Chapter Twenty-Six: The Streamer Goes to Commit a Crime

"Boss, what you mean is that you can’t call the police right now because you have no evidence. You need the police to see the evidence first, so you want to pull in some connections within the force?"

"Exactly. That’s precisely what I mean."

"I don’t have any connections with the police, but Yuan Rushuang’s father, Captain Yuan, is a renowned case-solver at the Donghai West Suburb Police Station. If he takes an interest in your case, there’s a good chance."

"That’s fantastic! Can you get in touch with Yuan Rushuang’s father?"

"I just need to ask Yuan Rushuang. But, once I get through, how are you going to show her father the evidence?"

Shang Yi’s original idea was to connect directly through a video call, but on second thought, he realized he could cast his net wider.

Why not just start a live stream? Besides Yuan Rushuang’s father, all the other viewers could serve as witnesses, and the recorded stream itself would be the strongest piece of evidence.

Moreover, if he completed his mission and successfully activated the Rune Apartment scenario, he could also use the live stream to advertise the haunted house in advance, building hype.

Last night, uploading a single video had brought him several hundred new followers, and the number of visitors to the haunted house had increased several times over. He had tasted the enormous power of online marketing.

His entire reason for coming to this haunted house was to complete tasks, unlock new scenarios, and help his haunted house thrive.

Going live would get the police’s attention and collect crucial evidence, and at the same time, generate traffic and exposure—a perfect two birds with one stone.

His only disadvantage in online promotion was a lack of accumulation and channels. As for content, he had no worries at all.

Today, while supervising tourists from the haunted house’s monitoring room, he’d taken some time to familiarize himself with this world’s streaming and short video industry. It was pretty much the same as it had been before he crossed over.

All major streaming and short video platforms were pulling out all the stops to fight for viewers’ attention, battling fiercely for dominance.

Audiences, bombarded with endless entertainment options, were already suffering from aesthetic fatigue.

What they craved was intense stimulation and irresistible hooks.

Across the whole platform, was there anything more thrilling than a live stream where you match wits with a murderer in a haunted apartment, your life hanging by a thread?

Now, the streaming industry was all about content being king.

Compared to other streamers, Shang Yi enjoyed an advantage they lacked.

Everything he shot, everything he experienced, was happening in real time.

There was no script. No one knew what the next second would bring.

He was simply completing his scenario activation mission, and the live stream was merely a way to record it all and gather the evidence police needed.

"I can start a live stream. Just have Yuan Rushuang’s father join my channel. The room name is my short video homepage ID."

"All right. I’ll hang up and contact Yuan Rushuang. If there’s any news, I’ll message you on PalmChat."

After hanging up, Shang Yi walked back to his room, setting his phone to silent.

He was worried that once he started, any app notifications or calls might alert the enemy, and then there’d be nothing for it but to regret.

Back in his room, he opened his short video backend’s streaming software, stopped the previous phone recording, and connected the pinhole camera to the stream.

Before crossing over, Shang Yi had been a horror game streamer, and he knew full well that short videos alone weren’t enough for promotion.

Short videos were typically just a few seconds long—at most a few minutes—which left little room for advertisements and limited ways to make money.

Many streamers would go live whenever they ran out of short videos, maximizing their follower count and engagement.

"Night Raid on a Haunted Apartment! Streamer’s Life Hanging by a Thread! The Deaths of Seven—What Caused the Tragedy? Face-to-Face with the Killer!"

Shang Yi typed in the stream’s title, deliberately making it as shocking as possible to draw in bored passersby.

Short video streaming was very different from professional streaming software, with far fewer categories.

Most titles were about pretty girls, goddesses, or long legs.

Compared to those, Shang Yi’s title was like a shot of adrenaline, instantly grabbing everyone’s attention.

Once he started the stream, all his short video page followers received a notification.

It wasn’t long before viewers began to enter the channel.

At this moment, Tian Yuan messaged Shang Yi on PalmChat: "Captain Yuan Qi, Yuan Rushuang’s father, has already entered your live stream."

"He’s at home resting, so he can watch. There were six of us at your haunted house today, and we’ve all joined your stream."

Shang Yi replied immediately, "Thanks for the support! See you all in the stream!"

By now, the chat had exploded.

Wet Hands: "So this is the idiot who posted that video last night? Damn you!"

Chilly Breeze: "What’s going on? The stream hasn’t even started, and there’s already drama? So hardcore?"

Your Wife Betrayed Me: "One arrow to the sky! Beastly streamer, come meet your fate!"

Walls Smeared with Excrement: "If the streamer dies tonight, will we be charged with standing by and doing nothing?"

Only Money Left: "Stop guessing, everyone. The streamer’s clearly the killer. Case closed!"

Seeing how enthusiastic the chat was, Shang Yi felt he couldn’t just lurk any longer, so he started typing: "Folks, as a haunted house owner and a professional horror game streamer, I take scaring people very seriously."

"Tonight’s stream is 100% real—no script, no actors, just genuine danger. Only with your life on the line can you truly feel what real thrill is!"

"You’re always welcome to visit my haunted house—the address is…"

Wet Hands: "Streamer, you’re like a dung beetle on a rocket—riding high but not seeing your own doom."

Your Wife Betrayed Me: "A bat with a chicken feather stuck on—what kind of bird do you think you are?"

Sometimes Nostalgia Hurts: "Streamer, you’re in the wrong place. You should go to 38 Zhongcheng Road, West Suburb Psychiatric Hospital. Safe travels!"

No Cure for Stupidity: "This streamer’s seriously ill. Any experts around to diagnose? Looks like we’ve discovered a new kind of lunatic!"

Lines of ridicule scrolled across the screen, but Shang Yi wasn’t angry. "Practice is the only test of truth. I won’t let you down."

As viewership slowly climbed, Shang Yi began to lay out the background of the Yongan Apartment tragedy, combining online reports with his own deductions and typing it out on the screen.

"The Yongan Apartment Massacre happened more or less as I’ve described. In my quest for material for my haunted house, I risked everything by sneaking into the haunted apartment—only to discover the killer was right by my side!"

Chilly Breeze: "Streamer, you’re awesome. If you die in the haunted house tonight, I’ll mourn you—loudly, for one whole second."

Only Money Left: "Streamer, you really can spin a yarn. Are all these killers your distant relatives? Your acting’s so good it feels real."

Subtle Difference: "I looked it up—Donghai City’s Yongan Apartment case is real. You keyboard warriors can’t even be bothered to check?"

Tian Yuan: "I’ve been to the streamer’s haunted house. I believe he’s not lying. This is a genuine haunted exploration."

Sometimes Nostalgia Hurts: "All conmen tell nine truths and one lie. Even if the streamer’s telling the truth, it doesn’t prove he’s actually there. Look at that room—it's plain, nothing scary about it."

Monk Who Undresses: "By my eye, this room’s at least thirty square meters, with a double bed. Doesn’t look like a couple’s room. The streamer’s probably going to stream some bromance."

Watching the stream of sarcastic comments, Shang Yi hadn’t planned to react, but these viewers were relentless. He couldn’t help himself: "Guys, could you focus less on being so snarky and show a little respect for the streamer? I’m risking my life for your entertainment here!"

Attack on Titan: "Press 91444 to show respect."

No Cure for Stupidity: "I’ll bring incense for the grass on the streamer’s grave—a sign of respect."

Faced with this crowd of old hands, Shang Yi could only smile wryly. They were even more mischievous than his previous-life followers.

He really couldn’t be bothered with what they were saying anymore—let them say what they liked.

Seeing the stream’s popularity rise higher and higher, he decided to ignore the chat and focus on his task.

He slipped his phone into his pocket, adjusted the micro-camera at his collar, and began the first step of his plan.

He took out his multi-purpose army knife, using the screwdriver and pliers to remove a panel from the bedside cabinet.

Then, using the hacksaw and file, he cut a small piece from the panel and put it in his pocket.

Afterwards, he cleaned up the debris on the floor and quickly left the room.

Checking to see that the corridor was empty, he crept downstairs and slipped into the courtyard outside the living room.

Worried that the Hanging Man on the fourth floor might spot him, he kept to the shadows as much as possible.

He made his way to the base of the wall beneath a lit fourth-floor window, took out his military binoculars, and peered up.

Because of the low angle, he could only see the ceiling and the tops of some furniture—no sign of anyone inside.

Glancing up at the high wall behind him, an idea struck.

He hung the binoculars around his neck, pulled out a military grappling hook, swung it a few times, and tossed it up to catch the edge of the wall.

Gripping the rope, he quickly hauled himself up.

Standing atop the wall, he raised his binoculars again and looked into the two fourth-floor windows.

This time, he finally spotted the upper body of the Hanging Man and the head of an old woman.

Having confirmed which room the Hanging Man was in, he quickly slid back down the rope.

He pulled down the grappling hook, returned the binoculars and hook to his portable space, and hurried back to his room.

Opening his window, he leaned out and gauged the position of the fourth-floor roof.

Once more, he took out the grappling hook and flung it upwards.

After several tries, he finally caught the eaves of the fourth floor.

He spat into his hands, gripped the rope, and swung himself out the window.

Thanks to the strength and stamina boosts the system had given him, he made short work of the climb—soon he was crouched beneath the eaves on the fourth floor, and in another moment, he pulled himself up onto the rooftop.