Chapter 610 -607 Dim Light
Looking at the dense bloodstained handprints covering the walls on both sides of the corridor, Yang Jian, carrying a corpse, hesitated.
"Is the ghost from room 82 coming out? Is it because of , or is the ghost simply wandering out?”
He considered retreating, temporarily avoiding the continuously appearing bloodstained handprints, but Yang Jian also worried that venturing further in might lead to unknown dangers. Thus, he didn’t imdiately act but pondered his decision.
Soon.
Carrying the corpse on his shoulders, Yang Jian chose to steel himself and head towards the ever-approaching bloodstained handprints.
Retreating was pointless. It would only waste ti. Besides, approaching head-on might not result in an attack. If he took a detour, he could lose his way, or even encounter dangers far worse than the bloodstained handprints.
...
"I refuse to believe this thing can truly kill .”
Yang Jian walked swiftly, attempting to cross the passage sared with bloody handprints without fear of the ghost that might be from room 82.
Such recklessness would have been impossible for the old him.
But the curse from the Eight-Tone Music Box gave him courage and audacity, allowing him to make multiple mistakes during this ti without losing his life.
The mont Yang Jian began to double back, he imdiately passed by the eerie bloodstained handprints on the wall.
The surroundings felt undeniably wrong.
Though he couldn’t see the actual ghost, Yang Jian could feel the hallway becoming colder than before, his whole body gripped by an inexplicable sense of horror. It was as if many obscure and bizarre eyes were watching him, and yet he braved his way through under the gaze of so ghost.
Yang Jian’s Ghost Eye didn’t wander aimlessly, for he feared he’d see sothing he shouldn’t, affecting him.
Since he had decided to retrace his original path, there was nothing else to consider.
Soon.
He passed by the door to room 82 again.
"Can’t take it off?”
Yang Jian knitted his brows, feeling that brute force wouldn’t work on this thing; after all, it was a supernatural object and not as simple as he had imagined.
"The Ghost Hand might work, but I don’t know if I’ll be attacked again.”
He glanced at his other pale, stiffened palm.
Although he feared a repeat of the previous incident, Yang Jian needed to take the firewood knife, and now seed like the ti to try.
Without delay.
Yang Jian used the other hand, his Ghost Hand, to directly touch the eerie firewood knife.
The next mont.
The tall male corpse, wrapped in a corpse wrapping cloth, began to struggle violently as if Yang Jian’s touch had triggered the murderous rule of the ghost, which wanted to attack him again. But because of the restraint from the corpse wrapping cloth, the ghost couldn’t move, hence the violent reaction.
Clang!
At that mont, the eerie firewood knife unexpectedly detached from the corpse’s hand and fell to the ground, without Yang Jian having applied any force to pull it out.
"Got it off?”
His expression grave, Yang Jian hesitated for a mont, but still extended his Ghost Hand to pick up the firewood knife and gripped the handle.
At that instant.
The rust-covered firewood knife in the tall male corpse’s hand had a new owner.
The violently struggling body also cald in that mont, no longer moving.
"I don’t feel anything special; everything seems normal,” Yang Jian felt for a mont, but nothing seed out of the ordinary.
"Is it because I haven’t used it? So the eeriness of the firewood knife hasn’t manifested. If that’s the case, then I need to try… stepping on footprints?”
"No, that can’t be right. Stepping on footprints is the murderous rule, not a necessity. Because I am human, I can ignore that rule, so stepping on footprints must just be a dium.”
"If it is a dium, then it’s not necessary to step on footprints.”
Yang Jian looked at the bloody handprint on the wall beside him, his expression shifting. He made an attempt, extending his hand over
"Bang!”
The door of room 82, which had been wide open, slamd shut in that instant, and the light beside the door flickered several tis, the bulb dimming as if it was nearly extinguished.
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