Horror games? Whatever, I'll die.

[Task: Please find your class and complete your evening lesson.]

[Reward: 100 points]

After everyone received their tasks, they looked at each other for a while before Sheng Jingyu took the lead and headed towards the teaching building.

The teaching building is a small, two-story building with classes 1-4 on the first floor and classes 5-8 on the second floor. Every seat was gradually filled with students, leaving no room for them.

The small classroom was crammed with over forty sets of desks and chairs. Looking through the glass back door, all you could see were silent, dark heads, swaying slightly as the teacher lectured on stage.

Feng Peng was sweating profusely, his lips were dry and chapped, and his voice was hoarse. "The classroom is full, where are we supposed to sit?"

Liang Zaibing stood at the end of the corridor next to Class 8 and looked around for a while. Suddenly, she pointed to an inconspicuous little door next to the toilet and said, "Class 9 is over there."

Feng Peng looked closely for several minutes before finally finding a blurry engraving on the wooden door: "9".

"It really is here."

Liang Zaibing didn't say much, "Let's go in."

Feng Peng subconsciously pushed open the door to Class 9.

The old wooden door creaked and groaned, like an old man nearing the end of his life.

A strong smell of dust hit the air, and the four corners of the room were covered with tattered cobwebs and a thick layer of ash.

The blackboard was older than them; one corner was cracked, revealing the white powder wall behind it.

In the sweltering 40°C heat, there wasn't a single fan in the classroom; it was like a sauna.

The small room, about seven or eight square meters, was crammed full of eight tables. Liang Zaibing chose a seat on the right side of the second row, with Mo Qiuping in front of her and the left side empty.

After the five of them sat down, they were practically pressed chest to back, making it difficult for them to even turn around.

Why were these players specifically assigned to the empty Class 9?

What happened here, or is there something special about it?

"Let's take advantage of the time before the teacher arrives and explore this classroom."

After Liang Zaibing finished speaking, the others dispersed to check every corner of the room.

Liang Zaibing focused her attention on the table in front of her.

The entire classroom was dusty and grimy, except for this set of desks and chairs, which were exceptionally clean, their natural wood surfaces so shiny they could be used as mirrors.

However, from an angle, you can see the pitted and uneven marks on the table, which seem to be marks left by writing too hard.

Perhaps we can discover something by reconstructing the handwriting.

Mo Qiuping stood in front of the blackboard for a long time. Apart from the chalk marks that hadn't been wiped clean, the most conspicuous thing on it was the crack, which was the deepest in the center and surrounded by radial cracks.

She reached out and touched it, saying thoughtfully, "This dent in the blackboard must have been made by someone, as for the tool..."

Feng Peng and his classmates immediately began searching the classroom for any suspicious items.

Liang Zaibing stood up, looked around, and picked up the stool she was sitting on. "I suspect it's this."

The stool seat is chipped at one corner, revealing the original wood grain. Upon closer inspection, you can also see some residual white wall plaster in the wood stubble.

“Very likely,” Mo Qiuping nodded. “Judging from this mark, the person who smashed the blackboard must have used all their strength.”

Liang Zaibing's eyes flickered. "I just don't know if he was in a bad mood and smashed the blackboard to vent his anger, or if he wanted to smash someone else's blackboard."

Feng Peng's face grew even uglier. "If the rebound force could shatter the blackboard like this, what chance would a person have if it hit them?"

“Who knows?” Liang Zaibing shrugged and sat back down to continue deciphering the blurry writing.

Liang Zaibing used the tools he redeemed from the mall to slowly trace the engravings on the table.

Actually, it would be much simpler to just draw directly on the table with a pen, but his intuition told him that he would be in big trouble if he smudged the table.

The rubbings show the characters overlapping in a messy manner, but the standard and rigid font is still discernible.

Liang Zaibing painstakingly separated the disjointed words and phrases, stringing them together into a paragraph.

Only then did he realize that the scattered writing covering the entire tabletop actually contained the same sentence—

I am a murderer who deserves to go to hell.

Liang Zaibing felt a strange heaviness in his heart. His hand stiffly pressed on the Xuan paper, ignoring the ink stains on it.

The rustling sounds of searching around suddenly fell silent, turning into a deathly stillness so deep it could drown you.

Liang Zaibing sensed something was wrong and immediately looked up.

The scene before me faded like an old movie, tinged with a faint yellow. Everyone else who was in the classroom just moments ago had vanished, replaced by several completely unfamiliar figures.

Several tall and strong boys surrounded him, their faces devoid of features, a chilling void.

The mouths on those faces wriggled, spitting out filthy and extremely insulting words.

"You're already in Class 9, what are you pretending to be a good student for? It disgusts me, ugh!"

"Weren't you supposed to be so brave, daring to kill your own father? How come you're such a coward in front of the teacher? Or are you just a jerk? You're as obedient as a dog to the people who beat you up?"

After listening for a couple of sentences, Liang Zaibing realized that they weren't talking to him, but to the person who had once sat in that position.

He moved aside, his body passing through the faceless boys.

It seems to be just an illusion, so he triggered a key clue and entered his memories?

Liang Zaibing composed herself and continued to look at the center of the encirclement.

Although the thin boy sitting there had his head down and his face was obscured, Liang Zaibing recognized him at a glance as number 11.

Was that ruthless killer who obeyed the principal's orders like this before?

That makes sense; ghosts were all human before they died.

The more tragic and unjust the death, the more powerful the ghost becomes.

But he couldn't understand why No. 11, after becoming an evil spirit, didn't take revenge on the principal and teachers, but instead obeyed the principal's orders.

The scene before them changed. These faceless male ghosts were no longer satisfied with insults and curses. They grabbed the boy and started punching him.

But the boy did not resist. He lowered his head and silently endured the pain, without even letting out a scream or a cry of pain, like a silent gourd.

The faceless male ghosts were frustrated and still not satisfied, so one of them grabbed a chair and smashed it against him with all his might.

Perhaps out of anger, he didn't know his own strength and the sharp corner of the stool struck the boy's forehead hard, causing blood to gush out instantly and stain half of his face red.

The boy who threw the chair had a radiating pattern of blood spots sprayed onto the right side of his neck.

The boy swayed and fell to the ground, while the stool, still reeling from the impact, shot off and slammed into the blackboard with a bang, smashing a large dent into the stone blackboard.

The faceless male ghosts panicked and shoved each other for a while before someone finally checked his breath and heartbeat.

No, nothing.

As the ghosts were filled with fear, a faceless male ghost stepped forward and said, "What are you afraid of? We've killed people before, so one more won't make a difference."

"Just secretly take the body out and dispose of it properly."

Liang Zaibing watched helplessly as they lifted up No. 11's body and prepared to leave Class 9's classroom.

When he opened the door, he vaguely glimpsed someone outside, dressed in a teacher's uniform, with a face that was...

- Knock knock.

The crisp tapping sound rang in his ears, but it was like a thunderclap from a clear sky.

Liang Zaibing suddenly came to her senses and realized that she had returned to reality from the illusion.

He sat in his original seat, and a hand reached over and tapped the table. The hand was deathly pale and exuded a dark aura, with bruises of varying depths all over his joints and wrists.

A cold, lifeless voice came from above.

"This is my seat."