The ancient return was exposed by his sister's live stream.

First floor, second floor, third floor… each floor was pretty much the same: dusty gray walls, dark red fire doors, and emergency lights humming overhead. Chen Siyao counted the floors, and when she reached the tenth floor, the air started to cool. Not the kind of coolness from air conditioning, but a chill that seeped into her bones.

"Brother Chen Hao, are we almost there?" Yang Wanqing's voice echoed in the stairwell.

"It's still early," Chen Hao said steadily.

When Chen Siyao reached the twentieth floor, she began to hear a sound. It was very faint and distant, like someone crying. Not a loud wail, but a suppressed, intermittent sob.

She instinctively wanted to turn around, but remembering her brother's words, she forced herself to stay inside.

"Brother, I hear someone crying."

"Ignore them," Chen Hao's voice came from ahead. "They're testing you."

Chen Siyao swallowed hard, grabbed Yang Wanqing's hand, and quickened her pace. When they reached the twenty-fifth floor, the crying stopped and was replaced by laughter.

That high-pitched, thin laughter sounded like a child's laughter, but there was no joy in it, only a chilling malice.

Yang Wanqing's legs felt a little weak, but she didn't stop. She whispered, "Yaoyao, it's so cold in here."

"That's normal. This is the entrance where Yin energy gathers. The higher you go, the heavier the Yin energy becomes," Chen Hao explained calmly, his tone utterly unflappable.

Twenty-eighth floor. Chen Hao stopped in his tracks.

"arrive."

Chen Siyao and Yang Wanqing stood behind him, panting, looking up. The stairwell on the 29th floor was blocked by a layer of black fog. The fog was so thick it seemed tangible, churning and writhing under the stark white emergency lights, as if something was struggling inside.

There were sounds in the fog, many sounds—crying, laughing, screaming, whispering, all mixed together. It was impossible to make out what they were saying, but each sound felt like a needle pricking your ears.

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name 1110 ...

The surrounding temperature dropped a degree, and the lights in the corridor began to flicker slightly, sometimes bright and sometimes dim, exuding an eerie atmosphere.

The viewers in the live stream were on tenterhooks.

"This is... the Ghost Realm?" Chen Siyao's voice trembled slightly.

Chen Hao nodded, his posture upright, his aura automatically spreading out to protect Chen Siyao beside him. The dense yin energy dissipated automatically when it approached within three feet of him, unable to get close at all. "The top three floors are it. Let's go up."

He started walking uphill. Chen Siyao took a deep breath, raised her phone, pointed the camera at the layer of black mist, and followed him.

In the live stream, when 20 million people saw the billowing black mist, the chat was momentarily stunned for several seconds before bursting forth like a burst dam:

[Tourist 001: The lights flickered! How scary! The atmosphere is amazing!]

[Visitor 002: Could there really be something dirty? God, please help!]

[Tourist 002: Don't scare me, I get chills just looking at it in broad daylight!]

[I am Ying Zheng: Holy crap... this is the Ghost Realm?]

[Yaoyao's Little Red Riding Hood: What's in that fog? I think I see something moving!]

[Yiling: Stop looking! Stop looking! I'm getting goosebumps.]

[Don't be a beast of burden: Yao Yao, don't be afraid, follow the god!]

[No food delivery: The gods are ahead, it's alright!]

Chen Siyao didn't look at the comments; her entire attention was on Chen Hao in front of her. Her brother's back was steady as he climbed the steps one at a time, neither too fast nor too slow.

She followed in his footsteps, step by step, upwards. The black fog drew closer, the chill intensified, and the sounds grew clearer. But she didn't turn back, didn't stop; she simply followed her brother's back, moving forward.

Beijing, Douyin headquarters.

Li Na sat in her office, with Chen Siyao's live stream playing on the screen in front of her.

The footage was shaky, and Chen Siyao was clearly walking; the camera occasionally panned across the dusty walls and dark red fire doors. But the number of comments was skyrocketing, so many that it was impossible to read any complete message.

She glanced at the backend data—real-time online users: 33 million.

This number made her heart skip a beat. No livestreaming room on Douyin had ever reached this number since its inception.

Forget 30 million, she's never even reached 10 million. Chen Siyao's previous record was 10 million, which already made her a top influencer online. Today's number is three times that.

But after the initial excitement came more worry. Li Na tapped her fingers lightly on the table, her mind in turmoil.

"Mr. Li." Xiao Wang, the risk control supervisor, pushed open the door and came in, looking very nervous. "That live stream...did you watch it?"

Li Na nodded.

Xiao Wang swallowed hard. "Mr. Li, these kinds of ghost stories aren't allowed to be broadcast live. Do you think... we should cut it off? What if something happens and the higher-ups investigate..."

Li Na didn't speak; her fingers tapped lightly on the table, making a rhythmic "tap-tap" sound. She knew Xiao Wang was right; this kind of content was indeed not allowed to be broadcast live.

The platform has clear rules—prohibiting the dissemination of feudal superstitious content and prohibiting the live streaming of paranormal events. If caught by regulatory authorities, the consequences range from fines to removal from the platform for rectification.

But this is not a normal situation. Thirty-three million people are watching, and the number is still increasing.

If she cuts off the live stream at this point, what will the viewers think? They'll feel that Douyin is covering something up, and they'll frantically take screenshots, record the screen, and post them on other platforms. Things will escalate even further and become much harder to manage.

"Mr. Li?" Xiao Wang called out again.

Li Na raised her hand, gesturing for him to be quiet. She picked up her phone and dialed a number.

The phone rang three times before being answered.

"Mr. Zhang, this is Li Na." Her voice was steady. "I have something to report to you. Chen Siyao's live stream currently has 33 million viewers. She's live-streaming the haunting incident at Building A of Baotian City. The risk control department has suggested cutting off the live stream, and I'd like to hear your opinion."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Then Mr. Zhang's voice came through, his tone calm: "I'm looking into it."

Li Na was taken aback for a moment: "You're watching too?"

"I've been watching since she started broadcasting." Mr. Zhang paused, "Li Na, do you remember when the intelligence agents came to our company a while ago?"

Li Na certainly remembered. It was a month ago when several people in plainclothes suddenly arrived, showed their identification, and said they wanted to see the company's head.

She didn't know what they discussed, even though General Manager Zhang received them personally. But after that day, the company's review standards for Chen Siyao's live stream changed—content that used to be subject to traffic restrictions and warnings was now all allowed.

"I remember," she said.

"That day, someone from the Special Affairs Bureau said something to me," Zhang's voice was deep. "They said, 'You need to ensure the stability of Chen Siyao's live stream and prevent any accidents. From now on, whatever she broadcasts, you let her broadcast.' At the time, I didn't understand what that meant. Now, I understand."