In the gloomy corridor, there was a suffocating mist.

Sang Ziqing clenched the bronze axe in his hand, and his cold hair stood upside down and froze in place.

After a long time, he lifted the vanity mirror and threw it out with all his might, and the glass shards scattered to the ground, but he couldn't see the scene reflected on it.

Outside the door was still unusually quiet.

The longer the silence, the heavier the terror that is suppressed in the hearts of people.

Finally, the two teenagers exchanged acquaintances and nodded.

One with a bronze axe, the other with a sharp knife, one on the left and one on the right, leaning against the wall, moved close to the doorway.

Sang Ziqing nodded at Yang Zijie again.

The two teenagers instantly burst out, brandishing the weapons in their hands and slashing and stabbing out of the door.

Suddenly, Sang Ziqing's feet crushed on a pool of blood slipped suddenly, and he actually fell straight back and fell over.

Yang Zijie saw that his companion was left behind, and hesitated for a moment, but the sharp knife that stabbed out was no longer able to retract his strength.

He gritted his teeth and swung his clenched knife at the door.

It's just outside the door, it's empty.

Sang Ziqing wiped the blood on his trouser leg and lifted the bronze axe:

"Sorry, I just slipped my foot, but I'm glad you're okay."

Yang Zijie stretched out his hand to the young man who was squatting in a pool of blood.

"Sang Ziqing, you are always a little clumsy at critical moments!" He said dissatisfied.

The two of them were back to back, cautiously guarding against any commotion around them.

"Don't tremble, Zijie!"

"Obviously you're shaking!"

The two walked forward with their backs to each other.

Footsteps could not make the slightest sound on the soft and heavy carpet.

Sang Ziqing's skinny body tightened, refusing to let go of any slight commotion.

A rhythmic pant suddenly sounded, like a vicious dog.

Sang Ziqing had a strange sense of fear and fear at the subtle sound, which caused a psychological shadow to himself that night that night, which will never be forgotten.

He leaned against the wall and listened carefully until he reached the priest's room at door number three.

The primitive nature from eternity made him involuntarily bring his eyes to the cat's eye with a rusty border.

The anti-peeping design did not attach a layer of darkness to Sang Ziqing's eyes, nor did there appear an unsightly area in the shape of a ring.

What caught his eye was a dark red, sandpaper-like, with dots of bright spots, just like what he had seen that night.

The heart and lungs were working at high pressure, and the strike generally stopped functioning.

Splitting headaches! Splitting headaches!

Sang Ziqing breathed with all his strength, but saw countless silk threads hanging from the ceiling to his eyes.

Dark red, turquoise, gray-brown, bruised... It encompasses almost all the colors in the world.

These flickering threads intertwined in front of him, woven into ropes, and then clearly split out one by one below.

Sang Ziqing turned his head to look at Yang Zijie who was on guard on the side, but he seemed to be petrified, holding a sharp knife, frozen in place.

What's going on?

Time and space, as if frozen?

Sang Ziqing looked at his trouser leg, and the blood on it stopped flowing.

A drop of blood that stayed in the air confirmed his suspicion even more.

Time and space are really stagnant!

Except for myself...

Wrong!

He twisted his body and found that all parts of his body, except for his right hand, could not move at all.

There are only a few organs that maintain the operation of the body, and they are still barely supporting life.

The color of the rope entangled in front of me became more and more transparent, and the silk threads were broken from the air one after another.

Sang Ziqing didn't have time to think about it, he only felt that the abnormality at this time had nothing to do with these silk threads.

He stepped forward with his right hand and grasped the nearly vanishing transparent rope.

In an instant, the information was rampant, and countless pictures frantically poured into Sang Ziqing's mind, and these fragmented memories were mixed with colorful colors, flashing back page after page.

He clearly saw that a blue-purple tentacle twisted into a sword, pierced the door, and opened a terrifying hole in his chest...

He clearly saw that the white light flashed, and his body was separated in an instant...

He clearly saw that Yang Zijie was standing in front of him, and his back was full of terrifying fangs...

He clearly saw that the bronze axe in his hand split open the door of room No. 3, and standing inside the door was the priest who had been cut in head, his head split in half, breeding erosive grotesque bouquets, and the vines of those flowers wrapped around his neck, strangling himself instantly...

···

Countless scenes of death came to mind, and the silk threads hanging in the sky, along with the strange and chaotic images, were deeply rooted in my brain.

The color of the threads became lighter and lighter, and one by one they broke in the air.

Sang Ziqing wanted to flee with all his might, his feet seemed to be built into cement, and he couldn't move.

In desperation, he grasped a dark gray silk thread.

Droplets of blood slammed into the air, and time began to flow again.

As the gray line broke, Sang Ziqing stumbled and fell to the ground, and the tentacles that broke out of the door pierced his ankle.

"Ahhhhh

The shattering of the door and the heart-rending roar attracted Yang Zijie's attention, and he turned his head sharply to see Sang Ziqing held high by tentacles, shaking in the air like a plaything.

Sang Ziqing grabbed the axe and slashed at it.

The tentacles were broken, and the shredded flesh wrapped around his ankle was still twisting and wriggling.

He backed away desperately, rolling and crawling to the narrow entrance.

The door of Room Three, shattered by countless tentacles, swollen and squeezed out of the room with bloated flesh full of mucus.

The priest's old and thin face, squeezed out of the flesh, smiled evilly, revealing his yellow, broken teeth:

"You are not the chosen ones, hahaha, outcasts of my lord!"

"The one who can get out of here is the one who was chosen by God!"

Frantic writhing tentacles were overwhelming, surging rapidly in the narrow aisles, and the walls on both sides were propped up to crack with countless tiny marks.

The great horror took away Yang Zijie's consciousness, and he froze on the ground, the dagger in his hand falling to the ground.

Sang Ziqing endured the pain, staggered to his feet, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him back again and again.

An ugly strip of flesh covered with thorns like a thin vine bypassed Yang Zijie's waist and entangled him to death.

only heard the sound of "stabbing", and what was left in Sang Ziqing's hand was a piece of torn black cloth.

"Nima's !!"

He roared and plunged into the entrance of the hallway.

The commotion on the other side of the bedroom grew louder and louder, and the whole castle shook with it, the walls cracked, the dust sprinkled down in bursts, and the ground shook with it, a precursor to the end of the world.

Sang Ziqing stood at the door of the hall, with his back to the monster-infested Black Sea, and in the icy water, there were black and white swimming fish raised by Zuo Ye Lixia's flesh and blood.

They show their small, sharp teeth and swim happily in the water, and from time to time a few of them leap out of the water and make a few splashes.

This is different from what I thought...

Why is there such a change?

Sang Ziqing fell to his knees, feeling an abnormal itch on the top of his head, he tore his hair impotently and furiously, grabbed his head and slammed it on the ground.

The dull sound of knocking was hidden in the sound of the surging waves, and with a thunderclap in the gray sky, the castle suddenly stopped shaking.

Everything returned to normal, silent and dead.