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“Hahahaha!!!” A burst of laughter erupted from behind, as Ming Ming Liang and Miao Lang poked their heads out of the tent, grinning widely at Scar Monkey.
Behind Scar Monkey stood Feng Wuhen, who was laughing so hard he could hardly stand up.
Feng Wuhen pointed at Scar Monkey while clutching his stomach, tears almost streaming from his eyes. “Oh my God! I was just going to give you a little scare, but how did you notice me so early? Yelling like that, you could wake the dead!”
Ming Ming Liang chimed in teasingly, “I expected you to shout, but I didn’t think it would be so heart-wrenching. You really are a coward, Monkey!”
Scar Monkey’s feelings were a tangled mess—fear, disappointment, anger, and exhaustion all swirled together in his mind like a pot of porridge.
He took a few deep breaths and slammed the pebble he had just picked up onto the ground. Irritated, he said, “I can’t stand you guys. Two words: boring!”
With that, he turned away from them and angrily retreated into the tent, shouting at Ming Ming Liang, “You! Go hang out with Wuhen and leave me alone for a bit!”
Ming Ming Liang felt a bit wronged as she replied, “Are you really mad, Monkey? That’s such a buzzkill! We were just trying to have some fun and lighten the mood.”
Scar Monkey crawled into his sleeping bag and turned his back on her, refusing to respond.
Ming Ming Liang mumbled something under her breath before getting up to leave the tent. Just before stepping out, she turned back and lowered her voice seriously. “I was just joking earlier, but what I saw during the day—the white shadow—was definitely real!”
Scar Monkey didn’t even glance back; he disdainfully muttered one word: “Tch!”
Then, the tent was left with only him inside. The entire world seemed to quiet down in an instant.
As Ming Ming Liang stepped out of the tent, Scar Monkey felt a twinge of regret.
Earlier, when a few of them had teamed up to tease him, Wuchang Ghost's tent had remained tightly shut, without a hint of movement.
He had shouted so loudly that even if there were ghosts around, they would have been startled.
Sometimes, a lack of response can be the most abnormal behavior of all.
The mysterious white shadow, though he had never seen her with his own eyes, he could certainly feel the intense sensation of being watched and followed.
He turned over; the earlier fright had left him even more exhausted, and soon he drifted off to sleep.
The headlamps in the six tents gradually went out, leaving only a cold moonlight that cast a chill over the ground. The occasional chirping of crickets and croaking of frogs filled the air, creating an atmosphere that felt peaceful and serene.
In the middle of the night, Scar Monkey woke up for no apparent reason.
Many people have experienced waking up inexplicably in the dead of night; there’s a saying that it’s because a spirit has passed by at that moment.
Scar Monkey was aware of this belief, and it made him feel a bit anxious.
Moonlight filtered through the thin fabric of the tent; the wilderness night seemed unnaturally bright.
Suddenly, Scar Monkey felt an urge to go outside, to stand in the moonlight and smoke a cigarette.
He rarely smoked, as he seldom felt nervous. But in this moment, he needed nicotine to steady his trembling nerves.
So, he crawled out of his sleeping bag, fumbled for his cigarette pack and lighter, and stepped out of the tent.
Once outside, he instinctively scanned the colorful tents of his companions. When his gaze landed on the tent of the Wuchang Ghost, his heart suddenly tightened, and it felt as if his blood had frozen in an instant!
What he saw was like a scene straight out of a horror movie, vividly unfolding before his eyes!
A shadow in white sat quietly in front of the Wuchang Ghost's tent, draped in the pale gray light of the moon.
Its shoulders were slightly hunched, and above its neck, there was shockingly no head!
Scar Monkey rubbed his eyes vigorously, trying to confirm whether what he was seeing was just a figment of his imagination.
He steadied his trembling legs and reached into the tent to grab his headlamp. Shining it toward the "thing," he called out with a quivering voice, "Who are you?"
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