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Added 2025-03-26 21:22:02 +0000 UTCChapter 156: Feathers
*New York, Suburbs*
In front of Mary Shaw's cabin.
A few BSI agents were busy wrapping up their final tasks outside the cabin.
"Have you heard the rumors?"
"They say this whole incident started because of a séance ritual uploaded by a couple of YouTubers..."
Behind them, yellow caution tape cordoned off the entire cabin.
Although the malicious spirit conjured during the séance had been exorcised by Amanda and her team, BSI wasn’t taking any chances. After all, if this place could summon such a malevolent entity and cause chaos that nearly entangled the NYPD, FBI, and BSI in a single disaster, who could guarantee there wouldn’t be a repeat?
To ensure safety, BSI stationed guards to prevent unauthorized people from entering Mary Shaw’s cabin. The last thing they needed was another incident like the one that turned five BSI agents into lifeless wooden puppets.
Once they finalized negotiations with Mary Shaw—alive but currently in a nursing home—the plan was to demolish the cabin entirely.
"Agent Zhou even got injured during the operation."
"When will we get to deal with supernatural cases like Agent Zhou's team?"
Bored and scanning the unchanging scenery, one BSI agent couldn’t help but complain.
Many joined BSI hoping to investigate paranormal cases, but so far, most of their assignments turned out to be ordinary religious homicide cases. The closest they’d gotten to a supernatural incident was now—standing guard at Mary Shaw’s cabin.
"If I had my way, I’d prefer routine assignments like this over dealing with supernatural cases like Zhou's team does every day."
Not everyone shared the same enthusiasm for paranormal cases. Some agents understood clearly that these were far more dangerous than typical homicides.
The “Wolf Girl” case in Texas, which claimed the lives of several small-town officers, was a grim reminder of the perils involved. It constantly reinforced the reality that supernatural cases were not to be taken lightly.
"So why did you join BSI?"
"BSI offers the best pay and benefits of any federal department right now."
Facing his colleague's confused gaze, the pragmatic agent shrugged, offering an irrefutable reason.
Indeed, as a newly established special division, BSI had quickly recruited a large workforce, thanks in no small part to its generous salary and benefits.
Compared to the FBI, which hadn’t seen a pay raise in years, BSI's compensation packages were highly appealing. Many FBI agents had defected to BSI for this reason, despite objections from FBI leadership.
For rank-and-file agents, a prestigious FBI badge wasn’t as valuable as a solid paycheck. At the end of the day, they were ordinary people who had to worry about groceries and rent like everyone else.
---
In front of Mary Shaw's cabin, the BSI agents’ discussion about supernatural cases and federal pay was abruptly interrupted.
*Thud.*
A heavy footstep sounded, cutting through their conversation. The agents exchanged wary glances, their expressions turning serious.
While many joined BSI for the pay, they were still top-tier law enforcement professionals. BSI needed skilled personnel to handle the dangers of supernatural cases—this wasn’t a job for just anyone.
One agent instinctively rested his hand on the gun at his waist, watching the direction of the sound.
Out of the shadows emerged a portly figure dressed in a tailcoat and top hat, walking with a limp while leaning on a cane.
The tailored coat strained against his stout frame. As the figure approached, the agents noted his odd appearance: a rotund man with a bushy mustache, looking like a character straight out of a slapstick comedy.
Despite his comical look, the agents didn’t lower their guard.
“Stop! You’re entering a restricted area. If you take another step, I won’t hesitate to shoot!” one agent warned, drawing his gun.
The man halted at the command. Beneath the brim of his hat, his eyes scanned the agents, and an inscrutable smile crossed his face.
He raised his hands in surrender and said, “Apologies, officers. I mean no harm. I’m an old acquaintance of the cabin’s owner. When I heard she was here, I came as soon as I could.”
The agents exchanged skeptical glances but kept their guns trained on him.
"If you're acquainted with the owner, prove it," one demanded.
“Prove it?”
The man’s smile grew more peculiar. Slowly, he lowered his raised hands and tapped his cane lightly on the ground.
“Don’t move! What are you—”
Before the agent could finish his warning, a violent coughing fit overtook him.
He doubled over, spewing brightly colored feathers from his mouth. The other agents soon followed, convulsing as multicolored plumes erupted not only from their mouths but from every pore of their bodies.
“You see? That’s all the proof I need.”
The portly man grinned, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. Limping past the writhing agents, he continued toward the cabin, his cane tapping rhythmically against the ground.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 157: Admission Ticket
Plop—
Plop, plop—
Entering the area guarded by BSI, the obese man didn’t head into Mary Shaw’s cabin but instead walked straight to the withered tree.
Looking down at the pit beneath the tree, where charred traces still lingered, a strange light flashed in the obese man’s eyes under his bowler hat. With a sly grin, he muttered in a mocking tone:
“Mary Shaw, Mary Shaw... You’ve been hiding all your life, but so what? I still found you. I’ve told you before, you don’t belong here. No one in this world, apart from me, can accept you...”
As he mumbled to himself, the corners of his mouth stretched unnaturally, almost reaching his ears. His murmurs turned into a ferocious roar.
“Now, it’s time to go home.”
However, the man’s ferocious expression quickly returned to calm.
Raising the cane in his hand, he pointed it at the withered tree before him.
Immediately, under the anguished gazes of the nearby BSI agents, the seemingly lifeless withered tree began to writhe violently. It twisted and struggled as if it had come to life. Dead branches snapped off, and the entire tree contorted into the shape of a wind-up puppet, roughly half the height of a person, appearing before the obese man.
Creak, creak—
With the winding of the key on its back, the wooden puppet lifted its head, turned its wooden eyes toward the obese man, and opened its mouth to produce a monotonous, flat voice:
“Who are you?”
“You can call me the Ringmaster,” the man replied.
He tipped his hat, revealing a sharp-toothed grin.
“Now, it’s time for us to go home.”
“Home?”
Hearing the word home, the puppet’s wooden eyes shifted slightly.
“Yes, home. The place where you were born, a paradise of joy without sorrow,” the Ringmaster said, noticing the change in the puppet’s expression. A wider smile spread across his face, his mustache curling upward. Leaning on his cane, he turned and began limping away.
The puppet hesitated, glancing back at Mary Shaw’s cabin. After a moment, it turned and followed the Ringmaster step by step.
Plop—
As they passed the BSI agents, the Ringmaster paused.
Looking down past his round belly at the feather-covered agents writhing in pain, a bizarre smile appeared on his chubby face under the shadow of his hat. In a soft voice, he said:
“Well, well, the circus could use a few more performers for the freak show. Officers, would you be willing to lend us a hand?”
As his words fell, the feathered agents on the ground staggered to their feet. Their bodies were covered in brilliant, multicolored feathers, their faces contorted in pain and anguish. Without hesitation, they followed the Ringmaster.
And so, the group, led by the Ringmaster, walked off into the distance.
Mary Shaw’s cabin remained, standing alone and desolate.
“Something wrong, Zhou?”
Stepping out of the car, Amanda noticed a flicker of pain cross Agent Zhou’s face.
“It’s nothing. Probably just strained my injury while getting out of the car,” Zhou replied.
He touched his heavily bandaged arm, wincing at the sharp pain.
“I’ve already filed for your medical leave with BSI. You didn’t need to come for this case,” Amanda said, her gaze falling on his arm.
“I don’t like sitting around at home doing nothing. Besides...” Zhou turned toward Mary Shaw’s cabin. “Something’s wrong here. I couldn’t just ignore it.”
The disappearance of several BSI agents guarding the cabin had caused significant alarm within the organization. They feared it might be another case of unexplained vanishings.
“Chief...”
Phil, an agent who had arrived earlier, approached Amanda and Zhou.
“What’s the situation?” Amanda asked, her eyes immediately drawn to the changed state of the cabin’s yard. The withered tree where she had previously unearthed a corpse was gone.
“We didn’t find the agents. It’s eerily similar to previous disappearances,” Phil reported.
“No, this time it’s different,” said Spike, stepping out of the cabin.
In his hand was a brightly colored feather.
“It seems we had other visitors here after we left,” he said, showing the feather to Amanda and the others.
[Story Points]: 736,500
Los Angeles, San Marino.
Allen looked at the system panel, smiling with satisfaction at the over 700,000 story points he had accrued.
“The Conjuring: The Clockwork Puppet,” his latest screenplay since returning to the trade, had not only brought “joy” to America but also rewarded him with a substantial number of points.
In high spirits, Allen opened the system’s backend interface.
[System Backend - Historical Records - Exchange Shop]
Script 8: The Conjuring: The Clockwork Puppet
World Evolution Rate: 0.73%
Story Item – Clockwork Key (5000/Exchange)
Effect: Combination
Description: Part of a clockwork puppet, this key holds incredible power. Wind it up on a door, and you’ll get what you desire.
Notes: Creak, creak, creak—
Note 2: Wind it tight. Don’t let go!
Character Card – Clockwork Puppet (2/2) (8000/Exchange)
Card Level: Bronze
Description: Insert this character into any script without consuming extra story points.
Notes: Mommy, why doesn’t anyone like me?
Item – Circus Ticket (2000/Exchange)
Card Level: Watch
Description: A ticket to a mysterious circus, granting you one opportunity to witness its performances.
Notes: Welcome to my circus, where you’ll see the best show in the world!
Story Item – Séance Ritual (5000/Exchange)
Effect: Communication with spirits
Description: A medium’s unique tool for connecting to the spirit world through rituals.
Notes: Be careful—spirits aren’t always as harmless as they seem.
Chapter 158: Winding the Spring
*[World Evolution Rate]* increased by 0.3% in an instant.
This was enough to show the impact of the script "Conjuring—The Clockwork Puppet."
After all, throughout the entire script: from ordinary citizens to the NYPD, FBI agents, and even BSI operatives—all vanished without a trace.
If this didn’t result in an increase in the *[World Evolution Rate],* Allen would have to seriously reconsider how else he could achieve progress in this area.
Of course, storming the White House and acting out a script there wasn’t an option.
At this stage, he wasn’t prepared to take on an entire nation’s machinery of power.
Moreover, disrupting the entire social order of the United States wouldn’t benefit Allen. What he needed was a stable society—or at least one that appeared stable on the surface—so he could gradually evolve his scripts, reshape the world, and piece together the puzzle that would ultimately grant him complete control.
If the U.S. descended into chaos, who knew if it might drag the entire world down with it?
Given America’s tendency to act in ways that harm others without benefiting itself, it was almost certain they would.
“So, taking it slow is still the best approach,” Allen murmured, shaking his head and reining in his scattered thoughts.
Refocusing his attention, Allen turned to the items he had acquired from this latest script.
The appearance of the *Character Card: [Clockwork Puppet]* was no surprise—it was, after all, the centerpiece of the entire script.
As for why the other main character, *[Spike],* didn’t appear in the system’s redemption list like the puppet, Allen guessed it was related to the system’s earlier notification mentioning elements “beyond the script’s scope.”
Since *[Spike]* was a BSI consultant, his presence within Amanda’s BSI team was independent of any future scripts Allen might write. As such, the system didn’t produce a character card for him.
This development had its pros and cons.
On the plus side, even without new scripts, *[Spike]* would continue to influence BSI’s operations from within.
On the downside, Allen could no longer directly use script-driven events to guide *[Spike]’s* storyline.
Still, this wasn’t a major issue. Allen had already planned a dedicated backstory for *[Spike].*
As BSI encountered more and more supernatural cases, Allen’s influence within the agency would grow.
After all, the federal government had established this special division, and as a lawful taxpayer, Allen had every right to oversee how his tax dollars were spent.
Rather than letting the U.S. squander taxpayer money causing trouble worldwide, it would be better to have them focus on domestic issues—at least ensuring BSI wasn’t just a hollow shell burning through funds.
With this perspective, Allen felt like the perfect embodiment of the "American Dream."
If not for knowing that America would never elect a Chinese president, Allen almost felt like he could run for the position himself.
Even if he couldn’t become president, running for mayor of New York City seemed entirely plausible.
He even had a campaign slogan ready:
*“Make New York Greater!”*
...
Alright, running for mayor was just a joke.
As interesting as it might be, it couldn’t compare to the allure of the system he controlled. Shaking off these idle thoughts, Allen refocused on the other item displayed on the system’s backend panel.
Mentally confirming the selection, he watched as the system deducted 5,000 points from his *[Plot Value].*
Simultaneously, a palm-sized clockwork spring appeared in his hand.
The original inspiration behind the script "Conjuring—The Clockwork Puppet" had been to enhance the safety of his home.
Initially, Allen thought that a single script might not yield anything useful and had prepared to write several more.
Unexpectedly, his luck was good.
The script had produced an item that perfectly matched his expectations.
Looking down at the small spring in his hand, Allen recalled the system’s description of the item before heading toward the storage room at the back.
From his perch on the desk, the *[Voodoo Doll]* noticed Allen’s movement. It quickly lifted its round, yarn-made head and waddled after him on its stubby legs, unwilling to be left behind.
Jumping onto a chair, sliding down one of its legs, and wobbling slightly from dizziness, it grabbed its trident and scampered off to catch up with Allen’s retreating figure.
Unaware of the little tail following him, Allen reached the storage room door.
This was a small utility room attached to his house—not particularly spacious, and typically used to store a vacuum cleaner and suitcases.
Of course, Allen wasn’t there to retrieve anything specific.
He just needed a door.
Following the system’s instructions, Allen placed the spring on the door and began to wind it.
Click, click, click—
As the spring turned, he felt a distinct tension in the mechanism, even though it was just a simple spring in his hand.
When the spring reached its limit, Allen felt it tighten, preventing further rotation.
Clack!
Grasping the door handle, he pulled it open—without letting go of the spring, as per the system’s warning:
*"Wind the spring, and do not let go!"*
He didn’t know what would happen if he let go, but it was probably nothing good. Better to follow the system’s advice and avoid testing it.
As the door opened, the view before him was nothing like the cramped storage room he expected.
Instead, it revealed a vast, intricate space made entirely of gears and clockwork springs.
Exposed wooden gears moved in perpetual motion, creating an ever-shifting, dynamic environment. The room was surprisingly spacious—almost the size of his entire house.
As the door opened, the spring in his hand relaxed and dropped back into his palm.
Allen held the spring in one hand, hesitating briefly before stepping into the mysterious space.
Unbeknownst to him, the *[Voodoo Doll]* had also followed him in, its stubby legs scurrying determinedly.
*Chapter 159: Clockwork Space*
Clink!
In the mysterious space, Allen came to a halt.
Behind him, the [Voodoo Doll], which had been chasing at his heels, ran straight into him with a thud.
Feeling the unusual sensation on his heel, Allen looked down.
He saw the [Voodoo Doll] lying on the ground, dazed from the collision.
“When did you start following me?”
Allen raised an eyebrow in mild exasperation as he noticed the unexpected companion behind him. He bent down and picked up the uninvited little creature.
On his palm, the [Voodoo Doll] wobbled to its feet, shaking its fuzzy, yarn-made head. It looked up at him with button eyes, red as rubies, and then struck its chest with its tiny trident, as if to declare, “I’m here to protect you!”
“I think you’re just curious,” Allen said, unfooled by its performance.
The [Voodoo Doll] immediately lowered its trident, scratching its round head sheepishly as if embarrassed.
“Alright, just don’t wander off anymore.”
Since it was already here, there was no point in trying to send it away. Allen placed the little creature on his shoulder and turned to examine the space around him.
Standing on his shoulder, the [Voodoo Doll] wobbled as it tried to steady itself, clutching tightly onto his collar. Imitating Allen, it turned its head, scanning the surroundings with its button eyes.
“So, what exactly does this space do?”
Gripping the clockwork key in his hand, Allen frowned as he surveyed the vast, empty space before him.
The system hadn’t provided a detailed explanation of the clockwork’s ability—only a vague description: “Whatever you desire.”
“Whatever I desire?”
Pondering the meaning behind those words, Allen glanced up at the gears and springs covering the entire space. Tentatively, he spoke:
“I want a table.”
Click, clack, click!
As soon as Allen’s words fell, the surrounding gears began spinning rapidly. The interconnected springs moved and assembled into irregular modules. The space itself seemed alive, shifting and transforming. At the center, the components converged, forming a table that stood silently in place.
Moving closer to the newly formed table, Allen observed its surface—an intricate assembly of interlocking gears of various sizes. Underneath, springs continued to turn rhythmically.
Clearly, this table shared the same nature as the rest of the clockwork space.
Though its design was peculiar, the implications of its creation filled Allen with excitement.
Grasping the clockwork key in his hand, he issued another command to the space.
“I want a chair…”
“A bookshelf.”
“A living room…”
“A bedroom, complete with a computer, a television, and kitchen appliances…”
With each command Allen gave, the gears spun faster, and the springs moved continuously, assembling one creation after another.
Before his eyes, a chair, a bookshelf, a living room, and a bedroom materialized, dividing the once-empty space into several distinct sections.
“Electronics and food didn’t appear?”
Standing in the gear-filled bedroom, Allen examined the furnishings and muttered to himself.
Although the clockwork space had fulfilled his requests for basic furniture and rooms, it was clear it couldn’t produce everything.
Modern items like computers and televisions, as well as food, were beyond the space’s capabilities.
In short, the space could only create basic, functional objects—not advanced technology or consumables.
Though slightly disappointed, Allen found the results acceptable.
Meanwhile, watching Allen conjure various items at will, the [Voodoo Doll] on his shoulder appeared eager to try. It raised its tiny trident and waved it toward one of the gears, attempting to imagine something it desired.
However, the space remained unresponsive.
Disheartened, the [Voodoo Doll] lowered its trident, looking utterly dejected.
“It seems this space only responds to the clockwork’s owner,” Allen noted as he observed the doll’s antics.
Seeing its disappointment, he smiled and held the clockwork key.
“I want a miniature amusement park.”
Click, clack, click!
The walls of the space came alive as countless gears began turning. Springs interconnected, forming intricate structures.
In just a few minutes, a small yet exquisite gear-based amusement park rose before them.
Though only half Allen’s height, the miniature park was fully equipped with a variety of attractions. A troupe of mechanical monkeys, driven by the springs, played cheerful music on drums and gongs.
The sight of the amusement park instantly lifted the [Voodoo Doll]’s spirits. It nuzzled Allen’s cheek affectionately before sliding off his shoulder and bounding toward the park with glee.
Watching the doll’s tiny figure bounce away, Allen shook his head, amused.
He turned his attention back to the space before him.
So far, he was satisfied with the clockwork space’s capabilities.
With this space, he could securely store items obtained from the system without worrying about exposing them, even if something happened to his outward residence.
It was far more reliable than using a [Corpse Raising Technique] to guard his home.
Standing in the clockwork space, Allen nodded in approval as he muttered sarcastically. He then began reorganizing the space according to his preferences.
The living room and bedroom he had created earlier for testing were disassembled, their components returning to gears and springs.
Finally, he reconfigured the space into a museum-like exhibition hall that dominated the area.
On both sides of the hall stood display stands crafted from gears and springs. Although the stands were currently empty, Allen believed that as his story unfolded, he would eventually fill them with a wide variety of items and artifacts.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 160: The Circus
"Alright, I'll take you back in next time," Allen said, patting the sulking [Voodoo Doll] on the head as they exited the 'Clockwork Space.'
The introduction of the [Clockwork] tool had undoubtedly resolved Allen's lingering concerns about safety.
At present, his acquired power was still insufficient to confront the forces of the real world directly. Hence, it was imperative for him to maintain his cover identity with utmost caution. With a designated space to store his containment tools, the risk of exposure was significantly reduced.
After carefully storing away the [Clockwork], Allen turned his attention to the other items on the exchange panel.
To be honest, the functionality of the [Clockwork] had already far exceeded his expectations.
Therefore, even if the subsequent items from the exchange panel failed to meet his expectations, Allen wouldn't be too concerned.
With this mindset, his gaze fell on a vintage-looking circus ticket that materialized in his hand.
It was an ordinary-looking admission ticket, with a simple line drawing of a circus tent on the front. Bold English letters proclaimed, "The Greatest Show on Earth!"—a slogan that gave off an air of exaggerated self-promotion. The back of the ticket featured a few red-and-blue flags drawn in a similarly simplistic style, and in the center were three lines of admission rules written in black font:
1. Entry is ticket-based: one person per ticket. Seats are assigned. Torn tickets are invalid!
2. During the performance, laugh freely and follow circus rules!
3. At the circus, you will witness the greatest show on earth. Do not leave your seat before the show ends!
At first glance, the circus ticket seemed no different from any ordinary admission ticket.
However, as the creator of the script Conjuring: The Clockwork Puppet, Allen knew better than to underestimate the significance behind such an unassuming object.
In the script, the circus master only appeared briefly near the end, in what could be considered an Easter egg scene.
But evidently, the system had expanded on the circus master's backstory. Even the circus, mentioned only in passing in the script, now had its own ticket.
"It seems you're truly the epitome of resilience," Allen muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.
A capability like this might be standard for most systems, but for the broken system he was dealing with, it came across as oddly inspirational.
Clearing his thoughts of the absurd notion, Allen refocused his attention on the circus ticket.
Despite having redeemed the [Traveling Circus Ticket] from the system, he had no idea what to do next.
The system description only stated that possessing the ticket granted him the opportunity to watch a circus performance.
Yet, no matter how he looked at it, Allen couldn't figure out where this so-called performance was supposed to take place.
"Am I holding the ticket wrong?" he mused, frustrated.
As expected, this crippled system was far from reliable.
With no prompts from the system panel, Allen had no choice but to scrutinize the [Traveling Circus Ticket] closely.
Sure enough, his efforts paid off—he noticed a faint triangular dashed line in the top-left corner of the ticket.
Following the dashed line, he tore along the triangle.
---
*Moo—*
In the next instant, as lively music filled the air, Allen's surroundings transformed from the interior of a house in San Marino to a massive circus tent.
An elephant in a nearby cage trumpeted with its trunk, while bustling figures moved about the circus grounds.
Amidst the busy crowd, Allen spotted a two-headed woman, a giant taller than the elephant cage, a dwarf barely reaching an adult's knee, and a bearded woman—all sorts of performers preparing for the upcoming show.
"Ah, such a rare guest..."
A sharp voice interrupted Allen's observations.
A rotund figure wearing a top hat and tailcoat hobbled over, leaning on a cane. In his haste, the man even knocked over another circus member blocking his path.
"Welcome to the circus, esteemed Creator."
The circus master removed his hat and bowed deeply. His wide grin revealed a mouth full of sharp teeth, yet he tried his best to appear amiable.
Allen wasn't surprised by the title "Creator."
Previously, when he met the professor in the library, the professor had addressed him in the same way.
To characters born of the script, Allen, their creator, was akin to a god.
"Your visit is a tremendous honor for the circus."
Replacing his hat, the circus master turned to the performers who had stopped their work to watch him greet Allen.
His expression darkened, and he pulled a whip from his waist, cracking it in the air with a sharp snap!
"Who gave you permission to slack off? The show is about to begin, and today's audience includes our most distinguished guest ever! If I catch anyone slacking during the performance and disgracing the circus, you'll regret it!"
At his words, the performers scattered, rushing to prepare for the upcoming show. Among the chaotic crowd, Allen glimpsed a few feathered figures. However, they moved too quickly for him to confirm if they were the missing BSI agents.
As the circus master turned back to Allen, his fierce demeanor melted away.
Smiling warmly, his waxed mustache curling upward, he spoke in a gentle tone, "Apologies for the scene, Creator. These circus folks are notoriously lazy. Without some pressure, you can't expect much from them..."
*[End of Chapter]*
