Passerby: Secret Image of Ancient Scrolls

That thing in the stairwell rushed down.

It stopped at the broken window.

A moment. Only for a moment.

That dark, shiny thing hung in the window, as if it were panting, as if it were looking, as if it were hesitating about something.

Then it moved. The wind ripped a gash in its body the instant it passed through the window. It was as if something was pushing out of its body, shoving out the sticky, shiny black parts. They surged out of the window, swept up by the wind, and scattered in the night sky like a swarm of startled moths.

Shen Xun saw it.

He saw that face. It was Xiulian's face. She had merged with the original spirit that had been controlled, and her body was radiating black light. It wasn't an illusion; it was her.

Her body was covered in countless tentacles, just like the evil creature at the bottom of the river. Those tentacles grew out of her body, wrapped around her, pulled her down, and turned her into the very thing she feared most.

No wonder. No wonder it devoured all the resentment. No wonder it was so powerful.

It's Xiulian. It's the Xiulian who was trapped at the bottom of the river by Su Jin for thirty years.

But how could that be? Xiulian has clearly been converted; it's impossible.

The cycle well cannot be breached.

There was no time to think. Bai Wuchang had already rushed out. Her body was still switching between girlishness and chaos, slow but unstable.

She lunged at the thing, using her still-cracking body to shield it, ramming it with the lingering, undigested malice. She had eaten too much. She hadn't digested, hadn't recovered, hadn't extinguished that gluttonous desire. She couldn't stop it. The thing's tentacles lashed at her, sending her flying and crashing into the wall. She slid down, crouched on the ground, and coughed. Not coughing up blood, but coughing up those red, sticky, undigested fragments.

She looked up at Shen Xun. The light in her eyes was faint, like a candle flame about to go out. Then she disappeared.

Goodbye, Shen Xun.

Her voice was soft, drifting in the darkness, echoing over and over again, cutting into Shen Xun's heart like a knife. That was the only place where he still felt passion.

Only Shen Xun could hear it.

He would rather be devoured by those evil tides in exchange for her.

He said "Never," but now...

But she disappeared.

I can no longer perceive anything at all.

His golden eyes were slightly moist. He didn't know he could still shed tears. He thought he had become a stone over thousands of years.

Shen Xun dared not think about it anymore.

He reached out and touched the golden shield. He smeared his golden blood on the shield, creating streaks of golden blood, which he then applied to the cracks and the areas that were on the verge of breaking.

He can't let it break.

Not at least not now.

The teammate's eyes widened; he saw the face. He saw the tentacles. He didn't know what he could do. He only knew he couldn't close his eyes. He was afraid that if he did, that thing would be right in front of him.

Lin Jian raised her camera. Her hand was trembling, trembling violently, but she didn't put it down. She stared at the viewfinder, at the tentacle-covered thing, at the face she had only seen in photographs. Tears streamed down her face. Not out of fear, but because she knew who it was. It was Xiulian. The person Old Gu had waited for for thirty years, guarded for thirty years, and spent his whole life atoning for.

Lin Jian pressed the shutter. She wanted to capture reality and shatter illusion.

This is her mission.

"Click..." The flash went off in the darkness, the white light cutting through all the darkness in the stairwell.

The thing paused for a moment. Just a moment. But that was enough. Shen Xun's golden aura brightened slightly. The team members gripped their batons even tighter. Lin Jian held her camera close to her chest, staring at the slowly emerging photographic paper. She would take pictures. She would take pictures until her tears ran dry, until she could take no more pictures.

Suddenly, the cracks in the golden light shield stopped spreading.

Shen Xun's golden pupils behind his sunglasses suddenly dilated, and his palms emanated a series of dense and rapid vibrations, like a buzzing sound, like the instant a glass is about to shatter from a high-pitched vibration.

The next instant, it suddenly shattered without warning.

That flash of light was too intense, and Xiulian was too powerful. The energy from the Polaroid camera's focus on reality and the fusion of Xiulian's original spirit exploded and clashed in an instant.

Cracks burst open from the top of the dome, like ice being struck by a heavy hammer, like a riverbed thawing in spring, like something that had been trapped inside for too long finally finding an outlet. Fragments flew up, flashed in the darkness, and then faded away, like shattered glass, like dead stars.

There was no sound. All sound was swallowed up by the darkness once more.

Lin Jian still had his camera in his hand, his finger still resting on the shutter button.

She didn't know. She didn't know it was her flash that shattered the shield. She only knew that the thing paused for a moment, that Shen Xun's golden shield brightened a little more, and that she was going to continue filming. She didn't know the shield was broken.

Shen Xun knew. He saw the fragments fly past him, saw golden blood gushing from the spiritual marks, dripping onto the shattered patterns. It was useless; the shield was broken, and Xiu Lian's tentacles reached out. One, two, three tentacles extended from the edge of the broken shield. Sticky, shiny black, like empty faces growing from octopus tentacles. They swayed in the air, searching, probing.

He absolutely could not allow this evil spirit, just like Xiulian, to harm Lin Jian and his teammates. Shen Xun shot out like an arrow, the tip of his staff aimed directly at the evil spirit's chest. But he was already at his limit, his depleted essence not yet fully recovered.

He's no match for this "Xiulian." At least not now.

The evil spirit's three jet-black, shiny, and slippery tentacles coiled around them like lightning, binding the three of them firmly and rendering them unable to move.

The tentacles held the three people suspended motionless in front of Xiulian. Xiulian looked at them and laughed through her tears.

It knew it was not the complete Xiulian, and had no relation to Xiulian whatsoever.

It was merely Xiulian's shadow.

But it possesses a trace of Xiulian's divine memories.

It knew the moment it emerged from the dark photographic paper.

The person who created it spent day and night by the river taking photos of the water, producing stacks and stacks of pictures.

Stacking.

It saw a figure standing in front of the dark window.

Taking photos while looking at the river.

Lu Ye stared at that window, the fourth floor. The arrow had already pierced through the fourth, third, and second floors. Wind rushed in through the three breaches, pushing the deathly atmosphere of the stairwell outwards. But that thing was still dragging. Those sticky, shiny black things dripped down the building's exterior walls, like ink spilled from an overturned bottle.

That thing pulled Shen Xun and the others upwards. He couldn't wait any longer.

"The angle's not right, you can't shoot above the fifth floor." Lu Ye's voice was flat, as flat as a frozen river. The teammate looked up at him. Lu Ye didn't look at him. He stared at the building opposite, at the window that wasn't broken yet. Fifth floor. Sixth floor. Seventh floor. If he shot from below, the arrow would just glide past the window sill. The angle was wrong. He needed a higher spot. He needed that building opposite.

"Go." Lu Ye turned and ran. The team member froze, nearly dropping the remote control. "Captain Lu..." No one answered. Lu Ye had already reached the building. The door was locked. It was a thick iron door, most of the paint peeling off, the keyhole rusted. He pushed it, but it didn't budge. He pushed it again, but the door still wouldn't open. He took a step back, staring at the door. He stared at it for only a second.

"Drive! Crash it open!" Lu Ye's voice was urgent, so urgent that the team members didn't ask any questions. The team members ran to the SUV, opened the door, and started the engine. The wheels rolled up the snow-covered steps, and the front of the car was facing the iron gate. Lu Ye stood to the side, not backing down.

The team member stepped on the accelerator, and the metal safety bar slammed into the iron gate. A muffled thud, the door frame warped, and the lock cylinder flew off. The door didn't open. The team member shifted into reverse, backed up a meter, and floored the accelerator. The safety bar slammed in again, tearing the iron gate from the frame, sending it flying several meters before crashing to the ground with a piercing, metallic screech. The team member's hands trembled; Lu Ye had already rushed inside.

Behind the door was darkness. It wasn't ordinary darkness. The team member turned on a powerful flashlight, the beam cutting through and illuminating something on the wall.

It's red. It looks like it was painted on. It's densely packed, covering everything—the walls, the floor, the ceiling.

The lines twisted and tangled, like blood vessels, like tree roots, like something crawling out from inside the wall. The team member's flashlight swayed for a moment, then steadied itself.

No one spoke. They just watched the red lines stretch from the walls to the ceiling, climb from the ceiling to the stairwell, and disappear into the deeper darkness.

Lu Ye didn't speak. He walked to the stairwell door, kicked it, and the door shook, dust from the doorframe scattering. He took a step back, staring at the door. "Let's crash into it together," he said.

The teammate stood next to him, and another teammate joined him. The three of them stood shoulder to shoulder.

"Three. Two. One."

My shoulder bumped into it, the door shook, and dust fell from the door frame. The door didn't open.

"Again!" Lu Ye roared, the bloodshot in his eyes trembling slightly, and the red runes seemed less red. The door shook, the lock rattled. The door didn't open.

"Three. Two. One."

"Again," Shen Xun said, waiting for them.

"Three! Two! One!" The team members roared in unison, and the red runes trembled because of them.

The door opened. It popped open, as if something had pulled it from behind.

A gust of wind blew in through the crack in the door. It wasn't wind, it was a chill. It rushed down from upstairs, carrying the smell of rust and rotting flesh, the smell of riverbed silt, and everything else they could imagine.

The flashlight beam flickered, and the team member's hand trembled. He heard a sound. A rustling sound came from up the stairs, like something was climbing, like many things were climbing.

A chill ran down his back; cold sweat trickled down his spine, soaking his clothes and clinging to his skin, feeling icy cold. He glanced at his teammates beside him; their lips trembled, their eyes wide, pupils contracted. No one spoke. No one retreated.

Lu Ye stood at the forefront, staring at the staircase leading to the second floor. The rustling sounds continued, the chill still seeped in, and the red lines crawled up the wall, reaching his feet. He didn't back down. He took a deep breath, inhaling the mingled smells into his lungs, and roared, "Damn it, I refuse to believe it! Follow me!"

He rushed forward. His teammates followed. Five people, five pairs of feet, treading on the red lines, on the rustling sounds. No one knew what was up there. No one knew if they could get down. They simply followed Lu Ye, rushing into the darkness. The beams of five flashlights, like five moons, pierced the darkness.

In the soft moonlight, the beast's scales rose one by one, like a frozen river cracking, like a dam about to collapse. Black, viscous substances seeped from the cracks, dripping onto the snow. It had reached its limit.

Aoluya's copper bells began to ring. The bells bounced on their own around her waist, making a rapid, sharp sound, as if someone were calling: "Wake up, wake up, do you remember? You are not it, you guard this forest, you are the oldest thing in this forest. Do you remember?"

The dark red in the beast's eyes burned, turning into a sea of ​​fire, which stared at the white deer.

The white deer did not retreat. It looked at those eyes that had no pupils left, and at the still-burning fire.

It wasn't afraid. It remembered. Long, long ago, before humans had even learned to speak, they were already in this forest. It remembered those eyes, gentle when they held no fire.

The beast took a step forward. It was naked, with only a few tattered pieces of cloth hanging on its body, fluttering in the wind like flags, like banners, like the last flag still fluttering in this forest. Its hands and feet were gripping the snow tightly, its nails digging into the frozen earth, leaving long tracks with each step.

Like plowing the land, like carving a furrow in the snow. It moved very slowly, much slower than it had come. With each step, more scales fell off. With each step, the fire burned brighter. It didn't know where it was going, only that it had to keep moving forward. It stopped in front of the white deer. It looked at it. Then it continued on.

Ye Zhuo gripped the entrenching tool tightly. She didn't know if she should hit it, whether it would be effective, or if it would completely go insane after she hit it.

She was just waiting. Waiting for Aoluya to speak.

Ao Luya did not speak. Her hand was on the copper bell, and she tried her best to prevent it from making a sound.

She was afraid the bell would startle it and snap its last string. She just watched it, step by step, walking towards the white deer.

It stopped.

Three steps away from the white deer, a gurgling sound came from its throat. Each word was broken and burning. "Deer...it hurts..." Its head tilted, its neck twisted even more.

It was looking at the white deer, at its snow-white fur, and at its pure amber eyes.

"Walk......"

Ao Luya's copper bell stopped ringing; her heart was broken.

"Walk......"

Something seemed to have changed in Old Gu's eyes, and Ye Zhuo noticed a glimmer of light in the killer's eyes as well.

"Walk....."

When it came to the last word, "go," it let out a heart-wrenching howl.

Like the sound of steam billowing from a crack, the campfire in the cave had become the flame in the furnace of an internal combustion engine.

Its mouth was split from ear to ear; it wasn't laughing, it was shouting.

It's calling for the white deer to leave. It's also calling for itself to leave.

His gleaming white teeth were revealed, as if he were smiling.

It slowly raised its hand and clawed at its face. Its nails dug into the flesh of its cheek, ripping downwards. A piece of skin was torn off, hanging from its cheekbone, wobbling, and falling to the snow. Black, viscous substances gushed from the wound—not blood, but the things that had burned for countless years, waited for countless years, and endured for countless years.

Its mouth was stretched even wider, all the way to behind its ears, so wide that it didn't even know how much further it could stretch. It roared again, "Go!"

Then it turned and ran into the darkness of the forest, just as it had come. Scales fell from its body, one by one, landing on the snow, shimmering in the light. The ripples had been dispersed by the wind.

It didn't look back. It was afraid that if it did, it wouldn't be able to let go. It had been in pain for so long, and now it had found a body that didn't hurt.

It didn't take it.

It remembers. It remembers the white deer, it remembers this forest, and it remembers that it wasn't like this back then. It wants to take itself away, away from this forest, away from the white deer, away from the only place it remembers.

It didn't know how much longer it could hold on. It only knew that it had to hold on. Hold on until it broke, hold on until the fire went out, hold on until it could no longer move.

The white deer, its antlers drooping, watched the figure disappear into the darkness. It let out a low moan, calling out a name in a way more ancient than language.

The figure didn't stop. It heard. It just couldn't turn around.

Ao Luya gazed silently at the figure, her hand still pressed firmly on the copper bell.

She was afraid that when the bell rang, it would turn back, and if it turned back, it wouldn't be able to leave; if it turned back, it wouldn't be able to leave at all.

Ye Zhuo put down her entrenching tool. Her fingers were trembling, not from fear, but because she didn't know why they were trembling. She just stared at the darkness, at the scales still glowing in the snow, and at the figure that was no longer visible.

Old Gu got up from the snow and brushed the snow off his body.

He stared at the two beams of light. They were coming from the direction of the forest entrance, growing closer and brighter. He recognized the light. It was car headlights. It was the two killers changing a spare tire. They were catching up.

"It's definitely the killer," Old Gu said.

Ye Zhuo turned and pushed open the door of the wooden cabin. Bai Lu went in first. Ao Luya stood up and took one last look at the darkness. It was gone. It wouldn't come back. At least not today. But it was still in that forest. It was still in pain. It still remembered. It remembered today, remembered Bai Lu, remembered that it hadn't taken it.

Two beams of light shot in from a distance, growing closer and brighter. Ye Zhuo looked at the beams and took out night vision goggles from her tactical backpack: "You guys go in," she said. "Block the windows and shut the door. Drag him in. Ao Luya, you confiscate his weapons, don't make any mistakes." She glanced at the assassin in the shadows; he was still curled up in the snow, shivering.

Old Gu bent down, grabbed his arm, and dragged him towards the cabin. Ao Luya pushed open the door, and Bai Lu went in first. Ye Zhuo picked up the shield and leaned it against the side wall of the cabin. She held the entrenching tool in her hand. She crouched down, shrinking into the shadows, and stared at the approaching SUV.

Old Gu squatted by the uncle's bedside, looking at his sunken cheeks, purple lips, and barely perceptible breathing.

"He's dying," he said. "We have to think of something."

Ao Luya didn't look up. She held the old man's hand, her fingertips pressing against his pulse. She could feel that evil energy, like a snake coiling around his veins, contracting and tightening.

"There is residual evil energy in his body," Ao Luya said.

Old Gu opened his mouth, as if to say something, but no words came out. He didn't understand evil spirits, copper bells, or shamanism. All he knew was that an old man was coughing, coughing himself to death.

Ao Luya released the old man's hand, stood up, and untied the copper bell from her waist. She glanced out the window. The car headlights were still approaching. The assassin was almost there.

"I need to cast a spell," she said. "You all guard it for me."

Ye Zhuo stared at the two SUVs that were getting closer and closer, at the two beams of light that cut through the darkness, and at the blurry figures inside the vehicles.

She didn't know if she could take down both assassins at the same time. She didn't know if the beast would return. She didn't know how long Aoluya's spell would take, or how much longer the old man could hold on.

All she knew was that she couldn't let them into the house.

Snow fell on her shoulders, on her shield, and on the blade of her entrenching tool.

The car headlights were getting closer.