Facing an Ancient God for a Year

Chapter 1814: Chapter 1789: Vulgarness and Fear (22)

Indeed, the heart of a young girl is intricate and unpredictable.

It’s truly difficult to discern from her appearance that Eva has such an intense spirit world.

If handwriting reveals one’s character, then the last two pages convey a sense of fierce determination, like a machete slicing through everything in its path.

Yet it’s still easy to recognize that most of this content was written with the pen I used earlier.

Aside from the distinct question-and-answer format, the notes also have a clear boundary, with the writing growing grotesque from a certain point onward.

And this is not even the main issue.

In the parts before this point, the questions were in the same color and handwriting as that on my jacket, but the answers appeared to be from someone else entirely.

The handwriting and tone were completely different, and the letters were significantly larger.

The color was an oppressive dark red, glaring under the light.

It was real blood.

Fu Qian once again performed a non-professional evaluation and was quite certain of the answers.

...

So is this how Eva’s ”forbidden knowledge” came about?

Questions casually written in a notebook, suddenly receiving a response one day?

With words in blood emerging and forming answers?

This is a classic horror story setup, akin to the uncanny exploration of a haunted house earlier.

Regardless of the reading environment, in the blink of an eye, Fu Qian had finished reading all the content of the Q&A.

To sum up, it was like a dark version of a magic book of constellations.

Filled with speculations of an outwardly cheerful, yet inwardly sensitive young woman, along with horrifying story elements like strange theories and campus horror tales.

The blood-written words spoke in a solemn tone, earnestly answering every question.

Even though a large portion appeared to be utter nonsense.

Because if followed as described, the school would have someone dying every few days.

However, in any case, when combined together, these dozens of ramblings successfully painted a picture of Hell.

Or should it be called Bloodletting High School?

Fu Qian glanced at the grim scene in the compartment, shaking his head.

In a retrospective analysis, it’s clear that there were some taboos he could not avoid breaking in his actions earlier.

According to the notes, the minimal consequence should be quadriplegia.

This point alone seems to prove it was indeed nonsense—

Not necessarily.

Even truths are divided into absolute and relative truths, isn’t it possible that some of this content was actually true at some moments?

For example, before All Fools’ Day ends?

This wasn’t a product of idle and erratic thoughts, because after thoroughly finishing the notes, Fu Qian could confirm one thing—although the blood-written answers were overly absurd, they were honest responses to questions without apparent hints of instigation, like leading the questioner to madness.

The later parts resembling Eva’s frenzied self-dialogues appeared quite abruptly.

To put it simply, her reaction to a pen pal suddenly not responding was overly intense, almost giving the impression of a worldview collapse.

So much so, that even though it wasn’t written in the notes, it gives the impression that the preceding content might have been verified by her to a certain extent, or that there was a profoundly transcendent interaction behind it all.

This is what led to such a severe withdrawal after suddenly losing it again.

...

What role did Extraordinary Power play in this mission?

This is an answer Fu Qian had been seeking for a long time.

First, they undeniably exist, even dominating some plots’ themes.

But at the same time, they are excessively theatrical, akin to urban legends stirring during holidays, quite different from the styles he usually dealt with.

This conclusion mainly stemmed from the deduction of the previous haunted house exploration.

Additionally, the containment’s name was All Fools’ Day, and the containment completion condition was achieving all scripts.

It’s not hard to imagine one possibility—that these special transcendent elements exist dependent on the concept of All Fools’ Day, much like Santa Claus is to Christmas.

What he needed to do was, with a Mortal’s body, identify and eliminate the weaknesses in the realm of drama.

But what about this Twilight School?

Following Mr. Wolf’s pursuit of the truth, this seemingly terrifying and bizarre night had long shed its magical facade, proven to be all the sins of ordinary people.

A script that appeared more complex and eerie than the haunted house yet lacked any transcendent manifestations seemed to altogether undermine the earlier conclusion.

While acting earlier, Fu Qian was pondering this contradiction, with no particularly meaningful explanation—until he got this notebook.

The stark changes in it served as a reminder to him.

Could it be possible that the core theme of this campus script is the aftermath triggered by the absence of transcendence?

All these mad high school students he encountered were actually experiencing withdrawal symptoms, leading to this lively weekend?

Although what he needed to do again seemed unclear, the overall outline of the incident became clearer with it.

And thus far, the three scripts could once more be unified under the concept of All Fools’ Day.

But at the same time, the question arose—if it wasn’t specifically to deal with the transcendent, how should the script be ”correctly” completed?

Survive?

Whether the first script or this third one, as long as one wasn’t faint-hearted to death, survival didn’t seem pressured.

Unearthing the truth? That seemed too broad, perhaps?

Honestly, so far, each of the three scripts still has unanswered questions, far from uncovering the truth.

In fact, Fu Qian went to the restroom specifically to read the notebook to test this question.

Finally closing the notebook, he carefully avoided the blood on the floor, once more approaching Salma.

The wound was far too deep, even her eyes seemed fragmented.

Gazing at that horrific face, Fu Qian applied force to his hands, lifting the blood-soaked head and placing the notebook underneath.

As previously mentioned, the notebook was small.

And just as Fu Qian adjusted the position so that the dangling hair could perfectly conceal it, the light shining on him suddenly extinguished.

Simultaneously, the head in his hands began to move.

...

Not bad at all.

Darkness suddenly enveloped, with the long hair trembling and whisking against his face.

This sudden change could be considered a thrilling moment in a horror movie.

However, instead of fear, Fu Qian felt joy at that moment, not loosening his grip but maintaining his hold, bringing the head even closer to himself.

Even as two more hands desperately tried to pry him away, he remained unfazed.

With each breath, as he adjusted to the change in light, he discerned the place where he found himself, through the faint strands of illumination.

Indeed, a new script had begun.