Translator: CinderTL
The group didn't linger. Yuan Xiaoyi had warned them to leave immediately after finding the eyeball, as Meng Yumian would appear if they stayed too long.
Little did they know that the moment they left the equipment room, a sudden gust of eerie wind swept through the chamber, rustling the peeling corner of wallpaper.
Behind the lifted wallpaper, a pale, ghostly face materialized in the mirror.
After leaving the equipment room, Jiang Cheng and the others split up according to their plan. Jiang Cheng wandered alone through the torrential rain, never truly believing he could evade Meng Yumian.
If he could confront her sooner, he might find a way to survive through her, potentially ending the mission early and increasing Fatty Huai Yi and the others' chances of survival.
Jiang Cheng remained skeptical of Gao Yan's theory. Judging life or death solely based on choosing the left or right eye seemed overly simplistic, uncharacteristic of Nightmare missions.
Lost in thought, Jiang Cheng headed toward the grove of trees. He refused to stay in one place; movement was his strategy. In his view, the sports field offered the best vantage point for observation.
Jiang Cheng wasn't the only one thinking this way. Another person had come to a similar conclusion:
Wang Qi.
He had chosen the Bell Tower.
It was the highest point on campus, offering a panoramic view of the entire sports field. But strategically, it was a death trap. Once spotted, there would be no escape.
Like Jiang Cheng, he had no intention of running.
He didn't see himself as prey.
He was the hunter.
The rain obscured visibility, even preventing Jiang Cheng from noticing the unremarkable, crooked tree barely ten meters to his left.
Behind that tree, a pair of eyes watched him intently.
As soon as Jiang Cheng's figure disappeared into the downpour, the figure behind the tree sprang out and darted toward the equipment room.
The two-story equipment room had staircases both inside and outside. Gao Yan swiftly climbed the exterior staircase to the second floor.
The second-floor door was an old, pitted wooden structure with rain-rotted hinges. Gao Yan forced it open with minimal effort.
A wave of musty, mildewy air assaulted his nostrils.
Gao Yan paid it no mind. In his mind, there was no safer place than the equipment room.
It was like searching right under the lamp, Gao Yan thought. Meng Yumian had been locked in here herself; she probably never imagined anyone would dare to hide in this very spot.
After a quick scan, Gao Yan found an inconspicuous corner. He lifted a plastic sheet to reveal an empty metal frame beneath, offering a surprisingly spacious hiding spot.
He couldn't help but grin, crouching down and crawling inside.
Perfect fit!
It was as if it had been custom-made for him.
He immediately lowered the rolled-up plastic sheet, letting it drape all the way to the ground, completely sealing himself inside.
After a moment's thought, he quietly poked a tiny hole in the plastic, just large enough to peek through and observe the outside world.
Now I'm completely safe.
Once settled, Gao Yan let out a long breath. He couldn't help but wonder where Meng Yumian, the Red-Clad Woman, would first appear.
The grove where she died seemed the most likely place. Based on his experience, ghosts often haunted their places of death, where their obsessions lingered.
He wondered which unlucky soul might choose to hide there—they'd likely be the first one she came for.
Rip—
Just as Gao Yan was worrying about others, a faint sound reached his ears, like paper tearing.
Rip—
Rip—
At first, Gao Yan thought it was the wind, but he quickly dismissed that idea. The sound had a peculiar rhythm, hard to describe—as if something were desperately trying to force its way out, its body covered in layers of paper that tore apart as it struggled.
Thump.
The floorboards trembled slightly.
Thump.
A moment later, a second, heavier thud reverberated. This time, Gao Yan recognized it clearly: the heavy impact of a foot landing, as if someone were wearing thick, heavy boots.
The sound came from downstairs—right beneath his feet!
Putting it all together, Gao Yan's face paled. A horrifying image flooded his mind:
A Red-Clad Woman, a feminine ghost, struggling to claw her way out of a mirror. A layer of paper covered the glass, tearing to shreds as she fought her way through.
First one foot emerged, then the other.
As if in response to Gao Yan's speculation, the thing downstairs began to move.
Thump.
Thump.
The sound was twice as loud as before. Gao Yan imagined the feminine ghost was bouncing.
She wasn't walking at all! Instead, she was advancing with jerky, zombie-like hops, straight out of a horror movie.
Damn it! Gao Yan's mouth twitched, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. Who could have imagined this ghost would emerge from the mirror in the equipment room?
Recalling his earlier smugness, Gao Yan raised his hand, wanting to slap himself upside the head.
But he didn't. Not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't dare. He was afraid the noise would alert the ghost.
Holding his breath, Gao Yan retracted his foot, lowered his head, and wrapped his arms around his knees, shrinking himself into as tight a ball as possible.
If he could, he would have crawled into a crack in the floor.
She can't see me. She can't see me. I'm hidden too well. She won't find me. She won't find me. Gao Yan silently recited the names of every god and deity he could remember, feeling utterly humiliated.
But it seemed to be working.
With the creak of a door opening, the rhythmic thump-thump gradually faded into the distance, heading toward the sports field before finally dissolving into the rain.
Whew— Gao Yan exhaled slowly, shifting his legs in preparation to stand up and move to a different spot.
After all, this was where the ghost had emerged. Who knew what other horrors might arise? The mere thought of the mirror downstairs made his legs tremble.
"I shouldn't stay here long," he muttered, slowly adjusting his position. But just as he reached out to pull back the plastic sheet blocking his view, an inexplicable premonition urged him to proceed with caution.
He leaned closer, peering through the small hole he'd made earlier.
The darkness outside reduced everything to stark black silhouettes. As his gaze swept to the right, Gao Yan frowned.
He remembered briefly surveying the area when he'd entered. If he wasn't mistaken, there should have been only discarded equipment—tables, chairs, and the like—arranged neatly, with nothing particularly tall.
But now, a large flower vase stood atop the equipment.
A flash of lightning momentarily illuminated the gloomy room, causing Gao Yan's pupils to slowly dilate. The next instant, they constricted to pinpricks.
That wasn't a vase at all. It was two pale legs, pressed together, water still dripping from the tattered hem of a crimson dress.
A person stood on the discarded table.
(End of the Chapter)
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