I picked up a boyfriend in the infinite game

Chapter 243, 4th Hall, 8

The morning light slanted across the back wall of the supply and marketing cooperative, illuminating the weeds in the corner with every detail, but bringing no warmth whatsoever.

Song Guicheng and Sun Zhida did not go directly into the supply and marketing cooperative, but instead went around to the back of the building to look at the scratches that Sun Zhida had mentioned yesterday.

The alleyway was already filled with a faint smell of blood mixed with the damp earth, but the closer you got to the back door, the stronger the smell became. It felt like Song Guicheng's nose was wrapped in a wet, bloody cloth, and the bloody smell went straight down his throat.

Sun Zhida also smelled it, but unlike Song Guicheng, his senses were not as sharp; he simply frowned.

Both of them subconsciously slowed their footsteps.

Song Guicheng stopped at the back door, bent down to investigate, and his long white hair, tied behind his head, fell down as he bent over.

He first carefully examined the large lock on the door. The lock was rusted black, with a pitted surface and a thick layer of dust in the keyhole. There were no unusual signs, indicating that it had not been opened normally for a long time.

“The lock hasn’t been touched,” Sun Zhida said in a low voice, standing beside him with his arms crossed and his gaze sweeping over the ground around the back door. “But look down there.”

Song Guicheng crouched down, his fingertips gently brushing against the wooden plank at the bottom of the back door. The edges of the plank were already rotten and riddled with wormholes, while several fresh scratches were clearly visible near the ground.

These are not marks of natural wear and tear; they look more like they were scraped from the outside in by something. There isn't even any dust on the edges of the scratches, so they were obviously made recently.

Song Guicheng ran his fingertips along the scratches, and the rustling, biting sounds he had heard last night flashed through his mind.

The door was locked, and the lock hadn't been touched. So, the sound from last night came from inside? Or... did something manage to get in through the gap at the bottom without opening the door?

The thought had barely crossed his mind when Song Guicheng's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. The gap at the bottom of the back door was less than two fingers wide; a human could never have squeezed through. But what if it wasn't a human...?

He took a deep breath and followed the overwhelming stench of blood, finally stopping on the ground to the right of the back door.

The smell of blood stopped abruptly there, as if it had been cut off by something.

The ground beneath my feet was damp and sticky. Because the alley was damp all year round, the soil was mixed with some rotten fallen leaves, making it soft to step on. The soil could cover up so many smells; as long as it was buried deep enough, it could be completely covered up.

Song Guicheng squatted down, brought his nose close to the ground, and smelled the earthy, rotten smell of fallen leaves, and the lingering smell of blood. Layer upon layer of these odors assaulted his sense of smell.

Song Guicheng picked up a small handful of soil with his fingertips and brought it to his nose to sniff.

The pungent smell made him instinctively tilt his head and cough lightly twice. But in that instant, he keenly detected another smell, faint and pungent with the characteristic irritation of chemicals, hidden within the heavy stench of blood, almost imperceptible.

—It's formalin.

It smells exactly the same as what I smelled at the clinic yesterday.

Song Guicheng's fingertips tightened slightly, his brows furrowed, and he stood up, slowly wiping his hands with a handkerchief as he thought of the two words Shi Sui had said last night: "heart-digger."

Formalin, heart label...

Song Guicheng said, "There's a smell of formaldehyde in the soil... This copy is probably related to the heart-removal incident."

Sun Zhida immediately understood Song Guicheng's meaning. He gripped the iron rod in his hand tightly, his tone somewhat heavy: "Who's digging out the heart? Why would they dig out the heart? Besides, what's the point of digging out the heart? To cure an illness?"

Sun Zhida could only think of this use. In this era, feudal superstition was rampant, and there were even ghosts and monsters in the dungeon. It sounded quite normal for a sick resident to have his heart removed to prolong his life.

Song Guicheng nodded: "Perhaps. Finding the answers to these questions should reveal the truth about the copy."

Sun Zhida pondered for a moment: "The entire alley is made of this kind of muddy ground, except for one place."

Song Guicheng looked up at him, clearly having the same thought as him.

“The ancestral hall that Chen Mo photographed yesterday,” Sun Zhida pointed to the direction deep in the alley, “the entrance to that ancestral hall is paved with bluestone bricks, it’s so clean, even the weeds have been trampled flat.”

“Ancestral hall.” Song Guicheng repeated the two words softly, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing his cuffs. The morning light fell on his face, concealing the emotions in his eyes.

Upon hearing the words "ancestral hall," my desire to investigate became even stronger. The smell of formaldehyde, the stench of blood, and the scratches on the back door—these clues, like beads scattered on the ground, seemed to be subtly connecting towards the ancestral hall.

Song Guicheng glanced down at the scratches at the bottom of the back door, then at the muddy ground beneath his feet, and suddenly said, "Let's go to the supply and marketing cooperative and take a look at those wooden boxes with talismans on them."

Sun Zhida nodded: "Okay."

The two turned and walked towards the front gate of the supply and marketing cooperative. Song Guicheng walked behind, paused, and looked back at the muddy ground that held the secret.

The damp, sticky soil lay there quietly, bearing the footprints of two people, but they hadn't seen any footprints when they came this morning.

……

Song Guicheng and Sun Zhida entered through the front gate of the supply and marketing cooperative. The creaking sound was particularly clear in the quiet of the early morning.

After the lights in the room were turned on, the dim yellow light barely covered the floor, illuminating the neatly stacked coarse grains and canned goods on the shelves, as well as the old fabrics piled in the corner.

Yesterday, Sun Zhida and the others tidied up the room neatly, but the wooden box with the talisman in the center of the room remained untouched, standing there all alone, out of place with the surrounding cleanliness.

Song Guicheng took out a dagger, a dagger that could cut through iron like mud, which could also be used to deal with the supernatural things in the dungeon.

He and Sun Zhida walked one after the other, their steps extremely light, the soles of their shoes making only a soft rustling sound on the dusty ground.

There was more than one wooden crate, stacked next to the shelf, with the one on top being significantly larger and covered with yellow paper talismans.

The edges of the talisman were curled and torn, and some places were darkened by moisture. The red ink runes had blurred, like dried bloodstains. Even though there was no wind, the talisman trembled slightly, exuding an indescribable eeriness.

Sun Zhida stopped, holding the iron rod in front of him, his gaze falling on the wooden box. He turned to Song Guicheng and asked, "How do you plan to open it?"

He gripped the iron bar with a slight tightening, and the air around the wooden box seemed colder than elsewhere.

Song Guicheng walked to the wooden box, looked down at the trembling talismans, and a very faint smile appeared on his lips: "Open it directly."

Sun Zhida was surprised by his response and asked, "Open it directly?" He thought that some measures had to be taken.

Song Guicheng's long hair swayed as he turned his head: "I can't exactly start by saying 'May all my wishes come true, please grant my wish, please show your power quickly'?"

This joke eased Sun Zhida's tense shoulders a little. He didn't reply, but instead took half a step to Song Guicheng's side, clearly intending to provide support at any time.

Song Guicheng pinched the corner of the talisman between his fingertips. It felt damp and sticky to his touch, and a chill crept up his palm.

He carefully peeled the talisman off the wooden box. The yellow paper was torn and deformed with a "rip," and the red runes swayed in the light, as if in silent protest.

He peeled off several damaged talismans one after another, and the wood grain of the wooden box gradually became visible. It was old pine wood, with several blurry lines carved on the surface, like some kind of simple formation.

After the last talisman was removed, Song Guicheng grasped the brass lock on the wooden box, and with a slight effort, the lock clicked open. He took a deep breath, gripped the lid with both hands, and slowly lifted it upwards.

The moment the lid was lifted, a blast of cold air shot out from the wooden box, piercing into the bones like an icicle.

Immediately afterwards, an invisible gale swept out from inside the box, whistling sharply, and rushed straight toward Song Guicheng's face. The wind was filled with heavy resentment, as if countless cold hands were trying to drag him into the darkness.

Song Guicheng's pupils contracted slightly, and he subconsciously turned to the side, the dagger in his hand already held horizontally in front of him, about to stab at the gale. But before he could fully execute his movement, Sun Zhida beside him had already moved first.

With a whoosh, the iron rod in Sun Zhida's hand grazed Song Guicheng's cheek and stabbed hard into the air in front of him.

The moment the iron rod passed through the gale, even though there was no sound of collision, Song Guicheng clearly heard a shrill scream, as if something had been pierced by the iron rod. The gale instantly dissipated, and the chill also lessened.

Song Guicheng was stunned for a moment, then turned to look at Sun Zhida. He had always known that Sun Zhida was agile and had guessed that he was probably a soldier, but he never expected that this seemingly ordinary iron rod could actually disperse such intangible resentment.

But then I thought about it again, and every player who can reach the A-level dungeon must have some hidden tricks up their sleeve. Sun Zhida's iron rod should also have been enhanced by the system, making it specifically effective against these kinds of supernatural things.

Sun Zhida put away the iron rod, his brows furrowing slightly: "The things in this box are not simple, be careful."

Song Guicheng nodded, his gaze returning to the wooden box. There were no strange artifacts or miscellaneous items as he had expected; only a rolled-up, yellowed, tattered piece of paper lay forlornly at the bottom.

He reached out and carefully took out the paper. As he unfolded it, crumbs fell off the edges, revealing half of the pattern drawn on it.

The pattern was painted with some kind of dark pigment, the color somber, as if mixed with ink and blood. Under the dim light of the supply and marketing cooperative, it even had a dark red sheen, resembling dried blood. In some places, faint water stains had seeped in, blurring the edges of the pattern, as if covered by a layer of lingering fog.

Countless tiny specks of light, varying in size and density, are scattered across the paper like overturned diamonds, connected by extremely fine lines to outline a winding trajectory, like star trails wandering on the paper. The design revolves around a temple, with three broken stone pillars as its main elements. The pillars, with their rough lines, are clearly ancient, round columns, their surfaces etched with indistinct patterns, mostly worn away, some even merging with the tears in the paper, making it unclear whether the incompleteness was due to the original design or the paper itself.

Behind the leftmost stone pillar, the outline of the palace is drawn with faint, almost invisible lines. Only the shape of the eaves can be seen, with the corners of the eaves slightly upturned, but there are no details. It looks as if it was hastily drawn or as if the traces of time have been worn away.

Song Guicheng's fingertips suddenly stopped, and his breath caught in his throat.

He had seen the other half of this pattern many times.

The other half of the paper he obtained from the "Divine Breath" dungeon would haunt him countless times in the dead of night, the thought of where the other half of the paper was.

Now, the remaining half is in his hands.

Song Guicheng mentally pieced the two pieces of paper together. This should be the totem of the Wuzhi Temple, a symbol of the "eternal" rule, representing eternal order and continuation.

Why are you here?

Song Guicheng's heart inexplicably quickened, and his fingertips unconsciously tightened their grip on the paper, wrinkling the edges of the paper.

He looked down at the half of the pattern, the dim light obscuring the turbulent emotions surging in his eyes—shock, doubt, bitterness, and above all, a secret anticipation.

Seeing that he hadn't moved for a long time, Sun Zhida asked softly, "Is there something wrong with this pattern?"

Song Guicheng snapped out of his daze, gently smoothing the creases on the paper with his fingertips. His tone returned to its usual gentleness, but a lingering unease remained in the depths of his eyes: "It looks familiar."

Without saying much, he carefully folded the paper and put it into his pocket: "Keep it safe for now, it might be an important clue."

Sun Zhida didn't press further, but simply nodded, his gaze sweeping over the empty wooden crates before turning to Song Guicheng: "There are a few more crates, shall we open them and take a look?"

Song Guicheng looked up at the few small wooden boxes beside him and shook his head: "No need for now. This piece of paper is crucial enough. We can deal with the other boxes after we meet up with everyone."

He knew in his heart that the appearance of this half of the pattern had allowed him to find what he wanted most in this instance, and it should also be the most crucial thing to uncover the truth of the instance.

Song Guicheng turned and walked towards the door, his steps quickening compared to when he came. The papers in his pocket were pressed against his chest, as if carrying Wu Zhi's scent, causing ripples to spread through his originally calm mind.

Today, I absolutely must go to the ancestral hall.