Annan could not feel fear at all.
Therefore, he did not hesitate and just kept moving forward.
But this time, as he had walked halfway, the chandelier right above him suddenly swung violently.
It was as if it was stirred by the wind.
The chandelier creaked as it swayed back and forth, emitting a sharp, grating sound that set one’s teeth on edge.
Annan paused slightly, then continued to walk forward.
Five steps, six steps... seven steps!
As he took the seventh step, Annan heard the unmistakable sound of a breaking chain.
Amidst the clanging noise of the chains being pulled, the chandelier behind him suddenly fell, crashing to the floor and shattering!
Annan distinctly felt a gust of wind from behind as if something made of wire, or something else, had scraped against his back.
He abruptly felt a fiery pain on his back... He didn’t need to touch it to know that he had definitely started bleeding.
But he still did not turn around.
He stood still, his expression unchanged as he waited a moment before continuing to move forward, until he left the gallery.
If Annan had turned to look around at this moment, he would have noticed that the portraits watching him from all directions no longer bore the same faces as when he first passed through the gallery.
There were men and women, old and young.
But all their faces had become identical, expressionless visages.
Black hair and blue eyes.
Not the face of this body he inhabited.
But the face that belonged to Annan, outside of the replica!
Underneath the fallen chandelier lay a severely injured corpse.
It was dressed in the opulent clothes of the nobility, pierced through the back of the head, neck, shoulders, and waist by the protrusions on the chandelier, lying underneath it twisted and silent, limbs contorted.
It appeared as though it had been killed by the falling chandelier.
—And its face was also Annan’s!
Watching Annan move forward without ever turning back, the corpse on the ground suddenly raised its head, looking towards Annan with a tinge of disappointment.
Then, it silently dissolved, along with the chandelier on its back, into a pool of black liquid.
Annan arrived at the L-shaped corridor for the second time. Unlike the first time, it was now quite well-lit. Flames burned quietly on the sconces on either side, and the portraits smiled warmly and looked straight ahead.
Suddenly, Annan heard the low laughter of a woman.
He asked casually, not expecting a response, and continued to move forward.
After taking two steps forward, he faintly heard the muffled sound of a hammer driving nails. The further he went, the clearer and closer the sound became!
It was as if someone was lurking behind him, hammering nails into his head!
Suddenly, the wall beside him burst open.
A huge hammer smashed right through!
Annan sprang forward without hesitation, dodging the blow and quickly running onward.
His abdomen throbbed with intense pain, blood bubbling out, but Annan did not hesitate at all. He could hear urgent footsteps behind him.
He ran forward rapidly, his health visibly draining away, yet he did not stop.
The corridor, which was less than thirty meters when he first passed, he now ran down for fifty or sixty steps.
Not until he rounded the corner, did the footsteps behind him come to an abrupt halt.
The light ahead steadied once again.
In the narrow room, almost nothing had changed from the first time, except a bloodstained brown trench coat now hung on the coat rack. And on the display case to the left, there was an addition... a tomato?
Annan paused for a moment.
He pondered for a moment, wanting to take the tomato. But when he reached out, he found the display case was like it had an invisible glass wall, blocking his extended hand though nothing was visible.
Annan did not hesitate and punched at it. He kept hammering at the transparent wall, then the display case, until his fingertips ached. But still, there was no change.
The tomato seemed to be mocking him, unmoved and unchanged.
"’Unopenable’... I get it now," Annan murmured softly, glancing at the bloody coat and draping it over himself composedly.
His mind worked rapidly—
The reason ordinary people got trapped in this nightmare was that they couldn’t be sure of the decisions they had made before. So, they would hesitate again and again, unable to make up their minds.
But Annan was different. Before entering the replica, he had already set a strategy for himself:
He knew that during his first cycle, he would strictly follow the strategy. Apart from walking, he wouldn’t investigate anything, wouldn’t engage in any conversation, and wouldn’t glance at anything superfluous.
In this way, when he entered his second cycle, Annan would know—if he didn’t investigate anything, he would surely die.
So during the second cycle, Annan would investigate everything he encountered, based on the actions he took in the first cycle. And if he failed, that would mean that he might die even if he investigated every item.
In other words, the first two cycles were for him to collect information.
This time, Annan was starting on the third cycle.
This meant that whether he investigated everything or nothing, he would die when it was time to die.
The purification rate of the replica also revealed some information.
This meant that Priest Louis had successfully purified thirty-eight nightmares. While not necessarily perfect runs, he had cleared the game at least thirty-eight times... so it couldn’t be extremely difficult.
And in this nightmare, memories of failures weren’t retained.
That is to say, those strategies were summarized by Priest Louis, the "commonalities" in his thirty-eight successful attempts.
Priest Louis specifically mentioned that every time he conquered a nightmare, the scenes he encountered were slightly different. But he believed that as long as he followed these commonalities, he could clear the game... that’s why he confidently handed these strategies to Annan.
So, what were the commonalities in these strategies and prohibitions?
Whether it was "staring" at the portrait, or looking for corridors filled with paintings (all portraits), or even looking back, they all were directly related to observing.
With the experiences from the first and second cycles.
Annan, still undaunted, continued on to his third cycle.
Since he knew that neither completely avoiding investigation nor thoroughly investigating would lead to success... it indicated that Priest Louis’ strategies might not be entirely suitable for him.
Priest Louis must have some habit that was different from Annan’s. He might not even be aware that this was a habit others didn’t share. That’s why it wasn’t included in the strategy guide.
Annan would have to rely on himself now.
Annan felt the material of his trench coat.
As expected, an information box appeared before his eyes:
[Bloodstained Jacket]
[Type: Material (Normal)]
[Description: An old jacket stained with blood, with a slit in the abdomen]
[Description: Observing the bloodstain, you realize the owner of the jacket had once been stabbed in the abdomen.]
"...Stabbed in the abdomen?"
No longer hesitating, he put on the jacket.
Making some gestures, he found that the slit in the abdomen matched up.
"This was indeed ’my’ jacket,"
He didn’t hesitate any longer and continued onwards.
He pushed open the grand doors once more.
And returned to the gallery.
But this time, the gallery was pitch-black and empty.
Suddenly, a flash of lightning streaked across the sky outside the window.
In that fleeting light, Annan clearly saw countless ropes hanging from the ceiling of the gallery, twisting and binding picture frames.
The next moment, a clap of thunder sounded!
The wind gusted in an instant, blowing open the windows and letting the cold, damp air immediately seep into Annan’s chest. It was then he heard the whooshing sound of rain outside.
Then the lightning struck again.
Before the sound of the thunderclap.
Annan saw that what was tied under those hanging nooses weren’t picture frames—
They were corpses, hanging from the beams!
Their heads drooped low, wearing luxurious, blood-soaked clothing and leather boots, with cloudy eyes, swollen faces, swaying with the wind.
In the instant before the light vanished, Annan vaguely saw all the corpses had their mouths uniformly and eerily curled upward in a slight smile.
—They were all Annan’s corpses!