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

As the saying goes, it's never a bad thing to have many skills. Zhang Yangqing picked up the camera in the corner of the studio. It was an old-fashioned film camera with a black body and a silver lens, and it was quite heavy.

He tried it out, and the shutter sounded crisp, the aperture could be adjusted, the focus could be turned, and it was still usable.

Zhang Yangqing planned to take photos of the little girl in different settings: in the fairytale forest, she would squat by the stream watching the fish; in front of the crayon drawing, she would reach out to touch the sun; and in the classical study, she would lie on the table drawing.

Zhang Yangqing let her do whatever she wanted, without posing or giving instructions, simply relying on his excellent photography skills to capture the moment.

He took many photos, each one different from the angle, and each moment was top-notch.

The photos turned out great.

The picture of the little girl in the fairytale forest shows sunlight filtering through the leaves and shining on her face; her eyes are sparkling.

In the picture before the crayon drawing, she reached out and touched the sun; the sun's yellow color was exactly the same as the crayon color on her finger.

In the study, she was asleep, slumped over the table, a quill pen between her fingers, and an unfinished drawing on the paper.

After taking the photos, Zhang Yangqing expertly developed them and then woke the little girl up.

The sleepy little girl jumped up with joy when she saw the photo, hugged it tightly to her chest, and exclaimed, "Big brother, your photography skills are amazing! They're even better than the photographers the mistress used to hire!"

Upon hearing what the little girl said, the melancholy eeriness and the red-haired psychic came over to look.

At first, they thought Zhang Yangqing was talking nonsense, that no one could be so versatile, but they didn't expect him to film it so well.

The melancholy man picked up a photo, looked at it for a long time, and said, "This angle, this lighting, this timing of the shot—these aren't things you can just snap a picture of by randomly pressing the shutter button. And there's no post-processing involved. This is the kind of photography skill that could be used to open an exhibition hall."

The red-haired psychic nodded. He didn't understand photography, but he could tell that these photos were different from the ones hanging on the walls of those young masters and ladies; they were more natural, more vivid, and more heartwarming.

It's no exaggeration to say they have the ability to run an exhibition hall.

Zhang Yangqing also took a picture of the Six-Eyed Weasel. In the photo, the Six-Eyed Weasel is lying on the ground with its six eyes half-closed and its tail curled up, exuding the domineering and arrogant aura of a crouching lion.

After the photos were developed, Zhang Yangqing handed them to him.

The six-eyed weasel took the photo, looked at it, tilted its head, nodded, and grinned.

The expression clearly said: This human's photography skills are pretty good; they managed to capture my handsome side.

In a way, Zhang Yangqing also managed to gain some goodwill towards this beast.

At this moment, there were still important things to do, and Zhang Yangqing was observing the ceiling of the photography studio.

In the corner, there was a black, round camera with the indicator light off.

Zhang Yangqing found a stool and casually flipped the switch on the camera.

The indicator light came on, the dark aura in the room began to dissipate, and the discomfort that had been pressing on my chest receded like the tide.

The oppressive atmosphere slowly dissipated, the air returned to normal, the light returned to normal, and even the color of the walls seemed a few shades brighter than before.

The red-haired psychic and the melancholy weirdo next to him exchanged a glance. They both knew that the most dangerous place next was the monitoring room.

Looking at the happy little girl, Zhang Yangqing said, "Would you like to sit in the monitoring room? We can have the little mouse perform something fun for you later."

Upon hearing that something fun was going to happen, the little girl jumped up happily, her ponytail swinging back and forth: "Yay! Yay!"

She bent down, grabbed the tail of the six-eyed weasel, and dragged it away.

The six-eyed weasel was gazing intently at its own photo, narcissistically admiring its own handsomeness, when it was dragged up, all six eyes opened simultaneously, looking completely bewildered.

It didn't struggle; it was dragged along by the little girl, its body rubbing against the ground, its fur getting all ruffled.

And so, the three adults, the child, and the pet entered the monitoring room in a grand procession. The little girl, upon arriving, curiously looked around.

She ran to the monitoring console, stood on tiptoe, and looked at the row of screens: "Big brother, what are these? How can we see so many images?"

She pointed to one of the screens, which showed a toy room where many of her familiar toys were located.

Zhang Yangqing said, "These are surveillance cameras; they can show many rooms in this building."

The little girl ran to the corner again, looked up at the hanging rope, which swayed slightly in the light, casting a small shadow: "Big brother, what's that rope with the rings for?"

Zhang Yangqing remained expressionless: "For swinging on a swing."

The little girl tilted her head, looked at the position and height of the rope, and pouted, "This swing is too high, I can't climb up."

The corners of the mouths of the melancholy eeriness and the red-haired psychic twitched simultaneously: Dude, you really dare to say that.

The little girl asked many more questions: what does this button do? Why does that red light flash? Why are some images black and white?

Zhang Yangqing answered them one by one, unhurriedly.

She kept asking questions like she had a million whys, but Zhang Yangqing never got impatient.

At this moment, all eight surveillance cameras are turned on, and with the newly installed one in the monitoring room, a total of nine screens are displayed.

In the monitoring room footage, there were four people and a pet. The six-eyed weasel was lying on the ground with its tail curled up and its eyes half-closed, as if it might fall asleep at any moment.

At first, everything was calm.

Zhang Yangqing stared at the surveillance footage, looking at each one one by one.

The library was empty, building blocks were scattered all over the playroom, and the washing machine in the laundry room was still running.

The next second, the door slammed shut.

With a "bang," the door panel slammed into the door frame, and the latch popped out.

It wasn't the wind that was blowing it; some force locked the door from the inside.

The entire monitoring room experienced void fluctuations; the air began to distort, the light began to bend, and the field of vision began to blur.

Countless snowflakes appeared before my eyes, as if something was tearing apart the stability of this room, peeling it away from this building.

In the surveillance footage, Zhang Yangqing saw someone who shouldn't have been there.

The man was wearing a monitor's uniform, exactly the same as the one he was wearing, but older in style and darker in color.

His face was obscured by a thin mist; only his outline could be seen.

He stood motionless in the corner of the monitoring room, facing the camera.

Immediately afterwards, the lights above the monitoring room began to flash.

One light, one dark; one light, one dark; the frequency increases rapidly.

The entire monitoring room began to change; the walls were no longer walls, and the ceiling was no longer a ceiling.

Everyone was pulled into a twisted and bizarre world.

The sky was grayish-white, without clouds, without the sun, and without end.

The ground was black and soft; you'd sink into it when you stepped on it, like walking through a swamp. (End of Chapter)