Heart-Pounding Terror

[Pure horror + episodic stories + no romance + highly intelligent protagonist + endless twists]

Mr. Qi, a writer of supernatural fiction, always says that the scariest stories carry the "smell of earth." But when a submission from someone using the ID "Xiaoman" popped into his inbox, what he smelled was **an overpowering stench of blood and decay**.

"The Blood-Red Orphanage". The title was as blunt as an old scar.

The writing was a living portrait of hell: **On a rainy night eighty years ago, the rotting wooden floorboards of an orphanage groaned their death throes under trampling feet; the cheap soap scent of the caretakers mingled with the sour sweat of terrified children; warm drops of blood splattered onto a cold statue of the Madonna as the cleaver fell...** The details were so vivid that Mr. Qi's fingertips went numb. This wasn't fiction. It was **a memory carved into the soul, playing back!**

He immediately searched for "Xiaoman," but the page returned a cold message: "This user does not exist."

His professional instincts led him to access an encrypted archive and enter the coordinates from the story: "The foothills of Yunyin Mountain, western suburbs."

A sealed record appeared: **Eighty years ago, a horrific massacre at the Love and Care Orphanage left everyone dead. Five murderers disappeared, and the case remains unsolved to this day!**

The name, the location, the missing killers... Everything in Xiaoman's story **matched perfectly!**

A chill exploded through him.

A centenarian couldn't have written this, let alone submitted it and vanished at once!

The gears of logic spun frantically, grinding every reasonable explanation to pieces and leaving just one horrifying answer:

**This wasn't an adaptation. A vengeful spirit haunting the ruins of a murder house was sending its own memories of death into the human world through the internet!**

Mr. Qi decisively sealed the file and marked it "Land-Erosion Level: Do Not Approach."

But the final IP address used by the "Xiaoman" account before it vanished pointed to the coordinates of the old orphanage, now deep inside a nature reserve... There wasn't even a signal tower there!

A month later, a new email broke into his silent inbox.

Sender: **Lost Lamb**

Subject: "Baby Soup" - The Baby Girl with Seven Moles and the Everlasting Kitchen Fire

Mr. Qi stared at the subject line. The eerie blue glow of his e-cigarette reflected in his suddenly constricted pupils.

He knew this feeling: another submission with the **"smell of earth" from the abyss**.

And the sender this time, "Lost Lamb"... Could they, too, be standing amid the resentful ruins of another place, tapping at a keyboard across the divide of time and space?

Attachment downloading. The progress bar burned faintly like a fuse leading to hell.

Theme: "Those who gaze into the abyss will become the next chapter of the abyss."