Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

Sam nodded in deep agreement at Dean's remarks about the power of the Witcher.

His tall figure appeared remarkably serene under the dim car lights.

“Yes, Dean, we used to think we could solve everything on our own, but now it seems that individual strength is ultimately limited in the face of demons that are all over the world. The guild, and these growing new forces, are where our hope lies.”

Dean glanced at his brother, who was engrossed in examining the encrypted tablet, and tapped his knuckles against the iron punching post. "Hey, Sam, stop looking at yourself. What's the mission this time? And which blind devil is throwing a party in some nook and cranny?"

Sam frowned and turned the tablet screen toward Dean: "The objective of this mission is a bit unusual."

“It’s not a fixed demon’s lair, but a ‘haunted house’.” He pointed to the information above. “According to folklore and scattered reports collected by the guild, this haunted house has no fixed location. It will randomly appear in a building, and may even overlap with ordinary people’s residences, existing in a semi-realistic, semi-supernatural state.”

Dean leaned closer and looked at the descriptions on the screen, provided by netizens and survivors, which were often vague but full of fear. His expression gradually became serious.

Data shows that

This haunted house was formerly a notorious private prison, run by a local gang leader, and was a breeding ground for wrongful convictions.

They also engaged in usury, imprisoning many ordinary people who were driven to bankruptcy by exorbitant interest rates, and whose bodies were even used as a means of profit.

Even during its operation, the prison was plagued by ghost stories. Eventually, all the prisoners died mysteriously, the prison was abandoned, and the gang leader was executed.

It was later bought by a retired businessman with a penchant for the unusual and transformed into a prison-themed haunted house.

To prove its 'safety,' the old man stayed there for three days, declared that nothing was wrong, and then opened for business.

As a result, a tourist had an accident during the opening ceremony, employees resigned one after another and died mysteriously afterward, and the owner himself disappeared mysteriously after re-entering the premises.

His children burned down the haunted house and then moved abroad.

Strangely, the burned-down haunted house did not disappear. Instead, it reappears on average every three years, randomly replacing a private residence, luring unsuspecting people inside, and then disappearing along with the homeowner.

“Damn it,” Dean spat, “this doesn’t sound like a simple haunted house, it sounds like a living, foraging house.”

“Similar to Lor’s ghost ship,” Sam immediately realized, “its true form may exist in some subspace, only intersecting with reality under specific conditions. This guy has a bloody history, and this time we’re leading the team, we must take care of it.”

Dean glanced hesitantly in the direction of the training camp, where a group of newly recruited witchers were undergoing intensive training: "Wouldn't it be too risky to take these rookies to a place like this?"

“Don’t worry,” Sam pointed to himself, a barely perceptible glint of black light flashing in his eyes, “My strength has increased again, enough to handle it.”

"Moreover, they should also witness some truly bizarre events; they can't keep cleaning up the spirits that are afraid of pig iron."

Dean nodded in agreement, but then paused and lowered his voice to say, "Once we get back from this mission, we'll have to deal with the 'situation' inside you. It's been getting more and more active lately."

"We were delayed by the 'plague' incident last time, so Lor should be done by now. We can go and ask him when he gets back."

Sam saw the worry flash in his brother's eyes and nodded: "Okay, I'll do as you say. After we finish this job, we'll go ask L. Lor and see if there's any solution."

The team arrived at their target town at dusk.

The town seemed peaceful, but as night deepened, an invisible sense of oppression began to spread. The streets became less crowded, with only a few young people who had just come from a party still making noise.

Soon, 'Internet Addiction' pinpointed the location of the haunted house's appearance by analyzing the fluctuations in evil energy and abnormal reports.

On a quiet street on the edge of town, an ordinary two-story house is now shrouded in a layer of distorted light and shadow, almost imperceptible to the naked eye, resembling ripples on water. It has quietly transformed into a sinister, terrifying prison-themed haunted house.

It stood there silently, with a distorted shadow flickering behind the window.

When Dean and his team arrived, they saw several drunk young people laughing and joking as they walked toward the entrance of the haunted house.

"Hey, look at this! When did such a cool haunted house appear?" a scantily clad girl exclaimed with a thick lisp.

She saw the expressionless ticket seller at the door, with his deathly pale makeup, and actually reached out to touch his face. "Wow, buddy, your makeup is amazing, you look just like a real dead person. You'll definitely be the coolest guy on Halloween!"

Her companion, a boy who was still relatively sober, quickly pulled her back: "Jenny, don't do that, it's impolite!"

He gave the ticket seller an awkward smile.

The ticket seller was like a wax figure, unresponsive, mechanically handing out a few yellowed, moldy tickets. Several young people took the tickets with laughter and shoved each other through the door that seemed to lead to an abyss without paying.

When Dean and his group appeared at the end of the street, they just saw the last young man step into it and disappear.

"Damn it!" Dean cursed under his breath, rushing forward to follow him inside.

But the moment his foot stepped through the doorway, it felt as if he had stepped on an invisible, tough rubber membrane, and was violently bounced back.

Instantly, the angelic power within his body surged, and he took a sudden step, but missed, as if he had stepped on thin air. The part of the haunted house that he had stepped on became illusory.

"No tickets, no entry." The ticket seller finally spoke, his voice dry and hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing.

Dean turned around, suppressing his anger, and stared at the ticket seller: "Okay, I'll buy a ticket. How much?"

The ticket seller's stiff face seemed to twitch at the very slightest point of her mouth: "We don't want any money."

His empty gaze swept over Dean and the witchers behind him.
"As long as you're willing to 'buy a ticket,' you can get in."

A chill ran down the spines of all the Witcher.

This statement contains a dark, contractual power. Once verbally agreed, it is equivalent to signing a contract of servitude with one's soul as collateral, provided that the haunted house has the ability to collect this 'ticket money'.

This agreement does not kill people directly, but it enslaves their souls instantly after death.

Dean gave Sam a look.

Sam understood, and suddenly stepped forward. With lightning speed, a surge of mental power appeared, and he snatched all the remaining tickets from the ticket seller's hand.

"Ugh--!"

The ticket seller let out a shriek that was beyond human screech, and its image instantly twisted and melted!
Beneath the pale makeup lies a severely burned, wrinkled face and body oozing pus and blood; it is itself a powerful, resentful, vengeful scalded evil spirit.

"Do it!" Dean shouted.

The newly trained witchers, already prepared, immediately swarmed around. (End of Chapter)