Chapter 69: The Identity of the Study's Owner

Dry leaves rustled beneath his feet as Yusheng walked step by step into the depths of Longshu Temple.

For some reason, his heart, usually as calm as a placid lake, began to beat with unease once again.

It was just a dilapidated temple.

Beauty was but a pink skeleton; all physical forms were merely illusions.

Yet his mental anguish had transformed into a tangible blade, inflicting very real, physical pain on Yusheng.

He was far too familiar with every blade of grass and every tree in this place.

His infancy, his childhood, his youth, his early adulthood—he had been born here and raised here. This was his home. Every brick and tile held far too many memories.

Why had it turned into this?

None of this should have happened. Longshu Temple should never have appeared in this Supernatural Zone.

The endless leaves of the massive blood-red trees lining both sides of the path began to rustle.

Suddenly, Yusheng raised his head and saw the bloodstained corpses of countless gray-robed monks. They hung from the rows of large trees, swaying in the breeze. These corpse trees used human bodies as leaves, cheerfully rocking back and forth.

There were so many corpses. The thick stench of blood was nauseating. When he looked closely at the blood-red fallen leaves beneath his feet, he realized they were actually severed limbs.

With a loud crash, the main gates he had just entered through were slammed shut by a violent gust of wind, completely cutting off his path of retreat.

This sacred Buddhist ground had instantly transformed into a scene from hell.

Faced with this terrifying scene of corpse trees, Yusheng did not take out any Supernatural Item to defend himself. He merely continued walking step by step. Lowering his head, he began to silently recite the Diamond Sutra:

"All forms are illusory. If you see all forms as non-forms, then you see the Tathagata.

"All conditioned phenomena are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, and shadows. They are like dew and lightning; thus shall you contemplate them."

...

When he raised his head again, everything he had heard and seen—the myriad terrifying scenes—had completely vanished.

The red sea of leaves still rustled softly. The courtyard beneath his feet, though somewhat dilapidated and desolate, was merely coated in dust. There were no mountains of corpses.

Everything he had just seen had been an illusion.

In the blink of an eye, Yusheng dragged his gray robes across the threshold into the main hall of Longshu Temple.

Inside the main hall, a Buddha statue sat firmly in the center. Its gold paint was peeling like autumn leaves, revealing the dark, greenish-black clay body beneath.

Beside it, the painted necklaces adorning the Bodhisattva statues had lost their luster, reduced to mottled streaks that looked like dried blood scabs.

Yusheng said nothing as he slowly sat on a meditation cushion at the feet of the Buddha.

As his knees pressed down, a cloud of dust billowed out from the cushion, swirling into the air.

The main hall was empty. Everyone had left. Yusheng had left too, but now he had returned, and he was the only one left.

The monk's heart found a fleeting moment of peace.

He knew perfectly well that the Longshu Temple in this Supernatural Zone was just a clumsy, laughable imitation of reality. Yet, returning here felt like returning to the carefree days of his childhood. His heart settled down on its own.

It was as if his master and senior brothers were still here. They would go about their daily routines—meditating, chanting sutras, striking the bell. The days had passed slowly, but every step had been steady and grounded.

Whatever was meant to come would eventually arrive.

Yusheng knelt silently before the Buddha statue, as if waiting for someone.

He waited until the sky over the Supernatural Zone outside the hall turned the color of a blood-red sunset.

Creak—

Out on the main path, the heavy gates of the temple were forcefully pushed open.

Clack, clack.

The crisp sound of wooden clogs striking the stone-paved path echoed in steady intervals.

Kneeling in the center of the hall, Yusheng knew someone had arrived behind him and was walking toward him.

In this Supernatural Zone, who else would push open the temple doors and walk inside at a time like this?

Yusheng simply kept his head bowed. Clasping his hands together, he calmly accepted his fate.

He didn't open his eyes for a single second.

Master, are you here to take me away?

...

...

Arriving at his destination, Zhao Zhenjia paused in slight surprise. The first thing he did upon landing was scan his surroundings to ensure he wouldn't be instantly ambushed by a ghost. When he spotted Jiang Yang, his tense demeanor noticeably relaxed:

"It looks like we were teleported into the same room.

"Thank God it isn't Lan Zhu..."

The two men exchanged a knowing smile. They had no idea which of the remaining two—Xia Ta or Gao Tian—would have the distinct honor of being stuck in a room with Lan Zhu.

Now that they understood their situation, it was time to address the problem at hand.

Jiang Yang said,

"The woman in the TV knew Xia Ta. Right before the teleportation triggered, she called her 'my most obedient daughter.'

"Did you hear that while you were outside?"

The first order of business was to compare intel.

In supernatural missions, missing information was a fatal flaw.

Zhao Zhenjia frowned:

"Those two monsters in the TV were Xia Ta's parents? How is that possible?

"Could it be some kind of Cognitive Pollution?

"I remember there was a resident in one of the rooms on the fourth floor who could alter people's memories, right?"

Jiang Yang said:

"That's unlikely.

"At the time, we were still under the effect of the Fierce Ghost Prohibition, so mental attacks were completely restricted. Furthermore, after hearing what the female host called her, Xia Ta looked genuinely surprised. It was obvious she had absolutely no memory of that couple."

Zhao Zhenjia said:

"Now that you mention it, ever since moving into this Apartment, I've never heard of Xia Ta having any relatives or going out to socialize.

"She's lived here for so long, yet her only hobby is sitting in the first-floor lobby sipping afternoon tea.

"Jiang Yang, you've worked with Xia Ta more times than I have. How much do you know about her background?"

Jiang Yang mused for a moment:

"She never told me anything either. The floor manager has always been a loner. Outside of training newcomers, she rarely explains anything.

"The only vague memory I have is that once, Xia Ta seemed to mention in passing that her family used to run a kindergarten before it went bankrupt.

"We didn't go into detail on the topic, though. I'm honestly not even sure if she actually said it or if I'm misremembering."

They could stand here dissecting Xia Ta's background all day, but it wouldn't get them anywhere.

The most pressing issue was dealing with the room they were currently trapped in.

Zhao Zhenjia said:

"Before I arrived in this room, did you try opening the door and just leaving?"

"No," Jiang Yang replied.

His gaze landed on the back of the corpse belonging to the Study's owner:

"I'm much more interested in the original owner of this fourth-floor room. I want to know who he was, and what he recorded in that thick stack of manuscripts right before he died.

"I didn't dare walk over earlier, afraid I might trigger some Killing Rule tied to the corpse. But now that you're here, we're in luck. Use your Wind Attendant Buddha ability to check out his notes."

As soon as he had entered the room and scanned the titles on the bookshelf, Jiang Yang had grown suspicious about the homeowner's identity.

The subjects covered by the books were far too varied.

Why would someone studying physics be so invested in folklore and historical myths?

Why was a stack of paranormal novels, UFO sightings, and other light reading wedged right alongside a row of highly specialized books on biology and medicine?

There was only one plausible explanation.

When he was alive, this male homeowner had been researching ghosts.

First, he tried to explain them through medicine and biology. When that completely defied all logic, he turned to physics to deconstruct their existence. Then, he scoured history for answers, wondering if humanity's ancestors had faced the same enigma. He had questioned his own sanity at some point, leading him to teach himself psychology. Finally, when every rational approach collapsed, he desperately sought clues in paranormal fiction and folklore...

It seemed that while he was alive, this man had been trapped in the exact same predicament as Jiang Yang and Zhao Zhenjia.

"I see. I understand now."

Looking at the desk in front of the corpse, Zhao Zhenjia focused his mind. A Wind Puppet, identical to him in both appearance and height, materialized out of thin air.

Step by step, the Wind Attendant Buddha approached the desk until it could clearly read the words the man had written right before he died.

Nothing in the room moved, and the corpse was as dead as could be. So far, no Killing Rule had been triggered.

Just as the puppet leaned over and began reading the text, Jiang Yang suddenly heard a faint sigh coming from some unknown corner of the room.

At the same time, Zhao Zhenjia was reading through the shared vision of the Wind Attendant Buddha. He had already scanned most of the notes:

"I have one piece of good news and one piece of bad news. Which do you want to hear first, Jiang Yang?"

Jiang Yang snapped back to attention. Pushing the mysterious sigh to the back of his mind for now, he gave a bitter smile:

"Given our current situation, skip the suspense, alright?

"Actually, forget it. Give me the good news. We get enough bad news on a daily basis."

Zhao Zhenjia glanced at the corpse slumped over the desk:

"This body most likely belonged to the administrator of the previous generation of residents.

"From about seven years ago.

"Of course, every single resident from that generation is already dead. Not a single one of them survived ten missions to leave this place alive.

"However, stones from other hills may serve to polish jade. Since this man was an administrator, he must have uncovered plenty of the Living Apartment's secrets while carrying out his missions.

"This manuscript is incredibly valuable for our research. We really hit the jackpot finding this room."

Jiang Yang asked:

"And the bad news?"

Halfway through his question, the words caught in his throat.

He already realized exactly what the bad news was.

This Apartment administrator from seven years ago—which floor was his room on?

He lived on the fourth floor.

That meant that seven years ago, the rooms on the fourth floor were habitable. It was also an activity area for the living.

But seven years later, the habitable zone of the Living Apartment had shrunk down to the Third Floor. The fourth floor had become a paradise for ghosts—a forbidden zone for humanity.

After the Apartment administrator died here, his room had become like a prehistoric ruin, sealed away for all eternity. If the Upstairs Team hadn't ventured up here, this room would never have been discovered.

The supernatural influence within the Living Apartment was constantly sinking downwards.

It had been sinking ever since seven years ago.