lan stared blankly at the old man, almost reaching out to feel his forehead, wondering if he had a fever.

  Who the hell brings ingredients to a haunted house?

  The old man casually grabbed a long knife from beside the stove, a sinister grin spreading across his face as he sharpened the blade, heading towards Ian.

  "Aren't you my ingredient?"

  The old man no longer bothered to hide his greed, his beady little eyes bloodshot, a long, thin tongue repeatedly licking his lips.

  Ian's gaze fell on the long knife in the old man's hand.

  The blade was gleaming white, reflecting a chilling light, clearly a real, sharpened weapon, not some prop he'd imagined.

  "Are you guys taking this a little too far?" Cold sweat beaded on Ian's forehead as he involuntarily took a few steps back. "I know you haunted house people want to be authentic, but using a sharpened knife is a bit much. Someone could get hurt!"

  The old man sneered, "You think we're joking around?"

  "Aren't you?" Ian suddenly felt a sense of foreboding.

  "Heh heh!"

  The old man let out a weird laugh, and a shocking transformation began to occur on his body.

  The flesh of his palms twisted and writhed, cracking open to form a slit.

  The slit continued to widen until it took up half of his hand, and sharp teeth sprouted from the upper and lower edges. A scarlet tongue slithered out.

  The old man ripped off his shirt, and his emaciated stomach underwent a similar change. A massive mouth appeared there.

  The three new mouths started chattering amongst themselves.

  "Ah, such delicious human flesh!"

  "The boss is the best. He never forgets to summon us when there's good food to eat!"

  "Meat, human meat, I want to eat human meat!"

  The scene made Ian's blood run cold!

  He was certain this couldn't be achieved with makeup and props.

  Even movie special effects couldn't replicate what he was seeing.

  "My brothers, I'll make something delicious for you all!" the old man cackled, looking at his left and right hands. "Second Brother, Third Brother, today we're having pan-fried human hearts!"

  Then he looked at his stomach and said, "Fourth Brother, I always spoil you the most. Today, I'll make you a new dish."

  "What new dish?" the stomach asked excitedly.

  "Roasted human feet!" the old man laughed.

  The stomach was furious, gurgling loudly, "Boss, was I picked up from the garbage dump by Mom, or was I a bonus with a phone plan? Why do Second and Third Brother get pan-fried human hearts, but I have to eat roasted human feet? Aren't you afraid I'll catch athlete's foot from you?"

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  The old man patted his belly reassuringly, "Fourth Brother, don't worry, it'll be delicious!"

  "What if it's not good?" the stomach asked.

  The old man grinned, "Then I'll switch places with you. You can decide what you want to eat in the future!"

  "Okay, deal!" the stomach exclaimed.

  Ian's face was ashen, and he was already cursing under his breath.

  Damn you, boss, you son of a bitch tricked me again!

  You said it was just cosplay!

  Other people hire actors to cosplay as evil spirits!

  But you hired a real evil spirit to cosplay as a human!

  Well!

  If you put it that way, there's nothing wrong with it, right?

  It really is cosplay!

  It's just that the roles have been reversed.

  "Brother, stop wasting time talking to Fourth Brother and hurry up and start cooking!" his left and right hands shouted impatiently.

  Ian snapped out of it and pinched himself hard.

  Damn it!

  What kind of situation is this?!

  Why am I thinking about this?!

  The great strategist once said: "Of the Thirty-Six Stratagems, running is the best!"

  Ian turned and bolted!

  "Want to run? Not so easy!" The old man's beady little eyes locked onto Ian. He extended his hands, and two long tongues shot out, wrapping around Ian's legs!

  "Me too, me too!" The stomach wasn't to be outdone. It stretched out a fat tongue and licked every inch of Ian's body, inside and out, leaving no spot untouched.

  Ian's face turned pale, then red, as he gasped for air.

  "I can't take it anymore!"

  "I really can't take it anymore!"

  "Wait, I really can't!"

  He didn't know why, but in this life-or-death situation, shame overwhelmed his fear.

  Ian was tossed around until he was limp, and finally dragged back.

  The old man didn't waste time either, preparing various cooking utensils and ingredients.

  First, he scrubbed the big pot clean, then he brought out all sorts of seasonings.

  Halfway through mixing the seasonings, the old man suddenly frowned and turned to look at Ian. "Right, you said for the spice packet, besides star anise, bay leaves, and cinnamon, what else should I put in it?"

  "I told you, can you let me go?" Ian said.

  The old man nodded, "Okay."

  Ian was stunned.

  Does that work?

  Since when were ghosts so reasonable?

  "You also need to add fennel seeds, peppercorns, galangal, nutmeg..." Ian said tentatively.

  "Thank you," the old man nodded. "Brothers, we must keep our promises. Let him go."

  The next second, all the tongues wrapped around Ian retracted.

  Ian stood up in disbelief, overjoyed, and hurried toward the exit.

  See!

  Even ghosts keep their word these days. Some people can't even repay their debts. They're not even qualified to be ghosts!

  Ian hadn't taken two steps when he heard a voice from behind.

  "Alright, we let him run for two steps. Let's grab him back now!"

  Then, several tongues wrapped around him again, and that familiar sense of shame washed over him.

  "You're not a man of your word!" Ian shouted, feeling helpless and his eyes wide with rage.

  The old man chuckled, "Haven't you heard the saying? 'A man's promises are like a ghost's words!'"

  "Brothers, start the fire!"

  The left and right hands immediately went to work. One flapped back and forth, fanning the flames, while the other stuffed firewood into the stove.

  As for the stomach's tongue, it was responsible for controlling the desperately struggling Ian.

  Ian was filled with despair as he closed his eyes.

  Regret, anger, sadness, all sorts of emotions swirled inside him, a mixture of conflicting feelings.

  The old man held a knife and leaned in, grinning. "Since you taught me how to cook, I'll give you a chance to say your last words."

  Ian looked at him weakly and said, "Remember to add more chili and less salt."

  "Okay!" The old man waved the long knife in his hand, ready to begin his庖丁解人大业 (skilled butcher dismembering an ox, a Chinese idiom that refers to someone who is very skilled at their job) .

  Just then, the pendant on Ian's chest emitted a dazzling light!

  "Ah!"

  The old man screamed, instinctively covering his eyes.

  The dazzling light vanished in an instant.

  When the light dissipated, Ian was gone.

  "Where's he?"

  "Fourth Brother, I'm asking you, where is he? Aren't you responsible for controlling him?"

  "Ahhh... my pan-fried human hearts!"

  Seeing that the prey that was within reach had escaped, the old man went insane, and the three mouths he had awakened also went insane.

  Half an hour later, the old man crawled out of the ruined tavern in a disheveled state, his eyes bloodshot, muttering to himself.

  "Roasted human feet!"

  "I must taste the flavor of roasted human feet!"

  P.S. Thank you all for your gifts! Remember to click "More Updates" after reading!