Forgotten Photo Studio

Chapter 64 The True Technique of Walking in the Underworld
The world is like a negative that has been flipped over, with all the outlines distorted and reversed.

A strange reflection appeared in Xu Yan's eyes:

The ghostly figure turned into a grayish-white negative in his vision, but the eerie fire was dazzlingly bright. The cold shadow of the giant claw cracked into mottled cracks in his eyes, as if it would collapse at any moment.

"Shadows lock souls... Abyss devours shadows."

A whisper escaped his throat, a low, hoarse voice that seemed not to be his own language, but rather a voice from some ancient being speaking through him.

His right arm rose, and the camera lens suddenly expanded.

The black halo expanded outwards in layers, like a bottomless abyss slowly opening its mouth.

"Click."

The shutter was pressed again.

The air was instantly stretched, and the shadows on the street twisted wildly, as if they were all about to be sucked in.

The ghostly claws were already close at hand, and a chill ran through them.

But in that instant, the light circle collapsed into a vortex.

A low, swallowing sound emanated from the vortex, like the wailing of millions of souls at the same moment.

The giant claw was suddenly pulled, its finger bones twisted and deformed. Before the sharp howl could be uttered, it turned into countless fragments of shadow, which were torn apart inch by inch and rolled into the depths of the lens!
Zhou Wenbin watched helplessly as his killing move was swallowed up, his pupils suddenly shrinking to the size of pinpoints, a sense of horror welling up in his heart.

"...Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"

Zhou Wenbin gasped for breath, his chest heaving like a bellows, and cold sweat trickled down his temples.

The fingernails were almost embedded in the palm.

"You forced this out of me."

The interplay of black and white light shimmered in Xu Yan's eyes, like eyes that had been baptized by a negative.

Tormented by pain and loss of control, his voice was low and broken, yet carried a chilling and unyielding hardness.

The moment the voice fell, his consciousness jolted.

This time, what disappeared was not a memory, but something deeper—the original intention that had supported him all the way.

He was suddenly bewildered:
Why did I raise my camera? Why did I fight to the death with a ghost?
That obsession with "wanting to prove that there are still people in the world who are willing to solemnly remember another person's appearance" is being ruthlessly stripped away.

It's like the last unexposed negative, rapidly turning black and becoming unusable under strong light.

He suddenly caught a glimpse of a blurry face, and a girl whispered, "Xu Yan, you must persevere, I will wait for you."

Before she could finish speaking, her face dissolved into nothingness, like dust swept away by the wind, leaving not even a trace.

Who exactly is she?

The tearing sensation was deeper than physical pain, as if the whole world was forcing him to forget.

My chest felt empty for a moment, as if my heart had been ripped out.

A soul that has lost its anchor teeters precariously on the edge of an abyss of nothingness.

He clenched his fist and the projection of the black and white world vibrated.

The shadows on both sides of the street seemed to be torn apart by some force, peeled off in strips, and transformed into black snake-like phantoms that meandered and coiled, rushing straight towards Zhou Wenbin.

Zhou Wenbin's expression changed drastically, and he immediately activated it in the opposite direction.

He abruptly ripped the remaining ghost from the car's surface and forcibly pinched it back together in mid-air.

The billowing black energy surged and churned, as if instantly bound and forged by countless invisible chains.

"Boom--!"

The air vibrated suddenly.

The black mist folded and condensed, transforming into black banners fluttering in the wind.

The soul banners trembled, and fierce ghosts howled, piling up in layers to form a terrifying ghost array, as if pushing the entire street into the abyss of hell!
"Kid, you dare to raise a ghost with your own body?" Zhou Wenbin gritted his teeth. "Then let you taste the true secrets of a spirit medium..."

He suddenly opened his mouth and recited in a loud voice:

"Heaven and earth have forbidden this; the three souls and seven spirits are at my command. Shadow Gate, open!"

The moment Zhou Wenbin began chanting the incantation, Xu Yan felt not the power within his body, but the deathly silence around him.

The sound of the wind, the distant horns of cars, and even the sound of my own heartbeat seemed to have been erased by an invisible hand.

The ghost banner was unfurled, resembling a gate to death.

Countless withered, ghostly hands emerged from behind the door, their pale blue-white color and black fingernails striking Xu Yan simultaneously.

A cold wind rushed into Xu Yan's lungs, feeling like they were filled with shards of ice. Xu Yan's throat tightened, and his chest felt like it was about to explode.

He gripped the camera tightly, the veins on the back of his hand bulging, as if he were not holding an object, but clutching his last breath.

A ridiculous thought flashed through his mind: if he let go now, would those ghostly hands pull him out like peeling off a shell?
Zhou Wenbin's face was illuminated by the ghostly fire, his eyes were cold, but his tone carried an almost pious arrogance: "Those who walk the path of the dead are inherently defying life and death. The world laughs at us for making a living from the underworld, but we remember far more than they do."

The Classic of Mountains and Seas speaks of a path to the return of souls in the northwest, while the Records of Searching for Spirits recounts a soul wandering aimlessly for a hundred years… I, Zhou Wenbin, was born to walk this path! With the soul banner unfurled, a hundred ghosts follow—the Blood Gate, open!

With a final low growl, the second gate of hell burst open.

Vengeful spirits surged forth like a tide: armored warrior spirits with cold flames burning in their eye sockets; disheveled female ghosts, dripping blood from their seven orifices, wailing like a death knell; and ghost fetuses the size of infants, their screams piercing straight to their brains.

The streets transformed into a churning pool of water amidst the blood-red illusion.

Xu Yan suddenly felt that the world had become completely distorted, as if this street had never existed.

Xu Yan's chest tightened suddenly, almost suffocating him.

The "Abyss" deep within the seal, stimulated by these countless soul shadows, has finally awakened completely.

It suddenly burst open!

A deep cracking sound exploded in his mind, as if his skull had been ripped open.

The street before my eyes suddenly became distorted, the light bulbs of the streetlights crackled and popped, and electric sparks danced wildly in the black and white world.

His heart sank suddenly, as if the weight of "Abyss" had stepped on his heart when it emerged, as cold as if an iron nail had been driven into it.

"Ugh!"

Xu Yan's pupils suddenly contracted into black and white double rings.

The shadow instantly twisted, transforming into surging waves of ink that swept across the surroundings.

Amidst the waves, countless reflected faces roared and howled.

The moment the vengeful ghost pounced, it was enveloped by the black waves, turning into a black and white negative-like phantom, which was then torn apart and shattered into dust.

"Wake it up for me!"

Zhou Wenbin was horrified and frantically waved the soul banner.

The moment the banner was unfurled, it was caught by the waves of ink and turned back.

His body trembled violently, and his soul was as if it had been forcibly peeled away by a film negative.

However, he did not retreat immediately. Instead, he grinned maliciously, bit his tongue, and sprayed a mouthful of blood mist onto his forehead.

The blood-red light condensed into an ancient rune, transforming into a miniature ghost gate.

The lights on the billboard at the street corner suddenly went out, and even the traffic lights went black, leaving only the bloody light flashing, making his shadow at his feet look eerily distorted.

"I will sacrifice this wisp of my soul to open another door—the Mirror Door—so that your soul may be reflected!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the burning soul transformed into a pale beam of light, not attacking Xu Yan's body, but shining directly at the swirling, distorted shadow beneath his feet caused by the "Abyss".

The moment the beam of light struck, Xu Yan felt a bone-chilling cold rush from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head.

His previously restless shadow suddenly "froze".

The outline of the shadow began to ripple violently, as if something underwater was struggling to emerge.

Immediately afterwards, the features of the shadow's head began to emerge clearly—the lines of the brow bone and the bridge of the nose... it was none other than Xu Yan's own face.

But that "face" was distorted to the extreme, like a film negative that had burned through and failed to develop.

It opened its mouth and let out a silent shriek, its eyes filled with a utter desire for destruction.

The "shadow face" suddenly raised its head, also holding a camera in its hand.

But the lens wasn't glass; it was a pitch-black, deep hole.

"Click."

The sound of a camera shutter echoed through the void, but no light or shadow was captured; only a piece of memory deep within Xu Yan's chest was forcibly ripped away.

He was suddenly jolted.

That was the first time he raised his camera to take a portrait of an unknown homeless man on a street corner.

He remembered that in the photo, the man's eyes were clear, as if he had finally been seen with respect.

But at this moment, the photograph gradually turns to ashes inside the black hole lens, and even the negative disappears.

He suddenly remembered that he had promised someone that he would photograph every face that would not be remembered. But now, even that 'someone' had been erased.

Even more terrifying, Xu Yan felt his facial muscles begin to twitch uncontrollably, as if trying to mimic the crazed expression of the "himself" in the shadow! His will was being assimilated by the reflection in the shadow.

"Do not--!"

His chest tightened suddenly, and he almost suffocated.

Zhou Wenbin grinned maliciously: "Look, your shadow looks more like a living person than you do..."

(End of this chapter)