Hearing Feng Tian's exclamation, Kuang Feifan paused for a beat, but immediately realized trouble was brewing, and he understood what Feng Tian meant by oversight.

At that moment, the sounds in the living room suddenly vanished, utterly silent, so unnervingly still that for a fleeting second, Kuang Feifan thought he was hallucinating, and he couldn't help but call out, "Feng Tian?"

Instantly, he heard his own voice, slightly trembling, tinged with panic.

It was then he discovered the problem: not only was the familiar static from the television gone, but the shrieking sounds from He Xu and Zhu Li had also ceased.

The TV still showed no signal, just a screen full of snow, but absolutely no sound. He Xu and Zhu Li, however, were staring fixedly at the screen, eyes wide open, mouths agape to their absolute limit, allowing clear, glistening saliva to dribble uncontrollably from their lips, one drop after another falling onto their chins and splashing down. Watching them, it seemed as if they were witnessing something profoundly shocking on screen.

Kuang Feifan couldn't help but turn his gaze to the television, trying to decipher something from the massive screen that dominated almost an entire wall, but at first, beyond the chaotic expanse of white noise, he could discern absolutely nothing.

Unexpectedly, abruptly, right next to Kuang Feifan’s ear, a piercing scream erupted.

Unprepared for it, hearing that single shriek in the silent living room made Kuang Feifan’s blood run cold, causing his entire body to involuntarily shudder.

He could distinguish that cry as a genuine shriek, clearly human in origin, saturated with sheer terror and despair—a sound so potent it compelled anyone hearing it to sympathize uncontrollably.

The cry was steeped in an intense flavor of dread, as if the source was facing the imminent arrival of death, utterly unable to flee, forced to watch oblivion approach, the scream erupting involuntarily just before accepting the inevitable fatal conclusion, leaving behind nothing but fear and hopelessness.

The scream was drawn out, its tail end trailing from high to low pitch, yet it failed to conceal the profound resonance it instilled in those who heard it.

Kuang Feifan did not know if He Xu and Zhu Li heard the same scream, but their motionless state suggested they were likely experiencing the same thing, for since that cry began, Kuang Feifan had been largely incapable of doing anything except sitting rigidly on his chair, trembling like a statue.

In a daze, his eyes fixed on the screen, he thought he glimpsed a mouth twisted in agony amidst the swirling snow. Yes, just a mouth—he couldn't tell if it belonged to a man or a woman, a child or an adult. A wide-open mouth, lips trembling—nothing more.

Kuang Feifan felt his mind go utterly blank, as if control over his physical body had been instantly ceded; only his breathing seemed normal. Realizing this, his own breathing involuntarily grew rapid.

And just then, as if the first scream had not yet faded, a second one ripped through the air, even more terrifying. This time, it wasn't a single sound, but a continuous barrage of shrieks, equally saturated with extreme terror and an ineffable, heart-rending quality. Kuang Feifan couldn't distinguish gender, nor could he even tell if the cascade of sounds came from one person or many shouting in unison.

The incessant screams hammered his ears, causing his entire body to tremble uncontrollably. Moreover, he felt his brain boiling like water, an agony impossible to articulate.

Gradually, the fear and despair embedded in the shrieks began to infect him. Not only did he feel sharp, stabbing pains in his chest, but his trembling transitioned into tremors that racked his whole body. This was merely the physical toll; the psychological torment intensified relentlessly. The sheer hopelessness of facing death spontaneously bred a single thought in Kuang Feifan.

"Let me die now!"

The moment this notion surfaced, it magnified infinitely, involuntarily compelling him to seek a means of ending his life.

Yet, Kuang Feifan had undergone extensive training. Despite the overwhelming psychic assault, a sliver of clarity remained in his mind. This allowed him to realize that, soon, the continuing screams would drive him insane. Recognizing this, he desperately tried to force himself to calm down.

It had to be said that his past experiences and training gave Kuang Feifan an edge over ordinary people in steadying his spirit. After an indeterminate time, he felt he could regain control over his thoughts, though he was drenched in sweat, his back feeling as if it had been drenched in icy water.

Then, astonishingly, he managed to move his neck—his first physical action since hearing the screams. This slight twist pulled his gaze away from the television screen.

The shift in focus revealed something even more horrifying: on the sofa not far away, directly facing the TV, He Xu and Zhu Li had begun reaching out, their hands gripping each other's throats. Their eyes bulged, their faces flushed crimson, and their tongues lolled out, possessed by an urge that seemed only satisfied by strangling the other to death.

In that moment, he never doubted that He Xu and Zhu Li were hearing the same screams. Only such visceral, soul-deep cries could evoke such an emotional resonance in every listener, and like the wails of demons from hell, they lured people into losing self-control, yet simultaneously craving death.

Kuang Feifan wanted to shout—anything—thinking an outcry might provide some meager defense against the sound, but after straining for what felt like ages, he could only force out a gurgling sound in his throat.

Startled, he felt a surge of confusion. He could clearly perceive that although he could only produce involuntary noises, these sounds were infused with intense components of agony and despair. Even if they couldn't compare to the main shriek, they shocked him profoundly, causing even more cold sweat to bead on his brow.

This shock was primarily due to the returning thread of reason in his mind, which made one thing perfectly clear: the longer this persisted, the worse it would be for him. Looking at He Xu and Zhu Li, he understood that the screams would soon commandeer their emotions entirely, stripping away any remaining willpower, leading to a loss of self—the outcome being either madness or self-destruction.

An uncontainable, bone-deep terror rose from his core. Unlike previous encounters, he still didn't know what he was facing—or rather, he had seen nothing at all. It was an intangible, unseen force, yet its sound felt utterly real, making him doubt he could endure it based on sound alone.

However, perhaps because he was no longer looking at the television, although the screams continued to pierce his ears one after another, the chaotic jumble in his thoughts seemed to gradually settle. Kuang Feifan felt his capacity for critical thought slowly returning, or rather, the ability to think for himself, because he thought of Feng Tian.

What was Feng Tian doing?

He had no idea how much time had passed, only that he was on the verge of collapse, too physically exhausted to keep holding on.

He believed He Xu and Zhu Li on the sofa felt the same; their bloodshot eyes seemed ready to pop, and the knuckles of their gripping hands were drained of color from exertion, appearing as pale as the hands of the dead.

"They are about to die, and I am close too. Will Feng Tian die as well?"

Tormented by a sense of powerlessness, Kuang Feifan slowly closed his eyes, preparing to accept any possible outcome.

Suddenly, with a sharp CRACK, a massive impact sound rang out, immediately followed by the sound of shattering glass. Then, everything went silent.

The cessation of the persistent noise caused Kuang Feifan to convulse violently, involuntarily curling into a tight ball in his chair.

Simultaneously, a wave of piercingly cold water descended from above, dousing him head to toe. As his body was already huddled, the water soaked him completely. The bone-chilling cold made Kuang Feifan jolt involuntarily, immediately followed by a series of uncontrollable sneezes. He had no time or energy to consider the source of the water.

Once his bizarre bout of sneezing finally passed, he looked up and saw Feng Tian standing next to his chair, with a washbasin lying on the floor by his feet.

Without waiting for a question, Feng Tian reached out, pulled him up, and yanked off the gloves he was wearing.

Seeing the grim set of Feng Tian's expression, Kuang Feifan knew this was not the time for inquiries. He glanced back at He Xu and Zhu Li; both were now soaked to the skin and slumped motionless on the sofa, but seeing the rise and fall of their chests, he breathed a sigh of relief—at least they weren't dead.

Looking at the TV again, the LCD screen bore a spiderweb of cracks, and a vase, already broken into several pieces, lay on the floor in front of it.

Kuang Feifan wiped his drenched face, unsure if it was sweat or water, and distinctly smelled a strange odor in his nostrils.

Feng Tian seemed too pressed for time to explain everything. He glanced around vigilantly, and after pulling Kuang Feifan to his feet, he rushed to He Xu and Zhu Li. He snatched a cushion and roughly wiped Zhu Li's face a few times. As soon as it was barely dry, he pulled out a bottle containing dog's blood, opened the cap, and poured it directly onto her face.

Well, she was certainly drenched in dog's blood now.

Finishing there, he beckoned Kuang Feifan over.

"Quick, carry He Xu. Remember to use the hand wearing the prayer beads to support him."

However, Kuang Feifan was utterly weak and powerless. Even though He Xu wasn't a large man, Kuang Feifan couldn't possibly lift him alone. Helpless, Feng Tian had to assist, and together they hoisted the seemingly unconscious He Xu, hurrying toward the training room.

The moment the three of them stepped into the training room, the door slammed shut behind them with a heavy BANG, as if shoved hard by a massive force.