Forgotten Photo Studio

Chapter 176 The Seventh Layer of Dreams

The Forgotten Photo Studio seems to possess some strange magic, isolating it from the crimson and deathly silence of the outside world.

Time flows here at an almost viscous, slow pace.

Xu Yan's external injuries healed rapidly thanks to the spiritual medicine and his own powerful physique, but the few strands of gray hair at his temples caused by forcibly opening the Blood Gate remained stubbornly, like a mark of some eternal price.

The deeper trauma lies in the spirit. The backlash from the four gates of hell, especially the final "tongue gate" which impacted his cognition, caused him to feel a fine, icy pain deep within his soul in the dead of night.

He often woke up in the middle of the night, gazing at Chen Zhiwei sleeping soundly beside him in the dim light that had returned to its normal color seeping in from outside the window.

Her sleeping face was peaceful, her breathing shallow, but Xu Yan's fingertips hovered above her eyebrows, yet he dared not touch her.

He was afraid of waking her, and even more afraid of seeing the lover he had to play the role of "senior brother" in her open eyes.

This heavy tenderness stung him more than any ghost's claws.

Chen Zhiwei's recovery was slower.

The depletion of psionic energy could not be made up for in a day. She spent most of her time meditating and regulating her breathing, or curled up on the sofa flipping through ancient books in the photo studio, trying to find clues about the collapse of the Matrix and the anomalies of the world from those yellowed pages.

She stopped asking Xu Yan about regaining his memory, but Xu Yan could feel her probing gaze.

When he calmed her disordered psychic energy, her gaze would fall on the gray in his temples; when he handed her a glass of warm water, her gaze would linger between his deliberately relaxed knuckles.

That gaze was heavier than the sharpest knife, silently questioning what was hidden beneath this "meticulous care".

On the surface, everything seems to be back on track.

But Xu Yan knew that he was like a person carrying the only spark of hope, walking on a tightrope above an abyss.

He had to maintain perfect balance; the slightest tremor could lead to their utter destruction.

The change began on the second day.

Early in the morning, Xu Yan pushed open the door of the photo studio, preparing to go to the market a few streets away that was still open to buy some food.

He habitually took a deep breath, preparing to greet the air mixed with decay and blood, but unexpectedly inhaled... almost normal air, carrying the coolness of the morning and a faint dust.

He suddenly stopped in his tracks and looked up.

The sky was no longer that nauseating dark red, but had returned to the familiar, urban, slightly hazy leaden gray.

The twisted and melted buildings in the distance, although still retaining some unnatural curves or residual traces of "flow", have largely regained their original outlines.

On the streets, there were even a few pedestrians and slow-moving vehicles. The sounds of engines and muffled conversations formed the low background noise that a city should have.

The world is healing itself.

This realization sent a chill down Xu Yan's spine.

The self-healing ability of dreams was even stronger than he had anticipated.

The collapse of the matrix seems to have only temporarily disrupted its stability, while Shen Mengyao's powerful subconscious is trying to pull everything back to the "normal" track she perceives.

Chen Zhiwei also noticed this change; a bit of color returned to her pale face, and hope rekindled in her eyes.

"Senior brother, look! The city is recovering! Maybe...maybe the situation isn't as bad as we think?"

Looking at the pure joy in her eyes, Xu Yan could only suppress the complex emotions in his heart, nod, and vaguely reply, "Yes, it's a good sign."

However, this “normal” has an indescribable strangeness about it.

The pedestrians' expressions were mostly numb, their steps hurried but lifeless, like puppets with a pre-programmed sequence.

The news broadcast on the street corner TV reported on the recent "local geological anomalies" and "rare optical phenomena" in an overly calm tone, glossing over the truth of the matrix collapse.

Everything was too "correct," as correct as a meticulously drawn but soulless set.

The smell of disinfectant, which had been kept out of the photo studio, became faintly visible again as the world "recovered," like a persistent ailment, reminding Xu Yan that the boundaries of reality were being blurred once more.

The calm lasted only a day.

In the evening, while tidying up the cabinets, Xu Yan inadvertently noticed an old calendar that had been left behind.

His gaze suddenly froze on the date on that page—

The 15th day of the seventh lunar month. The Ghost Festival (Zhongyuan Festival).

Like a silent thunderclap exploding in my mind, a deeply buried fragment of memory from the previous cycle of reincarnation, carrying an aura of blood and the underworld, was suddenly torn open.

The gates of hell open wide, and a hundred ghosts roam the night.

In that instant, he felt as if he had returned to that bizarre and fantastical ghost realm.

The sweet, decaying scent of spider lilies lingered around his nose, while Ah Zhe's seemingly relaxed yet tense teasing filled his ears. Beside him stood Chen Zhiwei, her eyes clear and bright, her silver body fearlessly walking alongside him.

Then, in the pervasive ghostly fog, the first "person" they encountered was his father, Xu Haoyu.

The once world-renowned "strongest gold" figure now appears somewhat lonely and indistinct.

His father's gaze pierced through the mist and landed on him. That first glance held both the joy of a long-awaited reunion and an almost instinctive search that transcended dreams and reality.

His first words were not calling his son's name, but a hoarse and urgent question:
"Yan'er...where is your mother?"

Those words, like a cold wedge, are still driven deep into Xu Yan's soul.

It reveals a cruel truth with unparalleled clarity: before he was trapped in this endless cycle of reincarnation, his father, who was also trapped here, had already been searching in vain for his mother's whereabouts at different times and in different places.

Almost the instant these heavy memories surfaced, the reality outside the window resonated with a terrifying intensity.

The leaden sky darkened rapidly, at a speed visible to the naked eye.

It wasn't the usual nightfall, but a sinister, purplish-red hue, like bruised blood, that greedily devoured the last rays of daylight.

At the same time, Chen Zhiwei stood up from the sofa, walked to the window, and had a hint of confusion and unease on her face, stemming from her spiritual senses.

"Senior brother, I feel... something's not right." She frowned slightly, her fingers unconsciously pressing against the windowpane. "The air... has become very active, and also... chaotic."

Xu Yan walked to her side and looked out the window with her.

As the city lights began to illuminate the night, their glow appeared particularly dim and weak against the eerie backdrop of the night.

The number of pedestrians on the street had dwindled without warning. A chilly gust of wind suddenly swept up scraps of paper and fallen leaves from the ground, swirling them around and making a whistling sound.

At that moment, city radio, television signals, and even the mobile devices in many people's hands were suddenly interrupted by an emergency broadcast.

A woman's voice, still perfectly calm but with a hint of static, echoed throughout the city:
"...Urgent astronomical notice...A rare total lunar eclipse has been observed...It is expected to reach totality at midnight tonight...Coinciding with the traditional Ghost Festival...Please stay home as much as possible...Avoid unnecessary outdoor activities..."

"A total lunar eclipse... it really is that again."

Xu Yan's pupils suddenly contracted, but not from fear of the unknown, but from a cold confirmation stemming from memory.

In his previous life, the Ghost Festival was also accompanied by a total lunar eclipse, and that extremely dark celestial phenomenon was a huge catalyst for the opening of the gates of hell.

But this time, the situation is completely different—

The trauma of the matrix's collapse has not yet fully healed, and the self-repair process of the dream is still underway. Now, it is compounded by the inherent rules of the Ghost Festival's extreme yin energy, as well as the celestial power of the total lunar eclipse, which symbolizes upheaval and misfortune...

This is no longer a simple repetition of history, but rather an accumulation and malignant resonance of multiple negative rules on top of old wounds.

When a foundation of destruction meets the fuse of extreme yin, the consequences will far exceed those of the past.

He suddenly looked at Chen Zhiwei and saw that her face was slightly pale, and she subconsciously took a step closer to him.

The crimson sky outside the window, like a huge, bleeding bruise, weighed heavily on everyone's heart.

The overly calm voice on the radio was still repeating the message, each word like an opening address for a silent, even more eerie ritual.

Those "pedestrians" who used to walk numbly have disappeared without a trace.

Against the backdrop of the deepening night and the crimson sky, the distant building silhouettes began to take on a distorted, undulating, and unreal appearance, as if reflected in water.

Behind some windows, there seemed to be shadowy things moving about, their shapes indistinct, but there was a chilling feeling of being spied on.

Just then, a gust of cold wind howled through the deserted street, swirling up grayish-white paper money that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, and pattering against the glass window of the photo studio, making a soft, unsettling sound.

Almost at the same instant the cold wind swept in—

Ding--!
The bronze bell hanging above the door emitted a sharp, penetrating sound that rang out even when no one was around, clear yet chilling, as if warning of the intrusion into some invisible boundary.

The clear, melodious lingering sound trembled and echoed in the suddenly deathly silent air, lingering for a long time.

Chen Zhiwei subconsciously gripped Xu Yan's fingers tightly with her other hand; his fingertips were icy cold.

Just then, a slow, steady knocking sounded, which seemed completely out of place in the deathly silence.

Boom…Boom…

It was unhurried, carrying an ancient rhythm, clearly penetrating the door panel.

Xu Yan's muscles tensed instantly as he shielded Chen Zhiwei behind him, his gaze sharp as a knife as he stared at the tightly closed shop door.

"Who?" he asked in a deep voice, his tone filled with undisguised vigilance.

There was a moment of silence outside the door, then a voice, aged and hoarse, yet strangely carrying a soothing quality, came through:
“Young Master Xu, it’s me… Granny Xue who sells incense and candles.”

Granny Xue?
Xu Yan immediately pictured the hunched old woman who always sat under the dim light of the incense shop, silently folding gold ingots, her eyes cloudy as if she cared nothing for anything.

She was almost an integral part of the street scene, still, old, and utterly unremarkable.

However, this seemingly harmless old woman had, over the past period of time, always "coincidentally" introduced some so-called "special cleaning services" to the photo studio.

—The old house in the west of the city needs to be "cleaned" of its accumulated dampness; a jade artifact that just came out of an ancient tomb needs to be "purified" of its remaining marks...

These all sound like simple little things, but every time Xu Yan arrived at the scene with his camera, he encountered extremely dangerous and almost out-of-control supernatural phenomena, forcing him to frequently use the Soul-Sealing Camera and struggle on the edge of life and death.

He strongly suspected that Granny Xue was deliberately leading him to these deadly tasks.

The purpose was to make him use the camera continuously, accelerating the loss of his memories, until he completely forgot his duties and the seal as a "container," allowing the "abyss" imprisoned within him to break free from its constraints.

Why would she come at this time?

Is it another new, sugar-coated "death request," or... has she sensed the unusual activity of "Abyss" and come to inspect the "results" she has been longing for?
He and Chen Zhiwei exchanged a glance, both seeing surprise and doubt in each other's eyes.

Chen Zhiwei nodded slightly, indicating that the door could be opened.

Xu Yan took a deep breath, secretly forming a hand seal with one hand in preparation, and slowly opened the shop door with the other.

The sight outside the door made his pupils shrink slightly.

Grandma Xue was still wearing that faded dark blue cloth dress, her back hunched, and she was carrying an old white paper lantern that emitted a dim, warm light.

The lantern's glow, though small, was exceptionally stable, dispelling the eerie purplish-red night and swirling gusts of wind within a few steps of her, creating a warm and pristine island.

What's even more alarming is that the paper money flying everywhere, when it gets close to this halo, seems to encounter an invisible barrier, silently slipping away and unable to penetrate it even a little.

She raised her cloudy eyes, her gaze first falling on Xu Yan. Her eyes seemed to penetrate his skin, seeing the few strands of grayness in the depths of his soul caused by forbidden magic, and the deeper "truth" that was out of place in this world.

Then, her gaze turned to Chen Zhiwei behind him, and her eyes instantly became extremely complicated, containing concern, pity, and an indescribable heaviness.

"Mother-in-law, what brings you here? Please come in, there's no need to go outside..." Chen Zhiwei hurriedly stepped forward, her tone filled with concern.

Granny Xue slowly shook her head, her gaze returning to Xu Yan's face, and said in a hoarse voice, "I won't come in. My old bones have been tainted with too much 'lower' stench. I'm afraid that entering your 'revealing and confirming' place would disturb the peace."

Developing and fixing?

This word made Xu Yan's heart skip a beat.

He had a vague feeling that this old woman was no ordinary person.

Xu Yan turned sideways, subtly placing himself between Chen Zhiwei and Granny Xue, and said in a deliberately gentle tone that left no room for argument, "Zhiwei, there's a cold wind outside. Your spiritual energy hasn't recovered, so you're easily infected. Go inside and rest. I'll just talk to Granny Xue for a bit."

A hint of confusion flashed across Chen Zhiwei's eyes. She looked at Xu Yan, then at Granny Xue, who was carrying a lantern and keeping quiet, and finally nodded.

She trusted him, even though that trust was now tainted with too much confusion.

"Okay, then... hurry up." She replied softly, turned around and went back into the store, but didn't go far. She just watched their backs with worry through the glass door.

Grandma Xue, carrying a lantern, walked with unsteady but firm steps to the bench under the eaves of the photo studio and sat down.

A dim, yellowish light enveloped the two of them, like the only lighthouse in a storm.

She sat down and placed the lantern beside her. The dim yellow light enveloped the two of them, as if carving out a small, inviolable sanctuary in the murky, purplish-red night.

“Boy,” she looked at Xu Yan, her words almost abrupt, “you have the scent of ‘Abyss’ on you.”

"deep"?!

Xu Yan's heart felt as if it had been gripped tightly by an invisible hand, and suddenly stopped beating! The blood in his body seemed to flow backward in that instant.

As expected! She really did come for this reason!

Those seemingly coincidental "cleaning operations," those dangerous situations that forced him to use the camera frequently... all the scattered suspicions converged and were confirmed at this moment, turning into a chilling coldness that shot straight up his spine to the top of his head.

His deepest secret and greatest hidden danger were revealed by this seemingly dying old woman in a single sentence.

Seeing Xu Yan's face change drastically in an instant and his eyes suddenly sharp and almost murderous, a knowing look flashed in Granny Xue's cloudy eyes, as if she had already anticipated this intense reaction.

She sighed, a sigh that seemed to carry the dust of countless years, so heavy it could bend the light.

“Don’t be nervous. I’m not your enemy,” she said slowly, her gaze fixed on the eroded night sky outside the window. “On the contrary, you and I… or rather, like Old Chen in this photo studio, we are all ‘gravekeepers’.”

“Gravekeeper?” Xu Yan repeated subconsciously. The word was like a needle chilled to ice, piercing his eardrum and bringing a sharp buzzing sound.

For whom do they guard the tomb?

A wave of absurdity, anger, and powerlessness swept over him, almost making him laugh out loud.

Xu Yan stared intently at Granny Xue, his voice hoarse: "Who exactly are you? 'Yuan'... what is your relationship with this place?"

Granny Xue withdrew her gaze and looked at Xu Yan, as if looking through him at some deeper being.

“This is ‘dream,’ a manifestation of obsession, a nest for escaping reality. And ‘abyss’…” She paused, as if choosing her words carefully, “you can understand it as… the ocean on which this dream floats. Except, there is no water in this ocean, only endless, cold ‘reality’.”

This metaphor, like a pale lightning bolt, did not illuminate the path ahead, but rather shattered the last vestiges of hope in his heart.

All his previous guesses were too mild; the truth was far more devastating than shattering a dream—they were on a sinking ship.

"Reality? Are dreams built upon reality?"

“Yes and no.” Granny Xue pointed to the purplish-red sky above. “This dream is a cocoon woven by the dreamer to escape something in the ‘Abyss’—what you call reality. The cocoon floats on the sea, seemingly safe, but the coldness of the seawater constantly tries to seep in. Normally, the cocoon shell is thick enough, and the rules are stable. But now…”

She paused, her gaze sweeping over the distorted, undulating outlines of the buildings in the distance: "The collapse of the matrix is ​​like tearing a huge gash in a cocoon. And today, the Ghost Festival, the gates of hell are open, and yin energy is at its peak; coupled with this once-in-a-century total lunar eclipse, the extreme yin energy is disrupting the rules... It's like on a stormy night, a hole has been punched in the hull of a ship. The seawater of the 'Abyss' is pouring in frantically."

This metaphor was like a lightning bolt, cleaving through the fog in Xu Yan's mind!

He instantly understood why the disinfectant smell had returned, and where the lingering strangeness after the world "restored" came from! It wasn't restoration; it was the rules of the "Abyss" covering and distorting the rules of the dream.

"So, those paper money, this changing sky..." Xu asked in a hoarse voice.

“It’s ‘death’ itself, as it appears in a dream.” Granny Xue confirmed his guess. “The Ghost Festival in the dream is just a concept, but what seeps in is the real, cold rule of death from the ‘abyss.’ The two mixed together create this ghostly appearance.”

She looked at Xu Yan's suddenly pale face, her tone softening but becoming even heavier: "The dreamer's subconscious wants to repair this cocoon, wants to pull everything back to 'normal.' But too much 'seawater' has been poured in; it will make this cocoon colder and heavier, until..."

She didn't say anything more, but Xu Yan had already seen the ending—the cocoon was soaked by seawater and sank completely into the cold "abyss". All the consciousness attached to the cocoon, including Chen Zhiwei, would be completely swallowed up and assimilated by real despair.

A chill even more biting than the backlash from the Gate of Hell instantly pierced through his spine.

But an even bigger and more abrupt mystery then exploded!

"No...this doesn't make sense!" Xu Yan suddenly looked at Granny Xue, his voice hoarse with urgency. "If this world is a dream built upon the 'Abyss,' then why did my father...why did he seal the core of the 'Abyss' within me? Sending this thing into its own power domain, isn't that...is that..."

He couldn't find the right words; it was like throwing a spark into an oil vat—mad and contradictory.

Grandma Xue listened quietly, her cloudy eyes showing no surprise, only a compassionate understanding that saw through everything.

“Silly boy,” she interrupted him hoarsely, “precisely because this is the domain of the Abyss, hiding its core here is the only way to deceive it.”

"what?"

“The hunting dogs always bark wildly in the direction away from the den.” Granny Xue tapped her temple with her withered fingers. “The ‘Abyss’ instinct will drive it to endlessly search for its lost core outside. It would never imagine that someone would dare to hide its ‘heart’ right next to its ‘pillow’.”

She looked at Xu Yan, her gaze seemingly piercing through him, seeing the man who made that earth-shattering decision back then.

“Your father, Xu Haoyu, is the most daring and also the most tormented ‘gravekeeper’ I have ever met. He gambled everything, including your fate, to set up this deadly trap of ‘blind spots’.”

“But this is not just about hiding,” Granny Xue’s tone suddenly became extremely solemn. “Bringing the ‘Abyss Core’ here is like bringing a bomb destined to explode into the enemy’s command center. You are not just a ‘container,’ young Xu… When the final moment comes, you will be the only ‘living key’ that can and must be able to pierce the heart of the ‘Abyss’.”

"Awakening that girl is your personal wish. But using the 'Abyss Core' within you to end this long-lasting nightmare is your innate 'destiny' as the 'Gravekeeper'."

Destiny...

Granny Xue's words were like a final verdict, completely shattering the last glimmer of hope in Xu Yan's heart.

But the old woman's words did not end there. She stared into the turbulent waves churning in Xu Yan's eyes and slowly dropped the last, and most devastating, bombshell.

“And, kid, you have no way out.” Her voice was as low as an echo in a tomb. “If you fail again this time, you won’t fall into nothingness, but into a deeper, more desperate dream.” “Deeper… layer?” Xu Yan repeated subconsciously, an indescribable chill creeping up his spine.

“That’s right.” Granny Xue’s cloudy eyes remained unblinking. “This is the seventh floor. You should understand what this number means.”

The seventh floor?!

Xu Yan's thoughts froze for a moment.

Not at the beginning, nor along the way, but... the seventh floor?

An indescribable weariness and fear, originating from the depths of his soul, preceded reason and overwhelmed him like a tsunami.

He failed... not once, but a full six times?!
So those occasional flashbacks, those elusive fragments of memory, those eerie familiarities with certain scenes... weren't just illusions after all!

Looking at his face, which had suddenly lost all its color, Granny Xue sighed with a complex emotion: "There's no need to recall it. The memories washed away by the lower dream realm are already shattered. But fortunately... your father, Xu Haoyu, in his final moments, used his identity as the 'Strongest Gold' and all his power to do something unprecedented."

She raised her withered fingers and slowly drew a circle in the air, eventually connecting the two ends.

"He forcibly 'locked' the dream's layers to this seventh layer. Even if you fail again this time and your consciousness restarts, you will only continue to cycle within this layer, just like... your 'awakening' this time."

She looked at Xu Yan and uttered a precise and cruel metaphor, word by word:

"Like an ouroboros, with its head and tail intertwined."

“Your father secured an exam venue for you that can be repeated indefinitely. But this is also... the last exam venue.”

Ouroboros... the seventh layer of the dream in an endless loop... the final exam...

Xu Yan stood frozen in place, feeling as if the whole world was spinning and collapsing, finally solidifying into this despairing, eternal Möbius strip.

He was not the one who started the story, but the last runner before its end.

His father used his life to lock away his escape route, and also locked away... that only, barely possible path to survival that led to a tragic end.

Granny Xue's words were like a final verdict, completely shattering the last glimmer of hope in Xu Yan's heart.

He originally thought he was just a lost soul searching for a lover, then he thought he was a guardian of dreams, and only now did he realize that from the very beginning, he was the most crucial and cruel piece—the decisive piece—that his father had personally placed on the chessboard of fate.

Granny Xue picked up the lantern beside her, and its dim yellow light seemed to brighten a little. "My lantern can temporarily dispel some of the overly strong aura of the 'Abyss' and protect a small area. As for your photo studio... 'Developing and Fixing' itself has the foundation to stabilize a dream world and resist the infiltration of the 'Abyss'."

Grandma Xue slowly stood up, her hunched figure appearing unusually tall in the halo of light.

"At the darkest moment of the lunar eclipse, the projection of the 'Abyss' will be clearest. At that time, something might appear in this neighborhood... something that only exists in the 'Abyss'. A despair born from reality."

She looked at Xu Yan with an unprecedented seriousness in her eyes: "Xu family boy, now that you've seen the truth, you can no longer pretend to be asleep. Guard this place, guard her. This is no longer just your personal wish, but the shared destiny of us 'grave keepers'."

After saying that, she picked up her lantern and walked step by step into the distorted, purplish-red night.

That dim, yellowish light stubbornly resisted the anomaly of the entire world until it was swallowed by darkness.

Xu Yan stood at the door, the cold night wind blowing into his collar, but he felt no chill at all.

The inner storm has subsided, replaced by a cold resolve.

He turned around and saw Chen Zhiwei looking at him with concern through the glass door.

Her figure appeared somewhat frail under the warm light; she was the only one he had to protect.

Her world is being eroded by the external "abyss," and her heart is being silently invaded by him, an insider from the "abyss."

Previously, he was thinking about how to "break" this dream.

Now he understood that he had to "guard" the dream before he could find a safe way to wake her.

She must hold onto this fragile, isolated island, the only place she can survive in the cracks between reality and the abyss.

The sky outside the window was a thick, blood-red purplish-red, and the last glimmer of the moon's light was being mercilessly devoured by a massive shadow.

The darkest hour is coming.

The moment his fingers touched the doorknob, he took a deep breath, like an actor making his final preparations before stepping onto the stage.

He forced the tense lines on his face to soften, deeply concealing the coldness and determination of the "gravekeeper" in his eyes, and replacing it with a layer of tired and concerned shell belonging to the "senior brother".

The door closed behind him, shutting out the howling wind and the ominous crimson light.

Inside the photo studio, time seemed to thicken again, with only the ticking of the old-fashioned wall clock clearly audible.

Xu Yan suppressed the turmoil brought by Granny Xue deep in her heart and put on her usual calm mask, which was tinged with weariness.

"Senior brother?" Chen Zhiwei's voice was still filled with lingering fear. "What...what exactly did Granny Xue say?"

Xu Yan turned around, his face displaying a perfectly timed, wry smile that held a hint of helplessness towards the older generation. He raised a hand to rub his temples, naturally relaxing his shoulders, which had been tense from guardedness.

"It's nothing, just some old customs about the Ghost Festival."

He walked to the window, gazing at the deepening night outside, his tone relaxed as if discussing the weather, “Old people always believe in this. They say that tonight at midnight there will be a lunar eclipse, when the yin energy is at its strongest, making it easy to attract ‘unclean’ things, so they tell us to close the doors and windows and stay at home.”

He deliberately downplayed the nature of the "Abyss," describing its terrifying corrosiveness as "something unclean."

Upon hearing this, Chen Zhiwei's tense expression indeed dissipated somewhat, replaced by a trace of professional composure befitting a talisman master.

After all, she was a silver-level contractor, and ordinary ghosts were not worth her attention.

"I see. No wonder the psionic energy felt restless. However, if they are just wandering ghosts, they are not worth fearing."

"Better safe than sorry," Xu Yan echoed, his gaze subtly sweeping over the old-fashioned landline camera covered with a black cloth on the workbench.

Development and fixing...

Grandma Xue's words echoed in his mind.

What secrets does this photo studio hold?
Does it truly possess the "anchoring" property that stabilizes dreams and resists erosion, as Granny Xue claims?
Tonight might be an opportunity to test that.

Just then, the wall clock emitted a dull "clang".

It is midnight.

A total lunar eclipse occurs when the eclipse reaches its second phase.

The crimson sky outside the window was suddenly replaced by an absolute darkness that swallowed everything.

The streetlights went out instantly, and the whole world seemed to be soaked in thick ink, even sound was absorbed, and it fell into dead silence.

Almost at the same time——

Boom! Snap!

A series of dense, teeth-grinding cracking sounds came from all around the photo studio.

The defensive talismans they had personally arranged on the windows and doors, which were shimmering with a faint light, shattered and went out one after another, like glass struck by a heavy hammer.

On the ground, the hidden array patterns that had been drawn were also twisted and broken under the invisible pressure, and the spiritual light was quickly extinguished.

"Not good!" Chen Zhiwei's expression changed, and his previous ease vanished instantly. This was definitely not the kind of damage that an ordinary wandering spirit could cause.

Xu Yan's pupils contracted, and he thought to himself, "They're here!"

Through the suddenly exposed glass window, he saw countless distorted, translucent shadows on the dark street, like a torrent bursting its banks, carrying a chilling cold and a frenzied malice, surging toward the photo studio.

A ghost tide! And its intensity far exceeds that of ordinary tides.

Almost at the same time——

Boom! Snap!

A series of dense, teeth-grinding cracking sounds came from all around the photo studio.

The defensive talismans they had personally arranged on the windows and doors, which were shimmering with a faint light, shattered and went out one after another, like glass struck by a heavy hammer.

"careful!"

Xu Yan pulled Chen Zhiwei behind him.

Almost simultaneously, a translucent ghostly hand, radiating intense malice, pierced through the wall where the talisman had failed and reached for the spot where Chen Zhiwei had just been standing.

The chilling air instantly caused the moisture in the air to condense into frost.

Chen Zhiwei's face turned pale. He reacted extremely quickly, pointing his fingers like a knife and slashing through the air. A clear, cold spiritual light flashed like a sharp blade, severing the ghostly hand and causing it to dissipate.

But more ghostly figures are infiltrating from all directions!
"Back off!"

Xu Yan gave a low shout and moved with lightning speed.

He yanked off the black cloth covering the camera, reached into a hidden compartment under the counter, and pulled out a wide-angle lens made of dark metal with an antique pattern.

He skillfully unscrewed the standard lens and precisely screwed on the dark gold wide-angle lens.

"Click."

The soft click of the lens closing was exceptionally clear in the deathly silence.

Just as the vanguard of the ghost tide, like an invisible cloud of smoke, was about to penetrate the walls and surge into the building—

Xu Yan raised his camera, the dark gold wide-angle lens like a cold eye, aimed at the ghost tide.

He didn't input any psionic energy; he simply "watched."

However, the moment he "locked on" the target through the viewfinder, he felt a subtle vibration inside the camera, like the meshing of gears—no, it wasn't gears, but more like countless tiny, forcibly restrained souls wailing as they were being recoded.

hum...

The edges of the dark gold lens shimmered with a subtle light.

The ghostly figure, framed within the viewfinder, suddenly froze in its distorted form, as if bound and fixed by countless invisible threads of rules from the depths of the world.

Their forms became clearer: expressions of painful struggle, empty eyes, crumbling edges...

Every detail was forcibly "developed" by an invisible force, then pulled and deformed as if sucked into a vortex, eventually turning into fine gray lines that were captured by the dark golden lens.

Xu Yan felt the camera getting slightly warm in his hand, and there seemed to be some heavy, unsettling "substance" inside the lens.

He realized that this was not elimination, but a more absolute "archiving"—forcibly incorporating these "mistakes" that eroded his dreams into the unique order of the photo studio.

There was no earth-shattering explosion, no dazzling clash of brilliance.

There is only one kind of silent, almost cold-blooded way of storing and sealing things away.

The ghost tide continued to surge forward, but the camera lens, like a bottomless pit or an unbreakable gate, blocked, froze, and sealed away all the "unclean things" that tried to break in.

Chen Zhiwei stood behind Xu Yan, her pupils contracting in shock.

She could sense that the "rules" of the surrounding space were rewritten the moment the camera operated.

There was no violent clash of energy, only a cold, unquestionable "coverage." This far exceeded her understanding of magical artifacts.

"Senior brother, this camera... if you use it like this, you'll lose all your memories." She couldn't help but say, her voice filled with disbelief.

Xu Yan did not turn around, but steadily held up the camera, calmly observing the intensity of the ghost tide and the efficiency of the camera's "soul sealing" through the viewfinder.

He was equally shocked, but more than that, he felt a sense of enlightenment after verification.

Developing and fixing... I see.

It can not only develop beauty, but also develop and freeze the "abnormal". This photo studio itself is a huge "developing pool" and "fixing solution" built on the edge of a dream.

And this Soul-Sealing Camera is the core tool for enforcing these rules.

Xu Yan did not feel any loss of memory.

Grandma Xue was right; the photo studio was indeed resisting the infiltration of "Yuan".

Because it itself is constantly "processing" those "impurities" from "reality" or other levels that try to invade the dream in this way.

However, the number of ghost tides far exceeded expectations!
Although the camera was quick to "seal off" the viewfinder, some still managed to slip through the "blind spot" and hurtle towards the two of them with a shriek.

"Left!" Chen Zhiwei urged urgently, clenching her hands tightly. A soft, purifying halo unfolded in front of her, temporarily blocking the ghostly figure and buying Xu Yan a precious half-second.

Xu Yan understood immediately. With a flick of his wrist, the camera lens swept across the frame, capturing the ghostly figure along with the others behind it, freezing and capturing the moment instantly.

The two, one defending and the other attacking, one purifying the area and the other eliminating a specific point, unexpectedly formed a brief tacit understanding in a hurry.

The onslaught of the ghost tide lasted for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn.

As the first glimmer of light began to seep back from the edge of the moon and the absolute darkness of the sky began to recede, the surging ghostly figures outside the door vanished as quickly as the tide receded, leaving only a mess on the ground—shattered talismans, broken array patterns, and a chilling remnant in the air that had not yet completely dissipated.

Xu Yan slowly put down the camera; the dark gold lens gleamed with a cold, eerie light in the dim light.

He could sense that something heavy had appeared inside the lens.

Chen Zhiwei strode forward. Her first reaction wasn't to check the damage, but to grab Xu Yan's arm, tilt her head back, and anxiously scan his face, her voice trembling slightly.

"Senior! You used 'that' camera... How are you feeling? Do you still recognize me? Do you remember what just happened?"

Her concerns were so direct and sharp that they almost pierced through the facade that Xu Yan had painstakingly maintained.

She remembered the taboo surrounding this camera—that every shutter click could steal a part of the user's memory.

For her, amnesia was more terrifying than any physical injury.

Xu Yan felt a pang of pain in his heart, but quickly put on a smile that was both tired and relieved.

He gently patted the back of her hand, the movement natural, with the usual gentleness and comfort of a "senior brother".

“Silly girl, of course I remember you.” His tone was relaxed, even a little teasing. “I also remember that a certain little fool almost got caught by the ghostly hand on the left just now. Luckily, I was quick-witted and nimble-fingered.”

He deliberately mentioned a battle detail that only the two of them knew, which was the most compelling evidence.

Chen Zhiwei was taken aback for a moment, and after thinking about it carefully, she realized that it was indeed true.

Her tense shoulders relaxed slightly, but the doubt in her eyes hadn't completely disappeared: "But... what about the camera..."

"The cost still exists, but it may not be as terrible as the rumors say," Xu Yan interrupted her, guiding her thoughts in an analytical tone.

He picked up the camera, his fingers tracing the cold metal body. “Don’t forget, this is the ‘Forgotten Photo Studio.’ Perhaps the room itself, or some rule we don’t fully understand, protects the owner to some extent, transferring or diluting the cost.”

Looking at his confident expression and then at the strangely quirky photo studio, Chen Zhiwei seemed convinced by his explanation.

She breathed a soft sigh of relief: "That's good... In any case, we can't use it so easily again."

She believed it.

Xu Yan looked at her slightly relaxed profile and silently prayed to himself.

A bitter feeling, a mixture of guilt and relief, welled up in my throat.

She didn't know that losing my memory was the real luxury for me.

What I bear is something a thousand times crueler than forgetting—a clear, recurring despair that I can never escape.

This camera is capturing fragments of the past, and I must remember them all to grasp that one and only possibility leading to the future.

The so-called price has no effect on me in the photo studio. This is not a blessing, but the deepest curse of being a 'gravekeeper' and a 'living key'...

He gently placed the camera back on the workbench and covered it again with a black cloth, as if it were just an ordinary old object.

He turned around, his face showing the weariness of battle and a perfectly measured hint of relief, and steered the conversation toward something more practical:

"It seems that Granny Xue's warning was not unfounded. Tonight's events are strange. We need to thoroughly check the surrounding area and rearrange the defenses when it gets light."

Chen Zhiwei looked at him, then at the camera covered by a black cloth, and finally nodded without asking any further questions.

But Xu Yan could read the lingering surprise and doubt in the depths of her eyes.

He walked to the window and looked at the city skyline outside, which was gradually recovering but still deathly silent.

The cold touch of the camera's metal casing still seemed to linger on my fingertips, as well as the strange vibration that seemed to touch the fundamental rules of the world when the ghost tide was forcibly "archived".

At this moment, Granny Xue's abstract words—"developing and fixing"—finally transformed into a tangible feeling at his fingertips.

Verification is complete.

The Forgotten Photo Studio was indeed an outpost against the erosion of the "Abyss".

The Soul-Sealing Camera in his hand is the key to this protective lock.

However, the way this key is used, along with the forbidden knowledge he inherited from his father, vaguely points to the same ancient and dangerous source.

The determination to protect remained unwavering, but a chilling sense of unease, originating from the depths of their understanding, had quietly begun to spread.

This road was more profound and unpredictable than he had imagined.

(End of this chapter)