Free Web NovelChapter 69: Chapter 69: The Identity of the Study’s Owner
Yu Sheng walked deeper into Longshu Temple, his steps rustling through the withered leaves covering the ground.
For some reason, his heart, once as calm as a lake, began to beat with unease again.
’It’s just a dilapidated temple.’
’Pink skeletons, all that has form—all is illusion.’
The mental anguish now transformed into a tangible blade, making Yu Sheng feel a very real pain.
He was all too familiar with every blade of grass and every tree here.
His early childhood, his youth, his adolescence—he was born here, raised here. This was his home. Every brick and tile held so many memories.
’Why... why did it turn out like this?’
’None of this should have happened. Longshu Temple shouldn’t be in this supernatural place.’
The blood-red trees on either side and their endless leaves began to rustle.
In a daze, Yu Sheng looked up and saw countless blood-stained corpses of gray-robed Monks hanging from row after row of trees, swaying in the gentle breeze. Those corpse-trees, with human bodies for leaves, swayed happily from side to side.
So many bodies. The thick stench of blood was nauseating. He looked closely at the blood-red leaves he was stepping on and realized they were severed limbs.
With a loud BANG, the main gate he had entered through was slammed shut by a gale, cutting off his path of retreat.
A sacred Buddhist site had suddenly become a scene from Hell.
Faced with this terrifying scene, surrounded by corpse-trees, Yu Sheng didn’t take out any Supernatural Artifacts to defend himself. He simply kept walking, head down, and began to silently recite the Diamond Prajna Paramita Sutra:
"All that has form is illusory. If you see that all forms are not forms, you will see the Tathagata."
"All conditioned phenomena are like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, a shadow, like dew or a flash of lightning; thus should you view them."
...
When he raised his head again, all the terrifying sights and sounds had vanished completely.
The sea of red leaves still rustled. The plaza under his feet, though somewhat dilapidated and desolate, was merely covered in dust. There had never been any mountains of corpses.
The scenes just now were all an illusion.
In the blink of an eye, Yu Sheng, his gray robes trailing behind him, had already stepped into the main hall of Longshu Temple.
In the main hall, the Buddha sat enthroned in the center, its gold lacquer peeling like autumn leaves to reveal the dark clay form beneath.
To the side, the painted necklaces of the bodhisattvas had lost their color, leaving only mottled patches like dried scabs of blood.
Yu Sheng said nothing and slowly sat on the prayer cushion at the Buddha’s feet.
As his knees pressed down, a cloud of dust billowed out from the cushion.
In the empty main hall, everyone had left. Yu Sheng had left, too, but now he was back, all alone.
The Monk’s heart found a moment of peace.
He knew that this version of Longshu Temple, here in this supernatural place, was a crude and laughable imitation of reality. Yet, being back here was like returning to his carefree childhood, and his heart naturally settled.
It was as if his master were still here, his senior brothers still here. They lived a life of routine—meditating, chanting sutras, striking the bell. The days passed slowly, yet every step was taken with steady purpose.
What’s meant to happen will happen.
Yu Sheng knelt silently before the Buddha statue, as if waiting for someone.
He waited until the sky of the supernatural place outside the hall turned the color of a bloody sunset.
CREAK—
Outside, on the main path, the great gate of the temple was pushed open with force.
CLACK, CLACK.
The sound of wooden sandals on the stone path echoed, one step after another.
Kneeling in the hall, Yu Sheng knew someone had arrived behind him and was now walking toward him.
’In a supernatural place like this, who would push open a temple gate and walk inside at a time like this?’
Yu Sheng just kept his head bowed, palms pressed together, ready to accept his fate.
He never once opened his eyes.
’Master, are you here for me?’
...
...
Zhao Zhenjia, upon arriving, was slightly taken aback. The first thing he did was scan his surroundings to make sure no ghost was about to ambush him. When he saw Jiang Yang, his tense expression visibly relaxed.
"Looks like we were teleported into the same room."
"Thank God it’s not Lan Chu..."
The two exchanged a glance and a smile, wondering which of the remaining two, Xia Ta or Gao Tian, would be the lucky one to have the honor of sharing a room with Lan Chu.
Now that they understood their situation, it was time to start solving the problem.
Jiang Yang spoke first.
"The woman on the TV knows Xia Ta. Before the teleportation activated, she called Xia Ta ’my dearest daughter.’"
"Did you hear that from outside?"
First things first, they had to compare notes.
In supernatural missions, a lack of intelligence was the biggest taboo.
Zhao Zhenjia frowned.
"Those two monsters on the TV are Xia Ta’s parents? How is that possible?"
"Could it be some kind of cognitive contamination?"
"I remember there’s a resident on the fourth floor who can alter people’s memories, right?"
Jiang Yang replied,
"Not likely."
"We were still under the effect of ’Ghost Prohibition,’ so mental attacks were forbidden. Besides, after hearing what the woman said, Xia Ta looked surprised too. It was obvious she had no memory of that couple."
Zhao Zhenjia said,
"Come to think of it, since moving into this apartment, I’ve never heard Xia Ta mention any relatives or seen her go out to socialize normally."
"She’s lived here for so long, and her only hobby seems to be sitting in the first-floor lobby, enjoying her afternoon tea."
"Jiang Yang, you’ve worked with Xia Ta more often than I have. What do you know about her?"
Jiang Yang mused,
"She’s never mentioned anything to me either. The Landlord has always been a loner. Other than training newcomers, she rarely explains anything."
"The only thing I vaguely recall is Xia Ta might have mentioned once that her family used to run a kindergarten, but it went out of business."
"But we never talked about it in detail. I can’t even remember for sure if she actually said that."
They could speculate about Xia Ta’s background all day, but they wouldn’t get anywhere.
The most urgent matter was to deal with the room they were in.
Zhao Zhenjia asked,
"Before I got here, did you try opening the door and just leaving?"
Jiang Yang replied,
"No."
His gaze fell on the back of the corpse of the study’s owner.
"I’m more interested in the original owner of this fourth-floor room—who he was, and what’s written in the thick manuscript he was writing before he died."
"I didn’t dare approach it directly, for fear of triggering some rule connected to the corpse. Now that you’re here, it’s perfect. Use your Wind Attendant Buddha ability to go have a look at his notes."
Jiang Yang had been puzzled about the owner’s identity ever since he entered the room and saw the titles on the bookshelf.
The range of subjects was just too broad.
Why would someone who studied physics be so interested in folklore and historical legends?
Among a row of highly specialized books on biology and medicine, why was there a pile of supernatural novels and books on UFO sightings?
There was one possibility.
Before his death, the male owner had been researching "ghosts."
First, he tried to explain ghosts through medicine and biology. When that proved completely beyond his understanding, he began to use physics to deconstruct their existence. Then he searched for answers in history, wondering if humanity’s ancestors had faced the same confusion. He suspected he had mental problems and began to self-study psychology. Finally, after everything else failed, he tried to find clues in supernatural novels and folklore...
It seemed that when he was alive, the owner had faced the same predicament as Jiang Yang, Zhao Zhenjia, and the others.
"I see, I get it now."
Looking at the desk in front of the corpse, Zhao Zhenjia focused his thoughts, and a Wind Puppet, identical to him in appearance and height, materialized out of thin air.
The Wind Attendant Buddha walked step by step to the desk, until it could clearly see the words the corpse had written before dying.
All the decorations in the room remained motionless, and the corpse was well and truly dead. For the moment, no killing rules had been triggered.
As it leaned down and began to read, Jiang Yang thought he heard a faint sigh from an unknown corner of the room.
Just then, Zhao Zhenjia, sharing the Wind Attendant Buddha’s vision, saw most of the contents of the notes:
"I have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first, Jiang Yang?"
Jiang Yang snapped back to his senses, temporarily ignoring the sigh. He gave a wry smile.
"We’re at this point already. Can you stop keeping me in suspense?"
"Forget it. Let’s hear the good news first. I hear bad news every day."
Zhao Zhenjia glanced at the corpse at the desk.
"This corpse was likely the administrator for the previous generation of residents."
"From about seven years ago."
"Of course, all the residents from that generation are dead. Not a single one of them survived ten missions to leave this place alive."
"However, we can learn from their example. Since this man was the administrator, he must have researched many of the Living Apartment’s secrets during his missions."
"This manuscript is incredibly valuable. We’ve hit the jackpot in this room." fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm
Jiang Yang asked,
"Then what’s the bad news?"
He stopped mid-sentence, the words catching in his throat.
He already knew what the bad news was.
The apartment administrator from seven years ago—which floor was his room on?
He lived on the fourth floor.
This meant that seven years ago, the rooms on the fourth floor were habitable. It was also an area for the living.
But seven years later, the living area in the Living Apartment had shrunk to the third floor. The fourth floor had become a paradise for ghosts and a forbidden zone for humans.
After this apartment administrator died here, his room was sealed away like a prehistoric relic. If it weren’t for the team that went upstairs, this room would never have been discovered.
The supernatural presence in the Living Apartment was steadily sinking downward.
It had started seven years ago.
