The path in the gloomy forest leads to a mansion that seems to be randomly spliced together with building materials. There are flower beds of the mansion on both sides of the path. The black flowers in it are the spiritual flowers that Jenkins has eaten.
He was not greedy enough to climb the steps under the rain eaves before picking these flowers. The door was not locked, and after passing through the hall, there was the living room. The decor of the room is quirky and funny, like a scene from a fairy tale. A clock in the shape of a rabbit hangs on the wall, and a black kettle in the shape of an owl simmers in the fireplace, but the people sitting in the living room are not at all interesting.
On the red carpet are small tea tables and sofas. On the sofas sit an old beggar with a human owl head, three little girls holding apples, a depressed poet, an old woman, a little boy, Mr. Fat and a charming lady.
Facing the hallway was a red wooden door, and his intuition reminded Jenkins that there was the exit.
He ignored the group of people on the sofa, walked quickly to the door, twisted the handle and found that it was locked.
"Excuse me, does any of you have a key here? I think I'm in trouble."
He had to turn around and ask.
"Each of them has a key. Maybe you can ask their opinion. Maybe someone will give you the key."
The old beggar was still plucking his strings, and amidst the harsh noise, everyone on the sofa said one by one:
"No, your apples are too bad."
"No, your story has no soul, I don't feel your mind."
"No, your reasoning is all sophistry, that's not the answer."
"No, your guidance is wrong. I lost my way once and met a terrible woman."
"No, eating myself didn't give me the feeling of being full, I'm much hungrier now."
"No, what I want is a hard fight, not a hard fight."
The corners of Jenkins' eyes trembled, and he asked again:
"So what do you want to do?"
The person in the way on the sofa replied again:
"We want to eat your hand, it may be as delicious as an apple."
"I want your brain to see what's going on in it."
"I want your skull, it might be nice to sit on while I think."
"I want your eyes and your feet so I can find my way."
"I want your guts, I like to eat that."
"I want your dick, oh, hope it's as pretty as your face."
"so… "
Jenkins looked at the old beggar playing the piano one last time, and he swore he had never heard such an ugly sound.
"Satisfy any one of them, and you can get the key. I didn't expect you to come here unscathed, but it is absolutely impossible to leave without paying anything."
The tone of his speech matched Qin's voice, which really made Jenkins angry. But he has used most of his abilities along the way, and even used [Mechanical Light] because of an illusion. Now he will definitely not be able to win the fight.
"Then what are you leaving behind?"
The old beggar asked again, and then added: "The water is about to boil, I think your organs will taste better if you boil them."
Jenkins certainly isn't keeping any part of himself here, but he certainly hasn't figured out how to do it yet. He glanced at the row of corpses on the sofa. Everyone had pockets on their clothes, and the keys might be inside.
"Rush over, grab it and run?"
He devises a simple but efficient plan, then feels more likely to be ripped apart.
When he was at a loss, he suddenly saw a shadow flashing past in his peripheral vision. After a few seconds, he pretended to be natural and looked to both sides. It turned out to be the long-lost landlady, Mrs. Copler. She probably also knew that the strange creatures in the strange land could see her and kill her, so she deliberately hid in a corner that only Jenkins could see.
Compared with the last time I saw it in the material world, the soul body is abnormally transparent at this time, and the gray spirit body is also stained with a lot of black debris. She looked haggard, but she looked more and more like a person than a ghost.
Seeing that Jenkins noticed her, he stretched out his hand and pointed across the wall. Following the direction she pointed, Jenkins saw three girls huddled together. One of them was exactly the same as Mrs. Cooper's child, and he even deduced that it was captured by the strange world...
"She took the risk to save her own child?"
An inexplicable emotion rushed to Jenkins' head. He regretted being outside just now and wanted to kill the evil spirit with all his heart.
Of course, only a little regret is an emotion generated on impulse.
But Mr. Writer, who claims to be "I'm not a good person", is definitely not a sentimental person, but he is a self-proclaimed refined egoist who only cares about himself.
"Then... I'll exchange my hands for the key."
As soon as the words fell, the three excited girls stood up from the sofa, and said one after another in that chorus-like voice:
"Are you sure, you have to use your own hands in exchange for—that!"
The girl at the front had a silver key in her hand. Judging from the size, it should be the key to that door.
"Of course, I know what is more valuable."
Jenkins nodded, then raised his hands:
"So, how are you going to take my hand?"
"Don't worry, sir, you really have a pair of beautiful hands..."
The girls walked over as they spoke, and the one with the key came last. Jenkins glanced at all the corpses on the sofa, as if nothing had happened, he was looking at the poetry collection and manicuring his fingernails, only the old beggar was still looking at him.
"You're really sure to change the keys with your hands."
The owl head asked again.
"certainly."
Jenkins nodded calmly and walked towards the excited girls, then suddenly reached out and hugged the girl walking in front. The charming lady on the sofa immediately uttered "Oh~", as if she suddenly understood something.
She threw herself into Jenkins' arms, or the girl who was hugged by him opened her mouth to bite Jenkins' hand, but he dodged it deftly. The two of them "danced" on the carpet as if they were hugging each other, and subconsciously approached the door.
In fact, Jenkins is very uncomfortable. God knows what is in his arms. He now has the illusion that his soul is frozen. And even if the girl didn't bite his hand, signs of ulceration had already appeared on the surface of the skin.
If it wasn't for the [Contact Death] passive ability that was always in effect, he would have died long ago.
Finally rolling to the door, silently counting to three in his heart, suddenly a transparent figure flashed past him. The key in the hand of the girl walking at the end immediately flew up and fell into Jenkins's hand precisely.
This is much better than his skill at tossing a coin.