Yang Jian stood at the gate of the Ghost Post Office in the oil painting.
The door opened, and the lobby on the first floor gathered a variety of people. Their attire seed to span several years, a decade, even decades, all different, and they seed unlike the living, their eyes revealing eerie expressions.
However, these people weren't Evil Ghosts, because Yang Jian could identify surprise and astonishnt in so of their expressions.
True Evil Ghosts wouldn't have these emotions of the living.
Yang Jian stared at them, and these strange people stared back at him. The scene sank into a deathly silence. Zhou Ze, who had co along, also stood frozen, with a shocked expression.
Why?
Why was there a Ghost Post Office in the world of the oil painting?
Why were there so many strange people hidden in this Ghost Post Office?
At the sa ti.
The old man who had lost his axe to Yang Jian and was kicked away now struggled to stand again. He seed unable to feel pain, missing an arm was no concern, his sinister dark face showing hatred and anger, as if trying to stand and fight again.
But he was stopped by another person beside him, not wanting him to continue.
"If I haven't judged wrongly, these are all Fifth Floor ssengers who've delivered their three letters. Although so haven't appeared in the oil painting, their identities are easy to guess."
Yang Jian thought to himself, feeling an inexplicable chill.
So many people gathered together. What was the Ghost Post Office planning?
And were these people truly humans?
"Who are you? Can you speak?" Yang Jian asked seriously.
But after he spoke, the lobby of the post office remained quiet, as if no one heard him, or maybe because this place itself was in the Supernatural World, alive humans never entered, and the sudden arrival of two living people made these people uncomfortable and unable to accept.
"How many years has it been, finally a ssenger has dared enter this place."
Yet amidst the deathly silence, a voice erged.
Everyone in the first-floor lobby looked towards the direction of the voice.
The speaker was a man who appeared to be in his early thirties, neatly combed hair, well-dressed, but his style was out of place with the modern era, belonging at least decades past.
"Who are you?" The man's eyes moved, devoid of light, akin to an Evil Ghost.
"Who are you?" Yang Jian looked at him.
The man paused for a good while, seeming silent, before saying, "I am Zhang Xiangguang, a person who has died."
"Yang Jian, a person who is still alive."
"I can tell." The self-proclaid Zhang Xiangguang nodded slightly, "Do you know what this place is?"
"The Ghost Post Office within the oil painting?" Yang Jian replied directly.
Zhang Xiangguang said, "This is a supernatural prison, holding things like us, neither human nor ghost, living ones dare not set foot here."
"You all should be ssengers from the Fifth Floor, and according to my deduction, all have delivered three letters and escaped the post office's grip; only those who've left the post office have their portrait in the post office's oil painting... so, do the painting's people possess individual consciousness?"
Yang Jian scanned with his gaze.
If this were true, then there would be soone familiar here.
That would be his father.
Because on the Fifth Floor, Yang Jian had seen the portraits of his father and cousin, which indicated they also lived in this Supernatural World.
"You are clever, seems you have figured so things out." Zhang Xiangguang said, "Our lives are forever fixed at the mont we sent the last letter and escaped the post office, though to the real us, we have left the post office, but for us, we can never truly escape."
"This is an inescapable curse."
At this mont, another person spoke: "Bearing such a curse is akin to falling into hell, rely to await a result."
"Resurrection?" Yang Jian wondered imdiately.
Soone else chid in: "Indeed, resurrection. After delivering the last letter from the Fifth Floor, a ssenger can choose one person here to leave the oil painting world and truly resurrect, but in return, that ssenger loses the chance to leave the post office, returning to the first floor to deliver letters again, endlessly repeating."
"No one's willing to waste an opportunity to resurrect an irrelevant person, so we're dood to never be freed, rely coexisting with the post office to the end." Zhang Xiangguang said.
Yang Jian remained calm, nodding: "I see, reliant on supernatural consciousness, unable to return to reality, rely existing in the supernatural realm. So from the post office's inception until now, all ssengers who've left the Fifth Floor have a backup here?"
"Backup? Interesting term, but quite apt actually."
Zhang Xiangguang said, "No, not everyone can exist here, so people will still disappear, he's about to disappear..."
Saying this, he glanced at the old man who had wielded an axe against Yang Jian.
Yang Jian's eyelid twitched: "Will getting hurt lead to death?"
"No, people here won't die from harm, but once they're forgotten, they will disappear."
Zhang Xiangguang said: "If the outside world forgets us, then that person will completely vanish, completely wiped from this world, hence why one must show themselves in the post office, to be rembered, ensuring they won't disappear, because the post office presus those abandoned by the world won't have a chance for resurrection."
"Forgotten equates to death?" Yang Jian understood, recalling the rules of the ghost painting's killings.
Back then, he had decoded the rules of the ghost painting's murders.
When the ghost painting appeared, the first step was that ordinary people must see the actual ghost painting, the second step was recollection, when they idly recalled the ghost painting, that painting would appear in their ho, the third step would be imagination... never imagine the woman in the painting appearing, as once thought, the ghost from the painting would truly erge.
So the killing rule of the ghost painting was recollection.
This murderous rule was terrifying and unsolvable, as the more one fears sothing, the more they think of it.
Yang Jian realized this point; thus whenever he rembered the ghost painting, he imdiately ignored its details, making the recollection incomplete or cut off mid-thought, then the ghost painting could not appear.
"So crave to be forgotten, so crave being rembered, so, those wanting oblivion are rembered, those wanting to be rembered are forgotten... if there's hell, this is the Endless Hell, we are rely Evil Ghosts trapped forever, unable to break free." Zhang Xiangguang said.
Endless Hell?
Yang Jian's lips lifted into a slight smile: "Interesting saying, seems you no longer have any way to seek release."
"Why?" soone coldly asked.
Yang Jian said: "Because I have seen you, rembered you, as long as I don't die, soone in this world will always rember you, so you will never disappear again, it's impossible to be freed."
"Kill him, I don't want to be rembered, I want to be forgotten, to completely disappear from here." Among the crowd, a woman spoke.
She was very young, wearing a floral skirt, had two big braids, and dressed in an outdated fashion.
These words were quite stirring.
Imdiately, quite a few people stared at Yang Jian with strange eyes, carrying a kind of inexplicable ferocity.
Being trapped in the supernatural world for a long ti, they were neither human nor ghost, their personalities already twisted, and those in the oil paintings also possessed certain supernatural powers. Together, they could not only deal with ordinary people, but even top ghost handlers could be taken down.
Zhou Ze's heart shrank sharply upon seeing this, he glanced at Yang Jian and whispered: "The situation looks bad, we should find a chance to retreat, let's not fight to the death with these supernatural individuals here."
Yang Jian was unmoved upon hearing this.
Although these supernatural beings were very dangerous, they were the elite ssengers since the establishnt of the Ghost Post Office, their knowledge of it was beyond imagination, if he could communicate with them, handling the Ghost Post Office would be a breeze.
"If you want to try, go ahead." Yang Jian said coldly, picking up the ax in his hand.
"That ax won't save you, it's not a true supernatural object, it was painted, everything on everyone will be retained at the mont of finishing the mailing, items can only be used in the oil painting world, cannot leave, once it leaves it will disperse completely. How much power do you think a painted supernatural item can possess compared to the original?"
A ssenger spoke with a smile, with a bit of a warning tone, clearly not everyone was hostile.
"So that's how it is." Yang Jian's eyes moved slightly: "In other words, in the outside world, does a real ax like this still exist?"
"It seems ridiculous that you're still thinking about those things at death's door, don't you think?" the woman in the floral skirt said coldly.
A group of people acted, they gradually closed in, wanting to attack Yang Jian together and take him down.
Although they couldn't appear outside, Yang Jian had co to the oil painting world, so they had an advantage, even if the supernatural power painted didn't possess much from life, as top figures previously, together they were a terrifying existence.
Yang Jian took a step back, he gripped the ax tightly, preparing to fight with the door as the boundary.
He didn't feel fear because he didn't think he would lose.
"You cannot act, at least I won't agree." But at this mont, a voice erged, the voice was low and sowhat threatening.
The ones acting stopped in their tracks.
They looked in a certain direction with changing expressions.
In the depths of the post office hall, a person walked slowly, he was very young, about in his early twenties, yet unbelievably, his appearance was seven or eight points similar to Yang Jian, only slightly different in temperant.
He exuded stability, calmness, and a hidden sharpness.
"Has he appeared?"
Yang Jian's deanor tightened as he looked at that person.
"You both have the surna Yang, now I understand... I should have realized long ago." Zhang Xiangguang said.
"It's interesting for a son to follow in his father's footsteps, saying how many years have passed outside, has the successor beco so distinguished? Dare to venture into this place at such a young age."
Many people already associated the truth through their nas and appearances.
"If you act, I'll make sure you can never be freed." The young man said coldly at this mont: "Haven't had a nightmare in a long ti? Want to try it?"
"We long to be forgotten, seeking relief, death ans nothing to us." Soone said.
"You won't die in nightmares, but it'll be a hundred tis worse than now." The young man said: "So have tried it, but so have not."
The remaining people fell silent.
They believed, offending this person is far more terrifying than death.
Because this person's nickna is Nightmare Yang Xiao.
Even in the oil painting world, he possessed certain supernatural powers from life.
The young man walked over, he seed quite threatening among those neither human nor ghost, of unusual status, at this mont no one dared remark, just watched this scene unfold.
Soon.
He arrived at the door, facing Yang Jian.
Two similar-looking people, spanning over ten years, with the help of supernatural powers, t formally for the first ti.
"What he said is right, if you pursue the answer, you'll surely appear here." He said: "But this should be our first eting, hello, my na is Yang Xiao."
Yang Xiao, clearly this is a pseudonym, as his full na is Yang Xiaotian, aning, filial beyond heaven.
Being in the post office, few use their real nas to represent themselves, it's not strange.
"Yang Jian." He extended his hand.
Yang Xiao's mouth curled into a smile, the two shook hands, both knowing each other's identities.
One was his son from a few years in the future, and one was his father from over a decade ago.
The supernatural made this improbable scene.
"Zhang Xiangguang is correct, this is an Endless Hell, hence you appeared." Yang Xiao said a sentence: "Your na represents the aning of ending everything, hope you won't dislike it."
"So my na cos from this." Yang Jian's expression slightly moved: "Luckily it wasn't nad Yang Wei, I'm not suited to be a great person."
"Since you entered here, you must have your considerations, so what do you plan to do?" Yang Xiao asked.
Yang Jian said: "Does my word work?"
"As long as my word works, let those not listening dream during the day." Yang Xiao said.
"That's good." Yang Jian said: "I have an idea in mind, but I want to understand here first."
"Everything you should know, you will know." Yang Xiao nodded: "Co in and sit, so things indeed need to be discussed."
He invited Yang Jian into the post office, and no one dared oppose.
Zhang Xiangguang said; "The situation has changed, looks like he was right, you can't be freed."
Everyone still remained silent, with strange expressions watching Yang Jian and Zhou Ze walk into the post office.
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