It's a reckless act to enter the base camp of ghosts.

It's like looking for death.

But waiting is death, starvation is death, it is better to fight before death, maybe there is a passage back to the normal world in the complex.

But Wan Yanjing's feet seemed to be nailed to the spot, and she didn't dare to move.

Staying away from fear and dying is engraved in our genes.

It really takes courage to take the initiative to die in this grotesque and absurd world.

After some time, she heard a second sound of wheeling.

It is no different from the previous funeral procession, and the new batch is also composed of dozens of figures, black coffins, red, white and white tied silk, and bells of "jingle bells".

The sound of the bell stopped at the small door of the building, and the same process as the previous batch, and when the coffin was fully entered the building, the sound of the wheels disappeared.

Is it two batches of coffins?

Or...... Is this a constant loop?

Wan Yanjing gritted her teeth and followed.

She threw a small stone under the low wall a few dozen meters to the right of the small door.

Small stones landed over there, making a crisp sound, as if they had hit a stone slab.

Wan Yan Jing waited for a while before carefully standing up straight and looking into the wall.

Behind the low wall are polished white stone tiles, which are clean and contrasting with the dilapidated grave land outside the wall.

The small stone she threw was falling on the white stone floor tiles not far away, and the building was behind it, and it was no different.

Wan Yanjing looked at the small stone, the heavens and men were fighting in her heart, and finally closed her eyes regardless of it...... With her hands propped up on the stone wall, she leaped with a light movement, her feet covered in grave soil and stomped on the spotless ground.

On the other side of the low wall, the line of sight is not blocked by the gray fog, it is much clearer, and the blue-gray building wall is in sight, and when you look up, you only feel shocked, and its height is almost comparable to the Imperial Palace in Shangjing.

Wan Yanjing walked against the corner of the wall, and it didn't take long for her to encounter a turn, and she turned in.

The deep alleys are flanked by ancient dormitory buildings, and the closed red gates are hung with two lanterns, one white and one red.

In the center of the top of the gate of all the dwellings, there is a pitch-black plaque on which the name of the temple should be inscribed, but it is indistinct.

It looks like a centuries-old palace.

The gray-black mist did not disturb this pure land, and the token tied to the neck also hibernated, not shining and hot.

The danger seemed to have been silently far away, but Wan Yanjing did not dare to relax at all.

The dead silence, the empty ancient palace, itself carries the strangeness of disobedience.

If there is no one, who lit the lantern?

And where did the transported coffins go?

Her hair stood on end and her scalp tingled, and then these horrors were smoothed out little by little by the passage of time, but soon they would be stunned again in a suffocating environment.

After repeated torture, her thoughts began to diverge, and even diverged to some terrible places, such as all this may be a dream, maybe she can get out of it by wielding a knife and killing herself, etc.

Trapped in a gray and black cemetery before, she thought that she could find a way to survive here, but now this palace alley that leads in all directions makes her lose seems to be even more sinister.

Wan Yanjing had already noticed the decline in her mental state, but the extreme fatigue made her completely unable to raise her vigilance.

The road in front of her began to blur, and she turned around the corner like a walking corpse, and without even reacting, she walked into an unknown temple with a wide open red door.

When she woke up suddenly, she saw a large inner room that looked like an ancestral hall.

Hundreds of candlesticks illuminate the entire hall, and hundreds of tablets guard the central statue.

The statue is more than ten meters high, and the skill can be called a miracle.

On the left half is a plump and feminine female figure, with picturesque eyebrows, delicate and plump skin healthy and rosy, gentle eyes half-closed, quietly looking down, staring at the comer; On the right half is a stiff and sluggish blue-purple face, and the gray and cold eyes are indifferently looking forward, similar to the corpses surrounding the carriage.

The clothes of the gods are also carved lifelikely, and the yellow gauze gently conceals the important parts.

The gown also matches the image of the god, the left half of the embroidery thread is clear and ornate, but the right half is dirty, and the hole in the garment is almost impossible to hide, revealing the rotten and bony shell below.

At the moment when she made eye contact with the left half of the idol, Wan Yanjing involuntarily took two steps forward, and there was a terrifying desire in her heart to immediately bow down and sacrifice her soul, body, and everything.

In an instant, Wan Yanjing's left hand quickly grasped Sanjiu's blade, the skin was cut open, the blood flowed down, the wound was deep and the bones were visible, and the severe pain made her break out in a cold sweat, but it also made her sober up a little, and she took her eyes off the idol with difficulty.

It's not a simple process.

The idol seems to be the embodiment of all goodness, synonymous with comfort and enjoyment, which is incomparably fascinating and addictive.

At the moment when she completely broke free, Wan Yanjing collapsed to the ground, her clothes were soaked in cold sweat, she gasped for breath, and her heart was screaming silently.

What the hell is going on here!?

It was only at this time that she realized that she was not the only one in the temple.

There were seven or eight futons in the middle of the main hall, and not far from her, a man in a golden robe was kneeling on the futon in front of the hall, muttering something in pieces.

She didn't know what she was so confused just now, she didn't even notice this person.

Of course, it may not be human.

Wan Yanjing endured the pain, tore off a strand of cloth from the hem of her clothes, wrapped it around the wound on her left hand, and then used the knife as a crutch to support herself and staggered back to the edge of the main hall.

The door was closed, and she couldn't remember if she had come in through it, and her memories were as hazy as a veil.

She lowered her head, surveyed her surroundings from her peripheral vision, and focused her qi on her ears to hear what the man sitting on the futon in his robe was saying.

Unexpectedly, the man was muttering mechanically not the strange scriptures she had expected, but—

"Help, I'm most afraid of the horror of a Chinese-style cult, is there anyone to save me, help."

"Ask the gods to let me go, and ask the kind people passing by to save me......"

The tone is flat and straightforward, and the desire to survive doesn't seem to be very sufficient, and it even sounds a little funny.

The sound of this fragmented thought couldn't be more familiar to Yan Jing.

Kneeling on the futon, I don't know if it is a human or a ghost, a faithful believer in a god statue, a mysterious man in a robe......

Oh, it's Huo Xiang's Han!

(End of chapter)