I am a full-level celestial master, you let me enter the strange talk of rules?

Zhang Yangqing had no idea what the audience in front of the screen was laughing about.

He was very serious and focused on passing through the checkpoint.

At least that's what he thinks.

That one eye was eerie and very powerful.

In fact, Zhang Yangqing could see, hear, and even smell the blood, but so what?

As long as Zhang Yangqing can determine that the strange creature's appearance now is to provoke him into making a mistake and to delay his search for a room, then even if the strange creature is powerful at this stage, it certainly cannot make a move, otherwise it would have already done so.

Since that's the case, Zhang Yangqing will simply choose to ignore it.

The terrifying thing about him is that he doesn't disrupt his own rhythm while ignoring things, doesn't let himself be swayed by emotions, and doesn't make wrong judgments because of emotions.

It was also because One-Eyed Weird was so angry that this guy didn't give him any face at all.

While others struggle to survive in the world of supernatural tales, Zhang Yangqing is solving mysteries.

The difference between survival and decryption is that one involves panic, while the other involves composure.

One eye mysteriously disappeared. Zhang Yangqing searched for a while, but the corridor grew deeper and darker, and even the beam of his flashlight seemed to be weak.

Zhang Yangqing walked at a leisurely pace. After about 7 minutes, he stopped and smelled the scent of laundry detergent.

He followed the scent to a door.

This door is similar to the others; the gaps are very tight, preventing light from getting in.

However, the smell of laundry detergent was very strong inside.

The door was locked. Zhang Yangqing took out his keychain, the ten keys gleaming with a dull metallic luster in the dim light.

He brought the keychain close to the lock, but instead of inserting it immediately, he first ran his fingers along the edge of the keyhole to feel the shape of the lock cylinder.

Then he picked out a key, inserted it, and the first one was right.

The key was inserted into the lock, fitting perfectly. It made a slight "click" sound as it turned, and the latch retracted, opening the door a crack.

Viewers might think it was just good luck.

If you get the right key on the first out of ten, what else can it be but luck?
But Zhang Yangqing knew that this was not luck.

Each key has a different tooth pattern, a different weight, and a different feel.

Even a keyhole has its own "personality." You can tell what kind of key the lock prefers by touching it with your finger.

This can be described as metaphysics, or it can be described as experience.

It was also an intuition he had developed through countless attempts regarding the subtle relationship between "key and lock".

How did Zhang Yangqing know this? Actually, Zhang Yangqing didn't need keys to open these locks; all he needed was some wire. As the saying goes, it's always good to have more skills.
Zhang Yangqing pushed open the door. It was very dark inside, but the beam of his flashlight pierced through and illuminated a small area.

Wherever the light reaches, you can see dozens of old-fashioned washing machines, cylindrical in shape, some with their lids open and others closed.

You can see a clothesline with several pieces of clothing hanging on it, their outlines casting eerie shadows in the flashlight beam.

The water on the ground was shallow, but it covered the entire room, and it made a "plop plop" sound when you stepped on it.

There was black mist in the room, which permeated the upper part of the room, obscuring the ceiling and blocking some of Zhang Yangqing's view, making his visibility poor.

Zhang Yangqing tried pressing the switch near the door, but there was no response.

The light isn't on, probably not because the bulb is broken, but because he no longer has "access" to this room.

It belongs to those things hidden in the black mist.

At this point, Zhang Yangqing had roughly determined that strange phenomena had occurred in the room.

In other words, something eerie is hiding in this room that could attack him.

Because this room already has a very high "presence," so high that those eerie entities no longer need to hide themselves, so high that they can move around right under his nose. Now, when he goes in, he needs to avoid those eerie entities and fix the security camera without being caught by them.

As for how to resolve the strange phenomenon?

Zhang Yangqing had already guessed that the chosen one's profession was a monitor, and his task was not exorcism, but to increase surveillance.

Once the surveillance footage is found and repaired, his "presence" in the room will increase, while the presence of the supernatural beings will be suppressed.

When his presence is strong enough, those strange entities don't meet the conditions to attack him.

It's not that they didn't want to attack him, it's that the rules wouldn't allow it.

This is Zhang Yangqing's understanding of permissions.

Zhang Yangqing took a deep breath and stepped into the laundry room.

Meanwhile, Jones, the chosen one from Australia, is also struggling in the laundry room.

Jones didn't have Zhang Yangqing's sense of smell, nor his intuitive grasp of keys.

He felt that the whole area smelled of laundry detergent, so he tried each door one by one, more than ten in total, before finally finding the laundry room.

Jones didn't get the right key on the first try. He tried seven keys, but couldn't turn them. He would pull them out and try a different one, then try again, and finally, on the seventh try, he finally opened the door.

His clothes were soaked with sweat, and you could tell he was nervous.

Some viewers might wonder why Jones's incredible luck didn't come through. Did he run out of luck?

That would be a huge mistake. Jones's most incredible luck is that it only "might" happen when things are truly dangerous.

At this point, it's just a waste of time; why waste your luck?

Jones was cautiously testing the waters himself, and his methods were effective; he wasn't relying entirely on luck.

At this point, Jones had already entered the laundry room, intending to fix the surveillance camera.

But after walking only a few steps, a shirt fell off the clothesline.

To be precise, he 'jumped' down from the rope.

The eerie shirt unfurled in mid-air, its sleeves flaring out and emitting black smoke, lunging towards Jones.

The strange shirt's sharp cuffs looked like two daggers, slicing towards Jones's neck.

A flash of cold light, and Jones could even see the row of fine, blade-like things along the edge of the cuff.

Jones bent over abruptly, almost folding himself in half. His shirt flew over his head, the cuffs brushing against his hair, and a few strands of hair broke off and floated in the air.

He had just straightened up when another piece of clothing arrived.

A dark, eerie long robe, its sleeves twisted like two boneless snakes, coiled around him from the left and right.

Jones dodged the left sleeve by sidestepping it, but the right sleeve had already wrapped around his arm.

One circle, two circles, three circles, the sleeves were wrapped tighter and tighter, and the moisture from the fabric seeped into the skin through the clothes, chilling to the bone.

His left arm began to go numb, and his fingers lost sensation, as if something was drawing his body heat away.

As you can see, Jones has been slightly contaminated. It really is external contamination. We need to avoid the contamination in time, and the contamination will disappear after a while.

But this strange robe seemed to be of very low quality. Jones pulled hard and actually tore it off, then tossed it aside.

Just as he dodged the eerie long robe, the eerie short sleeves attacked again, their sharp cuffs capable of slicing Jones's neck like tofu.

If that hits, Jones will die on the spot.

He didn't have time to dodge, but luckily, at the last second, his foot slipped, and a strange bucket rolled to his feet, tripping him up.

Jones leaned back, nearly hitting his head on the ground, but the sleeve swept just short of hitting him. (End of Chapter)