Mysterious Revival

Looking at the dense bloodstained handprints covering the walls on both sides of the corridor, Yang Jian, carrying a corpse, hesitated. "Is the ghost from room 82 coming out? Is it because of me, or is the ghost simply wandering out?" He considered retreating, temporarily avoiding the continuously appearing bloodstained handprints, but Yang Jian also worried that venturing further in might lead to unknown dangers. Thus, he didn't immediately act but pondered his decision. Soon. Carrying the corpse on his shoulders, Yang Jian chose to steel himself and head towards the ever-approaching bloodstained handprints. Retreating was pointless. It would only waste time. Besides, approaching head-on might not result in an attack. If he took a detour, he could lose his way, or even encounter dangers far worse than the bloodstained handprints. "I refuse to believe this thing can truly kill me." Yang Jian walked swiftly, attempting to cross the passage smeared with bloody handprints without fear of the ghost that might be from room 82. Such recklessness would have been impossible for the old him. But the curse from the Eight-Tone Music Box gave him courage and audacity, allowing him to make multiple mistakes during this time without losing his life. The moment Yang Jian began to double back, he immediately passed by the eerie bloodstained handprints on the wall. The surroundings felt undeniably wrong. Though he couldn't see the actual ghost, Yang Jian could feel the hallway becoming colder than before, his whole body gripped by an inexplicable sense of horror. It was as if many obscure and bizarre eyes were watching him, and yet he braved his way through under the gaze of some ghost. Yang Jian's Ghost Eye didn't wander aimlessly, for he feared he'd see something he shouldn't, affecting him. Since he had decided to retrace his original path, there was nothing else to consider. Soon. He passed by the door to room 82 again. This time, Yang Jian gave the inside another glance with a stoic face. The situation inside the room had changed a bit from before. The blood-red handprints on the walls and ceiling had disappeared, possibly having all gone outside, making the previously creepy room seem somewhat normal again. Without lingering, he quickened his pace. Because of the Corpse Wrapping Cloth, Yang Jian couldn't use Ghost Domain to teleport, so his movement was slightly inefficient, but he was still fast. The heavy corpse didn't affect him at all, after all, it wasn't like the ghost Fang Shiming that clung to his back, without supernatural abilities. However, the bloodstained handprints on the wall behind Yang Jian soon followed. These handprints changed direction, no longer spreading to the prior area, but instead continued to trail behind Yang Jian, with new blood-red handprints appearing non-stop on the walls around him. The ghost seemed to be tailing him, set on Yang Jian. "Following me?" Yang Jian didn't look back, but he saw everything clearly. Nonetheless, he didn't pay it any attention, nor did he show the slightest fear, as he was already prepared in his mind. He continued to hasten back along the original route. The numbers on the doors around him kept decreasing as well, from 82 to 60, then to 50. Along the way, his luck was still decent. Apart from the ghost following him, Yang Jian didn't encounter any other strange incidents, and he was getting closer to the exit. In just a short while, he arrived near room 31 again. "Three more intersections ahead, and I can leave this place," he muttered. Yang Jian's body was icy cold, like a walking corpse. His pale, bloodless face revealed a sense of determination. He glanced back with his Ghost Eye. The bloodstained handprints behind him remained densely packed, having followed him from room 82 all this way, and they showed no sign of giving up. "It hasn't attacked me, just follows me? Or is my current state not fitting this ghost's killing pattern? After all, I'm practically a dead man now. But this can't go on; I must shake this thing. After all, being stalked by an unknown-level ghost isn't a good thing," he thought to himself while hurrying. Soon. He arrived at the corridor by room number one; just ahead was the exit. This was when Yang Jian stopped. "I can't let this ghost follow me out of here. I must leave it behind, or it might cause a significant supernatural incident once it leaves the Caesar Hotel," he said as Yang Jian set down the tall male corpse he had been carrying on his shoulder. Perhaps because he had stopped moving. The bloodstained handprints on the wall behind him spread to about three meters away from him and then halted. But this halt wasn't complete; the blood-red handprints were still slowly inching closer. Yang Jian's eyes shifted as he looked down at the corpse on the ground, his gaze focusing on the rusty Firewood Knife in its hand. Without hesitation, his other hand, covered by a gloved hand, grabbed the knife. Protected by the glove made of gold, nothing unusual happened, which was expected. The tall male corpse gripped the firewood knife so tightly, it seemed embedded in its hand, and despite exerting a lot of force, Yang Jian couldn't remove it. He even tried forcefully prying it out, but failed. "Can't take it off?" Yang Jian knitted his brows, feeling that brute force wouldn't work on this thing; after all, it was a supernatural object and not as simple as he had imagined. "The Ghost Hand might work, but I don't know if I'll be attacked again." He glanced at his other pale, stiffened palm. Although he feared a repeat of the previous incident, Yang Jian needed to take the firewood knife, and now seemed like the time to try. Without delay. Yang Jian used the other hand, his Ghost Hand, to directly touch the eerie firewood knife. The next moment. The tall male corpse, wrapped in a corpse wrapping cloth, began to struggle violently as if Yang Jian's touch had triggered the murderous rule of the ghost, which wanted to attack him again. But because of the restraint from the corpse wrapping cloth, the ghost couldn't move, hence the violent reaction. Clang! At that moment, the eerie firewood knife unexpectedly detached from the corpse's hand and fell to the ground, without Yang Jian having applied any force to pull it out. "Got it off?" His expression grave, Yang Jian hesitated for a moment, but still extended his Ghost Hand to pick up the firewood knife and gripped the handle. At that instant. The rust-covered firewood knife in the tall male corpse's hand had a new owner. The violently struggling body also calmed in that moment, no longer moving. "I don't feel anything special; everything seems normal," Yang Jian felt for a moment, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "Is it because I haven't used it? So the eeriness of the firewood knife hasn't manifested. If that's the case, then I need to try... stepping on footprints?" "No, that can't be right. Stepping on footprints is the murderous rule, not a necessity. Because I am human, I can ignore that rule, so stepping on footprints must just be a medium." "If it is a medium, then it's not necessary to step on footprints." Yang Jian looked at the bloody handprint on the wall beside him, his expression shifting. He made an attempt, extending his hand over to cover the bloodstained handprint on the wall with his palm. Covering footprints, and covering handprints—they are the same. If he was not mistaken, this method should also be able to serve as a medium. As Yang Jian held the rust-covered firewood knife in one hand and covered the bloody handprint on the wall with the other, just as he had hypothesized, the medium triggered a terrifying change in the scene before him. It was as if an illusion had appeared, or perhaps, through the medium, he could see the source of the handprint. In the originally empty corridor, countless "people" surged in the blink of an eye. These "people" could hardly be called human any longer. They were male and female, of various ages, and exuded the stench of rot. Some had faces turned green, like corpses laid out for too long, while others had blackened faces, apparently decomposing, their skin continuously flaking off. Beyond that, these people wore a variety of clothes; some modern, some from a decade ago, some from the Republic of China Period... But these various people all had one thing in common. They were eyeless; their eyeballs seemed to have rotted away, leaving empty, dark sockets. They couldn't see the road ahead, making them each reach out a hand, palms bloody, to touch the wall and leave a distinct handprint. That was the origin of the bloody handprints on the wall. At that moment. Yang Jian turned to look at his own hand which he had pressed against the wall—now pressing over one of the bloody palms. It was ice cold to the bone, utterly horrifying. Even someone who had experienced numerous supernatural events like him couldn't help but get goosebumps from this sight. But what terrified him even more was that it seemed because he touched the bloody handprint, all the numerous "people" in the corridor lifted their heads and peered with their hollow sockets straight at him. Then they each stretched out their other bloody hand, as if trying to seize Yang Jian and turn him into one of them. It was a fearsome curse of the evil spirits, capable of turning a living person into part of the curse, increasing the number of the bloody handprints. Yang Jian's eyes narrowed, and his other hand holding the firewood knife quickly raised it to chop down at the nearest arm. To an outsider, this action would seem like he was slashing at air, because there was nothing visible to chop at, just like the actions of the decayed male corpse before him. Now Yang Jian understood the meaning behind this act of chopping at the air. The rust-covered firewood knife in his hand was eerily sharp at that moment; with just a casual swing through empty space, the arm reaching for his own bloody palm severed instantly. Beyond that, the other "people" seemed to feel the attack as well, their arms breaking off at the same time. The dense, bloody handprints on the wall began to rapidly vanish, disappearing swiftly and continuing down the corridor towards the room that was room 82. "Bang!" The door of room 82, which had been wide open, slammed shut in that instant, and the light beside the door flickered several times, the bulb dimming as if it was nearly extinguished.