Passerby: Secret Image of Ancient Scrolls

The glass in the stairwell shattered, floor after floor. The sounds came one after another, like ice cracking, like someone tolling a bell. The wind rushed in through the cracks, pushing out the deathly stillness that had accumulated in the stairwell for who knows how long.

Xiulian's body was pulled upwards by a suction force. The sticky, shiny black substance dripped down her body, was swept up by the wind, and flowed out of the window.

Her tentacles were contracting, not loosening; she was controlling herself. She was moving upwards. Not because she wanted to, but because the wind was pulling her upwards.

Shen Xun was wrapped in her tentacles, his chest was being squeezed so tightly it felt like it was going to explode, and his arms were already numb.

But he did not let go.

He still gripped the peachwood staff tightly in his palm. He knew Lu Ye had broken the glass. He also knew he must not let go of the peachwood staff.

One by one, the stair railings collapsed and fell to the first floor, the heavy metallic scraping sound a silent sigh from Xiulian.

Xiulian stopped on the fifth floor.

Her figure shrank slightly, and her tentacles receded, no longer as dense or ferocious as before. The evil aura subsided, and the chill in the corridor lessened somewhat.

She pulled the three of them in front of her and examined them closely. Her pupils were black; she was looking at Shen Xun.

The tentacles were still wrapped around them, constricting their chests. The team member had already passed out; the flashlight slipped from his hand and fell to the ground on the fifth floor, its beam swaying wildly, illuminating Xiulian's face.

A pale light shone on her face from below, and an evil aura swirled around her, cutting the beam of light into segments.

Her face was expressionless. The tentacles grew from her body, enveloping her, pulling her down, and transforming her into what she feared most.

Her face was expressionless. She was simply looking at Shen Xun.

Shen Xun looked at her too. He thought of the riverside. He thought of her turning around and saying to Old Gu, "I don't blame you." He thought of her turning into a speck of light and drifting into the depths of the wind and snow.

She should leave. She should go to reincarnation. She shouldn't be here. Did Su Jin pull her back from the cycle of reincarnation? With those evil energies, with those runes, with those sticky, shiny black things? Shen Xun dared not think any further.

If Su Jin can pull the souls back from the cycle of reincarnation, what can't he do? Is this mortal realm still the same one he's guarded for hundreds of years? Can he still protect it?

Xiulian's eyes changed. Not with fierceness, but with confusion. She tilted her head, looking at Shen Xun, at the golden blood, and at the peach wood staff.

She didn't know why she didn't tear those three people to pieces, why she didn't devour their souls. She didn't know why she didn't want to kill them. She only knew that she didn't want to. Her tentacles tightened slightly, then relaxed again.

Tighten, then loosen.

It was like a tentative exploration, a hesitation, as if something was fighting inside her. Su Jin was pulling on one side, and she was pulling on the other. She was fighting with herself.

Shen Xun didn't know how much longer Xiulian could hold on, nor how much longer he could hold on, nor when Bai Wuchang would return. He only knew that Xiulian was controlling herself. She didn't want to kill them. She didn't know why, but she didn't want to kill them.

The tentacles tightened again. The team member's flashlight rolled on the ground, its beam cutting across Xiulian's face and illuminating the cracks on her skin.

Those lines weren't wounds; they were traces of evil energy seeping into her body. They spread from the corners of her eyes to the corners of her mouth, and from the corners of her mouth to her neck, like tree roots, like blood vessels, like something crawling beneath her skin.

She was in pain. Shen Xun could feel her pain. The tentacles were trembling, not to attack, but because she had lost control. Her eyes began to change again. A subtle shift appeared in her dark pupils.

Shen Xun gripped the peachwood staff tightly, using all his strength in his hands, silently reciting the mantra of reincarnation, secretly activating its power. He had just finished several fierce battles, and his vital energy was still depleted.

He couldn't defeat her, nor could he escape; the White Impermanence wasn't there. He could only watch her. Watch her black eyes, watch the lines on her face deepen, watch her being pulled back little by little by Su Jin. The tentacles tightened again.

The teammate's breathing changed. His lips turned purple, his face pale. If the strangulation continued, he would die. Shen Xun wanted to raise the peach wood staff, to stab it out, to sever those tentacles.

But his arm was no longer under his control. He couldn't lift it. He couldn't do anything. This passerby, the guardian of reincarnation, was now like that wandering soul in the alley of Hangzhou, powerless yet unwilling to accept his fate.

Lin Jian's arms were already purple from being strangled, and her hands were trembling uncontrollably. The Polaroid camera burned a red mark on her chest.

She could hear the creaking sound from her chest. It was the sound of the Polaroid camera being squeezed and deformed.

Her chest was getting hotter and hotter; she felt like she was being roasted alive.

Just when she could no longer hold on.

She heard a crisp sound. The same crisp sound she had heard outside in the hallway.

That was the sound of shattering.

The Polaroid camera shattered, breaking into countless fragments. They drifted in the air.

Lin Jian's tears streamed down her face and dripped onto her chest, vanishing instantly.

She didn't realize she was crying. All she saw was the camera her grandfather had left her.

It shattered, and a golden shadow floated out from the fragments, slowly surrounding Xiulian.

Xiulian lowered her head, looking at the fragments in the air, at the golden shadow. Her tentacles loosened for a moment, just a moment.

Then she looked up at Shen Xun. Her lips moved. No sound came out. But Shen Xun understood. She said: Go home.

The tentacles loosened. Shen Xun plummeted downwards. He didn't know what Xiu Lian had thought of; his back slammed against the stairs, forcing all the air out of his lungs. He coughed, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

He braced himself against the peach wood cane and stood up. Lin Jian also fell down, squatted on the ground, and coughed. The team members lay on the ground, motionless.

Xiulian stood there, watching them. Her tentacles were still swaying and trembling. The golden shadows still surrounded her. The lines on her face deepened, and the light in her black pupils surged incessantly. What was she thinking? Was it the memory of being imprisoned at the bottom of the river, or Old Gu, or the seemingly familiar man before her?

She didn't know. Shen Xun didn't know either. He only knew that she wanted to go home.

The wind was still blowing downstairs. The sticky stuff was still pouring out of the window. Xiulian's body started to rise again. She wasn't moving on her own; something was pulling her. She looked at Shen Xun, at Lin Jian, at the team members lying on the ground.

Her lips moved again, revealing a slight smile.

A smile appeared on that terrifying face, but Lin Jian didn't feel afraid. She only felt a pang of heartache, as if she were heartbroken over the shattered camera.

The golden shadow on Xiulian's body is her grandfather's camera.

Then she was pulled up. The tentacles retracted, and the sticky, shiny black stuff surged up with her and disappeared into the darkness of the stairwell.

That was her home, the place where she was born.

The presence of her creator still lingers there.

The wind pulled her back. The golden shadow pulled her back.

That's for the best. I didn't want to kill these people in the first place.

Shen Xun leaned against the wall. He didn't know how much longer Xiulian could hold on, how much longer he could hold on, or what had happened to Bai Wuchang. He only knew that she had let them go. She had let them go this time. Next time, he didn't know.

But they still had to go up to the top floor and uncover the secret.

Face Xiulian directly.

The crisp sound of the peach wood cane striking the ground echoed again in the stairwell, and he saw several beams of light shooting out from the opposite floor.

Piercing the dark night sky.

The tide came in. Not from the stairs, but from my mind.

Lu Ye had just stepped onto the second-floor stairs when everything went black. It wasn't that the lights went out; something surged forward from the back of his head, like ice water being poured into his veins, making his entire spine tremble.

The team members followed behind him, and the beam of their flashlights began to sway. It wasn't his hand shaking; the light itself was shaking.

The beam of light sliced ​​through the wall, illuminating the red lines. They were moving.

"Hey." Someone laughed, the laughter mingling with beams of light in the dark corridor, like the sound of a deep-sea submersible.

It was a gurgling sound squeezed out of his throat, impossible to suppress.

Lu Ye turned around and saw a teammate squatting on the stairs, holding his head, his shoulders trembling.

He was laughing. His eyes were open, his pupils narrowed to pinpoints, and the corners of his mouth turned up. Then, a second, a third, a fourth laugh, "Hehe, hehe, hehehehehe," and all the team members looked at Lu Ye and laughed.

Lu Ye's head was about to explode.

Something was drilling into his brain, arching forward from the back of his head, up behind his eye sockets, and into his temples.

He saw those phantoms. They didn't crawl out of the wall; they grew out of his own mind. They had no faces, no features, only thick, impenetrable clumps of blackness, flickering before his eyes and laughing in his ears. They circled him, round and round, and round and round.

He could no longer hear his teammates' voices, the rustling sounds on the stairs, or the howling wind blowing in through the broken windows. He could only hear the dark figures laughing. Not laughing out loud, but laughing in his mind.

Hehe, hehe, hehe.

He slowly raised his trembling hand. His teeth dug into the flesh between his thumb and forefinger, and he bit down hard, drawing blood.

The pain made his mind go blank for a moment. The dark shadows flickered, but didn't disperse; they stopped.

They all turned their faces in unison. They had no faces, but Lu Ye knew they were looking at him. He could feel something crawling out from those empty faces.

They were laughing. He knew they were laughing.

"You guys get out of here! Go upstairs!" he yelled. Lu Ye's voice echoed through the stairwell, startling the team members. Their expressions gradually returned to normal.

He raised his hand, revealing a bloody, mangled tooth mark on the back. Blood trickled down between his fingers, dripping onto the steps and being absorbed by the red lines on the surface. "Take the bow and shoot upwards! Smash all the windows of the building across the street! Don't worry about me!" The team member didn't move.

They looked at Lu Ye, at the dark figures circling him, at the blood dripping from his hands. They couldn't abandon their captain.

"Go!" he roared again. The team members turned and ran. The footsteps went upstairs, one floor, two floors, three floors. The beams of flashlights swirled wildly in the stairwell, illuminating red lines and faceless shadows. Lu Ye stood on the second floor, gritting his teeth as he faced the shadows. Blood was still flowing from the back of his hand.

The shadows circled him, round and round and round. They were waiting. Waiting for him to give up, waiting for him to laugh too.

Lu Ye's hands were trembling, his legs were shaking, and his teeth were chattering. The things in his head were churning again, churning from the back of his head forward, to behind his eyes, and to his temples.

He saw those faceless things again; they flickered before his eyes and laughed in his ears. He looked down at his hands. The teeth marks on the back of his hands were still bleeding; the blood was warm, dripping onto the steps and being absorbed by the red lines.

He clenched his teeth tightly. His teeth ground together, making a grinding sound, until his cheeks ached. He didn't laugh. He didn't know how much longer he could hold on, whether his teammates had hit the windows, or how Shen Xun was doing.

He cannot laugh.

The shadowy figures surrounded him again. They had no face, no eyes, but they were watching him.

They are waiting for him to smile.

Lu Ye stood in the second-floor hallway, the blood on the back of his hand had stopped flowing. The dried blood clung to the wound, painful to the touch. He didn't move. He gritted his teeth, staring at the faceless creatures.

Wait for them to disperse, wait for the team members to shatter the glass, wait for the wind to rush in, wait for those things to leave your mind.

He didn't know how long he would have to wait. All he knew was that he couldn't laugh. He gritted his teeth.

The teeth marks on the back of his hand still hurt. He didn't smile.

But the next second, a slight smile appeared on Lu Ye's lips.

He couldn't hold back any longer; those dark shadows had seeped into his mind.

Hey, hehe, hehehe.

He raised his hand again, trying to see into the racetrack, but all he saw was a hollow, unseen face, a face without features.

She was smiling at him.

The headlights were off, the doors were open. Two assassins were crouching behind the car, staring at the wrecked SUV at the forest gate. The front of the vehicle was deeply embedded in a tree, almost split in two. The hood lay scattered on the ground, along with a pool of engine oil. The engine was already dead. Their accomplice wasn't in the car.

The crash happened in the exact same way they did on the highway.

"The target is here too," one of the assassins whispered. He raised his head to look at Old Gu's pickup truck. "I'll go left, you go right," another assassin said hoarsely, raising his crossbow.

They went their separate ways. One circled around to the left of the cabin, hugging the fence, keeping a low profile, and stepping silently in the footprints of the person in front of him. The other disappeared into the woods, moving through the shadows like a snake slithering through the snow.

They've surrounded us.

The one in the woods walked very slowly. He stared at the window of the cabin, at the sliver of light shining through the crack in the door.

He didn't see Ye Zhuo. Ye Zhuo lay motionless in the snow on the roof, night vision goggles pressed against his face, clearly seeing the movements of the two assassins.

Then he stopped.

He crouched behind a pine tree, his hand on the trigger of his crossbow.

He saw something.

It was something further ahead. Deep in the woods, at the edge of the snowfield, in that darkness he hadn't yet ventured into.

There was a person. Naked, squatting there, motionless.

Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the branches, falling on the person and shimmering with tiny, rippling lights, like fish scales or moonlight reflected on river water.

He recognized the figure immediately as his companion who had arrived earlier. However, his companion stood there naked, with his back to him, motionless.

He felt something was wrong.

It's so quiet, and what's with the light emanating from him?

No, that man wasn't one of their own. He stood there, not even breathing. He gripped his crossbow tightly and slowly circled around him. His feet sank lightly into the snow.

He walked around to face the man. Moonlight streamed through the gaps in the branches, illuminating the man's face.

He saw it. Half of the man's face was missing, hanging on his cheekbone, swaying gently in the wind. His mouth was split open to his ears, revealing two rows of gleaming white teeth.

It's laughing.

Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger. The crossbow bolt shot out like lightning, embedding itself in the man's forehead. The man didn't react at all. The arrow shaft wobbled in his forehead, then stopped. It was still laughing.

He pulled the trigger, one arrow after another, and another after another. Arrow after arrow pierced the man's face, head, and neck.

The man didn't fall. He just stood there, his head riddled with arrows, like a hedgehog, like a flag pierced by arrows. His mouth was still split open, still smiling. His finger loosened the trigger.

His finger left the trigger; the crossbow was empty, the arrow was gone.

The man began to tremble. It was as if something was turning inside him, as if something was about to burst out. His body went limp, like a pile of boneless flesh, slumped to the ground, curled up in a ball. He stopped moving.

He crouched there, staring at the lump of flesh. He didn't know what to do. Then he saw the fire.

It wasn't in his eyes, it was in his brain. He was so burned he couldn't see anything.

Then he saw it again. He saw the woods, the cabin, the woman on the roof, and the night-vision goggles on her face. He didn't see it with his own eyes, but with the eyes of that thing. He saw his hands trembling.

It wasn't fear, it was trembling. It was hungry. It wanted to tear. He couldn't control his hands. He threw down the crossbow, grabbed his collar, and ripped it apart. He tore his clothes off his body, piece by piece, and threw them into the snow.

His skin was burning. He wanted the wind to come in. The wind came in. He shivered with cold, but the burning remained. Burning to his bones, burning in his eyes.

He looked down and saw his hands. They weren't hands anymore. His nails had grown long, curved, and hardened, like claws. His skin had patches of sheen, like fish scales, like ripples in moonlight on a river.

He wanted to scream. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His lips were splitting. Not tearing, but laughing. He laughed at the darkness. He didn't know why he was laughing. He just wanted to laugh.

Ye Zhuo lay prone on the roof, night vision goggles pressed against her face. She saw the assassin who had been crouching behind the tree stand up, throw away his crossbow, tear off his clothes, and stand naked in the snow.

She saw his skin begin to glow, patch by patch, like fish scales. She saw his mouth split open, reaching his ears, revealing two rows of gleaming white teeth.

He was smiling. She saw him turn around and glance in the direction of the cabin. The fire burned in his eyes. Not just flickered, it burned. It burned through the green screen of her night vision goggles, burning until her eyes ached.

She saw it.

It's that beast.

It didn't leave; it just changed bodies.

Ye Zhuo pulled the composite bow in front of him, the arrow already nocked, ready to be released at any moment.