Forgotten Photo Studio

Chapter 69 Trouble is coming

The photo studio was unusually quiet for the next few days.

No new requests came in, and even the usual few curious passersby seemed to have been driven away by some invisible force.

During the day, Xu Yan would read through "The Secret Records of the Eighteen Gates" alone, repeatedly practicing those dangerous rituals that were almost self-harming in the dark room; at night, he would stay by Chen Zhiwei's side, wiping the cold sweat from her forehead and listening to her shallow and even breathing.

Time flows slowly beneath this seemingly calm surface.

But he knew in his heart that this tranquility was not peace, but rather the oppressive atmosphere before a storm.

Some people are like wine; at first taste, they are bland and unremarkable, with only a slight spiciness that gently glides over the throat; but when you look back after many years, you realize that the "aftertaste" has never faded.

And Chen Zhiwei is such a wine.

That's why each of her breaths felt so real to him, and made the tranquility all the more fragile.

After Zhou Wenbin's death, everything seemed ordinary, but in reality, it was like walking on a narrow path on a cliff, where every step could lead to a fall into the abyss.

As dusk fell, the once bustling streets suddenly fell silent.

The sounds of hawking and traffic were cut off one by one as if by a giant hand, leaving only a suffocating silence in the air.

Xu Yan's heart tightened, and she quietly walked to the window and lifted the corner of the curtain.

Across the street, two unmarked black vans were parked.

Several people dressed in casual clothes but with lean figures and sharp eyes were wandering around seemingly casually.

Further down the alleyway, temporary roadblocks were set up, with people dressed in what appeared to be security uniforms on duty.

They are coming.

It wasn't a large-scale clearing operation, but rather a more suffocating and precise deployment.

The photo studio became the focus of online discussion.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

It was unhurried yet carried an undeniable air of authority.

Xu Yan smiled.

What's meant to come will come sooner or later; what's not meant to come will never knock on your door, no matter how long you wait.

Since you're here, let me show you around.

He reached out and opened the door a crack.

Three people were standing outside the door.

The leader was a bald man with a muscular build, as tall as an iron tower. Xu Yan recognized him; he was one of the silver-level contractors who had worked with him on a mission to the nursing home last time, and was known for his ruthless methods.

He wore a tactical vest, and his thick right arm was made entirely of a dark metal that slowly dripped black slime. The sharp drill bit at his fingertips was unconsciously spinning at a low speed, emitting a teeth-grinding hum.

"Xu Yan." The sound of the drill arm was like sandpaper rubbing together. His metal drill arm, dripping with viscous fluid, was intentionally or unintentionally aimed at Xu Yan. "That job at the nursing home was a real hassle to clean up. You left cleanly, though."

Xu Yan stepped aside to let the door open, his tone calm: "The commotion was too loud; I thought it was an evacuation signal. It seems I misunderstood?"

“The site is cleared, but something’s missing.” The driller’s eyes were sharp as a hawk’s, fixed on him. “A very important piece of ‘iron.’ The last person to come into contact with it was you.”

"I encountered a powerful evil spirit, so I ran away because I couldn't defeat it," Xu Yan answered flawlessly.

The drill arm's lips slowly curled up, like a smile, but with a rough, sandpaper-like quality: "It ran clean."

Before he could finish speaking, his foot sank, and the floorboards creaked softly. His massive body suddenly pressed forward, bringing a suffocating sense of oppression, as if trying to crush Xu Yan's breath.

Xu Yan's gaze remained unchanged, but his hands naturally fell to his sides, his fingertips lightly tapping the cold iron rings of the keychain.

A crisp ding-dong sound rang out, like a response, or perhaps a warning.

The atmosphere became tense instantly.

"Can we go in and take a look? Just a routine matter," the drill arm said in a low voice, its tone as soft as a drill bit scraping against a rock wall.

His tone was questioning, but his steps had already crossed halfway across the threshold.

Just as the atmosphere reached its peak, and the drill arm had one foot halfway across the threshold.

Xu Yan suddenly turned to the side, not completely moving aside, but subtly using his shoulder to brace against the door frame, creating a delicate barrier.

A troubled, almost eerie smile appeared on his face.

“It’s perfectly fine for you officers to come in for routine business.” Xu Yan’s voice was not loud, but it seemed to freeze the dim light inside the door. “However, there is something I need to make clear first. Our photo studio, on the surface, takes business from the living, but our family’s main business is taking funeral photos of ‘that kind of thing.’ The studio’s decor is somewhat gloomy and not very clean.”

Upon hearing this, the drill arm paused, its eagle eyes narrowing even more as it scrutinized Xu Yan, as if judging whether this was a clumsy attempt at intimidation.

A younger teammate behind him scoffed, his tone laced with disdain:

"Ha, who are you trying to scare? What are we? Emergency Response Center! Exorcising ghosts and evil spirits is our basic skill! Besides, with our driller boss here, a silver-level contractor, what kind of evil spirits haven't we dealt with? Do you think we're afraid of a few wandering souls here?"

Xu Yan's gaze swept over the team member, finally settling on the expressionless face of the drill arm. His tone was as calm as if stating an objective fact: "What you caught were 'wandering souls' lingering in the human world. I'm talking about... things that leaked out 'from below'."

"Next?" The driller's brow twitched almost imperceptibly, his voice low and deep. "Explain clearly."

“Hell.” Xu Yan uttered these two words, his voice not loud, but they stirred an invisible chill in the silent hall. “A few days ago, during a ritual, a crack was accidentally opened. Although it was sealed in time, there were inevitably one or two ‘lower-level’ things that weren’t cleaned out and are still hiding in the corners of the hall. They are not quite the same as the ones you usually deal with.”

He turned to the side, completely opening the doorway, and the deep shadows inside the building seemed to come alive, slowly flowing outwards.

"Why don't you all come in?" Xu Yan's tone even carried a hint of invitation. "You could help us clean up, saving me trouble later. However... they are very aggressive, and they especially like... the life force of living people."

The team member who had been sneer just moments before lost some color in his face, subconsciously swallowed, and his gaze involuntarily drifted towards the bottomless dark corner of the building.

Another team member tensed up, his hand quietly resting on the weapon at his waist.

The drill arm fell silent.

His drill arm, which was constantly dripping with viscous fluid, increased its rotation speed almost imperceptibly, emitting a fainter hum.

Someone of his stature could naturally sense that this photo studio was extraordinary.

The "yin energy" here is not scattered and disorderly, but rather settled and layered, as if it were part of some ancient restriction.

Xu Yan's words were nine parts bluff, but at least one part might be true.

It would be foolish to rashly step into someone's home turf before fully understanding their situation.

The drill arm stared at Xu Yan's innocent expression, as if saying, "I was just trying to be helpful," then glanced at the bottomless darkness inside the building and snorted coldly, "Playing tricks..."

He was already considering backing out. Taking risks for an uncertain piece of "Soul-Suppressing Iron" was not his style.

But he still couldn't help but look inside, his gaze fixed on the half-closed door of the darkroom.

There seemed to be a very thin ray of light flickering inside, unlike a lamp, more like... a breath suppressed to its limit.

The drill bit at the fingertips of the drill arm spun silently, the gaze deep and unwavering.

What exactly is sealed inside the photo studio, something even more coveted than the "Soul-Suppressing Iron"?
Is the Forgotten Photo Studio truly a place where "ghosts" from hell are sealed?
(End of this chapter)