This is not right.
And this doesn't seem like a brief dissatisfaction with something, but rather like... a deep disgust for something that exists forever and cannot be escaped.
What's even more strange is that Bai Di is standing barefoot in the snow.
Nansong's gaze shifted uncontrollably. The snow had already reached his ankles, but Bai Di's feet seemed unaffected by the cold, stepping firmly on the snow without even a tremor.
"Southern cabbage?"
Bai Di's voice suddenly became clear, as if he was suddenly pulled back to reality from far away.
He frowned slightly, and the strange alienation in his eyes faded a little, replaced by the familiar, slightly impatient concern that Nan Song was familiar with.
"Did Blore pass his experimental potion test on the third try?"
Nan Song was stunned.
This inexplicable question was like a key that clicked open a forgotten corner - Bai Di must have encountered something like an illusion.
By the way, she also encountered a series of traps within the super set, and this scene is her fourth one.
I don’t know what Bai Di suffered?
"He didn't take this exam..." Nan Song answered quickly.
This is what just happened to them, and the accuracy is quite high.
She saw Bai Di's shoulders relax almost imperceptibly, as if he had finally confirmed something important.
At that moment, he suddenly became "real" - his originally pale skin regained its rosy color, his fluttering hair fell back on his shoulders, and even his feet began to feel solid, with the snow sinking slightly at the edge of his feet.
"I've run into a little problem," Bai Di raised his hand and rubbed his temple, his tone filled with familiar irritation, "Tsk, it's a bit troublesome."
As he moved, Nan Song suddenly noticed several dark red marks on his ankles and neck, like the marks left by being confined by heavy chains for a long time.
But what was even more shocking was that the chains had obviously been broken by violence - the skin in several places was even rubbed to a bloody mess, and tiny metal fragments were hanging on the edges of the wounds, shining coldly under the snow.
Bai Di noticed her gaze and pulled his collar to cover the scar nonchalantly: "Don't look at it, let's get out of this damn place first."
His voice returned to its former clarity, but Nan Song clearly saw that the moment he turned around, a strange blue light flashed deep in the wounds, as if something was still moving under the skin.
"It's getting dark, come with me first, I found Ma Tuan, he's in the house.
By the way, there is a "ghost" here. I am really impressed. In this era, there are still such things.
Bai Di's words were concise and calm, but Nan Song was shocked by what he said.
But Bai Di seemed to have guessed her reaction long ago.
"Go ahead, I'll tell you in detail later."
Bai Di and Nan Song ran frantically through the snow, their voices lowered to a whisper. "That thing was at least three meters tall. The clothes it wore were similar to ours, but they were all made of layers of rags like a monk's robe—"
He suddenly stopped and pulled Nansong to hide behind the back wall of a dilapidated snow-covered ancestral hall.
Under the moonlight, a tall figure in the distance slowly moved. The ghost's clothing was truly bizarre: over a dozen layers of fabric of varying colors, each densely covered with blood-red scripture. The writing seemed alive, writhing across the fabric, sometimes revealing the characters for "Earth" or "Dhi," and sometimes transforming into twisted Sanskrit symbols.
The most terrifying thing is its mask - the left half is a gilded image of a Bodhisattva with a compassionate smile; the right half is an evil ghost with a green face and fangs, with its mouth grinning from ear to ear.
There was a gap between the two completely different expressions, and the dark nothingness inside could be vaguely seen.
Nan Song covered his mouth tightly to prevent himself from screaming.
The ghost's walking posture was extremely strange - its knees seemed to be able to bend in the opposite direction, and with every step it took, the scriptures on its body would make a rustling sound.
Even more terrifying was what it was carrying: a wicker cage filled with wriggling...fingers?
"It always comes out in the middle of the night," Bai Di's voice trembled. "The villagers said they saw it pressing living people onto the altar and peeling off their skin piece by piece with its fingernails. The peeled skin becomes its new scripture cloth..."
As he was speaking, the ghost suddenly stopped, and the half face of the Bodhisattva on the mask slowly turned towards the direction where they were hiding. The curve of the corners of his mouth became wider and wider, and finally the whole mask split open from the middle with a "click", revealing the densely packed eyes inside.
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