Seeing that Kong Xuyang was going to be demented again, Yang Zhi hurriedly changed the subject: "Brother Kong, we still have an advantage. We have figured out how to collect clues on the trueend line in the last round of the game."
Kong Xuyang, with red eyes, forcibly gathered his mind and exhaled a sullen breath: "The yellow calendar of Yinshan Village, the incomplete parts of the murals are all in the yellow calendar of the village's memorial, as long as you find the yellow calendar 100 years ago, you can make up the background of this Taoist zombie. Story line."
"You can also find its weakness." Yang Zhi slapped Kong Xuyang on the shoulders and let Kong Xuyang relax. "A player in the last game has found a page of the yellow calendar, Kong brother, do you still remember where that player is? Did you find it?"
Kong Xuyang's gaze slowly shifted away. He looked at the hilltops and weir ponds hidden in the darkness, and said every word: "The mass grave behind the weir pond."
In the tomb.
The entrance to the tomb passage that had been getting narrower and narrower was brutally broken through a big mouth, and the walls were full of fierce claw prints of zombies.
Bai Liu held up the candlestick and took a photo: "These should be the zombie who grabbed them to go out."
"... This strength is too terrifying." Mu Sicheng stretched out his hand and compared it with the paw print. It was two full circles larger than his hand. The wall was clearly visible. Mu Sicheng saw that his scalp was a little numb, "If this zombie is Go crazy and catch us to death without effort."
"So we have to end this game before then." Bai Liu said.
Bai Liu walked to the entrance where they climbed into the tomb, stepped on Mu Sicheng's shoulder and jumped up with strength. After Bai Liu went out, he backhanded Mu Sicheng up.
The entrance for them to enter the tomb was under a bed. As soon as Mu Sicheng was about to crawl out of the bed, Bai Liu pinched his shoulders.
Bai Liu looked out of the bed with a calm tone: "There is light, there are people outside."
Only then did Mu Sicheng notice that the silver-white and gray-black light on the ground under the bed was flashing, and it was also faintly accompanied by noise, like the sound of bad contact with electric current, and the intermittent voice of many people talking.
These human voices were rough and delicate for a while, but they seemed to be separated by a layer, not like real people talking.
"... These ghosts are going to freeze us, kill us, starve us, but as long as we have a breath, we must guard this place and not let outsiders take it away..."
"But the men are gone, leaving behind a village of old, weak, sick and disabled, how can they be held, they can't be held..."
"When will the men come back? Wife-in-laws will go to the Cunkou Bridge again! Remember to take an umbrella and don't let you get wet. It's almost clear. It has been raining lately..."
Bai Liu and Mu Sicheng looked at each other, and they knew how this voice came from.
"TV sound." Mu Sicheng pointed outside and said softly, "Someone is watching TV."
Bai Liu made a gesture for him to go out first, and then dexterously pulled out from the bedside, kneeling on one knee in the shadow of the foot of the bed that was not illuminated by the TV. He quietly looked at the front, as if confirming something.
Then Bai Liu was sure. He bowed his head to Mu Sicheng who was still hiding under the bed and made a [hush] gesture to make Mu Sicheng come out quietly.
Mu Sicheng breathed a sigh of relief when he saw this. He thought he was safe outside. He supported it with one hand and leaned his body out from the bottom of the bed to stand up. As a result, he turned around and took a breath of relief and quickly retracted. Beside Bai Liu, with a horrified face, he said, "What's the situation?!"
There is a redwood bench beside the bed at the entrance. On the bench sit two old people with gray hair with their backs to the white willows.
The old man was facing an old wooden cabinet with rotten edges. Inside the cabinet was an old-fashioned FM TV set that looked no more than twelve or three inches square.
The picture on the TV is black and white, and sometimes shakes and blurs, but the two old people seem to look very attentively, their necks stretched forward, their backs are straight, as if they are stiff, sitting motionlessly TV screen.
The light from the screen shone vaguely on the faces of the two old men. Brown spots appeared around the old man’s muddy eyes. There seemed to be something squirming in his mouth and nose to crawl out, and the ears could be seen stretched and shrunk. Worm white spots.
They had a dull smile on their faces, and their mouths moved quickly, as if they were saying something.
Mu Sicheng held his breath and noticed, but did not hear any sound from the throats of the two old men, but soon he realized where the voices of the two old men were coming from.
The mouth movements of the two old men are synchronized with the voices of the people on the TV.
Bai Liu looked at the TV: "They are dubbing the people on the TV."
The wavering black and white images on the TV are like old video tapes in some historical materials. A few plain and old women are sitting by the gate of Yinshan Village, wearing little boots and shrouds, kneeling beside a coffin. Waving a white kerchief to hide his face and crying, there was an unexpanded white umbrella beside him.
Mu Sicheng asked in a low voice, "This is the attire of the bridge martyred ghosts. Are these women living martyred bridge ghosts?"
Bai Liu looked at the TV screen and nodded slightly: "It should be."
The two strange-faced old men opened their mouths together, and the voice came from the TV:
"The men are dead, there are too many, they can't fit in the grave..."
"... I was torn to death by those ghosts and couldn't enter the ancestral grave. How can I see my ancestor when I go down..."
"Put it in a coffin and send it to the mountain on the other side of the bridge for burial, and let them get into the ground for safety."
"My friend! You died terribly! How would you let me live on!"
The women sobbed and lay down on the coffin, and they were about to cry and faint. In the end, they followed the coffin through the weir pond and stepped on the bridge.
They were crying with numbness and tears on their faces. They held an umbrella in their hands to cool the coffins to prevent the corpses and souls in these coffins from being damaged by the sun.
But at the moment of crossing the bridge, these women who had lost their husbands looked at the long rows of coffins that fell into the mountains. When they were holding umbrellas and sending the coffins down the bridge, they suddenly put away their umbrellas, holding them recklessly. Jumped off the bridge.
Under the bridge was a shallow stream, and these women smashed their heads when they hit the pier.
They held their umbrellas and looked at the distant coffins on the bridge, with extremely sad and stern expressions on their faces.
The moment the coffin left their sight, they slowly closed their eyes, fell into the water and stopped moving. The blood oozing from their bodies stained their shrouds and umbrellas and the clear stream.
This picture made Mu Sicheng sweaty on his back, but Bai Liu looked extremely absorbed, as if he was looking for someone.
This looking look made Mu Sicheng even more hairy: "Who are you looking for, Bai Liu, there will always be no one you know?"
"Maybe." Bai Liu replied without squinting.
Mu Sicheng was startled, and then quickly came back to his senses: "No, Bai Liu, you have no memory. The only people you can know are me, Kong Xuyang, and Yang Zhi. I know all of them. There is nothing in this picture. what."
Bai Liu looked at Mu Sicheng faintly: "I'm looking for someone outside the picture."
"Outside the picture..." Mu Sicheng was startled, "What do you mean?"
Bai Liu calmly replied, "It is true that you and I do not know the person in this picture, but there is another person outside the picture. Maybe you and I will look familiar."
Mu Sicheng became more and more puzzled: "This is all a hundred years ago, who can I be familiar with?"
"You missed someone, the one who took this picture." Bai Liu stared at the picture, "If I guess right, this person will know what's going on at first glance."
Curiosity overwhelmed fear, Mu Sicheng hugged his chest, frowned and started staring at the edge of the picture earnestly, trying to see the person holding the camera.
Soon, Mu Sicheng saw that the shooter was adjusting the camera to let his face enter.
As soon as the cameraman's face appeared in the mirror, Mu Sicheng was shocked and looked back at Bai Liu: "How could he look like this?!"
Bai Liu is still very stable: "Otherwise? What do you think he will look like?"
Mu Sicheng pointed to the cameraman who flashed past in the picture, and jumped up in a hurry: "He looks like me!"
In the black-and-white TV, this cameraman is wearing an old and trendy, three-piece small vest and a pair of leather shoes. He wears a filial piety hat on his head and has tears on his face. He is looking down while adjusting the film, while keeping his brush on an almanac. What is recorded.
Bai Liu looked at this person: "He should be the village historian."
The village historian, the person in the village who records bad luck, good luck and bad luck, big and small matters, is also the recorder of the missing piece of information on the mural.
"How do you know he will look like me?!" Mu Sicheng was as curious as Mao Chuangxin, and approached Bai Liu to ask.
Bai Liu glanced at Mu Sicheng and the camera hanging around his neck that had been recording, and explained:
"I'm just guessing that we know that we are in a game. We have participated in four role-plays, and these four characters are descendants of Yinshan Village."
"From the perspective of the props and tasks obtained, the four characters are a grave robber, a decent warlock, a villain warlock and a cameraman."
Bai Liu raised his eyes to look at Mu Sicheng: "Don't you think it is more reasonable to push this setting forward a hundred years?"
Mu Sicheng was stunned. He seemed to be about to understand: "So you think we are not playing the role we are now, but the role we have played for a hundred years."
"To be precise, we are descendants of four roles." Bai Liu stretched out his finger and tapped the ground eight times, and then connected every two dots. "If this is a role playing with strict logic. In the game, you are a videographer, the recorder of supernatural events, and now we also have a videographer in front of us, using the yellow calendar to record the good fortune and the bad. The role and task overlap is as high as 80%. I personally think that you have a high probability. Are his descendants."
"If I were a game designer, I would adjust your appearance to be consistent to remind you of this."
Mu Sicheng Daigoinitiated: "So you said he looks the same as me!"