In the pitch-black living room, in front of a huge full-length mirror, a girl in a white nightgown slowly raised her hand. She kept her head down, facing the mirror, and her hair fell down, obscuring her face.

After raising her hand, she moved her body and began to dance. It was a graceful classical dance, with each raised hand and each step revealing a softness and elegance like spring water.

Strangely, no matter how graceful her dance moves were, her joints were stiff like a marionette, and even seemed to be clapping...

Everything in front of the mirror was like a dance performance, even surpassing some professional dancers; even the hem of her dress, when it fluttered, had an almost excessively beautiful curve.

But Zhang Da, standing in front of the door, looked rather grim, his gaze involuntarily drifting downwards—the girl's dancing steps were always on tiptoe.

But who is always on tiptoe?

"Is she a human or a ghost...?"

A chill crept up his spine for no reason. When Zhang Da tried to move, he found himself pinned to the spot by something.

Just then, Zhang Da noticed a figure sitting on the sofa on the other side of the living room—as withered as a dead tree branch, with an easel placed in front of it.

Zhang Da subconsciously took a half step back, tightening his grip on the talisman. Just as he was about to take out the exorcism talisman, the dancing girl stopped, seemingly having finished her dance.

She remained facing the mirror, her back to Zhang Da. With a creaking sound, like a machine without lubrication, she slowly turned her head, hands behind her back, and raised her head—

Just then, Zhang Dacai suddenly realized that the girl with the graceful dance moves had a completely smooth and blank face, like a mirror, without any facial features!

"Damn it, what the hell is that thing? Is it a faceless monster?!"

Zhang Da couldn't help but curse. He immediately burned the exorcism talisman, but before the talisman could take effect, everything around Zhang Da blurred for a moment, and the next moment he actually sat down on the sofa.

Beside him was a corpse, withered like a dead tree branch!

On the canvas in front of the corpse was the image of the girl with her hands behind her back, turned around, still without a face.

Not only that, the corpse also turned its head to look at Zhang Da. In the blurry vision, Zhang Da discovered that the corpse had no face, but the malice was obvious.

"I don't know how to fix her face, can you help me?"

"..."

Before Zhang Da could even refuse, a paintbrush appeared in his hand, leaving Zhang Da completely dumbfounded. He had absolutely no idea how to draw!

However, he could clearly feel that his talisman was being suppressed tightly. If nothing unexpected happened, this was the ghost realm of vengeful spirits, which is one of the world's most terrifying settings.

In the realm of vengeful spirits, one must act in accordance with their rules. Unless one forcibly breaks through the realm with force, touching upon the taboo of death will inevitably lead to certain death!

Thinking of this, Zhang Da's breathing became rapid. Even if there are rules about the taboo of death, there will be a way out. As long as he can find this way out, he can escape from the ghost realm.

'What is it? What exactly is it?'

To draw, or not to draw... No... Impossible, not everyone can draw...

Zhang Da didn't intend to paint, but as he held the paintbrush in his hand, which was as cold as human bones, his heart pounded—was not painting really the only way to survive?

Seeing that the girl in the white dress with her hands behind her back had no face, and the corpse in front of him also had no face, Zhang Da made up his mind and put down his paintbrush: "Sorry, I can't draw."

Although Zhang Da's voice trembled slightly, he spoke with great determination: not all ghosts' requests must be fulfilled, nor should all requests be refused. Sometimes, refusal is a path to life, and sometimes it is a path to death.

But Zhang Da has no choice but to take a gamble now; this ghost in front of him wants him to not draw!

"You don't know how? What a pity. It seems only I can make up for it..."

The next moment, the chill that had been spreading through Zhang Da dissipated, and he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, thinking to himself that he had just realized it; how could an artist let others touch his paintings?

But before he could feel relieved, he suddenly found himself being forcibly pressed to the spot, and the corpse beside him, which had been saying "what a pity," was now speaking in increasingly harsh and distorted voices.

The withered hand gripped Zhang Da's neck tightly, lifting him up abruptly. The vengeful ghost before him revealed its true form—eerie and terrifying.

The girl standing on tiptoe in front of the mirror clearly had no facial features, yet she seemed to be mocking something, her shrill voice almost piercing the eardrums, before suddenly disappearing!

“You can’t fix the painting, so she has no face, and I have no face either, but…”

"But you do have it, please help me, give me your face—"

When the ghostly portrait's sharp fingertips pierced straight into Zhang Da's eye sockets, his two round, terrified eyeballs were ripped out like glass beads.

Even so, Cheng Yuwei and the others connected to Zhang Da's five senses finally couldn't bear it and broke the connection, retreating in terror and frantically tearing off the stitches of the rag dolls attached to their wrists.

Because of the connection to their five senses, they experienced the pain of having their eyeballs gouged out, and even... even after the connection to their five senses was severed, it felt as if their eyes were still throbbing!

Only Ji He remained, her face pale, still watching Zhang Da's feed until the five-minute time limit expired. She abruptly disconnected and then leaned against the wall, retching.

Seeing this, Cheng Yuwei couldn't help but step forward to support her: "Sister Ji, are you alright? What happened?"

"...Phew, Zhang Da is dead."

After taking a deep breath, Ji He slowly spoke: "His entire face was ruined. His features were mangled and bloody, and his face was almost completely shaved off."

Seeing the grim expressions on Cheng Yuwei's and the other two's faces, and even the two men showing signs of fear, Ji He swallowed her last words—she wanted to say that Zhang Da's face was as flat as a mirror.

However, what truly caught Ji He's attention and made her endure the pain to finish reading about Zhang Da's ordeal was that she discovered an important clue.

The portrait of Zhang Wu, the victim at F University, was never finished before his death. The content of the portrait was also related to the NPC that Zhang Da went to find—the serial killer, who was inextricably linked to Ruan Qing'an.

Ji He knew she didn't have such good reasoning and crime-solving skills, but... Jiang Shihe did, it's just that if he went to investigate, he would easily die.

The entire archives room was deathly silent. Finally, Li Hua stood up and said, "Sister Ji, are we... going to investigate that house?"

"It's too dangerous there, don't go. We should shift the blame elsewhere."

Ji He changed the subject: "But aren't the police investigating a serial murder case? Let's lead them there. Didn't Zhang Da say that the strange NPC living there is named Ruan Qing'an?"

“But wouldn’t that attract Jiang Shihe as well, which would increase the chances of him being killed for no reason? Maybe we should just go and see for ourselves.”

Xia Changhong, who was usually silent, rarely spoke. Cheng Yuwei and Li Hua couldn't help but ponder when they heard this. After seeing this scene, Ji He also looked over, but her eyes were vaguely unfriendly.