Quick Transmigration: Learning Makes Me Improve

Zhao Kaiming was also afraid that if he subdued the old man blocking the door, the evil spirits in the Caesars Hotel would take the opportunity to escape.

It's a winding, labyrinthine place; getting in takes a lot of effort to get out.

He didn't want to go in one minute and then have to rush out the next to clean up his mess the next.

Yang Jian, however, was accustomed to caution.

He took a golden bullet out of his pocket and threw it next to the tall male corpse.

Zhao Kaiming remembers.

As Yang Jian entered the corridor on the third floor, he also threw a golden bullet outside.

According to Bruce P., ghosts cannot affect gold.

So when encountering paranormal events, fearing they won't be able to find their way back, they throw a golden bullet to mark the location.

That makes perfect sense.

Just like when you encounter a ghost wall, a normal person will subconsciously take a piss.

On the contrary, Xiong Wenwen, who is the weakest, is not worried at all.

He followed Zhao Kaiming in a carefree manner.

Give me some pointers from time to time.

"Xiao Yang, are you sure you can do it?"

You're so slow and hesitant, you're nowhere near as good as the experts.

Yang Jian ignored him.

Xiong Wenwen didn't care and looked around at both sides of the corridor. Suddenly, she exclaimed "Eh!"

"Ugh, the room numbers here are weird! Why aren't they in order?"

Upon hearing this, Zhao Kaiming also glanced at the doorplates on both sides.

There was a brass plaque on the door on the left with "17" engraved on it, while the one on the right had "9".

Take a few more steps forward, and you'll see "22" and "4" standing side by side.

The rooms should be adjacent, but the numbers are like shuffled playing cards, with no discernible pattern.

But Zhao Kaiming noticed a detail.

The further you go into the corridor, the larger these messy numbers seem to get overall.

From single digits to tens, then to the twenties, then the thirties...

"Ignore the ghosts in the room and go straight to room 31," Yang Jian said.

His classmate Zhao Lei was possessed by the newspaper ghost and left behind a message.

The rescue can only be carried out in room 31 of the Caesars Grand Hotel.

Zhao Kaiming naturally had no objections.

The group walked along the corridor.

Every now and then, a vengeful ghost would peek out from a room or stand straight in the middle of the corridor.

With Zhao Kaiming around, these little devils couldn't stop their advance at all.

He didn't even bother to lift a finger; he simply released his aura of law, and the vengeful spirits froze in place as if a pause button had been pressed, remaining completely still.

Yang Jian followed behind, secretly marveling to himself.

Why is there such a big difference between two people who control ghosts?

Soon after, a large, dark brown door appeared at the end of the corridor.

The doorplate has two numbers engraved on it: 31.

"We're here." Yang Jian stepped forward and reached out to push the door open.

The door wasn't locked.

"Squeak—"

The door slowly opened, revealing complete darkness inside; nothing could be seen.

But the moment the door opened, countless newspapers poured out of the darkness.

Like a flock of startled birds, they swarmed towards the group.

Every newspaper was covered with dense writing.

The words kept wriggling and rearranging, as if trying to piece together some kind of information.

When newspapers are stuck to a person, they stick to the skin like leeches and burrow into it.

They want to burrow into a person's body and control their consciousness.

"Is this the trick left behind by the newspaper ghost?" Zhao Kaiming raised an eyebrow.

Yang Jian instinctively raised his hand to protect his face, but he quickly realized that the newspapers couldn't get close to them at all.

At a distance of half a meter from Zhao Kaiming, they seemed to have hit an invisible wall and all stopped.

Then it drifted down helplessly.

"Disperse." Zhao Kaiming said casually, waving his right hand lightly.

An invisible force spread from his palm, like a gust of wind.

The newspapers that filled the sky froze in mid-air, then quickly gathered, compressed, and folded as if kneaded by an invisible hand.

"Splash—"

All the newspapers were gathered into a single, blood-stained old newspaper, which fell into Zhao Kaiming's hand.

In the center of the newspaper, there was a clear tear, as if a large piece had been ripped out.

"The newspaper ghost's 'body'?" Yang Jian leaned over for a look.

"Hmm. It's like a supernatural item."

Zhao Kaiming tossed the old newspaper in his hand, thought for a moment, and asked, "Do you want it?"

Yang Jian was taken aback: "For me?"

"I don't need it." Zhao Kaiming handed it over casually.

"Take it back and study it; it might come in handy."

Yang took the old newspaper and put it away, but couldn't help glancing at Zhao Kaiming.

Isn't this guy being a little too generous to himself?

"When did you become such a philanthropist?"

Yang Jian couldn't help but ask a question.

Zhao Kaiming glanced at him, smiled, and offered no explanation.

You can't exactly say you've taken too many opportunities and feel bad about it.

After the darkness in room 31 dissipated, its true nature was revealed.

The room was small and simply furnished.

It contained only a bed, a table, and a chair, resembling a guest room from the Republican era.

There was a person lying on the bed.

To be precise, it is a body.

Zhao Lei's body.

Wearing wrinkled clothes, she lay stiffly on the bed, like an abandoned rag doll.

But strangely, his face was gone.

Instead, there was a smooth, blank skin without any facial features.

Like a mask that hasn't been painted on yet.

Yang Jian's face darkened.

"The newspaper tricked me."

Zhao Kaiming walked over and pressed his hand next to Zhao Lei's neck.

There is a pulse beating under the skin.

The person is still alive, but will die soon.

"Where's his face?" Xiong Wenwen peeked out and was startled. "Holy crap, this guy has no face!"

"In room 13." Yang Jian gritted his teeth.

"The message left by the newspaper ghost told me to come to number 31, but it hid Zhao Lei's face at number 13. This was deliberately to make me make an extra trip."

"Then let's go to number 13." Zhao Kaiming dusted off his hands. "Take your body with you; don't leave it here."

Yang Jian picked up Zhao Lei's body.

The group returned the way they came, passing by a jumble of random room numbers along the way.

Room 13 is not far from the entrance, just in the first half of the corridor. The doorplate reads "13", and right next to it is "28".

Yang Jian freed one hand to push open the door.

Room 13 was smaller than Room 31, and the walls were covered with things.

Human face.

Pale human faces were densely pasted on the four walls like wallpaper.

Some faces have their eyes closed, some have their eyes open, some are smiling, and some are crying.

But all the expressions were frozen, stiff, like a photograph frozen in a moment.

Yang Jian recognized Zhao Lei's face at a glance.

It's pasted on the wall directly opposite the door, in the third row and fourth column.

Zhao Lei's face was filled with terror, his mouth was wide open as if he was shouting something, but no sound came out.

"Found it." Yang Jian walked over and reached out to remove the face.

The moment the finger touched a face, all the faces on the wall opened their eyes simultaneously.

Dozens of empty eyes stared at Yang Jian, while rustling sounds came from the wall, like countless mouths whispering.

Yang Jian's hand stiffened for a moment.

"Interesting—" Zhao Kaiming's voice came from behind.

He snapped his fingers, and the ghost realm instantly covered the entire room.

The whispers stopped abruptly.

One by one, the faces on the wall closed their eyes and fell silent, as if hypnotized.

Yang Jian took a deep breath and carefully peeled Zhao Lei's face off the wall.

The face, as it detached from the wall, trembled slightly, like a soft leather mask.

He pressed his face against Zhao Lei's blank face.

The position is perfect, fitting together seamlessly like a jigsaw puzzle.

But Zhao Lei did not wake up.

The face has returned, but the connection between consciousness and the face has been severed and needs to be reactivated by external force.

Zhao Kaiming stepped forward and placed his hand on Zhao Lei's forehead.

He activated the rules of the wishing ghost.

It's just a small wish.

"Zhao Lei, wake up," Zhao Kaiming said softly.

A cool sensation traveled from his palm to Zhao Lei's head.

The pale face began to regain color, the eyelids trembled slightly, and the lips quivered a few times.

"Cough—cough cough—"

Zhao Lei suddenly opened his eyes and coughed violently, like a drowning person being pulled ashore.

He gasped for breath, his eyes darting around until he saw Yang Jian's face clearly.

"Yang...Yang Jian..."

His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible, but at least he could speak.

"It's alright now."

Yang Jian patted him on the shoulder. "I'll take you out."

Zhao Kaiming took a step back, watching the scene of the brothers' reunion, but his heart was not moved.

"Alright." Zhao Kaiming clapped his hands. "Take him out of here."

Yang Jian helped Zhao Lei to his feet and understood the meaning behind Zhao Kaiming's words.

"Aren't you leaving?"

"I came here specifically to solo the Caesars Hotel dungeon."

Zhao Kaiming smiled and said, "I can't act freely with you guys here."

Yang Jian remained silent for two seconds, offering no sentimental advice.

He knew the gap between himself and Zhao Kaiming, and he also knew that since Zhao Kaiming dared to stay behind alone, he must have been confident.

"Watch out for that tall male corpse," Yang Jian said only one sentence.

"Okay." Zhao Kaiming nodded, then glanced at Xiong Wenwen. "Take this kid away too, don't let him get in the way."

"Who's in the way!" Xiong Wenwen shouted indignantly, "Your bear dad—"

Before she could finish speaking, Yang Jian grabbed her by the back of the collar and dragged her out like a chick.

"I'm gone."

"Hey, hey, hey—Xiao Yang, let go! Take care, boss! Let's have dinner together when we get out—"

Xiong Wenwen's voice grew fainter and fainter until it disappeared at the end of the corridor.

Zhao Kaiming watched them leave until their footsteps completely disappeared.

The corridor fell silent.

Zhao Kaiming turned around and looked into the depths of the corridor.

"Now, it's time to get down to business."