But Jiang Cheng clearly wasn't planning on letting him off the hook. "Do you know why nobody reads your books?"

The writer was stunned, stammering, "Wh... why?"

"Your stories are actually not bad, but your method of telling them is terrible. You spend too much time setting things up at the beginning, which just makes people bored."

"Do you know what the most important thing is when telling a good horror story?" Jiang Cheng said, "It's destroying the reader's sense of security."

"For example, let's say you're exploring an abandoned hospital all alone. What's scary isn't encountering a ghost as soon as you walk in, or describing in detail how terrifying the ghost looks. It's the sense of immersion as you gradually delve deeper, dissecting the whole thing."

"It's about letting the reader visualize the words you write into a scene in their mind, and then, along with the scene, the camera gradually moves forward, like watching a movie, following you as you explore the entire hospital."

"A highlight could be that you accidentally find an old photo pinned to the wall. The first time you look at it, you don't notice anything strange, so you put it back."

"But when you return the way you came, a glance out of the corner of your eye suddenly reveals that the photo on the wall is hanging upside down, even though you clearly remember putting it back the way it was."

"At this time, the light sweeps across, and you unconsciously look down and notice footprints on the dusty ground."

"These footprints are, of course, the ones you left behind, but among your footprints, there are actually women's high heel prints."

"You turn on your phone's flashlight and carefully follow the footprints, and without realizing it, you discover that the shoe prints have been following you all along."

"And what's even more terrifying is that the high heel prints are getting closer and closer to your footprints, eventually even overlapping with them."

"Just when you realize what's happening and you're trembling, wanting to look back, you suddenly feel an itch on your neck, like hair is hanging down."

Jiang Cheng paused here, then, in the writer's terrified gaze, slightly parted his lips, revealing a set of snow-white teeth. "Got it?"

Whether it was the story or Jiang Cheng's aura that overwhelmed them, the scene instantly quieted down.

Finally, A Zhe stood up, forcing himself to say, "Okay, your story sounds pretty good. Now it's their turn."

Finding a group of ghosts staring at him with ill intentions, Fatty started to tremble again. He looked at the doctor as if begging for help.

Fortunately, Jiang Cheng didn't let him down, and his sinister voice rang out again, "Don't worry, this is just my first story. I remember I said I had many more stories."

After saying that, without waiting for A Zhe and the others to react, Jiang Cheng began his second story, "I have a friend..."

This time, he told the story of Little Stone Village: a woman who was brutally murdered and still bore a bad name left a curse before her death, crawled out from the bottom of the Hanzhen Pond, and turned into the most terrifying urban legend in the midnight village.

While the iron was hot, Jiang Cheng went on to tell two more stories: the opera performance in the Old Master Huang's mansion, and the woman imprisoned in the hospital.

Jiang Cheng had a knack for telling stories. This might have something to do with his profession. He could always find the most frightening point in people's hearts, and then amplify it.

One terrifying story after another became increasingly dramatic in his mouth. After listening to these few stories, A Zhe, the woman in red, and the others all fell silent.

This guy's life... was it a little too hardcore?

A supernatural event that would kill someone else if they encountered it once was like a level-up game in his mouth. And what was even more terrifying was that his friends kept having accidents, but this guy was still alive and kicking, telling stories here.

Thinking of this, the way the others looked at Jiang Cheng became interesting.

This guy... it's better not to provoke him. Making friends with others at most costs money, but making friends with him costs lives!

Jiang Cheng seemed to have noticed that everyone's mood was not high, so he took the initiative to offer to tell them another story to cheer them up.

"You still have more stories to tell?" The writer was a little崩溃 (bēng kuì, overwhelmed), feeling that compared to the man's stories in front of him, everything he had written before was garbage.

Jiang Cheng smiled politely, and then, in a very gentle tone, told the last story of the day, about Wu, and the sister who created him.

Needless to say, the story was full of ups and downs. Jiang Cheng first vividly described how Wu used that big knife to chop up ghosts like cutting melons and vegetables. Then, Jiang Cheng focused on Wu's comic book.

When he said that the book could take the ghosts in, and then be controlled by Wu, the scene began to become exciting.

The female student kept wiping her sweat. Those originally blood-red and terrifying eyes also returned to normal. Not only was she not scary, but she also looked touching.

The woman in red's legs didn't move around anymore. The writer put his scarf back on and tied it in a nice knot.

The black car driver took off his vest and wrapped it around his left hand to make sure no skin was showing. Even A Zhe, who was the most unwilling to admit defeat, lowered his head and took out a pair of sunglasses from who knows where and quickly put them on his face.

Everyone gathered together, like a family, and unanimously gave Jiang Cheng a kind smile.

But to their surprise, Jiang Cheng seemed to have become interested and approached them step by step. "What are you laughing at? Is my story funny? Are you looking down on me?"

Hearing this, A Zhe and the others took a step back in unison.

Their gazes didn't stop on Jiang Cheng, but noticed his shadow. As Jiang Cheng walked over, his shadow actually stayed where it was.

Moreover, everyone suddenly felt a chill. The woman in red couldn't help but gulp.

She saw Jiang Cheng's shadow leaning against the pole of the bus stop sign. In the shadows, there was a pair of deep red eyes, coldly staring at them.

Seeing that the doctor had the upper hand, Fatty felt it was time for him to stand up. He abandoned Huai Yi and charged forward, saying angrily, "Are you looking down on us?"

Jiang Cheng pressed forward step by step, and A Zhe and the others could only keep retreating, until finally they retreated to the edge of the bus stop sign's light. One more step back, and they would enter the darkness.

Obviously, A Zhe and the others didn't dare to retreat any further.

They kept turning their heads to look behind them, their faces very nervous, as if there was something even more terrible hidden in the darkness.

"This gentleman," the writer panicked, "We absolutely don't mean to look down on you. Your story is wonderful, very wonderful."

"Yes, yes, we've never heard such a wonderful story," the black car driver wiped his forehead and said with a smile, "Most importantly, it's realistic, just like being there."

"That's natural. My stories are all true," Jiang Cheng said, squinting his eyes, as if very satisfied with their current attitude.

The situation was under control, and Jiang Cheng felt it was time to ask something.