Nightmare Strikes

Translator: Cinder Translations

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'...shall not return'

Lost in memories, he mindlessly struck a match, the flickering flame dancing like a flickering candle, as the smoke spread out, dreamlike and hazy before his eyes. 

Past events surfaced slowly in his mind. 

Faces—some broken, some in pain, some filled with fear—haunted him. 

Tattered people knelt helplessly before him, weeping and wailing, pleading for the man before them to spare their lives. 

Zhou Taifu relished this feeling. 

Holding the power of life and death, he felt like a god, towering above, while mortals could only crawl at his feet, desperately whispering their prayers. 

In the next moment, the sounds of gunfire erupt, the sharp slice of blades through flesh, and bodies collapse to the ground. 

Pleasant, like heavenly music. 

"Ugh… cough, cough." 

Zhou Taifu's pupils suddenly constricted, and he broke into a violent cough. 

The images from his memories cracked like a spider's web, then abruptly shattered. He fixed his gaze on the half-burned cigarette in his hand, his eye twitching uncontrollably. 

A familiar smell spread in his nostrils. 

Sang Ji Ji! 

No, it was corpse grass! 

This cigarette was laced with corpse grass!! 

This wasn't the jungles of Southeast Asia; how could such a thing possibly be here? 

Just as he fell into extreme panic, he caught a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. 

At the position close to the wall. 

As if guided by some unseen force, he lifted his leg and walked over step by step. 

Crouching down, he realized it was a wrinkled piece of wallpaper. 

The wallpaper had gotten damp, causing one corner to curl up and reveal a reflective object behind it. 

He reached out, slowly peeling back the wallpaper. 

Behind it was a massive mirror. 

It was almost one and a half times his height. 

The width was unclear, but it was definitely wider than its height. 

Due to the dampness, a layer of mist enveloped the front of the mirror. 

Zhou Taifu stared at his not-so-clear reflection in the mirror, suddenly feeling an inexplicable sense of strangeness. 

In a panic, he averted his gaze. 

In one corner of the mirror, there were several papers stuck up like notes. 

He stood up and reached out to take them down. 

There were words on the back of the paper, written in delicate script, suggesting they belonged to a gentle and quiet girl. 

This was a girl's diary. 

He couldn't understand why it was hidden here. 

He read through the pages, gradually increasing his speed, and his facial expression began to change. 

When he finished reading the last page and the final line, his gaze lingered on the signature in the bottom right corner, and his pupils involuntarily jumped. 

"Chen Yao." 

Although Zhou Taifu had never heard this name before, the contents of the diary, combined with the clues he already possessed, were enough for him to piece together most of the story. 

The mystery had already been mostly unraveled. 

Just as he was about to turn around excitedly to inform Yu Wen that he had found the key to progress, he suddenly realized that it had grown silent behind him at some unknown moment. 

He quickly turned around. 

All he saw was darkness. 

The light from Yu Wen's phone had vanished. 

He turned to the door, and Feng Lan had also turned off her phone. 

In this large music classroom, it seemed like he was the only living person left. 

He didn't call out either of their names; instead, he made a quick decision to crouch down and extinguished the mini flashlight in his hand. 

He held his breath, blending into the darkness. 

Something must have happened; a chill crept across his forehead, and he was sure of it. 

He wasn't clear about Feng Lan, but there were only two possible reasons for Yu Wen to turn off her phone. 

First, she might have noticed something unusual nearby, most likely a ghost; she extinguished her phone to conceal herself. 

Second, a sharp pang twisted in his heart; perhaps Yu Wen was already dead. 

But regardless of which point was true, one thing was certain: a ghost must be nearby. 

"Creak—" 

The sudden sound of grinding made his scalp tingle. 

The sound was very close, no more than 5 meters away. 

He fought to suppress the terror rising within him, his gaze scanning the faint darkness around him. 

Nothing. 

And there was nothing. 

Where was that sound coming from? 

Until— 

"Creak—" 

His body froze suddenly, this time he clearly heard it; the eerie sound was coming from behind him!! 

But wasn't there a mirror behind him? 

Mechanically, he slowly turned around, giving himself time to adjust. In the mirror, his own eyes bulged out, his face pale, clearly terrified. 

Although it was frightening, he finally confirmed that the person in the mirror was indeed himself. 

Just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye, noticing a vague black shadow behind the reflection of himself. 

The shadow was much taller than him. 

"Creak—" 

The shadow swayed slightly, and in that moment, Zhou Taifu saw it clearly. 

His eyes widened slowly, nearly popping out of their sockets, mouth agape, but he was unable to make a sound. 

It was a corpse. 

A body hanging from the ceiling, strangled by a rope!! 

The corpse was wearing white ballet shoes, the feet taut, toes pointed down. 

In the silent, enclosed space, a gust of wind suddenly blew, causing the corpse to sway gently, and the rope holding it let out a familiar grinding sound. 

"Creak—" 

After that sound, the entire music classroom fell silent once again. 

The sky had turned dark. 

There weren't many streetlights on campus, and it was quite far between them, with each lamp illuminating only a small area around it. 

Under a streetlight, two figures hurriedly walked side by side. 

"Doctor," the chubby guy said with a troubled expression, hesitatingly spoke, "do you think we can trust Li Yanwei's words?" 

Jiang Cheng replied without thinking, "No." 

The chubby guy paused in his steps, his gaze towards Jiang Cheng growing strange. 

He originally thought Jiang Cheng would say only part of it was credible, or that it was half true and half false, but he didn't expect Jiang Cheng to outright deny it. 

"Please start your performance," the chubby guy said earnestly. 

As Jiang Cheng walked, he raised four fingers, shaking them before saying, "Four points." 

"Wait!" the chubby guy quickly called for a stop, then rummaged through his various pockets, finally pulling out a notebook and a pen. After uncapping the pen and opening the notebook, he turned to Jiang Cheng and said, "You go ahead, doctor." 

Jiang Cheng glanced at the chubby guy preparing to take notes and clicked his tongue. 

"First—" Jiang Cheng elongated the first word, and the chubby guy genuinely felt like Jiang Cheng was adopting the tone of his elementary school teacher giving a public lecture, "Ten years ago, Li Yanwei was just a student. She could transfer classes just like that; not only did she transfer, but she even helped Chen Yao transfer. Who does she think she is? Is this school her family's?" 

"Secondly, the significance of the anniversary celebration is self-evident. Whether it's a solo performance or if a dance partner is added—can such matters really be decided by a new student like Chen Yao who has only been enrolled for a few months?" 

As the chubby guy listened, he wrote quickly in his notebook. Although he didn't fully understand some parts, he didn't interrupt Jiang Cheng, making notes for later questions. 

(End of the Chapter)

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