My Strange Tale Love Strategy Simulator

Now that Xiao Hei was asleep, Zhang Ying could only rely on himself. After making some mental preparations, he went upstairs.

He pressed himself against the wall, moving quietly up one step at a time. The motion-sensor light at the corner of the fourth floor was off, and in the darkness, only his deliberately suppressed breathing could be heard.

Deep, muffled roars and heavy thuds echoed from upstairs, each impact causing the stair railing to tremble slightly.

When I reached the fifth floor, I heard pacing footsteps overhead, one after the other, alternating on the floor of the vocal room.

Zhang Ying's heart sank. Judging from the footsteps, there were two people upstairs. The fog outside had trapped the entire school, but these two were calmly guarding this place.

Considering the dissuading nature of the mist and the fact that Li Ziqing was once sealed away, the answer is self-evident: the two people on the sixth floor are most likely the group that sealed Li Ziqing back then, or their successors.

He gritted his teeth, lightened his pace slightly, and continued to search upwards. Whether the two people above were good or bad, he couldn't allow them to continue harming Li Ziqing.

If they seal Li Ziqing away again, or even eliminate her directly, my life, which is tied to Li Ziqing, will also be lost.

A single, stark white emergency light illuminated the sixth-floor corridor. Just as he stepped onto the last step, a thunderous shout erupted from behind the tightly closed door of the vocal room.

"Whose capable person has come up here? Don't they know there are people taking care of business here?"

They'd been discovered. Zhang Ying's heart tightened, but he didn't dodge any further. The voice was old and rough, like a broken gong; it belonged to an old man.

He decided to drop the pretense, strode up the last few steps, cupped his hands in a respectful gesture towards the vocal room, and said in a voice as respectful and relaxed as possible, "Seniors, I apologize for my rudeness. I saw something interesting happening here while I was wandering around outside, and I was wondering if I could come and join in."

"Heh, where did this reckless brat come from, daring to join in any kind of excitement?" Another voice came from the same direction, deeper and more muffled than the first, like drumbeats pressing up from underground. "Didn't your master teach you any rules for navigating the world?"

Zhang Ying peered down the corridor from the stairwell. His Eerie Eyes were still on, and now his vision was filled with swirling black mist. A dozen black mist beasts, resembling wolves, were crouching in the corridor outside the vocal room, their throats emitting low growls, and rows of sharp teeth were faintly visible in the mist.

They didn't pounce, but each pair of empty eye sockets locked his direction, preventing him from getting close to the tightly closed door.

A cold sweat broke out on his back, but his expression remained unchanged as he continued to bow and say, "Senior, please don't be offended. I was a disciple of Houtian Peak, but I slipped away before I even learned a move or two. My master really didn't teach me any rules for navigating the world."

When you're out and about, you have to choose your own identity. To avoid being targeted by those two old men, he put on a facade that sounded plausible.

There was a moment of silence behind the door of the vocal music room. Then that thunderous voice boomed out again: "The Day After Tomorrow Peak? Those old ghosts who are almost all dead would be willing to let their disciples enter the mortal world? You must be lying to me!"

Before the words were even finished, more than a dozen wolves in the corridor bristled, arched their backs, bared their sharp teeth, and growled so loudly that the walls of the corridor trembled slightly.

Zhang Ying quickly softened his tone, making it even more sincere: "Senior, didn't I just say? I snuck out. If my master finds out, I'll be locked up for ten or eight years!"

"Hmph." A furious snort pierced through the wall, causing the door of the vocal room to vibrate loudly. The dozen or so wolves in the corridor seemed to have been lashed by an invisible whip, simultaneously lowering their bodies and turning into wisps of smoke that dissipated into the mist.

Zhang Ying secretly breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that this disguise had been the right thing to do. Being exposed was a minor matter; if he accidentally lost his life, he would have lost everything.

A muffled voice came from inside the house, the tone slightly milder than before: "Boy from Houtian Peak, I advise you to leave immediately. Considering that one of your senior brothers is a distinguished guest of our spiritual and folk exchange meeting, we will not make things difficult for you."

Leaving is out of the question. We have to find a way to get in.

Zhang Ying's mind raced, and he bowed again to the closed door of the vocal room: "So you're important figures from the Spiritual Exchange Association. No wonder your voices sounded so familiar. May I go in and pay you a visit?"

"Do you recognize us?" he asked in a muffled voice.

"I just wanted to get to know you two seniors," Zhang Ying said, striking a respectful pose outside the door.

"good!"

"I'll give you a chance!"

The moment the thunderous sound exploded behind the door, the vocal room door sprang open.

Before Zhang Ying could even see anything clearly inside the room, a pair of large hands made of twisted gray-black smoke suddenly reached out from the door frame, their five fingers spread wide, and grabbed his neck.

The smoke had no physical form, yet the pressure on his throat was as hard as iron clamps. Zhang Ying instinctively reached out to pry it open, but his fingers slipped through the smoke and grasped nothing.

He was lifted into the air by the neck, his toes dragging him over the threshold, and he was pulled into the vocal room like a chick being picked up.

boom!

The door behind him closed by itself. He was left hanging in mid-air, his vision blurring due to lack of oxygen, but his eerie eyes remained open.

My gaze swept across the vocal room. The piano had been pushed to the corner, the podium was tilted to one side, and all the tables and chairs had been brute forcefully cleared around the room, leaving a large empty space in the center of the floor.

In the very middle of that open space stood two old men dressed in white mourning clothes, staring at him with unfriendly expressions.

The tall, emaciated old man had black spots on his wrists and neck, exposed outside his mourning clothes, spreading like mold from his collar up to his chin. He had a copper pipe dangling from his mouth, the black smoke from the pipe flickering, and a green paper lantern in his left hand, the paper reflecting distorted runes.

The large, smoky hand gripping Zhang Ying's neck was formed from the black smoke drifting from his pipe.

The short old man stood half a step in front of him, his eyes white with no pupils, and a chilling smile on his face. He had one hand behind his back, and in the other hand he held a stack of round, yellow ghost money, his thumb fiddling with the edge of the paper one by one, as if counting money.

Behind the two, a two-meter-tall green lantern phantom stood on the floor. The lantern phantom was several times larger than the actual object the tall man was carrying, and green light shone through the lantern paper, turning the entire vocal room into a gloomy, pale green.

Within the illusory lantern shadows, a doll dressed in a blood-red ballet costume was trapped. Her fists pounded repeatedly against the inner wall of the shadow; her wooden knuckles struck silently, only creating ripples of green light. With each strike, the shadow swayed, but it never broke.

Seeing this, Zhang Ying's heart sank. Even Li Ziqing was trapped; these two old men were definitely not ordinary people.

The tall old man took the pipe out of his mouth, and at the same time, the large hand that had been gripping Zhang Ying's neck loosened its grip.

Zhang Ying fell to the ground, his knees and hands landing simultaneously, followed by a series of coughs. A ring of dark blue finger marks was visibly appearing on his neck.

The short old man strolled up to him, loosened his grip, and a round piece of ghost money floated from his fingertips. The thin yellow paper landed on the ground with a dull thud, like a stone block hitting the earth!

boom!

Zhang Ying was pressed firmly to the ground by an invisible force, his chest pressed against the ground, his cheeks squeezed out of shape, and he couldn't even lift a finger.

"Ha, a mere yellow paper was enough to subdue him. I thought he had some real ability." The short old man lowered his head, looking at him with his pupil-less eyes, his smile unchanged. "Turns out you're just a nobody who hasn't even entered the gate. Tell me, what exactly is your purpose in coming here?"

Zhang Ying was pinned to the ground, each word squeezed out through clenched teeth: "I... just want to get to know you two seniors."

"Ha! You little brat, you dare lie to us!" The tall old man roared, and a plume of black smoke suddenly spewed from his pipe. The black smoke condensed into a long whip in the air, lashing down with a sharp whooshing sound, and landed solidly on Zhang Ying's back.

Snapped!

His school uniform was torn open, revealing a bloody gash that ran diagonally from his shoulder blade to his waist. Zhang Ying winced in pain, letting out a muffled groan, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead onto the concrete floor. He gritted his teeth, forcing out the words, "Aren't you two afraid my master will seek revenge on you for treating me like this?"

"Hmph, Master?" The short old man squatted down, bringing his pupil-less face close to Zhang Ying's, his nose almost touching Zhang Ying's. That eerie smile was still on his face, but his tone was like he was teasing a half-dead mouse.

"Everyone in the industry knows that the traitor from Houtian Peak who slaughtered most of Houtian Peak and then joined our Spiritual and Mortal Exchange Association is a beast that every disciple of Houtian Peak wants to kill!"

"You heard about our spiritual exchange association and your senior brother's name, and instead of running away or seeking help, you wanted to come and pay your respects to us?"

He tilted his head, his smile remaining unchanged.

"Tell me! Which sect or faction do you belong to?"

Oops!

We've run right into the line of fire!

Zhang Ying was pressed to the ground, his chest against the cold tiles, his heart pounding wildly behind his ribs.