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Chapter 151. Yin Qingyue's Fifth Generation

"Thorn-"

As the last piece of tape was firmly attached, Jiang Jianxin took a half step back, looking with satisfaction at the neatly pasted "Temporarily Closed" sign on the door. She turned to close the door, but froze just as it was about to shut—

The door lock was dented, as if it had been struck hard by some blunt object. The twisted metal sheet was warped and protruding, exposing the broken lock cylinder inside. Without the lock engaging, the heavy security door could not be closed properly, always leaving a gap.

"These marks..."

Jiang Jianxin's fingertips traced the indentation, the coldness of the metal spreading along his fingertips.

"It looks like it was hammered by someone."

The wind seeped in through the crack in the door, making the white strips of paper all over the room rustle. Combined with the violently damaged door lock, it created a somewhat sinister and eerie atmosphere.

Jiang Jianxin hissed, sensing that something was amiss.

Logically speaking, it's one thing to do business with the door open, and another to sleep with the door closed—so why is the door broken and can't be closed properly?

Jiang Jianxin examined the door, wondering what he could use to secure it.

She looked around the room and saw only a shoe cabinet near the door, with a calendar on top of it.

The calendar paper was thick and looked like it could be opened. Jiang Jianxin reached out to tear off a few pages, but found that the calendar seemed to be densely covered with writing.

She glanced at it and saw that the first page read:

[I am the second generation Yin Qingyue. I came to Xingfuli to seek refuge. I only have one true life left, and I estimate that I will die here soon. Therefore, I have written down all the information I currently have here.]

Jiang Jianxin paused, then picked up the calendar from the shoe cabinet and carefully read its contents.

The homeowner, Yin Qingyue, is a reclusive fortune teller who doesn't like to talk, prefers to sleep, and makes a living through fortune telling. She works year-round without ever taking a break. She can perform tarot readings through her abilities, but I don't understand how she uses them, so I'll leave that for someone else to fill in later.

What I know for sure is that I must play the role of "fortune teller Yin Qingyue" well and absolutely cannot break up the group, because apart from the tenants who came in later, everyone else in the building is abnormal.

Following this long passage is a summary by the second generation, Yin Qingyue.

The indigenous people are looking for "tenants"; they want to kill us.

She didn't write much, but the information she provided was still useful. Jiang Jianxin turned the page and saw a new, densely packed page.

The handwriting on this page was very different from the previous one. She glanced at the beginning and, sure enough, it had been changed.

Hello, I am the third generation Yin Qingyue. The second generation has passed away, so I will now supplement the information about the second generation.

After arriving here, I first closed the open door, then went downstairs for a walk. Because I kept in mind the instructions of the second generation Yin Qingyue, I always maintained the persona of a reclusive fortune teller.

I ran into many people on my way downstairs. They were all asking me questions and trying to test me. Luckily, the landlord was aloof, so I didn't cause any trouble.

The actions of the third-generation Yin Qingyue strikingly coincided with Jiang Jianxin's plan, as if reading about a parallel version of himself. But regrettably, the clues she left behind were extremely limited.

Following this record, only a few words were added, and the life of the third generation of Yoon Cheong-wol came to an abrupt end.

[...After going downstairs for a walk, I saw that the sky outside had darkened, and it seemed that night had fallen. The transition between day and night in the neighborhood was very rapid, and I always felt that the flow of time was not normal.]

[I rushed home, and immediately heard footsteps in the hallway. I locked the door and saw through the peephole that the scarlet-eyed native was walking towards my house… God, if I survive, I will record my entire struggle from below.] The third generation's handwriting ended there. Jiang Jianxin turned the page, and another line of crooked handwriting came into view—clearly, the third generation Yin Qingyue hadn't survived that terrifying night, and now it was the fourth generation's turn to take over.

But Jiang Jianxin didn't rush to read the fourth generation's records. She repeatedly pondered the information left by the third generation, her brows furrowing deeper and deeper.

Looking at all the actions of the three generations, they clearly strictly followed the rules, so why did they still not escape death?
Was that attack by the indigenous people really just a coincidence?

Filled with questions, Jiang Jianxin continued reading the records of the fourth generation Yin Qingyue.

[I am the fourth generation Yin Qingyue, and the following is my information:]

Below this brief text is a large, shocking patch of blood.

When Jiang Jianxin turned to the next page, the handwriting had changed to that of a new owner.

She couldn't help but gasp.

—The fourth generation Yin Qingyue… This… This is like being eliminated immediately upon landing?

Although I know the apocalypse is cruel and that some people with weak abilities will become cannon fodder when they come to the contaminated area, I still have mixed feelings when I witness the moment when they become cannon fodder.

The fifth generation leader's handwriting was messy, but his speech was quite interesting.

Jiang Jianxin quickly flipped through it and found that Wu Dai had written three whole pages, making him the one who provided the most information.

[I am the fifth generation Yin Qingyue, a warrior of pure hatred. I hate this damned dungeon, I hate Happiness Lane, I hate Yin Qingyue, I hate the fourth generation Yin Qingyue who died so quickly before me, and I also hate myself for coming to this damned place on a whim...]

The next two paragraphs are long rants, and you can tell that this pure-hatred warrior's hatred comes from the bottom of his heart.

Jiang Jianxin skipped directly to the main text of her intelligence report:
"...I used special detection tools to understand the fortune teller's abilities. She can control the fortune of events through tarot cards. The lines on the cards themselves have no meaning; it is the fortune teller who gives them meaning through interpretation, and those lines then interfere with the future."

It's unclear how much impact it will have on the future, because I haven't actually used it. The explanation given for the special tools is that using them comes at a price; the price paid by the Light faction is the smallest, and the price paid by the War faction is the largest. I am the latter, so I haven't touched anything from the Diviner, nor have I used her abilities.

Jiang Jianxin's heart sank suddenly.

I never expected the fortune teller to be so capable—then what about what she said to the girl just now?
Did she unintentionally use her abilities to help the girl kill "Chi Lichuan"?
Although she didn't really like the young man, it didn't warrant such a self-destructive tactic. This haphazard divination was entirely due to her misjudgment.

Regret surged into her heart like a tide, and now she could only hope that her allegiance to the light would lessen the cost of the backlash.

She sighed deeply, her fingers trembling slightly as she turned the page. The words at the beginning of the next page struck her like a thunderbolt:

[Besides that, I also discovered why the first four generations didn't survive a single day—remember to keep your door open! Especially at night. Remember, the fortune teller is open 24/7, 365 days a year; this is also an important part of her persona!]

Jiang Jianxin's pupils suddenly contracted, and the calendar in his hand almost slipped from his grasp.

She suddenly looked up at the window—the sky, which had been bright just moments before, had become completely dark.

At that very moment, footsteps echoed in the empty stairwell.

Take your time.

Step by step.

They were approaching her door.