilling cold and despair.
That emotion known as "resentment" crawled directly into his brain along his optic nerves.
At the end of the footage.
It froze on that dried-up well.
The mouth of the well looked like an eye that refused to close in death, staring straight at Qin Ming on the other side of the screen.
Pop.
The screen went black.
It was over.
Qin Ming leaned back on the sofa, waiting quietly.
The room was deathly quiet.
Even Larry hid deep within the system, not daring to make a sound.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Ring—!!!
A shrill telephone ring suddenly exploded in the air.
The phone on the coffee table lit up.
There was no caller ID.
In this silent, dim room, the ringing was like a sharp knife, frantically slicing through one's nerves.
If it were an ordinary person, they would probably have wet their pants in fear by now.
But Qin Ming simply reached out calmly.
He picked up the phone.
Swiped to answer.
Placed it to his ear.
There was no sound from the receiver.
Only the sound of whistling wind, like an echo from the bottom of that deep well.
Then.
A young, cold, emotionless female voice spoke.
"Seven ... days ..."
This was the countdown to death.
It was also the declaration of the rules.
In seven days, she would crawl out of the screen and take the viewer's life.
Qin Ming held the phone.
There was no fear on his face.
Instead, he wore an excited smile, like someone who had just seen their prey fall into a trap.
"Is that it?"
Qin Ming said into the receiver, his tone as casual as if he were ordering takeout.
There was a noticeable silence on the other end of the line.
It seemed that even the evil spirit had never encountered such a reaction.
"Listen, kid."
A golden light flashed across Qin Ming's eyes, and his voice was low and magnetic.
"No need for all that trouble."
"Since you've given me seven days to prepare."
"Then you'd better wash your neck clean and wait in that well."
"Seven days from now."
"I will be there on time to harvest you."
After saying that.
Qin Ming hung up the phone decisively.