This is a bizarre rule, isn't it? It's supposed to grant me many children and good fortune

Jason was the first to rush over, crouch down, and turn Singh over—

That can hardly be called a face anymore.

His skin shrank to a dark brown, clinging tightly to his cheekbones; his eye sockets were sunken; his lips were stretched back, frozen in the last expression he could not complete before death.

The pupils have dilated.

There was no pulse in the carotid artery.

His chest remained still.

Jason's fingers rested on Singh's neck, and he stood there frozen for three seconds, five seconds.

Then he slowly raised his head, looked at the other three team members, his lips trembling slightly, his voice dry and hoarse:

"He's dead!"

Park Tae-rang's hands began to tremble.

There were twenty-nine people in the hall, and not one of them spoke.

A few seconds later, Lin Feng's voice came:

"The rule is correct; when you look directly at it, it's just looking at you."

"Once you close your eyes—it can 'take action'."

"Everyone, keep working, and don't repeat the same mistake!"

Park Tae-rang swallowed hard, looked at Lin Feng, and asked in a low voice:

Lin Feng's voice was flat:

"That's not something we should be worrying about right now. Let's finish the task of moving the armor first. The longer we stay in this hall, the greater the chance of something going wrong."

Everyone gritted their teeth and picked up the cotton cloth again.

A few minutes later, Lin Feng's group was the first to finish wiping.

Lin Feng took a step back, his gaze slowly sweeping over the entire suit of armor from top to bottom, conducting a final inspection.

As his gaze swept across his chest, he noticed a trace of ash remaining in the gap between the armor plates, so he stepped forward again and wiped it away.

In that instant, his fingers froze.

It wasn't because I touched any foreign object, but because my ear caught a very faint metallic sound.

"Click."

It was very light and short, like the first sound of ice cracking.

Then, "click".

Second tone.

The mask loosened from the inside, revealing a thin slit, which then widened further.

Deep within that deathly silent cranial cavity, two pure and thick crimson masses suddenly appeared.

They were spinning, carrying a silent malice, locking onto Lin Feng.

Vassim reacted extremely quickly; the instant the red light appeared, he had already drawn "Funeral Song" and sprang into action.

Lin Feng didn't turn around, but instead made a very firm "stop" gesture with his hand behind him.

Wasim abruptly stopped in his tracks.

At this moment, Lin Feng's eyes were frighteningly calm as he stared directly at the two thick, blood-red blobs behind the mask.

Those blood-red eyes seemed to pause for a moment; they had probably never seen a human so utterly indifferent before.

Immediately afterwards, as if unwilling to be outdone, the two balls of red light suddenly transformed into countless fine needles, piercing into Lin Feng's mind along his line of sight, attempting to tear apart his reason and make his nerves scream and collapse like a frightened wild beast.

However, Lin Feng remained calm throughout, and even his breathing remained perfectly steady.

He didn't blink, and even when the suffocating pressure reached its peak, a slight smile appeared on his lips.

In that instant, the red light behind the mask seemed to encounter an unsolvable logical error.

The two blood-red swirling objects got stuck.

"Click."

The mask closed again without warning.

The red light behind the cross-shaped peephole slowly faded away like the receding tide, and the hall returned to a deathly silence.

Lin Feng withdrew his gaze, casually wiped away the ash, tossed the cotton cloth into the bucket beside him, and gently clapped his hands.

"This one is fine."

Park Tae-rang opened his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing laboriously twice, before finally managing to squeeze out a single sentence from his chest:

"...In our Korean country, there's an old saying: 'Even if a tiger roars in your ear, you can still finish that glass of wine...' This guy's mental fortitude is truly unmatched."

Vassimli put away "Funeral Song" and looked at Lin Feng with admiration: "Brother, you were as steady as a rock!"

Lin Feng smiled and gestured for his team members to rest for the time being.

Moving the armor was the most unpredictable task, so it was absolutely forbidden to split up and to move each suit of armor carefully, one by one, with the combined efforts of everyone.

Soon, the second group, including Hisako, August, and others, also finished wiping and joined Lin Feng's group.

Just then, the third group encountered a problem with their direction.

Kane—the burly black man from dormitory 304—was wiping his leg armor when the cotton cloth suddenly slipped from between his fingers.

The next second, it was as if he was nailed to the spot by invisible nails.

His eyes were wide open, and his pupils were moving wildly from side to side within them.

"Kane?" Marcus, who was in the same group, sensed something was wrong and nudged him with his elbow. "What are you doing? Don't stand there, hurry up and wipe it."

Kane did not react.

He slowly and mechanically turned his head, staring intently at Marcus.

His lips trembled and moved for a long time before the sound seemed to be forced out from deep in his throat:

"Didn't you... hear me?"

"What did you hear?" Marcus frowned.

"Someone is calling me."

Marcus stopped what he was doing and listened for two seconds.

Apart from the rustling of cotton fabric, there was nothing in the hall.

"No," Marcus shook his head. "No one called you; you're hallucinating."

Kane's Adam's apple bobbed, and a fine layer of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"No...it's not a hallucination." He shook his head, shaking it vigorously. "It's calling my name, it keeps calling—Kane, Kane, Kane..."

Marcus's expression changed, and he subconsciously looked at the armor in front of him.

The faceplate was closed, and behind the cross-shaped viewing hole was complete darkness.

"Kane," Lin Feng's voice came from behind, "look down, look at the ground, see if there's a shadow under the armor's feet."

Kane shuddered, as if those words had pulled him out of some kind of sticky daze.

He abruptly lowered his head, his gaze fixed on the ground—

Have.

There are shadows on the ground.

Beneath the armored figure lay a dark shadow, its outline matching the shape of the armor itself.

Marcus also peeked out and immediately said, "There is indeed a shadow."

"Kane, listen to me," Lin Feng warned in a deep voice, "your perspective is likely 'unique,' and what we see may not be the truth."

This is a common trick used in ghost stories—

Once someone triggers the rules, they will be pulled into their own private domain, with the aim of cutting off information support from others.

Kane has a nearsightedness of over 100 degrees, but it's not a high degree, and he doesn't usually wear glasses.

Hearing Lin Feng's words, he narrowed his eyes and stretched his head forward.

As the distance closed, the shadow remained a lifeless black mass, showing no sign of anything amiss.

However, what he failed to see was that it was not a still shadow, but countless black wisps slowly surging.

It was only because of mild myopia combined with high levels of mental stress that this flaw was completely concealed.

"Shadow... no problem." Kane straightened up and gave the final confirmation.

Then, he turned around, faced the cold armor, and took a deep breath:

"I am here!"