Forgotten Photo Studio

Chapter 60 Feeding Ghosts
He controlled "Zhou Wenbin's" body, turning around seemingly impatiently while waiting, his right hand reaching naturally into the jacket pocket, the spot Zhou Wenbin had subconsciously confirmed earlier.

My fingertips just touched the edge of a hard, square card inside the pocket, which looked like it was made of some kind of cold metal.

Fragments of memory surged in like a high-voltage current.

The sensation at my fingertips instantly transformed into an extremely smooth, bone-chilling metallic coldness, and the bus stop in front of me distorted and disappeared.

Instead, there was an incredibly empty and oppressive space, filled with a strange smell of ozone mixed with some kind of rust and rotting sweet almonds, making it hard for "him" to breathe.

His gaze was uncontrollably drawn to the center, to a massive, living thing made of twisted, writhing dark metal and shimmering runes.

Its center emitted a ghostly green light, and several blurry humanoid figures were bound within it, silently enduring immense pain as their bodies were being slowly pulled away...

A cold, emotionless voice, neither male nor female, pierced directly into the skull: "...Xu Haoyu's ghost... proves the limit of 'gold' grade 'firewood'... The next 'bridge crossing' will require a higher quality... soul."

His own reaction and key information: "He" heard Zhou Wenbin's own voice tremble slightly: "Then... we still need to continue feeding the ghosts..."

A cold pronouncement: the electronic voice interrupted without a ripple: "Of course... the more the better."

Uh!
Xu Yan's consciousness groaned as it resonated within Zhou Wenbin's body; the shock and rage from this information nearly caused him to lose control.

He clenched his teeth tightly.

No! That's not enough!
Despite the overwhelming sense of rejection, he forcefully controlled his fingers, trying to pull the cold metal card out of the inner pocket!
He needs to know what this is!
With a flick of the fingertip, the card was pulled out halfway.

There were no words on it, only an intricate mark etched on it, seemingly composed of countless tiny runes, which shared the same origin as the brand on his father's arm!
On one corner of the card, there is a tiny laser-engraved code: 【Sector-07】.

The very next second after he saw the code.

boom!
A consciousness far stronger and more violent than the previous faint instinct suddenly erupted from the depths of this body.

Like a sleeping serpent suddenly enraged, baring its deadly fangs.

Get out! Who are you?!

A chilling thought, born of Zhou Wenbin himself, filled with shock and rage, pierced Xu Yan's core consciousness like a poisoned ice spike, carrying intense hostility and the impact of some kind of sealing technique.

A splitting headache!

It felt as if two brains were colliding and tearing at each other inside the skull!
Zhou Wenbin's own consciousness is not only vying for control, but also attempting to erode and imprison Xu Yan, this outsider.

Xu Yan finally gripped the card tightly.

The cold metallic touch contrasted sharply with his boiling killing intent.

Sector-07.

The name pierced his mind like a poisonous thorn.

As the bus lights swept across the station, he controlled Zhou Wenbin's body, taking advantage of the headache and dizziness that had just subsided, and staggered onto the bus, perfectly playing the role of someone who was unwell after being startled.

He sat in his seat, using Zhou Wenbin's eyes to greedily record the street scenes and road signs flashing past the window.

But a countdown mark hangs in his heart, which can only last for a maximum of twenty-four hours from the moment he possessed it.

When the time comes, his soul will be devoured, and if this body dies, he himself will fall into the abyss forever.

Tracking? No.

He is now Zhou Wenbin, and he is about to "go home".

The neon lights cast a sickly glow in the rain until the vehicles entered the abandoned industrial area on the outskirts of the city.

Zhou Wenbin naturally got off the train at a station and walked towards the warehouse complex that resembled the corpse of a giant beast.

One of the old cold storage buildings was glowing with a dim light, as if it were breathing.

The faded sign at the entrance reads "City Emergency Material Dispatch Center - Cold Storage," but below it, the black mark "Sector-07" is faintly visible, which cannot be covered by the rain.

The cold rain pounded against the rusty iron door, each sound like a death knell. Xu Yan took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

What hit me wasn't cold air, but a chilling cold that could freeze the soul.

The space in front of me was empty and silent, with dozens of huge glass storage tanks suspended in mid-air.

What was floating in the tank was not cargo, but translucent human figures.

Their heads drooped, their faces dissolved, leaving only blurry outlines.

Under the eerie green background light, they struggled silently, emitting a "squeaking" sound that only the spiritual sense could hear.

My stomach churned.

This is not a warehouse, but a prison.

—A prison for the soul.

He lowered his breath and, relying on Zhou Wenbin's instinctive memory, moved quickly along the shadows by the wall.

But a sticky feeling came from underfoot.

Looking down, the ground wasn't cement, but a dark red carpet of flesh and blood, seemingly still alive, undulating slightly with every step.

"Boom-thump-"

The sound of dragging chains came from afar, like a heart falling.

The thing didn't look like a "person" patrolling; it was more like an extension of the warehouse itself that was wriggling out.

They were dressed in faded uniforms, their faces empty, as if they had been gouged out alive, leaving only a constantly bleeding hollow.

In the void, fleeting images of the victims before their deaths occasionally surface: some gasp in pain, others cry out in despair, their voices mingling together like countless souls stuck in their throats, forever dying with their eyes wide open.

As one of the ghosts approached, Xu Yan heard Chen Zhiwei's dying breath clearly coming from the hollow: "...firewood..."

Another person brushed past, and from the void, Ah Zhe's sobbing voice echoed: "...Brother Yan...save me..."

Xu Yan's fingernails almost dug into her palm.

These things... are not imitations, but rather reflections of deep-seated fears.

"...Manager Zhou?"

A hoarse voice rang out from the depths of the shadows.

Xu Yan looked over and saw a ghost with an iron chain pinned to a pillar.

Its upper body is that of a withered old man, with its eyes bound shut by black cloth strips; its lower body, however, is covered with tentacles like an infant's arm, which drag on the ground.

It slowly raised its head, revealing a cracked smile with missing teeth:
"...The atmosphere when they came back today was really...very mixed..."

Zhou Wenbin's subconscious was filled with fear, resentment, and a trace of extreme dread about the blindfolded ghost in front of him.

Xu Yan gritted his teeth and suppressed his anger, mimicking Zhou Wenbin's tone, and replied in a low voice: "...It's raining heavily outside, so it smells a bit dirty."

The blindfolded ghost wriggled its tentacles and chuckled: "Dirty thing? Aren't you the biggest filth... a half-human, half-ghost spirit, a natural bait."

As it spoke, the shadows writhed on the ground, as if trying to climb to Xu Yan's feet.

But it retreated at the slightest touch, as if it had encountered some colder, more violent abyssal aura.

That aura wasn't something he intentionally released; it seeped naturally from his very bones, causing these ghosts to instinctively feel fear.

　I will add an extra chapter for every 100 additional monthly passes! Please keep an eye on me!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)