Chapter 7: Intuition and Soul

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Qian Cangyi’s mind flashed with the descriptions from the script.

Although being touched by the shadow wouldn’t be fatal, it greatly affected one’s movements.

He must not be touched by the shadow!

Qian Cangyi flipped his body, placing both hands firmly on the table, his feet stepping onto a slightly farther spot on the floor before pulling his hands back.

The shadow slid past, brushing against Qian Cangyi’s palm.

Even though his hand didn’t actually touch the shadow, he still felt an icy chill. He took several steps backward, steadying himself, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of lingering fear.

After failing to ambush, the shadow, just as described in the script, slid toward the window and slipped away through the narrow gap.

A shadow rushed past Qian Cangyi’s chest—it was Eagle Eye. Heavy footsteps echoed in the living room, then outside the house.

So fast!

Qian Cangyi looked toward the living room and then followed.

At the living room doorway, Eagle Eye stood still, eyes scanning everywhere.

“How is it?” Qian Cangyi asked.

“Gone. Can’t find a trace at all,” Eagle Eye replied with furrowed brows.

Qian Cangyi stepped outside, searching around, but found no sign of the shadow.

The setting sun cast its light over them, stretching their shadows long.

“I didn’t even have time to warn you just now...” Qian Cangyi recalled how Eagle Eye had dodged the shadow.

“I could tell by your expression and eyes. Reflexes are crucial for an actor,” Eagle Eye said, patting his trousers before turning toward the bedroom.

Moments later, Eagle Eye emerged holding Li Ling’s diary. After reading it, he closed the book.

“Dead Sacrifice…”

“The village chief of Yu Creek Village must know what this Dead Sacrifice truly is.”

“You saw the shadow just now as well. I suspect there’s more than one.”

“Time waits for no one. We have to speed up.”

Saying this, Eagle Eye looked up toward the depths of Yu Creek Village and set off again.

Every few steps, Qian Cangyi couldn’t help but glance back. The feeling of being watched never faded, as if the shadow that had appeared in Li Ling’s house was still following behind.

“Eagle Eye, what do you think that shadow was? Have the villagers of Yu Creek Village disappeared, or are they dead?” Qian Cangyi took a deep breath, clenching his fists then relaxing them.

Eagle Eye turned to look at him and said:

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“I don’t know either. The previous film and the next one usually have no connection; they are independent with separate worlds.”

“Those monsters can’t be applied to this ‘Dead Sacrifice’ film. But one thing is clear: if you fear the shadow, it means the shadow is truly dangerous.”

“For an actor, accumulated experience is often less accurate than natural instinct.”

The sky began to darken, clouds gathering, casting Yu Creek Village in shadow.

Hearing Eagle Eye’s words, Qian Cangyi realized something he had neglected.

For actors, each film is a fresh start, meaning they must always adapt anew.

Though the same applies to actors in the real world, the difference is that real-world actors face no mortal danger and can refuse roles.

These few small differences make a vast chasm in how performances play out.

“Experience less reliable than instinct?” Qian Cangyi found it incredible.

Instinct, literally meaning an intuitive feeling, usually refers to a judgment made without analysis or reasoning.

In other words, a wild guess.

However, instinct has another interpretation.

It is a special way of thinking formed from a person’s profession, experience, knowledge, and innate nature.

It sounds mystical—and in fact, it really is.

Qian Cangyi believed that the “natural instinct” Eagle Eye spoke of leaned more toward an instinct encoded in the genes.

A typical example: many people have never seen a snake, yet feel intense fear the first time they do, even if never bitten—a seemingly innate reaction.

For more dangerous animals like lions or tigers, people often feel less fear, even finding them adorable.

Of course, even if true, this doesn’t fully explain Eagle Eye’s words.

Because in the real world—at least in the twenty-plus years Qian Cangyi had lived—he’d never seen ghosts or any other supernatural beings.

Eagle Eye nodded but did not stop walking. He looked ahead and said:

“Experience only matters when the environment is relatively stable.”

“I’ve yet to encounter two films that are exactly the same, unless it’s a sequel.”

“In other words, every film requires a fresh adaptation.”

“Horror films don’t tell you in advance which world they resemble, or how ghosts will kill.”

“Of course, some special ‘experience’ still matters—like improved physical fitness or shifts in thinking.”

“You could say you become more suited to this lifestyle, if it can be called a lifestyle.”

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“So if you don’t know how to respond when in danger, trust your instinct. At least your soul wants to survive.”

As he spoke, a red lightning bolt twisted through the clouds above Yu Creek Village.

Two seconds later, thunder rumbled loudly.

“Soul? Does it really exist?” Qian Cangyi’s eyes widened.

Before entering the horror film world, he hadn’t wholly dismissed the idea but leaned toward disbelief.

The most famous soul-related claim was the “21 grams” theory.

Whether you fear it or not, it will come eventually—at that moment, your body loses 21 grams.

In the early 20th century, a doctor placed dying patients on a special scale, measuring their weight before and after death, and found some lost 21 grams.

The doctor believed this weight loss was the soul’s weight.

Of course, both the experiment and process lacked rigor and credibility.

That Eagle Eye brought up the concept of the soul at this moment truly surprised Qian Cangyi.

“Really exists?” Eagle Eye repeated the phrase.

“Yes. If the soul exists, doesn’t that mean reincarnation exists too? So dying isn’t the end?” Qian Cangyi’s face brightened, eager for an answer.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Eagle Eye replied calmly, as if indifferent.

“Ah?” Qian Cangyi was startled.

Logically, the existence of the soul should excite him deeply, but Eagle Eye showed no reaction.

Even knowing this beforehand, there should be some impact. After all, the mere existence of the soul could shake the entire world.

Eagle Eye explained:

“I don’t know your views on the soul, but in the film world, when your body dies, you are dead. Only in extremely rare cases does your soul separate and exist independently.”

“As for reincarnation, I don’t know—I haven’t died yet, so I said maybe.”

Looking up at the sky with worry in his eyes, Eagle Eye pressed on:

“We have to move faster if you don’t want to reincarnate...”

Qian Cangyi quickened his pace to keep up with Eagle Eye.