Only Living Person in This Chat Group

”Huh, looks like something’s moving inside this television.”

Lan Zhu turned around, as though drawn by something within the shattered television set.

She reached out, about to press the power button.

Jiang Yang almost told her not to touch anything, but he paused. This might actually be the exact trigger they needed.

He kept his mouth shut and stood beside Xia Ta.

At the slightest disturbance, Xia Ta was ready to raise her Fierce Ghost Prohibition sign.

Lan Zhu’s hand hovered in midair without pressing the switch. Yet the television—already broken beyond repair—emitted a sudden burst of static, as though it had just reconnected to a signal.

The indicator light on the completely shattered screen turned back on. As the image distorted, the female news anchor reappeared—her mouth a pitch-black void framed by a thick ring of lipstick.

Behind her stood the male anchor, his neck snapped at a grotesque ninety-degree angle, his tailored suit drenched in the black fluid he had vomited.

”Hey, I didn’t touch it. You all saw that.” Lan Zhu stepped back like a startled cat.The two anchors wore uncanny, mannequin-like smiles. Lowering their news scripts, they beamed at Xia Ta, Jiang Yang, and Lan Zhu through the screen and said:

”Welcome... residents of the Third Floor... to our home.

”We have prepared... a suitable room... for each of you... the most satisfying resting place...

”Especially you... Xia Ta... my sweet daughter...

”Do you no longer recognize... your own mother... my sweetest... sweetest daughter...

”I have prepared... for you...

”A very special...

”Private...

”Room.

”Enjoy our... precious... family time...”

With every word the female anchor spoke, both of their faces rapidly rotted and withered away. Large chunks of charred flesh sloughed off them until nothing remained but bare skeletons wrapped in bits of blackened, dried meat.

Their on-screen appearance was now identical to the two mummified corpses sitting on the sofa.

Behind the anchors, the backdrop of the azure planet vanished, instantly replaced by a pitch-black room. A dilapidated sofa sat directly behind them. The moment the female anchor finished her final sentence, the two corpses slumped backward. Now, the scene inside the television perfectly mirrored the room outside.

”Go!”

Xia Ta and the others hadn’t just been standing around idly while the female anchor was speaking; they had already sprung into action.

Jiang Yang darted to the wall outlet and yanked out the television’s power plug.

But the news broadcast on the screen didn’t stop, continuing its static-laced feed.

Xia Ta drew a warning sign from her jacket and thrust it high into the air. It depicted a black ghost silhouette with a red line slashed across its body—the Fierce Ghost Prohibition.

This was Xia Ta’s Supernatural Item, and the Fierce Ghost Prohibition’s effect activated instantly.

For the next eight seconds, all Fierce Ghosts in her vicinity would be forced to obey four absolute rules.

”You guys leave first!”

There was definitely something wrong with that television. A Fierce Ghost’s Killing Rule had just triggered, which meant their goal for entering the room had been accomplished.

No matter what the Killing Rule was, the Fierce Ghost Prohibition would completely suppress it.

Eight seconds was more than enough time for Jiang Yang and Lan Zhu to retreat safely.

Lan Zhu was surprisingly obedient, immediately whirling around to dash for the door. Yet, pulling a metal Dog Leash out of nowhere, she smoothly looped it around the neck of one of the mummified corpses on the sofa. Sprinting away, she gave the leash a vicious yank, forcibly dragging the corpse out of the room with her!

”Are you out of your fucking mind?!

”Why would you drag the corpse out of the room?!”

Out in the hallway, Zhao Zhenjia and Gao Tian watched her charge toward them with the mummified corpse dragging behind her, barely resisting the urge to kick her right back inside.

At the same time, a faint, blood-red number materialized in the air above everyone’s heads—whether they were inside the room or out in the corridor. Looking like clumps of flesh and blood, the numbers were counting down.

Not even Zhao Zhenjia and Gao Tian were spared.

The closer a person was to the television, the smaller their number.

Above Jiang Yang by the outlet hovered a bloody 2.

Above Lan Zhu, who had fled the room, was a bloody 4.

Gao Tian had an 8.

Zhao Zhenjia had a 9.

Bizarrely, the number over Xia Ta’s head was a 0.

And while everyone else’s numbers were steadily ticking down, Xia Ta’s had started at 0 and couldn’t drop any further.

Still standing in the center of the room, thousands of thoughts raced through Xia Ta’s mind:

’Even with the Fierce Ghost Prohibition in effect, a Fierce Ghost’s rule still triggered?

’That means this specific rule doesn’t violate any of the Prohibition’s four rules.’

Combining this with the anchor’s strange speech, she roughly figured out what the countdowns meant:

’Teleportation. The Fierce Ghost is going to teleport the five of us into other rooms.

’Since it’s only teleportation and not directly killing us, it completely bypasses all the Prohibition’s rules.

’And the anchor in the television... did she just call me her sweet daughter?

’Whatever. At this point, I can only do my best to disrupt the effect.’

Xia Ta raised a single finger to the sky. Countless motes of light rapidly converged from all directions, instantly solidifying into a colossal iron hammer made of pure light. The hammer was nearly as large as she was.

This was Xia Ta’s trump-card Supernatural Item. She could manifest suitable weapons at will, and these weapons had the power to shatter the effects of certain Supernatural Items and Fierce Ghosts.

Xia Ta hefted the massive hammer of light with a single hand. Though the giant hammer had to weigh dozens of jin, she swung it as effortlessly as if it were flying.

Inside the television, the two anchors—now nothing but desiccated corpses—silently watched her from the screen.

The rest of the team should have safely evacuated by now.

That was good.

What exactly was going on with these two?

Why had they called her their daughter?

Did these two ghosts actually think they were her parents?

It was utterly ridiculous. Absurd.

The harder she tried to remember, the more Xia Ta’s head pounded in agony. Giving up on thinking about it, she swung the colossal hammer of light down, smashing it squarely into the top of the old television set.

BOOM—

...

...

Meanwhile, out in the hallway, the moment the bloody countdowns materialized over everyone’s heads, Zhao Zhenjia grabbed Gao Tian. The two sprinted away from Room 413 at top speed, making a mad dash for the stairwell.

He hadn’t heard exactly what the anchors inside the room had said, but upon seeing the countdowns, Zhao Zhenjia knew that some Fierce Ghost’s rule had just taken effect.

The Fierce Ghost Prohibition hadn’t been able to suppress it.

Which meant the ghost’s goal wasn’t to kill.

Regardless, this was absolutely not a good thing.

The blood-red countdowns had a massive area of effect, striking everyone both inside and outside the room. Right now, Zhao Zhenjia’s only hope was to temporarily retreat down the stairs and avoid this wave of curses.

They would head back up to the fourth floor once the countdowns over their heads finished.

The stairwell was right in front of them, but time had already run out.

Zhao Zhenjia first saw the number above Gao Tian’s head reach 0. Gao Tian’s body instantly began to collapse like molecules. Like a falling tower of building blocks, he vanished into thin air right before his eyes.

Zhao Zhenjia fared no better; his countdown was only a second slower than Gao Tian’s. He watched as his hands, and then his legs, rapidly crumbled as black blocks eagerly fled from his body. Soon only his head remained, and then even his eyes dissolved into dust.

Jiang Yang, Lan Zhu—no one escaped. They all broke down into black molecules and vanished.

Finally, there was only Xia Ta, still standing in the center of the room.

The television behind her had been obliterated into scrap metal. Among the smashed electronic components, the few remaining frayed wires sparked with a meaningless sizzle.

Reduced to scrap like this, there was no way the two anchors who had called her their ”daughter” would ever appear on that screen again.

Yet despite destroying the television, Xia Ta watched her own hands still break down into streams of black molecules, vanishing into the void.

The Fierce Ghost Prohibition’s effect was still active.

Which meant the ghost still hadn’t actually killed or harmed a single one of them.

For whatever reason, the countdown above her head was still a 0, and her body was dissolving far slower than the others.

Combining this with the anchor’s earlier words, Xia Ta was one hundred percent certain that this was a teleportation effect: the ghost was forcibly scattering all five members of their team into different rooms on this floor.

Had the main battlefield changed?

It seemed that relying on a numbers advantage to crush Room 413 in a single sweep was impossible.

She didn’t know which rooms Jiang Yang and Gao Tian had ended up in. She could only wish them luck.

Xia Ta’s expression remained calm.

Accidents were normal. Everything was still within an acceptable range.

Supernatural events always carried a death toll.

This battle was only just beginning. The true owners of Room 413 had finally shown themselves and were exposed.

They had better hope she didn’t make it back alive. Because the next time Xia Ta walked into this room alive...

...not even Jesus would be able to save those two television anchors.

As she waited for her body to vanish and teleport, Xia Ta slowly walked over to the sofa, shoved the remaining mummified corpse aside, and sat in the most comfortable middle seat.

”A ghost calling me its sweet daughter...”

...

...

Gao Tian slowly opened his eyes.

When the countdown over his head had hit zero, everything around him had violently launched into reverse. He could only watch as Zhao Zhenjia rapidly receded into the distance down the corridor. The man had been screaming something, desperately reaching out to grab him, but it was all useless.

This feeling was somewhat similar to being forcibly teleported after activating a Black Card.

Only this time, without knowing where he would land, that sensation of totally losing control over his own fate was absolutely sickening.

By the time Gao Tian felt solid ground under his feet and regained his bearings, he realized he had arrived somewhere entirely new. It was completely different from the fourth-floor corridor.

In this blasted place, he couldn’t even tell if he was still inside the Living Apartment.

Gao Tian slowly looked up—and saw another ”Gao Tian” above him, staring back down at him with a mix of shock and confusion.

He slowly turned his head. To his back left, three more ”Gao Tians” who had been facing away turned their heads in perfect, synchronized unison, eyeing him with the exact same scrutinizing suspicion.

Gao Tian looked forward again. In the distance were countless more ”Gao Tians,” each bearing a steadfast gaze laced with a touch of helplessness and the distinct urge to curse out loud.

This was a narrow, crowded alleyway.

There was absolutely nothing in the alleyway. Nothing except an endless expanse of Mirrors.

Hundreds of Mirrors were packed tightly together, extending from where he stood all the way into the endless distance.