Chapter 142 - 3,10 horror

Chapter 3 Countdown and Survival Game

In the Information Analysis Section of the Center for Investigation of Abnormal Phenomena and Folk Culture, the air was filled with a mixture of caffeine and silent pressure.

Zhang Daoyi sat at his workstation, with both the internal event reporting database and the disguised external news aggregation interface open on his screen.

A week of infiltration and observation gave him a clearer understanding of the organization's operating model and the social reality after the rules of the game were introduced.

The official response was remarkably efficient.

Based on reports published on the survivor forum and submitted internally, the official team has drafted a preliminary "Basic Code of Conduct for Rules of the Game (Draft)," with the first rule highlighted in bold red:

"Those whose identities have been confirmed must maintain a certain frequency of game participation. Existing cases have shown that long-term avoidance of the game will trigger an unknown penalty mechanism."

This principle was painfully confirmed this morning from around the world.

An emergency message popped up in the internal notification system, with an access level sufficient for a junior researcher like Zhang Daoyi to view it.

Information shows that, globally, at the same time, thousands of confirmed or highly suspected players suddenly vanished from their game accounts while not playing.

Witnesses described them as disappearing instantly, as if erased by an invisible eraser, leaving only their clothes or personal belongings.

Through piecing together fragmented information from survivor forums and messages from certain "channels," the truth gradually came to light:

These missing players were all inactive players who hadn't actively participated in any rule-based games for more than two weeks and whose rank was below Bronze III.

They triggered a fundamental rule of the Cosmic Arena—account ban.

The punishment wasn't death, but a year of confinement. No one knew where they would be taken or what they would experience during that year, but everyone understood that it was far more chilling than death.

At the same time, more detailed rules for maintaining rank were also revealed:

Bronze and Silver ranks: If you do not participate in the game for two consecutive weeks, one star will be automatically deducted. If you run out of stars, you will be demoted. If there are no more stars to deduct in a lower rank, your account will be banned.

Higher ranks: The maintenance period is longer, and the penalty mechanism is unknown, but it will inevitably be more severe.

This ironclad rule, like the Sword of Damocles, hangs over the head of every player. It utterly shatters any illusion of "surviving." It's either about constantly progressing in the game, or being ruthlessly wiped out while stagnating.

The online public opinion has shifted dramatically once again.

The initial panic began to settle, transforming into a deeper despair and a forced madness.

On the survivor forum, the number of posts asking for "team-ups", "exchanging scenario information", and "ability combination analysis" has surged.

Some players who had previously kept their abilities hidden, hoping to profit in the real world through their skills, have begun to reassess the risks and are forced to turn their attention back to that deadly gaming platform.

"This is practically forced conscription!"

"We have no choice, it's either play or die!"

"Where are the authorities? Where is the army? Can't you save us?!"

Similar cries echoed across the internet, but the only response they received was stricter internet censorship and increasingly calm (or rather, somber) official statements emphasizing that "the situation is under control" and announcing the establishment of multiple psychological crisis intervention centers.

...

"It seems that 'it' doesn't like slacking off." A voice rang out beside Zhang Daoyi.

It was Li Shan, another colleague from the Information Analysis Department, a quiet and slender girl. But Zhang Daoyi, relying on his intuition honed through gaming, could sense an incongruous energy within her; she was very likely a gamer as well.

Zhang Daoyi calmly closed the internal notification page and replied, "The Cosmic Arena doesn't sound like a place to retire."

Li Shan adjusted her glasses and said in a low voice, "The latest analysis model is out. The difficulty of the game's script is strongly correlated with the player's awakened 'talent' level. The higher the talent, the greater the difficulty of the initial dungeons encountered, but the higher the potential rewards."

Zhang Daoyi's heart skipped a beat. This explained why his novice script, "Midnight Taxi," started with an S-level rating. His "entry identity" ability was clearly judged to be an extremely high-level talent.

"Good fortune may be a harbinger of misfortune," he said calmly.

Just then, his personal cell phone, which was on the table, lit up without warning. There were no incoming calls, no notifications, only a line of cold text, as if branded directly onto the screen:

[Player Zhang Daoyi (Bronze II) has been detected as meeting the participation requirements.]

[Random single-player scenario generation in progress...]

[Script Title: Survival Game in an Abandoned School Building]

[Difficulty: Adapted to talent level (relatively strong)]

[Countdown: 23:59:59]

[Hint: Survival is the only goal.]

The text lasted for five seconds, then disappeared as if fading, and the phone returned to normal, as if nothing had ever happened. But that twenty-four-hour countdown was like a scorching iron stamp, branded into Zhang Daoyi's consciousness.

"What's wrong?" Li Shan keenly noticed his momentary pause.

Zhang Daoyi raised his head, his face expressionless, but his eyes were deeper than usual: "Nothing, just thinking about something."

He stood up. "I'm going to the archives."

He needs to prepare. Although he doesn't know what his next identity will be, the survival game and its high difficulty have already pointed him in the right direction.

He needs to consult all the ghost stories about the school buildings, survival skills, and related rule cases collected by the center.

Old Chen appeared at the office door at some point, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Zhang Daoyi, as if he saw through everything. But he didn't ask anything, only saying in a deep voice, "Xiao Zhang, remember, no matter what happens, come back alive. Your analysis report is very valuable."

Zhang Dao nodded, saying nothing more. Value? Perhaps. But he knew very well that in this gradually collapsing world, the ultimate value was always the ability to survive and win in the game.

He returned to his seat and began methodically tidying his desk and clearing his browser history. His mind was already racing, deducing the various rule traps he might encounter in the "abandoned school building," as well as the possible ways to break through the predicament given his different "entry identities."

Thief, doctor, librarian... what's next? Judge? Soldier? Or... an even more seemingly unrelated identity?

An unknown identity, coupled with a known impasse.

The pressure permeated the air like a tangible force, yet Zhang Daoyi's heartbeat remained steady and strong. Fear still lingered, but it had been tamed, transformed into a cold, focused concentration.

Twenty-four hours later, he will once again step onto that stage where life and death hang in the balance.

This time, what awaits him is an even greater challenge, but also a faster path to advancement.

He picked up the still-cold, blood-stained car key and put it in his inner pocket. Then, he shut down his computer, got up, and left the office.

His silhouette stretched long under the corridor lights, resolute and lonely, like a soldier heading to his own battlefield.

The survival game is about to begin.Chapter 4 Preparations Before the Second Game

The office fluorescent lights emitted a low hum, their pale and even light unable to dispel the gloom that permeated everyone's brows.

Zhang Daoyi sat at his workstation, his fingers hovering above the keyboard. On the screen was an unfinished report titled "Correlation Analysis of Recent Urban Abnormal Events," but he couldn't concentrate on reading a single word.

[Countdown: 23:42:17]

The cold string of numbers wasn't displayed on any screen, but rather imprinted directly into the depths of his optic nerve, like a silent metronome, precisely measuring the little normal time he had left.

Each heartbeat felt like a heavy, oppressive accompaniment to the countdown.

"A survival game in an abandoned school building...quite difficult..." These words echoed repeatedly in his mind, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue, bringing a chill. He subconsciously clenched his fist, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force.

The robust physique gained through years of fitness training did not bring enough sense of security at this moment. Faced with that supernatural power of rules, muscle strength seemed so pale.

He tilted his head slightly, using the corner of his eye to observe the other people in the office.

Li Shan remained engrossed in her three screens, her fingers flying across the keyboard. But Zhang Daoyi noticed that she picked up her coffee cup much more frequently today, and several times, her movements would abruptly pause, her eyes glazed over, as if listening to some distant sound that only she could hear.

Zhang Daoyi was almost certain that she had also received the game notification.

The anxiety hidden beneath his calm exterior, like an undercurrent beneath ice, could not escape his notice.

Old Wang, the man in the archives, who is usually a cheerful middle-aged man, was unusually silent today.

As he walked past Zhang Daoyi carrying a stack of file folders, Zhang Daoyi smelled a very faint scent, like the aroma of incense from a temple mixed with some kind of herbal medicine.

Old Wang's fingertips still seemed to have a trace of dark red cinnabar that hadn't been wiped off. What was he preparing? A talisman? Or some kind of exorcising ritual? These details silently told us that within this official institution, the study of rules and games had long since transcended the realm of scientific analysis, venturing into more ancient areas of combating the unknown.

Even the air seemed to have become viscous.

The occasional ringing of the telephone now sounds particularly jarring, causing people at nearby workstations to stiffen almost imperceptibly each time it rings.

When the documents were passed around, no one spoke; there was only the rustling sound of paper rubbing together and the unspoken heaviness in the exchange of glances.

Zhang Daoyi took a deep breath and forced himself to turn his attention back to his inner self. He began to simulate in his mind an abandoned school building filled with unknown rules.

"Survival is the only goal..." What does this mean? Simple physical danger? Or a rule-based instant-death trap? Or... both?

He recalled a highly-rated post on a survivor forum, where the author claimed that in a certain survival scenario, the greatest enemy was not monsters, but distorted common sense.

For example, what you consider a safe direction may actually be a dead end, and what you think is drinkable water may actually be mentally corrupting.

His ability, [random keyword identity], is the biggest variable and also the only hope.

What will your next role be? If it's a soldier or a survival expert...

This would undoubtedly bring a huge advantage. But what if it were an identity like a poet or a painter, seemingly unrelated to survival?

"The strength of an ability lies not in its inherent qualities, but in how it is used." He silently repeated the lesson he had learned from "Midnight Taxi."

Fear stems from the unknown, but the way out also lies within the unknown. He began to train his mind—if randomly assigned a non-combat role, how could he utilize its characteristics to find a way to survive in a desperate situation?

Can a poet use language to trigger or soothe certain rule entities?

Can the artist draw a fake safe path?

This deduction about the unknown identity alleviated, to some extent, the anxiety about the difficulty of the instance itself. He transformed uncontrollable fear into a controllable intellectual challenge.

He opened the internal database, and his permissions allowed him to access seventeen reports of abnormal events related to school buildings.

He quickly scanned the keywords: "infinite corridor," "blood-written words on the blackboard," "a distress letter under the desk," "repeated calisthenics music," "the missing thirteenth step"...

Behind every keyword may lie a fatal rule.

He particularly noted a vague, unverified oral account that mentioned in one incident that the victim repeatedly heard broadcasts that "students who do not follow the rules will be punished," and that the so-called punishment was physical erasure.

Discipline...rules...Zhang Daoyi astutely grasped this core concept. The school environment itself emphasizes order and rules.

This survival game could very well be a terrifying stage that exaggerates and kills "school discipline".

He quietly memorized this crucial information and began to mentally compile a list of survival supplies—though he didn't know how much he could bring in, he knew he had to be well-prepared.

High-energy food, drinking water, first aid kit, multi-tool, high-powered flashlight, spare batteries... He even considered whether he should bring the bloodstained car key, a souvenir from the previous game, which might play an unexpected role in certain circumstances.

Time slipped away quietly amidst silent preparations and inner turmoil.

[Countdown: 12:11:05]

He asked his boss, Lao Chen, for leave, saying he needed to handle some urgent personal matters.

Old Chen gave him a deep look, a gaze that seemed to penetrate his appearance and reach into the countdown unfolding in his heart.

He didn't ask any further questions, but simply patted Zhang Daoyi's shoulder forcefully and said in a deep voice, "Keep communication open."

This ordinary instruction carries a special meaning at this moment.

Leaving the office building, the sunlight outside was a bit dazzling. The streets were bustling with traffic and pedestrians hurrying along; everything seemed no different from usual.

But Zhang Daoyi could sense the undercurrent beneath the calm surface.

On the television at the roadside newsstand, an interview with an expert was playing to reassure people; posters on the street corner advertised a "mental health hotline"; he even saw two pedestrians arguing fiercely, their faces showing barely concealed panic.

This world is trying to maintain the illusion of order, but cracks are already everywhere.

Back in his apartment, he locked the door and drew the curtains, shutting out the light and noise from the outside world.

He did a final check of his prepared backpack, categorizing and organizing any items he might need.

Then, he sat in the middle of the living room, closed his eyes, and began to meditate, adjusting his breathing and trying to calm his pounding heart.

He wasn't waiting for death; he was preparing for a battle. A battle of wits and luck.

In his mind, the outline of the abandoned school building loomed faintly in the mist, its dilapidated windows like empty eye sockets, staring at him. Unknown rules were like sharp teeth hidden in the shadows.

But he was no longer just afraid.

A mixture of tension and anxiety, but with an even stronger, hunter-like calm and focus, gradually took hold of his mind. He recalled the moment in "Midnight Taxi" when he turned the key at the end, that sense of control as he pried open a path to survival in a desperate situation.

Countdown: 00:00:03

Countdown: 00:00:02

Countdown: 00:00:01

They've arrived.

Zhang Daoyi suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze now devoid of any hesitation or doubt, only filled with icy sharpness and unwavering determination.

The surrounding air began to distort, the light became bizarre and surreal, and the familiar sense of spatial alienation returned.

[The script "Survival Game in an Abandoned School Building" is about to begin. Teleportation initiated...]

The next second, he disappeared from the apartment.

Only the tightly drawn curtains swayed slightly, as if silently telling the story of yet another soul being cast into that cruel cosmic arena.Chapter 5: Survival Game in the Abandoned School Building (Part 1)

The sense of being detached from the space was stronger than before, as if the soul was forcibly stuffed into a narrow pipe and then thrown out in an instant.

After a brief period of dizziness, the cold, damp air, carrying a strong musty smell, filled Zhang Daoyi's lungs, stimulating his nerves.

He steadied himself and found himself standing in the middle of a dimly lit corridor.

Underfoot was a terrazzo floor riddled with cracks and stains. Large patches of green paint had peeled off the walls, revealing the dark gray wall beneath, covered with graffiti of unknown meaning and dried spots that looked like bloodstains.

The old fluorescent tubes overhead flickered intermittently, emitting a buzzing sound, barely dispelling a small patch of darkness, but making the shadows further away appear even deeper.

The air was filled with the smell of dust and rotting paper, and there was also a faint, pungent odor similar to formaldehyde.

[The script "Survival Game in an Abandoned School Building" has officially begun.]

[Objective: Survive until dawn (Remaining time: 05:59:59)]

[Warning: Violators of school rules will be disciplined.]

A cold notification sounded in his mind, and at the same time, the familiar label box reappeared in the upper left corner of Zhang Daoyi's vision, the text now updated:

[Random role this time: Night Watchman]

[List of Abilities:]

Night Vision (Passive): In dark environments, your vision is greatly enhanced, allowing you to see most details clearly.

Warning intuition (passive): You experience mild heart palpitations when a potentially fatal danger is approaching.

Silent Footsteps (Active, 1/1): Once activated, your footsteps will completely disappear for ten minutes.

Night Watchman?

Zhang Daoyi quickly assessed the situation in his mind.

While lacking direct combat or rule-breaking abilities, night vision and a keen sense of awareness are undoubtedly invaluable skills in survival scenarios, especially in low-light environments. Silent footsteps, on the other hand, provide a crucial opportunity for survival or reconnaissance.

He immediately activated his passive ability, and the dimly lit corridor became much clearer in his eyes. He could even see the specific strokes of the distorted characters on the graffiti on the wall.

Without time to hesitate, he first needed to understand the environment and find out the so-called school rules.

He stayed close to the wall, moving quickly and cautiously with the help of night vision.

The corridor was lined with tightly closed, dark red wooden doors, most of which had rusted or peeled off their numbers. He tried pushing the nearest door, but it wouldn't budge, as if it were welded shut from the inside.

Just as he passed the second door, a faint, intermittent sobbing sound came from behind it.

The sound was very soft, but it was exceptionally clear in the deathly silent corridor.

Zhang Daoyi paused, his warning instincts failing to elicit a response, meaning there was no immediate danger to his life. However, he remained vigilant; in a game governed by rules, any anomaly could be a trap.

He continued onward, leaving the sobs behind.

At the end of the corridor was a T-junction, and on the wall hung a dusty glass frame. He leaned closer and wiped the dust away; inside was a yellowed copy of the "Student Code of Conduct," the handwriting somewhat blurred but still legible:

School Rules (Partial)

1. Students must wear school uniforms while at school.

2. Running or making noise in the corridor is prohibited.

3. During evening self-study, you must remain quiet and study attentively.

4. Respect teachers and elders; always greet teachers when you encounter them.

5. Do not enter areas marked "No Entry".

... (The rest of the text is covered by stains)

School uniform? Zhang Daoyi looked down at himself; he was still wearing the same casual clothes he wore before entering the game.

Will violating the first rule immediately trigger "punishment"?

A chill ran through him; he had to find the school uniform as soon as possible!

Just then, a slow and heavy footstep came from the depths of the right-hand corridor.

Thump...thump...thump...

The footsteps were neither hurried nor slow, carrying a metallic quality as they struck the ground, echoing in the empty corridor, each step resonating deep within one's heart.

A warning instinct kicked in instantly! A distinct sense of unease washed over me; the source of danger was the direction of those footsteps!

Without hesitation, Zhang Daoyi immediately turned to the left side of the corridor and simultaneously activated his Silent Footsteps. His movements became incredibly light, and he made no sound as he stepped on the dusty ground.

He moved quickly, his sharp eyes scanning both sides, looking for any possible storage room or changing room.

The layout of the left corridor was similar to the one he had come by, but the doors on both sides seemed more dilapidated. He stopped in front of a half-open door with a sign that read "Equipment Room." A stronger smell of mustiness and rust wafted from inside.

The fact that the palpitations didn't worsen meant that the heavy footsteps hadn't followed yet.

He carefully pushed open the slightly ajar door.

The equipment room was piled high with discarded sports equipment: a broken pommel horse, a broken jump rope, and a rusty shot put scattered all over the floor. But in a dilapidated wooden wardrobe in the corner, he was startled to find several folded blue and white school uniform shirts!

He quickly picked up a garment; it was cold and rough to the touch, the fabric was stiff, and it had a musty smell. He put it on without hesitation, and it fit him fairly well.

The moment he put on his school uniform, he seemed to hear a very faint "click" sound in his mind, like a lock closing. A subtle sensation arose, and he felt his aversion to this eerie school building lessen slightly.

Correct! Wearing a school uniform is the necessary first step!

He dared not linger and was about to leave the equipment room when his eyes caught sight of something propped up at the bottom of the wardrobe. He bent down and pulled it out—it was a notebook with curled edges and a blurred cover.

Turning to the first page, one sees written in childish yet distorted handwriting:

"Everyone says Mr. Wang is the best teacher, but he always makes me stay after school for 'tutoring'... His office is in the basement, it's so cold there, and it smells weird..."

"Li Qiang didn't come to school today. I heard he talked back to Teacher Wang yesterday..."

"The rules are fake! You can't completely trust them! Sometimes the radio tells lies!"

"To survive, you must find 'its' 'heart'..."

The notes ended abruptly there, and the following pages were torn out.

Teacher Wang? The basement? The rules are fake? The broadcast lies? Its heart?

A flood of fragmented information rushed into Zhang Daoyi's mind, and he quickly jotted it down. This notebook might be more important than his school uniform.

He stuffed the notebook into the inside pocket of his school uniform and was about to leave.

"Ring ring—!!!"

A piercing, urgent electric bell rang out without warning throughout the entire school building!

Immediately afterwards, a cold, emotionless female voice from the radio echoed down the corridor:

[Evening self-study time has begun. All students, please return to your respective classrooms immediately, remain quiet, and study diligently. Repeat, evening self-study time has begun...]

The moment the announcement came on, Zhang Daoyi clearly felt the temperature in the corridor drop a few degrees. The feeling of being watched intensified abruptly.

What made his heart sink even more was that the palpitation he felt from his warning intuition was no longer just coming from the right corridor, but was beginning to come from all directions!

Evening self-study has begun, and rule number three has been activated! He must find a classroom as soon as possible and remain quiet!

He rushed out of the equipment room, his eyes quickly scanning the classroom doors. Most of the classroom doors were closed, but a short distance ahead, a classroom with a sign that read "Class 2, Grade 3" had its door ajar.

There is no better choice!

He crouched low, using the effects of night vision and the lingering effects of silent footsteps, and slipped into the classroom of Class 2, Grade 3 as swiftly as a ghost.

The classroom was even more dilapidated than the hallway. The desks and chairs were crooked, covered in dust and scratches. The blackboard was blurred, with only faint traces of chalk writing visible. The smell of formaldehyde in the air was even stronger here.

The classroom was not empty.

In the corner by the window, a figure wearing the same blue and white school uniform, head down, sat quietly, motionless.

In the back row of the classroom, another figure was slumped over a desk, his shoulders trembling slightly, emitting a faint, suppressed sob—the very same sound Zhang Daoyi had heard in the hallway earlier!

Zhang Daoyi's heart tightened slightly.

He chose a spot near the door with a relatively open view and sat down, trying not to make any noise. His night vision allowed him to clearly see the figure in the corner with its head down, the exposed skin of its neck an unnatural bluish-gray.

The sound of the radio still echoed relentlessly outside the window.

Keep quiet... study diligently...

Those who violate the rules... will be punished...

The first night of the survival game has only just begun. The real danger is quietly descending upon this deathly silent evening study session.

Zhang Daoyi's palms were slightly sweaty, but his eyes were as sharp as a hawk's. His night watchman's intuition told him that the hunt in the darkness had begun.Chapter 6 Abandoned School Buildings and Survival Game Part 2

Time seemed to freeze in the classroom, with only the cold, repetitive broadcast outside the window proving that time was still passing.

Every second felt like rubbing on sandpaper, slow and agonizing.

Zhang Daoyi forced himself to maintain a calm demeanor, breathing as softly as possible, like a hunter lying in wait.

His night vision allowed him to see the entire classroom without much effort, which in turn increased his psychological pressure—the dust-covered desks, the mottled blackboard, and the two strangely shaped "classmates" were all clearly visible and detailed under his clear vision.

The figure in the corner, head bowed, remained in the same posture, like a decaying statue.

The bluish-gray skin of his neck gleamed ominously in the dim light.

Zhang Daoyi could even see the fingers resting on his knees, with dark purple grime embedded in the nail crevices.

The sobbing "classmate" in the back row was shaking his shoulders less and less, and his voice was almost inaudible. It was hard to tell whether he was terrified or... that something bad was about to happen.

His gut feeling, like a low-voltage alarm, kept humming faintly in his heart, reminding him that the deadly danger was not far away, but was only temporarily lurking beneath this deathly silence.

He must use this time to find more clues.

The notes in the notebook mention things like "the rules are fake," "broadcasts lie," and "find 'its' heart." These fragmented pieces of information are like scattered puzzle pieces, urgently needing to be pieced together.

His gaze swept across the blackboard again. The previously blurry chalk writing became clearer under the night vision. It didn't seem to be writing on the board, but rather a series of fragmented words, as if scribbled by a madman in a frenzied state:

"The eyes...are watching..."

"The sound...will attract..."

"The shadow... is alive..."

"Don't...trust...the mirror..."

The handwriting was crooked and erratic, carrying a sense of desperate madness. Zhang Daoyi silently memorized it; these words likely hinted at some specific rule or danger.

Does "being watched" mean there is surveillance?

"Sound will attract attention"... This confirms the rule of keeping quiet.

"The shadow is alive"... What does this mean?

"Don't trust mirrors"...yet another specific warning.

Just as he was trying to decipher the words, a very faint sound, like fingernails scratching a wooden surface, came from the direction of the podium.

"Sizzle... sizzle..."

The sound was faint, but in the absolutely quiet classroom, it was so clear it sent chills down your spine.

Zhang Daoyi's muscles tensed instantly, and the buzzing of his warning instincts suddenly increased by half an inch! Danger was approaching!

He remained crouched, his gaze fixed on the podium. It was empty, save for a worn-out lectern.

The scraping sound continued, and... it was moving!

It slowly, very slowly emerged from behind the lectern.

With the help of night vision, Zhang Daoyi saw that it was not a fingernail at all, but a pale, as if it had been soaked in water, fingertip dragging across the ground, leaving a clear mark on the dusty floor!

That severed finger belonged to a... tiny silhouette that was almost completely blended into the shadows! It resembled a curled-up child, but in an extremely contorted posture, crawling at a breathtakingly slow pace toward the sobbing "classmate" in the back row!

Don't move! Don't make a sound!

Broadcasting rules are like ironclad laws, and any violation may result in "punishment".

Zhang Daoyi's heart was pounding in his chest, but he clenched his teeth tightly, forcibly suppressing even the act of swallowing.

He didn't know what the crawling "thing" was, but the malice it exuded was colder and more viscous than the heavy footsteps he had heard in the corridor earlier.

The sobbing "classmate" in the back row seemed to sense the approaching danger as well. His (or her) sobbing stopped completely, his (or her) body stiffened like a stone, even the most basic trembling disappeared, leaving only extreme fear.

Pale fingers dragged her body closer and closer, until she was less than three meters away from the figure in the back row.

Zhang Daoyi's mind raced. The notebook said "broadcasts can lie," but the rule of "remaining quiet" hadn't proven false so far. He couldn't take the risk. But could he just stand by and watch?

Just as those pale fingers were about to touch the sole of the "student's" shoe in the back row—

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

The heavy, familiar metallic footsteps once again came from outside the corridor, growing louder as they approached!

This time, the footsteps had a very clear target: the classroom door of Class 2, Grade 3!

The temperature in the classroom plummeted, as if even the dust floating in the air was about to freeze. The short figure crawling towards the back row froze abruptly, then, as if greatly frightened, quickly shrank back into the shadows behind the podium and disappeared, leaving only a clear scratch on the floor.

A chilling sense of unease instantly surged to its peak! The threat outside the door was far more terrifying than the one inside the classroom!

The heavy footsteps stopped at the classroom door.

Through the glass window in the door, a tall, distorted shadow was cast in. The shadow's head was unusually large, and it seemed to be wearing some kind of oddly shaped hat (perhaps a teacher's hat?), and it carried a huge, indistinct object on one shoulder, like a giant... ruler?

"Squeak—"

The classroom door was slowly pushed open.

An indescribable, pungent smell, a mixture of rust, blood, and formaldehyde, wafted in first.

Zhang Daoyi lowered his head even further, staring intently at the doorway out of the corner of his eye. He saw two legs, as thin as withered tree branches, clad in dark trousers, and a pair of old leather shoes stained with dark red dirt.

Rule 4: [Respect teachers and elders; always greet teachers when you encounter them.]

Now, the "teacher" has arrived.

The cold, impersonal broadcast rang out again at that moment, carrying a mocking tone:

Students, please greet your teacher.

Zhang Daoyi felt an invisible force exerting itself on him, forcing him to look up and speak. He gritted his teeth to resist this force, his gaze rapidly sweeping across the classroom.

The "classmate" in the corner, with his head down, remained motionless, seemingly oblivious to the outside world.

The "classmate" in the back row who had just escaped a close call began to tremble violently. He seemed to want to greet them as required by the rules, but the extreme fear made him only able to gurgle and make strange noises, unable to form a complete sentence.

The "teacher's" figure fully entered the classroom. It stood on the podium, its lifeless, glass-bead-like eyes slowly sweeping across the entire classroom.

Zhang Daoyi finally saw clearly what it was carrying on its shoulder—it was indeed a huge wooden ruler, but the ruler was covered with dense, inward-curving iron nails and barbs, and dark red solidified substance covered every inch of its surface.

Its gaze first fell on the trembling figure in the back row who was unable to greet the person.

"No...no..." the figure cried out in broken pleas.

The "teacher" didn't say anything, but simply raised that terrifying ruler.

Without a whooshing sound, the ruler seemed to transcend space and appear directly above the figure's head.

"puff--"

A dull thud, like the sound of a ripe watermelon bursting open.

The trembling of the figure stopped abruptly, and the head collapsed like a shattered piece of pottery, splattering red and white matter and staining the old desk next to it.

Then, the headless corpse, along with the splattered filth, faded and disappeared as if erased by an eraser, leaving only a faint smell of blood in the air.

Those who violate the rules will be subject to disciplinary action.

The rules were enforced coldly.

Zhang Daoyi felt a chill run from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. This was "punishment," an absolute and irresistible annihilation.

The "teacher's" gaze slowly shifted to the other two "students" in the classroom—the one in the corner with his head down, and... Zhang Daoyi.

Its glass-bead-like eyes seemed to linger on Zhang Daoyi for a moment.

Zhang Daoyi could feel the cold scrutiny in that gaze. He forced himself to raise his head, meeting that inhuman gaze, and said clearly in as steady a voice as possible, without the slightest tremor:

"Hello, teacher."

He followed the rules.

The teacher's stiff, stitched-up lips seemed to curve upwards very slightly, forming a chilling "smile." It didn't respond, but simply slowly withdrew the blood-stained ruler and slung it back over its shoulder.

Then, it turned around, took heavy and slow steps, and walked out of the classroom, closing the door behind it.

The moment the classroom door closed, the invisible pressure exerted on me vanished instantly.

Zhang Daoyi's back was soaked with cold sweat, and his clenched fists were so tight that his nails dug deep into his palms, bringing a stinging sense of clarity.

Evening self-study continued, and the broadcast kept repeating.

But only two "classmates" remained in the classroom.

Zhang Daoyi took a deep breath of the cold air, which smelled strongly of blood and formaldehyde. His gaze returned to the shadow behind the podium and to the "classmate" in the corner who kept his head down.

The survival game is far from over. Finding "its" "heart" may be the only key to breaking this cycle of despair. He must be even more careful, making good use of the "Night Watch's" abilities to search for a glimmer of hope in this deadly schoolhouse.Chapter 7 Abandoned School Buildings and Survival Game Part 3

The lingering sound of the classroom door closing, like the final echo of a death knell, slowly settled into the deathly silence.

The lingering smell of blood mixed with the odor of formaldehyde in the air, creating a nauseatingly sweet odor.

Zhang Daoyi slowly loosened his clenched fist, a sharp pain shooting through his palm as four distinct crescent-shaped welts slowly oozed blood. The pain brought him to a more alert state.

The hum of his warning instincts didn't stop when the "teacher" left; instead, it continued like background noise, reminding him that the classroom was far from safe. His gaze first fell on the shadow behind the podium—the short silhouette crawling with pale fingers had disappeared, but the clear scratch on the floor, like a vicious mark, pointed to the empty space in the back row where the "punishment" had just taken place.

The place is now completely empty, not even a trace of blood remains, only an invisible, heavy resentment lingers.

Then, his gaze settled on the "classmate" in the corner who kept his head down.

Throughout the entire process of the "teacher" entering, administering punishment, and leaving, the figure remained motionless, as if welded to the seat, without even the slightest tremor. This absolute stillness, in this environment, was itself the greatest anomaly.

The broadcast continued its tireless repetition: "Keep quiet...study diligently..."

But at this moment, the sound sounded more like a hypnotic, a poison that numbed the prey's senses.

Zhang Daoyi recalled the words in his notebook: "Sometimes the radio tells lies." Then, is the rule of "keeping quiet" also a lie in certain situations? Is it a trap used to bind them, leaving them to sit and wait for their doom?

He couldn't just sit and wait. There were still several hours of evening study time, and passively waiting would only increase the uncertain risks. He needed information, he needed to understand how this school building operated, and he needed to find out what was called "it" and "its heart."

His gaze swept over the frantic handwriting on the blackboard once more: "The shadow... is alive..."

shadow?

He instinctively looked down at his feet. In the flickering, dim light, his shadow was stretched long and distorted, cast onto the dusty ground, swaying slightly with the changing light.

Everything seemed normal.

But when he turned his gaze to the figure in the corner with its head down, his heart skipped a beat!

At the foot of that figure, although the light was dim, his night vision allowed him to see clearly—there was no shadow there!

No, to be more precise, it's not that there's no shadow, but that the shadow... is independent!

A thick, inky black shadow, roughly the shape of a human figure, did not cling to the "classmate's" feet. Instead, it was like a living thing, clinging to the wall and rising and falling slowly at its base, like breathing! It would even occasionally extend a few tentacles of darkness, exploring the surrounding walls!

"The shadow is alive..."

The warning instantly materialized, bringing a chilling sensation. This "classmate" with its head bowed may not be frightening in itself, but its "living shadow" is absolutely a deadly threat! Any rash action could awaken it.

We must leave this classroom!

The announcement instructed students to "stay in the classroom to study," but his notebook indicated that "the rules are fake." It was a gamble. The stakes were his life.

He carefully observed the classroom door. The "teacher" had opened the door normally and left; there was no indication that the door was locked. The key was how to leave silently without alerting the "living shadow" and the "creeping creature" that might be lurking under the podium.

Silent Footsteps had already been used. He could only rely on absolute caution now.

He held his breath and began to move his body inch by inch at the slowest possible pace. He controlled the movement of each joint to a minimum, avoiding any possible rustling of clothing. His eyes were fixed on the living shadow in the corner and on the direction of the podium.

Time seemed to stretch out. Moving just half a meter felt like an eternity. Cold sweat trickled down my temples, dripping onto my school uniform collar and leaving a dark, damp stain.

Just as his hand was about to touch the cold metal handle of the classroom door—

"Ring ring—!!!"

Another piercing electric bell suddenly rang!

This time, the female voice on the radio seemed to carry a hint of...urgency?

Evening self-study session is over! All students, please return to your dormitories immediately! Do not linger in the corridors! Repeat, return to your dormitories immediately!

Evening self-study...is it over?

This sudden change startled Zhang Daoyi. But almost simultaneously, the palpitation triggered by his gut feeling suddenly became sharp, like countless needles piercing his nerves!

Danger! Immense danger is coming from all directions!

Without further hesitation, he yanked open the classroom door!

The moment the door opened, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of the "classmate" in the corner who had been keeping his head down. Suddenly, his head jerked upwards at an angle no human could possibly make—180 degrees! Above the collar of his school uniform, instead of a face, was a huge, writhing hole made up of countless pale white maggots!

The "living shadow" beneath his feet, like a venomous snake awakened, suddenly swelled up, transforming into a huge black curtain, and lunged towards the spot where Zhang Daoyi had just been, bringing with it a chilling, fishy wind!

Zhang Daoyi felt a chill run down his spine. He rushed out of the classroom with all his might and slammed the door shut behind him!

"Bang!"

A heavy thud came from inside the door, along with the ear-piercing noise of something frantically scraping against the door panel.

He didn't have time to look back and sprinted along the path he remembered coming from! His night vision was put to the test at this moment, allowing him to accurately avoid obstacles on the ground in the dim light.

The corridor was no longer silent.

The dark red wooden doors on both sides, which had been tightly closed, were now making unusual noises. There were heavy thuds, faint sobs, the sound of fingernails scratching the door panels, and one door even shook violently, revealing a blurry, pained human face protruding from its panel!

The loudspeaker was still repeating at breakneck speed: "Return to your dorm! Do not linger in the hallways!"

This rule is very likely true! The consequences of lingering are unimaginable!

He ran for his life, his heart pounding like a drum. The heavy, metallic footsteps seemed to echo again from the depths of the school building, closing in on him!

We must find a dormitory location as soon as possible!

Just as he rushed to the T-junction where he had seen the school rules earlier, his gaze suddenly locked onto the end of the left corridor—there was a double iron gate with a crooked sign that read "Dormitory Area" on it!

Hope is just around the corner!

However, in the middle of the corridor leading to the dormitory area, a figure blocked the way.

Is it that "Teacher Wang"?

No.

It was that small, crouching figure that had crawled under the podium with its pale fingers! Now, it was squatting on the ground with its back to Zhang Daoyi, its shoulders shrugging as if...chewing something. Beside it lay several tattered exercise books and a puddle of fresh, dark red liquid.

It blocked the only way out.

Behind them, heavy footsteps grew closer. From inside the doors on either side, the strange noises intensified.

There are wolves in front and tigers behind.

Veins bulged on Zhang Daoyi's forehead as his brain raced at an unprecedented pace. Force his way in? What were his chances against this unknown and bizarre force? Wait? The "teacher" behind him would be here soon!

His gaze swept over the exercise books on the floor, then settled on the short, small figure. The notebook mentioned that "Teacher Wang's" office was in the basement, and this one in front of him...

A bold conjecture flashed through my mind.

He stopped, no longer trying to remain silent, but speaking in a deliberately low, uncertain voice to the short figure:

"...Teacher Wang wants you to go to his office in the basement."

The chewing sounds stopped abruptly.

The short figure suddenly stopped, and then its head... no, its entire upper body, like a broken doll, spun 180 degrees without warning, facing Zhang Daoyi!

That face... had no features, only a flat, deathly pale skin, as if it had been ironed. But where the mouth should have been, there was a crack in the skin, revealing countless tiny, file-like teeth, from which dark red viscous fluid dripped.

It was "looking" at Zhang Daoyi, its flat face seemingly trying to "discern" something.

The next second, it let out a sharp screech that almost pierced eardrums, abruptly abandoned the "food" on the ground, and crawled frantically on all fours at a speed that left afterimages, heading in the opposite direction from Zhang Daoyi—probably towards the basement—and instantly disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.

You made the right bet!

A huge weight lifted from Zhang Daoyi's heart. He dared not delay for a moment and used his last bit of strength to rush toward the iron gate that marked "dormitory area"!

Behind him, the heavy metallic footsteps were already close at hand, and he could even feel the oppressive aura mixed with blood and rust.

He slammed open the half-closed iron gate, rushed inside, and then used all his strength to slam the gate shut behind him!

"Clang!"

Just as the iron gate slammed shut, heavy footsteps came from outside, followed by a low, inhuman roar filled with resentment and violence.

Zhang Daoyi leaned against the cold iron gate, panting heavily, his sweat almost soaking through the lining of his school uniform.

The low growls outside the door continued for a moment before gradually fading away.

He is safe for now.

He looked up and surveyed the so-called "dormitory area." It resembled an abandoned dormitory corridor, with narrow room doors on both sides. The air was filled with the same musty and dusty smell, but it seemed to lack the nauseating odor of formaldehyde.

On the corridor wall, there was a newer, slightly cleaner notice:

Dormitory Management Regulations

You must return to your designated dormitory to sleep every night.

No making noise or visiting other people's rooms after lights out.

If you hear any unusual noises, please ignore them and do not open the door to check.

I wish you... sweet dreams.

Zhang Daoyi looked at the last sentence, "May you have sweet dreams," which seemed to carry a hint of malice, and a cold smile appeared on his lips.

He pushed open the door of the nearest dormitory room, which was slightly ajar. Inside were four bunk beds, empty except for rotten wooden planks. He chose a lower bunk, which was closer to the door and relatively secluded, and sat down.

The night is still long. Dawn is still several hours away.

Perhaps only here can the identity of the "Night Watchman" truly come into play.

He needs rest, but even more so, he needs to be vigilant. The core secret of the school building, its very heart, remains hidden behind the fog.

The second half of the survival game will slowly unfold amidst silence and unknown threats.Chapter 8 Abandoned School Buildings and Survival Games (Part 4)

Leaning against the cold iron gate, Zhang Daoyi's breathing gradually calmed down, but his heart was still beating heavily in his chest, like a resounding war drum.

Although the malicious growls outside the door had faded away, the sense of threat in the air had not dissipated; it had simply shifted from a direct confrontation to a more insidious lurking.

Even with night vision, the view in the dormitory corridor was uncomfortably clear.

The walls were a bleak, peeling beige, covered with cobwebs and stains of unknown origin.

Rows of dark green wooden doors are arranged like tombstones, and most of the door numbers are rusted or missing.

The overhead lights were broken, and only an emergency light at the far end of the corridor emitted a ghostly green light, as if from the underworld, casting an ominous hue over everything.

[Dormitory Management Regulations] are engraved on the wall like a final ultimatum.

Especially the third rule: "If you hear any unusual noises, please ignore them and do not open the door to check."

This almost explicitly states that the dormitory area is far from a safe haven at night.

He pushed open the door to dormitory 107. The room was filled with the smell of old wood and dust, slightly better than the corridor, but still oppressive.

The four bunk beds were covered in rust, and some of the bed boards had broken and collapsed.

He chose a lower bunk that was relatively intact and close to the door.

This position makes it easy to observe what's happening at the door and also allows for a quick escape in an emergency.

He didn't dare to lie down completely, but sat down against the cold wall, placing his backpack within easy reach.

The night watchman's night vision and alert instincts are passively activated, like two invisible radars scanning the frequencies of darkness and danger.

silence.

A deathly silence.

This silence was not tranquility, but a suffocating stillness before a storm. It was so heavy that it seemed to absorb all sound, making even his own breathing and heartbeat seem particularly abrupt.

He could even hear the faint hissing sound of blood flowing in his veins.

Time ticked by, second by second. Every second felt like dancing on a knife's edge.

I don't know how much time had passed; perhaps only a dozen minutes, or perhaps an hour.

A sound, extremely faint, began to invade this deathly silence.

At first, it sounded like the whistling of the wind rattling the broken windowpanes, but Zhang Daoyi quickly realized it wasn't the wind. It was... the sound of scratching at the door.

"Sizzle... sizzle..."

The sound was very soft, as if it were coming from the next dormitory, 106, or perhaps from the door of the dormitory, 107, which was behind him.

It scraped the wooden door panel again and again with something hard, intermittently and with a stubborn, teeth-grinding patience.

The warning intuition did not respond.

Zhang Daoyi frowned. The rules explicitly instructed him to "ignore it," but his intuition told him that this thing was completely different from what he had encountered in the classroom before. It didn't exude direct killing intent; it was more like... a test? Or perhaps, a form of mental torture?

He focused his mind, trying to ignore the scraping sound that was like a leech, and concentrated his attention on his other senses.

His night vision allowed him to see the finest dust particles moving within the room. His gaze swept across the empty bed opposite him, over the clutter piled in the corner, and over the winding cracks in the ceiling…

etc!

His gaze suddenly fixed on the inside of the iron frame of the opposite bed. There, in the dim green light and with enhanced night vision, he saw several lines of writing, almost blending into the rust, carved with a knife or a hard object. The writing was crooked, filled with despair:

"It has no eyes, but it sees."

"It has no ears, but it hears."

"Don't make a sound, don't let it know 'you' are there."

"Its heart...is beating...I've found the heartbeat..."

The handwriting becomes messy here, leaving only some meaningless scratches.

Zhang Daoyi's heart clenched suddenly.

"It has no eyes, but it sees"—this confirms the statement on the blackboard that "the eyes are watching."

"It has no ears, but it listens"—this explains why absolute silence must be maintained.

"Don't let it know you're there"—this seems to go a step further than simply "ignore," demanding complete "concealment"!

"Its heart is beating"—this once again points to the core clue mentioned in the notebook!

These inscriptions are the last messages left by the "players" or "victims" who were previously trapped here! They are priceless!

"Sizzle... sizzle..."

The scratching at the door continued, but it seemed... to have gotten closer? It was as if the thing had moved from the door of 106 to the door of 107.

Zhang Daoyi held his breath, maximizing the passive effect of the Night Watchman's stealth operation, striving to minimize his presence, as if trying to blend into the shadows of the wall. He even controlled his gaze, preventing it from falling too directly on the crack in the door, lest it trigger some unknown sensation.

He could feel something standing opposite him through a thin door panel.

The thing didn't exude the deadly danger his intuition warned of, but the mental pressure it brought was like icy seawater, slowly engulfing him and trying to erode his reason.

Time crawled slowly through the stalemate.

Suddenly, the scratching stopped.

A deathly silence descended once more, even heavier than before.

Zhang Daoyi not only did not relax his vigilance, but instead raised it to its peak. The calm before the storm is often the most dangerous.

A few seconds later, a new voice rang out.

It was... humming.

A childish, distorted, and oddly melody seemed to be ringing in his ears, or perhaps it came from the end of the corridor:

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, where are my friends..."

"In the classroom, in the dormitory, in the shadows..."

"Find him, hold onto him, and be with him forever..."

"His heartbeat... sounds so beautiful..."

The humming was intermittent, carrying an eerie feeling that was both innocent and malicious, echoing in the dark green corridor.

Zhang Daoyi's blood almost froze in that instant!

Because he clearly felt that as the humming began, something in his left breast pocket seemed to vibrate slightly!

It was that notebook found in the equipment room, filled with records of despair!

The notebook...reacted to that humming?!

Could this humming be related to the notebook's original owner? Or is the notebook itself some kind of... "mark"?

The humming gradually faded into the distance, as if the thing humming was leaving along the corridor.

But Zhang Daoyi knew that the crisis was far from over. The unusual activity in the notebook, the engraved messages, the hummed nursery rhymes... all the clues pointed to one core—"its" "heart".

This school building is a living, malevolent, and colossal entity governed by rules. His task is not merely to survive within its rules, but to find its core and… destroy it!

He gently took out the notebook and, by the dim light, flipped through it again. As his fingers brushed over the childish and distorted handwriting, a faint, almost resonant, tremor once more traveled from the notebook to his fingertips.

To survive, one must find its heart...

A notebook may be more than just a record; it could be a key, a compass pointing to the "heart"!

He closed his eyes, concentrated all his attention, and tried to pinpoint the direction from which the faint throbbing was coming.

The Night's Watch's intuition was heightened to its limit at this moment.

He vaguely sensed that the source of the tremor was not from the corridor, nor from upstairs... but from below.

basement!

Teacher Wang's office is in the basement! The original owner of the notebook's final place of fear was the basement!

That place is very likely where "its" "heart" is located!

However, dormitory regulations required him to stay there until dawn. Leaving the dormitory without permission was undoubtedly a violation of the rules and would directly expose him to "disciplinary action."

Is it to follow the rules, survive until dawn, and then wait for the next, more difficult game that may come at any time? Or is it to take a gamble, while the "Night Watch" still has its abilities, to venture into the lion's den and seek that possible glimmer of hope that could completely end this script?

Zhang Daoyi opened his eyes, his gaze flashing with a calm and resolute light.

Waiting passively has never been his style.

In "Midnight Taxi," he stole life. Here, he will steal the "heart" of this eerie school building!

He gently put the notebook back into his pocket, took a deep breath, and his gaze fell on the dormitory door that led to danger and the unknown.

The time to act is now.Chapter 9 Abandoned School Buildings and Survival Games (Part 5)

The iron door of the dormitory made a slightly grating "creak" sound in my hand, which sounded particularly jarring in the dead silence.

Zhang Daoyi's movements froze for a moment. His night vision ability captured every speck of dust under the eerie green light of the corridor, and his instinctive warning was like a taut string, sensing the slightest fluctuations of danger.

The humming had faded away, and the scratching at the door had ceased. Only a suffocating silence remained in the corridor, along with a faint tremor emanating from deep beneath his feet, like the beating of a giant heart—a tremor that became increasingly clear after he focused his attention on the basement.

The resonant vibrations transmitted by the notebook in my pocket subtly matched the tremors from the ground.

Let's take a gamble!

Without further hesitation, he slipped out of dormitory 107 like a shadow and gently closed the door behind him.

He didn't move forward immediately, but instead pressed himself against the cold wall, pushing his senses to the limit as a night watchman, and listened carefully for nearly a minute.

No abnormalities were found.

He began to move, his goal being to find the entrance to the basement.

In conventional building layouts, stairwells are usually located at either end or in the middle of a corridor.

He chose the opposite direction from where the humming had disappeared and crept deeper into the corridor.

Night vision allowed him to avoid the scattered brick fragments and unidentified stains on the ground. The cooldown time for his silent footsteps had not yet arrived, so he could only rely on extreme control to make his footsteps as light as a feather.

The dormitory doors on both sides remained like silent coffins.

Occasionally, he seemed to sense a faint "gaze" coming from behind a door, but he remembered the warnings of the inscription and the rules and never looked into it or made any interaction that made him feel "I am being watched".

The end of the corridor was not a staircase, but a collapsed brick wall that blocked the way.

He immediately turned back and searched in another direction, the direction from which the humming had come. This time, he was more cautious, because the "thing" humming the nursery rhyme might not have gone far.

Sure enough, near the middle of the corridor, he saw a staircase leading downwards. There was no door, only a dark, gaping entrance, like the open throat of a giant beast.

The cold, damp air, carrying a strong musty smell and an even stronger formalin odor, was slowly rising from below.

The staircase is an old concrete structure with severely damaged edges and rust-covered handrails. Fragments of broken slogans can be seen on the walls, such as "Important…" and "…Stop Entering".

This is the place.

Zhang Daoyi didn't go down immediately. He squatted down and carefully examined the stair steps. There were some messy marks on the dust, some like long, dragging marks, and some... like wet little footprints, all in a disorderly manner.

He took a deep breath of the cold, ominous air, lowered his center of gravity, and stepped down the stairs, one step at a time.

The further down you go, the dimmer the light becomes, until even the faint green emergency lights in the corridor disappear completely. Night vision becomes absolutely dominant here, transforming the dark scene into a clear gray-white image.

At the corner of the stairs, he saw the first "wreckage".

It could no longer be called a corpse; it was more like a set of empty blue and white school uniforms that had been carelessly discarded, lying limply in the corner.

The school uniform was "clean," with no bloodstains or damage, except for some grayish-white powder resembling insect damage around the collar.

Beside it, a rusty nameplate lay scattered, the writing blurred.

Is it an empty shell left after being "punished"? Or has its contents been "eaten" by something?

Zhang Daoyi felt an even greater chill in his heart. He bypassed the strange "relic" and continued downwards.

Finally, he stepped onto the basement floor.

This place was even more dilapidated and damp than the one above, with cold water droplets seeping from the walls, gathering into trickles that formed small puddles on the uneven ground. The smell of formaldehyde in the air was so strong and pungent that it was almost tangible.

Before me was a not-too-long corridor with several rooms on either side. At the end of the corridor stood a heavy, dark green iron door. There were no markings on the door, but a palpable tremor and vibration, seemingly originating from the depths of one's soul, emanated clearly from behind it!

Its heart is right there!

However, the corridor leading to that door was not a smooth path.

The corridor floor, walls, and even ceiling were covered with a viscous, dark red, slowly wriggling, fungal-like substance that seemed to possess life. It appeared to be breathing, rising and falling, emitting a faint, whispering spiritual pollution.

In the gaps between these wriggling fungal mats, you can see some broken objects that are half-encased and half-swallowed—broken table and chair legs, damaged experimental instruments, and even half a human arm bone!

My gut instincts are screaming a strong warning! These fungal mats are extremely dangerous! The consequences of touching them are unimaginable!

Zhang Daoyi stopped and observed carefully. The mushroom carpet covering the ground was not random; it seemed to intentionally avoid certain areas.

His gaze was fixed on the wall, where he could vaguely see several very narrow "paths" that were not covered by the fungal carpet. At the edges of the paths, there seemed to be traces of some kind of dried, silvery-white powder.

Is it salt? Or something else that has the effect of warding off evil or suppressing evil spirits?

Will these paths have been left by the "pioneers" who carved out warnings before?

The path is narrow, allowing only one person to pass sideways, and it is winding and requires a high degree of balance and concentration; one slip and...

He glanced at the iron gate at the end of the corridor, which seemed to be calling to him, and felt the increasingly rapid throbbing of the notebook in his pocket.

There is no way out.

He chose the "path" closest to him, pressed his body tightly against the cold, damp wall, and carefully took his first step.

His feet stomped on the dry ground, making a slight scraping sound. Less than half a meter to his sides and under his feet, the dark red fungal carpet writhed like living things, and he could even smell the nauseating stench of rust and rotten sweetness emanating from it.

Some of the fungal tentacles would occasionally tentatively reach out towards the "path," but upon touching the traces of silvery-white powder, they would quickly retract as if burned.

He had to be extremely focused! His night vision allowed him to see every detail and avoid potentially slippery areas. He was walking a tightrope over a bottomless abyss, every step a matter of life and death.

The short corridor, only a dozen meters long, felt longer and more difficult to traverse than any other stretch of road before.

Just as he was about to reach the middle of the corridor, less than five meters from the dark green iron door—

"Giggle...giggle..."

A chilling laugh, like bones grinding together, came from the direction of the stairwell he had just come down!

It's that "thing" that hums nursery rhymes! It's back! And it's coming down!

Zhang Daoyi's heart sank, but he dared not panic in the slightest. Instead, he quickened his pace, determined to cross the fungal carpet area before that "thing" completely descended!

"Hehe...Found you...the disobedient...student..."

A childish, distorted voice, filled with joy (or perhaps pre-hunt excitement), echoed through the stairwell and was rapidly approaching!

Zhang Daoyi could even hear its light, bouncy footsteps!

The last three meters!

He practically sprinted, squeezing sideways through the last narrow section of the path. His foot slipped, and he nearly fell, but luckily he managed to steady himself by bracing himself against the dark green iron gate!

The instant his palm touched the iron gate—

"boom!!"

A mental shock, countless times stronger than before, mixed with the heavy heartbeat that seemed to come from the depths of hell, erupted from behind the door like a tsunami, slamming into his consciousness!

Zhang Dao felt a buzzing in his head, his vision went blood red, and his ears were filled with frantic babbling and screams! The notebook in his pocket was shaking violently, almost jumping out!

He groaned, enduring the excruciating pain that felt like his soul was being torn apart, and suddenly turned around!

At the top of the stairs, the short, faceless humming voice appeared.

It seemed hesitant about the fungal carpet area and didn't rush over immediately. Instead, it stood at the top of the stairs, its flat "face" facing Zhang Daoyi, and let out a venomous "clucking" laugh from its split mouth.

Behind it, the heavy metallic footsteps sounded again, growing ever closer! The "teacher" had arrived!

Ahead lies the unknown "heart" and a terrifying mental shock, behind are two bizarre obstacles!

A truly desperate situation!

Zhang Daoyi leaned against the cold, icy iron door, his body drenched in sweat from the dampness of the basement. He looked at the two "strange" figures lurking in the distance, and felt the madness and trembling behind the door that seemed to be swallowing him whole.

A resolute glint flashed in his eyes.

There's no time to hesitate!

He whirled around, using all his strength to brace his hands against the deep green door, which seemed to seal away some kind of ultimate terror—

iron gate!Chapter 10 Abandoned School Building and Survival Game (The End)

The moment my hands touched the iron gate, the coldness wasn't a physical low temperature, but a chill that pierced my very soul.

The mental shock coming from behind the door was like a tangible tsunami, tearing at Zhang Daoyi's will. Countless distorted illusions flashed before his eyes—figures struggling in pain, grinning teacher faces, recurring scenes of punishment, and the omnipresent, malicious gaze.

The warning instinct was no longer a buzzing sound, but a sharp, piercing pain, frantically warning him that the area behind the door was an absolute death zone! Even the notebook in his pocket was as hot as a branding iron, the resonant throbbing almost leaping out of his chest.

We cannot retreat! Retreating means certain death!

Zhang Daoyi let out a low growl, like the struggle of a dying beast, concentrating all his mental energy to fight against the pervasive mental pollution. The Night Watchman's unwavering will was pushed to its limit at this moment; his eyes were bloodshot, but his gaze was like tempered iron, fixed intently on the crack in the door!

There's no keyhole! The door is latched from the inside, or... it's "alive" in itself!

At the top of the stairs, the eerie, faceless child that had been humming tentatively extended a pale hand, touching the edge of the fungal carpet area, making a "sizzling" corrosive sound. But it didn't seem to care, and the "giggle" from its cracked mouth grew even more cheerful.

Behind it, heavy metallic footsteps had already reached the last few steps of the basement. The tall, distorted shadow of the "teacher," accompanied by the ear-piercing noise of the spiked ruler dragging on the floor, was about to descend completely!

Only one second left!

Zhang Daoyi's gaze swept across the door panel. With his night vision, he noticed some darker marks near the hinges, almost blending into the dark green paint—a handprint! A small handprint, seemingly from a child, composed of dried blood and some kind of filth!

The notebook's resonance reached its peak as it approached the handprint!

In a flash, a thought struck his chaotic mind like lightning—the original owner of the notebook! The child whom Teacher Wang took to the basement for "tutoring"! His fear, his resentment, were part of the eeriness of this school building! This handprint, perhaps... is the key?

Without hesitation, he pulled the hot, trembling notebook from his pocket and pressed it hard against the dark red child's handprint!

"Buzz—!!!"

It was as if a great bell was ringing deep within my soul!

The instant the notebook made contact with the palm print, a violent energy wave, neither light nor darkness, erupted! The fragile notebook instantly turned to dust, but all the despair, fear, and the last bit of unwilling obsession contained within it, like a flood bursting its banks, crashed into the palm print!

"Crack... Crack..."

A teeth-grinding cracking sound came from inside the dark green iron door. The blood-red palm print seemed to come alive, rapidly spreading countless spiderweb-like cracks that instantly covered the entire door panel!

"No--!!!"

A non-human roar, a mixture of a furious shout of "Teacher" and the shrill screech of the faceless child, came from behind! The fungal carpet writhed wildly, trying to pounce on Zhang Daoyi, but the path formed by the silvery-white powder suddenly lit up with a faint light, blocking it firmly!

Boom!!!

The entire iron gate, along with parts of the surrounding wall, collapsed and shattered completely under the impact of that obsessive force! It turned into countless fragments with dark red light spots, collapsing inward!

A denser, almost tangible vortex of darkness and the stench of formaldehyde appeared before Zhang Daoyi. The deafening "thump...thump..." sound, like the pounding of a hellish heart, seemed to reverberate right beside his ears!

Night vision was severely suppressed for the first time in the dense darkness behind the door, and only outlines could be barely made out.

This is not an office, but a... huge, twisted biological chamber!

The walls were no longer bricks and stones, but writhing, dark red fleshy walls covered with thick blood vessels and nerve bundles, pulsating rhythmically with the heavy heartbeat.

The ground was covered with a viscous, translucent liquid, in which unrecognizable debris and tattered school uniforms were soaked.

In the center of the room was a "nest" made up of countless tangled, pale limbs resembling tree roots, as well as broken desks and teaching aids.

And in the deepest part of that nest, a huge, deformed heart, like a magnified version of itself, covered with blood vessels and a painful relief of a human face, was beating violently!

With each contraction, it pumps out a thick, black aura of resentment; with each expansion, it exudes a maddening form of mental pollution!

This is its "heart"! The core of pollution and the source of power for this rule-based school building!

Above that deformed heart, hovered a blurry, middle-aged man in a teacher's uniform—Teacher Wang!

His face was contorted with a mixture of fanaticism and agony, his hands pressed loosely above his heart as if presiding over some evil ritual.

His phantom image was unstable, sometimes clear, sometimes blurred, and closely connected to that heart.

"Blasphemer! How dare you disturb the sanctuary!" Teacher Wang's illusory figure shrieked, the sound directly affecting the mind.

At the same time, the "teacher" entity behind him had completely rushed down the stairs, ignoring the obstruction of the fungal carpet (which seemed to have lost some of its activity after the iron gate broke), and wielding that terrifying spiked ruler, charging forward with a violent momentum that could crush everything!

The faceless child also let out an excited howl, and pounced on all fours like a hunting dog!

A core boss is in front, and elite monsters are chasing from behind!

Zhang Daoyi stood at the broken doorway, surrounded by enemies on all sides, his mind and body under extreme pressure.

But at that moment, his brain entered a state of absolute calm calculation.

Destroy the heart! That's the only way to survive!

However, his ability is "Night Watchman," and he has no direct means of attack!

His gaze swept rapidly across the entire chamber, past the pounding heart, past the fading image of Teacher Wang, past the viscous liquid and debris on the floor…

Got it!

He saw several overturned bottles of chemical reagents with illegible labels in the corner of the flesh wall, near a pile of broken glassware! One of the bottles was dripping liquid, which made a hissing corrosion sound and emitted pungent white smoke when it came into contact with some kind of viscous liquid of unknown composition on the ground!

Formalin! Strong acid? Or other corrosive chemicals!

This is the "item" that this dungeon leaves for players to use in their fight against the core! Just like the car key in "Midnight Taxi"!

Ignoring the deadly attack that was already upon him, he lunged towards the pile of chemical reagent bottles! At the same time, facing the deformed heart and the phantom of Teacher Wang, he used all his willpower to unleash the only active ability of the [Night Watchman]—Silent Steps! But this time, the target wasn't himself, but... the other side!

[Silent Steps (0/1)] Activated!

Effect: Temporarily silences the target's "sound" related concepts!

Target: The throbbing of a deformed heart and the piercing screams of Teacher Wang's phantom!

The moment the power took effect, the whole world seemed to be muted!

The deafening, maddening sound of a heartbeat abruptly stopped!

Teacher Wang's piercing, high-pitched mental screams instantly fell silent!

The sudden disappearance of this core "voice" obviously caused huge interference and backlash to Teacher Wang's phantom image and his heart!

The phantom swayed violently, becoming almost transparent, and its heartbeat became momentarily disordered, causing the black resentment it was pumping out to pause!

The "teacher" entity and the faceless child chasing behind seemed to freeze in their movements due to the disappearance of the core voice, experiencing an extremely brief moment of stagnation!

It's those precious two seconds!

Zhang Daoyi had already rushed to the reagent bottle, ignoring the pungent smell and potential corrosion, and grabbed the glass bottle that was emitting white smoke and looked like a strong acid! The glass bottle was scalding hot, and his palm instantly felt a burning pain, but he held on tightly!

Turn around! Sprint! Target—that deformed, temporarily "silent" heart!

"roar!!!"

Teacher Wang's illusory figure let out a silent roar (under the effect of Silent Footsteps), forcibly solidified, and stretched out a phantom hand to grab Zhang Daoyi! The "teacher" entity behind him also broke free from the interference, and the spiked ruler smashed down with a vicious wind that tore through the air!

Zhang Daoyi neither dodged nor avoided; his eyes were fixed solely on that heart!

Just as the ruler was about to touch him, he used all his strength to smash the reagent bottle in his hand against the deformed heart covered with a painful human face!

"Bang—crash!!!"

The glass bottle hit its target precisely and shattered instantly! The highly corrosive liquid inside spilled out like molten lava poured onto the snow, making a deafening hissing sound upon contact with the heart's surface! Thick white smoke and a burning stench erupted instantly!

"Aaaaaaahh ...

This time, it was a truly piercing scream that transcended the range of human hearing and originated from the very essence of the soul! Teacher Wang's illusory image disintegrated and vanished instantly amidst the screams, like wisps of smoke scattered by the wind!

The deformed heart convulsed and spasmed wildly, the human face relief on its surface melted and twisted in the corrosive liquid, and what was pumped out was no longer resentment, but chaotic, multicolored energy streams and black filthy blood!

The entire underground chamber began to shake violently, and the blood vessels and nerve bundles on the flesh walls broke and withered!

The ceiling began to collapse, and rubble and slime rained down like a storm!

[Solved the core mystery of the dungeon! Rating upgraded to: SS!]

A cold, impersonal message echoed in his mind, but Zhang Daoyi had no time to pay it any mind.

"Punishment!" The "teacher" entity behind him let out a final roar filled with resentment and destruction. The huge spiked ruler, with all its remaining power, slammed down like a mountain on Zhang Daoyi's head, who had lost his balance due to the throwing motion!

There's no way to avoid it!

Zhang Daoyi's pupils contracted sharply, his gut feeling telling him that death was imminent!

At this critical moment—

"Thump!!!"

Before the corroded heart completely stopped beating, it experienced its final and most violent explosion!

The violent energy, mixed with corrosive liquid, fragments of resentment, and the power of rules, spread wildly outwards from the heart like a circular death shockwave!

The first to be affected are the "teacher" in person and the faceless child, who are right next to them!

The towering figure of the "teacher" was torn to shreds and annihilated like paper in the shockwave! The faceless child let out a short, sharp cry before turning to ashes!

Zhang Daoyi, who was on the verge of the explosion, felt an irresistible force slam into him. His vision went black, and he completely lost consciousness. His body was violently thrown away by the blast wave...

...

I don't know how much time passed; it felt like just a moment, yet also like an eternity.

A faint ray of light pierced my eyes.

Zhang Daoyi suddenly opened his eyes and coughed violently, his lungs burning with pain. He found himself lying on the cold, damp ground, surrounded by the familiar, dilapidated school corridors.

Daylight broke.

The morning light streamed through the broken window frame, dispelling the darkness and eeriness of the long night. The heavy smell of formaldehyde and mildew in the air seemed to have faded considerably. Although still dilapidated, the omnipresent malice and oppressive sense of order had vanished without a trace.

He struggled to sit up and checked himself. Aside from mental exhaustion and minor burns on his hands, he was otherwise unharmed. The deadly explosion seemed to have merely propelled him out of the core area, without causing any substantial physical damage.

it's over.

[Completed the scenario "Survival Game in the Abandoned School Building"!]

[Survival Status: Completed. Rule Breaking: Completed. Core Anomaly: Resolved.]

[Overall Performance: Completed the dungeon without taking damage (minor mental strain and physical burns are negligible), independently cracked the core rules, and defeated the dungeon boss.]

[Rating: SS!]

[Rewards being processed...]

With the cold notification sound, a warm current, far purer and larger than when he last cleared "Midnight Taxi," surged into Zhang Daoyi's limbs and bones like a river bursting its banks!

This time, it wasn't just about recovering from fatigue; he could clearly feel his muscle fibers becoming stronger and denser, his bone density seemingly increasing, and his five senses becoming more acute. This was a genuine enhancement of his physical abilities!

At the same time, a cool sensation rushed into his mind, instantly sweeping away the fatigue and lingering stinging sensation caused by fighting against mental pollution and overusing his abilities. His thoughts became clearer and more active than ever before, and his mental energy, like an expanded pond, saw its capacity and refinement significantly enhanced. He felt that if he were to face that level of mental impact again now, his resistance would be several times stronger.

[Reward: 350 points. Rank upgraded to [Bronze II] (4 stars)!]

(The original Bronze II had 1 star, and the SS rating reward increases it by 3 stars, for a total of 4 stars. It is only 1 star away from being promoted to Bronze I.)

[Item Obtained: Silent Curse Crystal (Silver)]

Effect: When crushed, it creates a "perfect silence" area with a radius of ten meters, lasting for ten seconds. All sounds within the area (including physical sounds and mental transmissions) are forcibly silenced. The item disappears after use.

Description: Originating from a twisted core that was forcibly silenced, it contains resentful whispers and fragments of rules, emanating a chilling aura.

SS rating! Upgraded to three stars! A double boost to both physical and mental abilities! And a powerful silver-tier crowd control item!

Zhang Daoyi clenched his fist, feeling the power surging within him, far exceeding anything he had ever felt before, and the clearer, more stable mental world in his mind.

The rewards of this adventure were substantial. This further convinced him that in this cosmic arena, high risk often comes with high reward, and merely trying to survive will only lead to a gradual loss of initiative.

He glanced at the rising sun outside the window. The morning light dispelled the last gloom in the school building. Although the building was still dilapidated, the suffocating power of the rules had completely dissipated.

He stood up, patted his dusty school uniform, and carefully put away the icy, chilling silver crystal that contained a powerful, silent force.

This time, he was not merely a survivor. He was a conqueror who destroyed the very core of a strange, unsettling rule.

His steps were steady, and his eyes were as sharp as ever, but deep in his eyes was a sense of maturity and confidence that came from being tempered by life and death.

He has come to a deeper understanding of the cruelty and opportunities of the cosmic arena. And his path is destined to extend ever forward through proactive attacks and ingenious breakthroughs.

The next random identity, the next unknown and inevitably more dangerous scenario, awaits in the future.

Without any hesitation, he pushed open the door that symbolized a stage of victory, walked out, and his figure blended into the morning light, ready to face the next challenge.