Super Thrilling Live Broadcast

Chapter 3: Thrilling Interview

In Mandarin, Cantonese, Korean, and Japanese, the pronunciation of the number 4 is similar to "death," so it is often considered an unlucky number. For example, some buildings do not have the 4th or 14th floor, there are no ferries numbered 4 in Hong Kong, and Taiwan does not have license plates ending in 4. When choosing a phone number, we also often avoid numbers ending in 4.

I used to not believe in these superstitious things, but that night, as I looked up at the door number above my head, I fell into deep thought.

"Room 444."

The address on the small ad was completely correct. I couldn't believe that such a place actually existed in Jiangcheng.

"Do I want to go in?"

It felt like I was facing the final level of a game, and my emotions were complicated.

The pitch-black corridor seemed endless, and occasionally my feet would step on dry, cracked wood and dead insects. What was more concerning was that this was the fourth underground floor, my phone mysteriously went black, and my only weapon, the 8,000-volt German-made anti-wolf device, had stopped working. I had lost all my defenses and was about to face whatever was about to happen empty-handed.

The eerie and terrifying environment, combined with the hidden poem from the old lady, made me anxious and fearful.

"If everything is just a prank or a reality show, then the other party's scale is too big, and I have been vigilant everywhere, but I have not found any cameras or obvious signs of human activity, this does not seem like a joke."

My hand rested on the door handle, and I imagined that after opening the door, there would be a dozen cameras recording me, and a well-dressed host would give me a warm hug, holding a microphone and shouting loudly, "Congratulations, Mr. Gao, you have passed the test, here is your one million prize..."

Daydreaming was pleasant, but reality was always sad.

"Creak," accompanied by the unpleasant sound of the door opening and the swirling dust, I entered the room.

"Is anyone there?"

The dim light swayed overhead, and the carpet emitted a musty smell. Rotting tables and chairs were piled in the center of the room, and on the innermost wall, four large characters were written crookedly—"Hell Show."

There were no flashing lights, no cameras, and no ghosts with bloody faces and dangling heads.

The best scenario did not happen, and the worst scenario did not occur either. Inside the door was just an abandoned warehouse.

"I can't be careless. Since the address provided by Xia Qingzhi is correct, this is very likely the scene of her brother's murder, which means I am now in a room where a murder occurred."

I gently closed the door, and the dim light bulb overhead emitted a long-lost bright light, which slightly reassured me.

"Is anyone there?" The light was on, but the furnishings in the room gave the impression that it had been abandoned for a long time.

I stepped on the tattered, damp carpet, feeling very strange, as if I were stepping on hair coagulated with blood.

The floor groaned underfoot, and occasionally, through the holes, I could see the bodies of one or two unidentified insects.

Various thrilling words were carved on the tables and chairs in the center of the room, and in some places, there were long scratches left by nails, as if the people who had sat there had suffered extreme torture and pain.

Walking to the innermost part, the four large characters of "Hell Show" were painted in blood-red paint on the wall. At first, it didn't seem like much, but after looking at it for a long time, I always felt that there was something hideous and eerie in the words.

"Normal paint or paint that has been left for a long time will become chunky and discolored, with a reddish-brown color. This seems to be a characteristic of blood..."

There was also a small door on the inner wall. After searching outside with no results, I curiously pushed it open.

"Hiss..." The temperature in the room dropped sharply, and I took a deep breath, my body stiff at the door.

In a not-so-large room, there was a two-meter-long black sacrificial table, and on the other side of the table sat three people side by side!

They were dressed in suits, similar to what I had imagined radio hosts to be, but what made me feel uncomfortable was that all three of them were wearing paper masks, making them look like three paper-mache puppets at first glance.

"Are you here for an interview?" The man in the middle, mechanical-like, raised his head in jerks, his voice hoarse and low, as if opening a rusty tin can.

"Yes, I am here for an interview." The three people in front of me were unpredictable, perhaps they were the murderers who killed Xia Qingzhi's brother. In front of such cold-blooded killers, I must remain calm.

"I accidentally saw an advertisement for your company and was very interested in your Hell Show. In the internet age, I firmly believe that only innovation and uniqueness can lead to success, so I want to join you." Adapting to the situation and taking advantage of the situation, to enhance persuasiveness, I even placed the wrinkled little card on the black sacrificial table.

"Interested?" The three looked at each other, and whether it was my illusion or not, the paper masks on their faces seemed to reveal a chilling smile.

"You found your way here, which is quite a coincidence, but the host of Hell Show is not something that a living person can do." The man in the mask interlocked his hands under his chin, "Can I ask you a few questions?"

"Sure, of course." I remained unchanged, having been expelled from the police academy a few years ago, I had almost run all over the human resources departments of major companies in Jiangcheng with a forged resume. I had summarized my own experience in dealing with interviewers, the questions they often asked, and I had also found template answers online.

With a mysterious confidence, I nodded with a smile, "Go ahead."

"Name."

"Gao Jian."

"Do you have any relevant work experience? For example, have you ever live-streamed on other platforms?"

"I'm sorry, I don't have similar experience, but I have strong communication and adaptability skills, and my personality is very suitable for being a host." Being truthful, acknowledging my shortcomings, and emphasizing my strengths, this is one of the interview techniques.

"Not bad, but the host of Hell Show is different from other platform hosts. We not only need to communicate with the audience, but also need to protect ourselves and survive..."

"Survive..." When the interviewer said this, I realized that things were getting out of my control.

"Yes, it's simple, just survive." The man in the middle stroked the mask on his face, letting the paper mask reveal a sinister expression, "Hidden in our city are countless legends, the thirteen steps of the deserted village school, taking the last bus of the dead, the faces flickering in the early morning surveillance, the red-clothed little girl lingering at the door... There are too many such legends, are they all fiction?"

"Probably..." If it were before I came here, I would have said without

hesitation: Yes, all of those are made up.

"Wait, are you saying that the hosts of our Hell Show have to go to those places every day to explore spirits and find materials?!"

"Your reaction is quick, I admire you a little." The laughter was like a chicken, almost like a human couldn't make it, "Active in the shadows at midnight, hitting the most terrifying horror in this city, don't you think it's exciting?"

"Broadcasting scenes from ghost stories, that's quite sensational, maybe it can satisfy the psychological needs of a large number of people." I was just perfunctory in front of the three people in front of me, but in my heart, I was already backing down.

To be honest, I don't dislike watching horror and supernatural movies, but being the protagonist of a horror movie is a completely different matter.

Just imagine myself flipping coffins and prying open haunted house doors late at night, and possibly being chased by a bunch of ghosts and monsters, I felt uncomfortable all over.

"Ghost stories? No, no, it seems you still haven't figured it out." The man in the mask interlocked his hands under his chin, and the gaze hidden under the paper mask seemed to pierce through me, "The truth is always scarier than stories. I guarantee that the deepest despair you have ever experienced will start from the moment you know the truth."

"What do you mean?"

"The answer is in this city, you will become a witness to another world, to witness the real horror." The man in the mask's words had no hint of joking, his tone was flat and heavy, very oppressive.

"This doesn't sound like a performance..." Now I was ninety percent sure that Hell Show was not a prank or a variety show, and I seemed to have gotten myself into big trouble.

Leaning back, the idea of retreat arose.

But the man in the mask seemed to have known my thoughts long ago, and without any movement from him, the door behind me creaked shut on its own, slowly closing: "Don't be nervous, your interview has just begun."