Darkness, endless darkness entangled and pulled his limbs, pulling him into the endless abyss.

Everything seemed to be broken and faded, and then melted back into darkness like eternal night.

This feels so familiar...

It's like...it's like that nightmare he's been having...

Mo Yi was a little dazed and clenched the photo frame in his hand in vain, allowing its hard and cold edges to hit his chest and abdomen, reminding him that he was not in a dream now.

Suddenly, a biting feeling suddenly came, and the monstrous malice and resentment almost condensed into entities, merged with the surrounding darkness, and then rushed towards Mo Yi.

It seems that the whole world wants to kill him!

The alarm sounded desperately! The screams warned the coming of danger!

Mo Yi felt his whole body stiff and cold. The sudden fear seemed to be a pair of unincorporated hands surrounding his throat, shaking the air out of his chest. The feeling of death was so close that it could only tremble and wait for its arrival.

But, as the resentment approached, it seemed to stop.

The photo frame in my arms suddenly began to shake violently!

The paused resentment seemed to be a beast that found its prey, or a shark that smelled blood, changing direction, and then pounced fiercely and cruelly towards the photo frame!

Mo Yi felt a strong force rushing towards the photo frame, knocking him away heavily, and a sweet and fishy rust smell instantly surged in his chest.

He finally touched the ground.

Mo Yi squeezed out a little gasp with pain in his difficulty, and curled up on the sticky and wet ground. His whole body was so painful that it almost broke, but it was not as good as the torn pain of his left leg... it was probably a fall.

A damp and moldy smell lingers at the end of the nose, just like in the corridor.

He struggled to hold up his eyelids and looked around.

The surroundings were no longer dark without a trace of light, but turned into a dim gray, hazy, just enough to let him see what he was around him.

I saw that the silver photo frame was broken at this moment, as if it had been corroded, twisted and charred, as if it had suffered some inhuman torture, lying beside him in a desperate posture.

Mo Yi knew in his heart that the force that was almost tearing him apart was originally aimed at him, but he changed direction when he came into contact with the photo frame. It can even be said that the photo frame blocked the attack for him.

He couldn't imagine what he would have become if he hadn't fallen off with this photo frame.

Mo Yi couldn't help but squeeze out a hoarse cough from his throat. His lungs were like broken bellows. Every time he coughed, he would hold up all the wounds on his body, and the pain was endless.

At this moment, he caught a glimpse of something strange in his eyes, and it fell right in the middle of the twisted photo frame.

Mo Yi was stunned.

Subconsciously, he felt that this was the answer he was looking for.

So, perhaps because he was born with a high tolerance for pain, he struggled to stand up, limped over, then bent down and picked it up.

That was a wrinkled page.

There is only a familiar graffiti on the paper, sloppy and casual, as if it was an unconscious essay by a child. At first glance, it seemed like a deformed bird.

Mo Yi was stunned for a second, and a blurry picture flashed through his mind - the pattern was painted on the blackboard of Zhao Qiulan's classroom.

The only sentence that had no explanation in the prompt suddenly jumped into my mind with great clarity: Yan Wuzu.

Mo Yi's heart was pounding, and he reached out and turned the paper over.

The paper shone brightly, and Mo Yi felt dizzy in front of him, and couldn't help but close his eyes, and turned his head to avoid the dazzling light.

There were quarrels in my ears.

Mo Yi opened his eyes in surprise, and then was shocked to find that he was actually standing in a corridor.

He raised his head blankly, and the next second, the black "4f" above his head almost stinged his eyes.

Not far away, the quarrel became louder and louder. Mo Yi frowned and dragged his half-lame legs and followed the sound.

There was only one door open, and the door was written in standard bold words "Principal's Office". There were two men inside a fierce argument. One of them was facing Mo Yi, an old man in his fifties and sixties, slightly bald and looked a little out of control.

The other one was a tall and thin young man with his back facing Mo Yi, his hands wide open and closed, and he was gesturing something: "...Please, let me do this, otherwise I will really go crazy!"

The old man said nothing.

The young man was a little excited and continued, "She wants to kill me! Don't you understand yet! She wants to kill me! I'm defending myself!"

The old man suddenly became excited, slapped the table and stood up, saliva flying, and his cheeks flushed: "Then you shouldn't have touched her from the beginning!"

The young man choked for a moment, then shouted in a higher voice: "Yes, that bitch seduced me first! There is that kind of photo! What kind of serious person can he be!"

"Then you can't...then you can't..." The old man pointed at the young man, trembling all over, looking as if he was disappointed.

The young man sat down on the chair, buried his face in his palm, and replied in a depressing manner: "I don't want this either. Who knows, just push her head... just hit the steps..."

Suddenly, he raised his head suddenly and looked at the old man.

Mo Yi was shocked. He recognized this face: this young man was the man in the silver photo frame, the monster trying to leave him in the fantasy.

He only heard his voice low and hoarse, as if it was a poisonous snake's hissing letter: "Now that things have come to this point, and people cannot be resurrected even if they die. Her wronged soul entangled me and wanted to pull me on the back, and I can't sit still and wait for death."

The young man stood up, took out a wrinkled piece of paper from his arms, slapped it on the table, showing a nervous smile: "The master said this would definitely be useful, we only need her body."

The old man was still hesitating.

The young man suddenly knelt down with a thud, looked at the old man with tears in his eyes, and said, "Please, help me again! Please save me! Dad!"

The old man made up his mind and finally nodded.

The whole scene was once again bright and the shaking person could hardly open his eyes. When he opened his eyes again, Mo Yi returned to the grayish-white space.

He lowered his eyes and stood for a long time.

At this moment, all the clues were finally connected, and they were spliced ​​together in their minds to form a complete picture.

This building should be the concreteization of Zhao Qiulan in three years of high school. Every floor of ghosts corresponds to her experiences every year.

Hanako on the first floor corresponds to her mother who killed her father in her first year of high school and then committed suicide; the photos of the second floor moves correspond to the nude photos she was taken by violence in her school in her second year of high school; the steps on the third floor corresponds to her being molested by a teacher and struggling to death on the stairs.

And that teacher...is the man in the photo.

Mo Yi lowered his head and looked at the wrinkled paper in his hand. He saw a few lines of sloppy words and a few rough simple strokes written on it. As time goes by, it is already blurred.

He could only barely recognize that it was written on it, which was a long-lost practice, with the purpose of sealing the soul so that it could not be reincarnated, reborn, or cause chaos.

Mo Yi rubbed the twisted bird on the edge of the paper with his fingertips, and was a little dazed for a moment.

He finally recognized the totem.

This is the St. Martin bird, also called the rock swallow, which will be included in some heraldry books.

It has no feet, but can only fly forever, just like Zhao Qiulan, trapped in despair and helplessness, and her soul cannot be liberated. Unlike the Yanyan, they have to fly until death, and she is already dead, so her "forever" is truly endless.

Mo Yi smoothed the paper with his fingers, but he found a folded mark at the end. He was a little confused, fumbled through the gap and spread the paper along the edge of the fold.

There is a strange pattern on it, and a line of brown-red words are marked next to it: "Fear of fire, be careful."

Mo Yi was stunned for a while and raised his head, but found that the dark color around him was lighter, almost fading to a light grayish-white, and his vision became wider.

Only then did he realize that he was standing in a deep pit, which was rectangular and looked like... the same as the shape of the entire teaching building. The bright red lines in the pit were crisscrossed and red, as if they were fresh blood, forming a strange pattern on the paper page, and in every corner of it, a pile of pale corpses were exposed.

And Mo Yi happened to be standing in the middle of this pattern.

He took a deep breath, reached into his pocket, something cold hit his fingertips, and then took it out.

It was a silver lighter.

Mo Yi pursed the corners of his lips, and his expression was complicated in his eyes.

He didn't smoke. However, on the way home yesterday, he had no idea why, but he bought a lighter from a roadside stall and put it in his pocket.

But he would not predict the future, nor would he know that it would come in handy today.

Maybe...it's really just a handy one?

Mo Yi was in a state of confusion and held the lighter tightly with his fingers until his metal shell was stained with warm body temperature, as if this could calm him down.

He took a deep breath and drove the chaotic thoughts out of his brain.

——No matter what, destroying this formation is the most urgent task now.

Mo Yi turned on the lighter and loosened his fingers. The lit flame was pulled by gravity and fell down. When it hit the blood-red line on the ground, it instantly burned, and then spread at a rapid speed, with a fire everywhere.

As the corpses were ignited, a few slight "clicks" sounded in my ears, and several cracks appeared in the air, and then the entire space seemed to be unable to bear it, cracking and shattering into thick black fragments.

Immediately afterwards, the scene in front of him flashed and Mo Yi found that he was standing in the corridor of the teaching building.

He looked around blankly for a week and recognized that it was the second floor, and it happened to be where he entered the photo.

Outside the window beside me, a row of numbers shone with blue light in the dark air: "0:08".

"--No!!!!"

There were harsh screams in my ears, shrill and hoarse, as if I was suffering from all kinds of pain:

"Eight minutes! Eight minutes away!! I will have two souls when I wait for another eight minutes! I will be able to escape!! Don't-!"

What is this sound?

Mo Yi was stunned and limped towards the stairwell.

I saw that the silver photo frame that was originally hung on the wall had disappeared, and the man in the photo was gone. Only the black and smelly liquid slid down the wall, leaving burning and corrosive traces.
To be continued...