Forgotten Photo Studio

Chapter 65 Lost Memories

Xu Yan immediately felt his control over his body rapidly slipping away, as if his soul was being pulled away from the soles of his feet by his own shadow.

In despair, he snapped a photo, and the black and white vortex of "Abyss" exploded, tearing the ghost hand to shreds.

His mind suddenly went blank.

In that fragmented memory, the girl's figure reappeared.

She stood on a street corner in the twilight, with a wall covered with old advertisements behind her.

A gentle breeze ruffled her hair, but she smiled quietly and reached out to straighten the camera on his shoulder.

"Xu Yan, you have to keep filming." Her voice was soft, but it carried an unwavering determination. "Someone has to remember them."

A single sentence, like a brand, is etched into my heart.

But before the image could become clear, it was like a negative burned by flames, quickly turning black, cracking, and turning to ash.

"don't want--!"

Xu Yan roared, his eyes bloodshot, his soul cracking inch by inch, on the verge of complete madness.

Zhou Wenbin laughed wildly, his laughter gradually shattering as his soul burned.

"Boy! You're nothing special! No matter how powerful the demons on you are, they can't beat the Eighteen Gates of Hell... Haha!"

The laughter suddenly stopped.

The camera's vortex is expanding, not rapidly, but with an irreversible heaviness.

The outline of the street was torn apart inch by inch, like an old film strip burned through by fire, leaving a dark hole.

Zhou Wenbin felt a chill run down his spine and desperately backed away, his back slamming into a parked car.

The sheet metal dented instantly, making a piercing crack, but he was completely oblivious, staring intently into the depths of the vortex.

What appeared there was not a ghost.

Instead, it was an indescribable black shadow, without form, yet like an abyss that swallowed everything, seemingly erasing even the boundary between "existence" and "nothingness".

In that instant, he even suspected that he had seen "death itself".

His eyes were bloodshot, and his breathing was so rapid that he was on the verge of suffocation.

"No...impossible! The Abyss was already divided into nine parts, each sealed away...why is it on you?"

Countless speculations raced through his mind, and suddenly, as if struck by lightning, his voice trembled:

"Xu Haoyu! It was him... he sealed it inside you!"

His voice was broken, with a tearing tremor.

"I, Zhou Wenbin... have spent my life wandering the underworld, with a hundred ghosts as my banner and ten thousand souls as my food! But I never imagined that in the end... I would lose to it!"

He bit his tongue hard, blood splattering everywhere, desperately pouring his remaining soul power into the soul banner.

The soul banner trembled violently, and countless faces of fierce ghosts appeared on its surface, howling in unison, trying to break free from the vortex.

He roared at the top of his lungs, "Open your tongue!"

However, the dark figure did not respond.

In the next instant, all the vengeful spirits on the banners twisted and contorted, as if being erased one by one by a higher rule.

Screams, wails, and blood mist vanished in an instant.

The fourth gate of hell was completely shattered before it could even be opened.

Zhou Wenbin's soul was forcibly torn out, ripped apart and crushed layer by layer.

His final expression was not one of fear, but of a desperate obsession bordering on madness.

"I am... a spirit medium! I should... remember all the deaths in this world!"

Before he could finish speaking, his voice and figure were completely erased, as if they had been cut out of the film of reality.

The world suddenly fell silent, leaving only black and white.

As the black waves receded, only a charred and tattered spirit banner remained, fluttering in the cold wind. It hung there all alone, witnessing the end of a generation of spirit mediums—not even their souls remained.

The world suddenly fell silent, leaving only black and white.

As the black waves receded, only a charred and tattered soul banner remained, fluttering in the cold wind, witnessing the end of a generation of spirit mediums—not even their souls remained.

Xu Yan stood rooted to the spot, as if all his strength had been drained away. Zhou Wenbin's dying screams still echoed in his ears, each word like a red-hot nail driven into his mind:
"Xu Haoyu! It was him... he sealed it inside you!"

My father's name seemed to be suddenly torn open from a dusty corner of my memory.

He fell heavily to his knees, his vision blurred, and fragmented images appeared before him:
The night wind howled, and the father leaned over him, his expression more solemn than ever before. He pressed his fingertips against Xu Yan's right palm, where a burning pain shot through him—as if a cold symbol had been branded into it.

The father's voice was low and urgent:

"Yan'er, remember this feeling. No matter what happens, hold onto the bottom line of your consciousness... it will help you."

But... the memory of how this mark came about and what happened afterward is like abruptly severed, leaving an irreparable void.

“Father…” Xu Yan murmured, his eyes welling up with tears mixed with blood.

Just as he was on the verge of being swallowed by the "Abyss," a sharp, icy pain suddenly shot through the palm of his right hand!

That's the mark of "Soul-Suppressing Iron".

The skin marked felt as if a piece of ancient, cold iron had pierced its very marrow, the chill penetrating deep into its soul!

This pain was sharper than the erosion of the "abyss," yet it was like a steel needle, piercing through the numbness of darkness.

Immediately following, a unique "silent rhythm" emanated from the brand.

It wasn't like a heartbeat, but rather like the striking of a tuning fork of absolute order, its buzzing creating invisible ripples that forcefully drew a clear "boundary" in his collapsing consciousness.

On one side, the "Abyss" greedily and chaotically devoured the black tide.

On the other side is the remnant of "Xu Yan's" self that this rhythm protects.

“I am... Xu Yan.”

He almost instinctively uttered those words in a low voice.

But this was not a soliloquy; it was a declaration to the darkness within him—a re-establishment of the boundaries of existence through the "Soul-Suppressing Iron."

Xu Yan's left hand trembled as he gripped the brand. The pale blue mark was faintly visible beneath his skin, as if illuminated by some profound law.

The power of silence spread, not by forcibly suppressing the "Abyss," but by coldly declaring with a supreme order:
Everything returned to stillness.

The buzzing in my mind gradually subsided, and the interruption in my memory was stopped.

The restless satisfaction of "Yuan" receded like the tide in the face of this silence, and it once again hibernated in the seal deep within its right arm.

Xu Yan collapsed to the ground, panting heavily, his clothes soaked with cold sweat.

He regained consciousness, but clearly felt that many details about his father were ultimately blurred as if they had been deliberately erased.

The night wind howled, and the streets were a mess:
The shadows on the walls peeled off as if scorched; the asphalt road bore charred cracks, as if it had been washed by seawater; the scattered photographs on the ground all gleamed with a chilling light.

Xu Yan staggered to his feet, his chest heaving like a bellows. He immediately spotted the red dot of the street corner security camera locking onto him.

Once he's photographed, he'll have nowhere to hide.

"Small boat!"

He growled.

A stream of cyan data shot out, forcibly intruding into the system.

All the camera feeds froze instantly, and the empty street scene began to play on a loop.

"Only ten seconds!" A faint message returned.

Ten seconds!

Xu Yan's gaze swept quickly, instantly locking onto the intact dark-colored handbag next to the tattered soul banner.

A thought struck him, and without thinking, he lunged forward, grabbing the satchel and the scattered important photos into his arms. Like a broken shadow, he stumbled and rushed into the nearest dark alley, disappearing without a trace just before the police cars surrounded the scene.

(End of this chapter)