The fading of the mold was actually easy to understand.
It was known that Narcissa, as a rule-based vengeful spirit, was effectively equivalent to the killing rule itself. If Narcissa was killed, the rule would cease to exist; if the rule was broken, Narcissa would also disappear.
And the act of “forwarding the cursed SMS a second ti to Gary No. 2, who had died and resurrected” had already begun to interfere with the operation of the rule system itself.
When a program repeatedly jumps between two or more instructions without ever reaching a result, we say the program has frozen. It requires external debugging to correct its internal logic before it can resu normal operation.
The curse’s hesitation over whether Gary No. 2 could receive a new ssage was, in essence, a “dead loop” occurring on another level of existence. To break out of this loop, Narcissa would either need to modify the existing rules or introduce a new rule.
In short, the vengeful spirit had to rewrite its rules—and any modification involving rules consud an enormous amount of energy.
Thus, when the BUG in the SMS was finally eliminated, the resulting mold also thinned out accordingly. Its offensive power had dropped so drastically that it could barely hold its own against the text-based iron-thread worms. It only managed to destroy the page after a prolonged struggle, rendering it unusable.
“Continue.”
Bang.
“Again.”
Bang.
“One more ti!”
Bang.
…
Because the identity-verification BUG had already been fixed, the next three ssages were sent without the earlier “spinning” delay. The mold appearing on the Book of Death also remained roughly at the sa weakened level as when dealing with Gary No. 2, making it difficult to detect any obvious change.
But that was only on the surface.
If the mold was a slab of red-hot iron, then the text-based iron-thread worms—which were instantly reduced to ash upon contact—could not even be considered droplets of water. At most, they were wisps of mist drifting onto the scorching surface.
When they first t, the “iron plate” was always the dominant side. With its scorching temperature, it could effortlessly dry up the mist upon contact.
But Narcissa’s killings followed a cycle. Restricted by the rules, she often had to wait 72 hours before wiping out a batch of targets and absorbing energy. This ant the “iron plate’s” heat steadily declined over ti within that window.
As for the Book of Death, it contained over a hundred blank pages, each one hosting vast colonies of text-based iron-thread worms. One page could be torn apart, but there was still a second, a third, a fourth…
When countless droplets of mist continuously fell onto the iron plate, there would inevitably co a mont when all its heat was absorbed. At that point, the damp mist would reverse its role and begin corroding the iron plate, slowly turning it to rust.
The monotonous cycle of “chapter entry—life extraction (failed)” continued from midnight until dawn.
During this ti, because they had extra SIM cards on hand, the grandfather-granddaughter pair not only used the repeatedly dying Gary to exhaust Old John’s five forwarding attempts, but also made him consu all five forwarding chances of Parvati as well.
By the end of it, once the shotgun ran out of shells, Old John switched to a rifle. When the rifle ran out, he moved on to a handgun… Over and over again, each headshot left the wooden bed around Gary’s head riddled with bullet holes and thick layers of red-and-white viscous matter, until the whole scene had beco almost unrecognizable.
When a streak of golden sunlight pierced through the clouds and fell onto the ground, the Book of Death was left with only a few thin pages remaining. The mold representing the Chain Letter Curse had also shrunk to the size of dandruff, now a faint pale green.
With Gary’s next death, the text-based worms on the page beca active again. The weakened green mold reappeared from the corner of the page, slowly crawling upward.
Halfway through, it collided with several writhing red text worms, breaking them apart. Before they died, the words let out faint “squeaking” cries, drawing the attention of their surrounding companions.
The balance of power had reversed. At this point, the pale green mold was no longer capable of instilling fear in the text-based worms. Massive clusters of words curled in fury, swarming toward the green patch and attacking it relentlessly.
Even though the worms were torn apart the mont they touched the mold—destroyed by an invisible force—the principle of “ants killing an elephant” still applied. Before all the worms could be wiped out, the red text worms ultimately devoured the green patch first.
The Book of Death had defeated the Chain Letter Curse.
Unfortunately, this life extraction still failed.
Because in the process of eliminating the green mold, too many text worms had perished. Once the patch disappeared, only a handful of worms remained. They wriggled frantically, barely managing to form the words “Chapter Three” on the page. They couldn’t even complete the chapter title “John” before running out of ink entirely.
A chapter like that… probably shouldn’t count, right?
Everly and Old John exchanged a glance. Just to be safe, they decided to attempt another extraction. After all, the disappearance of the mold did not necessarily an the curse’s rules had been broken. Only when they personally saw the Book of Death describe a future contradicting the curse would they truly be reassured.
As it turned out, their caution was justified.
When Old John turned past the half-finished, discarded page to check the next one, he found that on the hidden page beyond it, a new “Chapter Three” had already appeared.
[Chapter Three: John
Content: John Breton will die today at 16:10 in a car accident caused by fatigue (death by a certain vengeful spirit’s curse).]
—Yes. The curse had not been broken.
If Old John had given up life extraction simply because the mold had disappeared, then all their efforts that night would have been for nothing.
At that realization, a cold sweat unconsciously rose on Everly’s back.
Horror Movie Survival Rule #22: Never relax until you are absolutely certain you are safe.
Especially at the mont right before success—but not quite there yet—it was precisely those tiny “oversights” that most easily led to a situation where a single misstep ruined everything. Countless cannon fodder who died just before dawn had already left behind this warning with their lives.
On the restraint bed, Gary’s body had already been fully repaired.
He lay motionless, as if he had co to understand that he was nothing more than expendable material—quiet, compliant, and resigned to his fate.
“I’m starting.”
Old John walked up to Gary and, just as he had done countless tis before, pressed the book into his hand. Then he raised his gun, placed it against the young man’s hollow brown eyes, and fired into his head.
Bang!
The bullet pierced through the brain, shredding and destroying the tissue inside. The mont Gary’s breathing stopped, the Book of Death underwent a drastic change.
The red text bodies stretched out, like iron-thread worms—or like raised tendons and blood vessels—writhing chaotically across the white page. They gathered and scattered repeatedly, until finally all the worms crawled into their designated positions. Their protruding forms gradually lost thickness, softening into dark-red, cursive-like letters.
Old John held the book and read out the new chapter to Everly beside him:
“Chapter Three: John.
John Breton will at this mont be taken by the vengeful spirit known as Narcissa, losing his li—”
Before he could finish, a charred arm suddenly pierced through the fragile page from inside the Book of Death.
It shot out from within the book itself, its fingernails sharp as blades, stabbing straight into Old John’s chest. The fingers curled—and with a violent squelch—it ripped out a still-beating, crimson heart.
Even after being torn out, the heart was still contracting, still pulsing with residual life.
Thick blood gushed like a fountain from the hollow in Old John’s chest, staining the Book of Death a deep, horrifying red. The attack had co far too suddenly. The old man’s eyes widened; blood spilled from his mouth and nose. From his throat ca a broken, bellows-like “huh… huh…” sound. He staggered twice, as if he still hadn’t fully registered what had just happened.
Until the charred hand clenched shut and crushed the heart into pulp, the old man’s body finally lost all signs of life and collapsed heavily backward onto the ground.
“No—no—NOOOOO!”
A delayed scream erupted.
The heart-wrenching wails spread across the vast lake, echoing into the distance and startling a flock of early-morning waterbirds into flight.
Too late. It was too late…
They were wrong. Completely wrong.
Narcissa was not sothing the Book of Death could deal with at all. This was retaliation—revenge from the vengeful spirit. Because she and her grandfather refused to submit, Narcissa had taken his life in advance…
Everly dropped to her knees on the ground, screaming hysterically, sobbing uncontrollably. Endless tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. And along with it, her expression rapidly shifted—from grief, to agony, to hatred.
Narcissa… it was all that evil spirit’s fault!
In the chaos of her mind, a single thought slowly surfaced—
Kill.
She would cut off that arm, chop it into pieces and feed it to the fish. Then she would go to the cetery in Laketon Village, find Narcissa, and take revenge.
Yes—kill the evil spirit. Kill Narcissa. Kill her. Kill, kill, kill, kill—
A tear dropped to the ground with a soft plop, kicking up a small puff of dust.
The girl stared forward with hollow eyes. She picked up the silver cleaver from the ground. Her thin body swayed twice before she stood up again.
She raised the heavy blade with both hands, aiming at the Book of Death suspended in midair, and the charred arm protruding from it.
With a roar, she swung down with all her strength—
Just as the blade was about to strike the ghostly hand, no one expected what happened next.
The muscles in her arm suddenly tightened. Her wrist twisted violently backward mid-swing, forcibly redirecting the blade’s path.
Instead of cutting the arm, the razor-sharp edge slashed straight toward her own throat.
Pfft!
Blood flooded her vision.
The intense pain lasted only a single second before fading rapidly—like ink dropped into a basin of water, dispersing and vanishing without a trace.
The blood spraying from the wound beca like a blade itself, tearing open a vast rift between reality and illusion.
On this side of the rift were her fallen grandfather, the charred ghostly claw, shattered hope, and her own screaming despair.
On the other side, Old John stood in place, drenched in sweat, his expression twisted in pain. One hand was slowly lifting the gun—so slowly it seed as if he might be aiming it at himself—while the other still clutched the Book of Death.
The book remained open.
On its spread page was the unfinished Chapter Three, where the ink had abruptly run out halfway through the sentence.
Only then did Everly realize—
The hallucination had already begun before the page was even turned.
After breaking free from the illusion, all the emotions that had been flooding her mind—panic, fear, pain, hatred, despair—faded rapidly, like artificially blended industrial flavoring dissolving in water, disappearing without a trace.
She raised her hand and threw away the gun that had sohow been pressed against her own forehead. Her numb hand swung forward and knocked the weapon out of Old John’s grasp as well.
Then Everly reached behind her waist, pulled out a silver cross, and loudly chanted: “In the na of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—”
She pressed the cross hard against Old John’s forehead.
It was an exorcism tool that required accompanying scripture to be effective—a bit inconvenient in usage, but notably effective against ntal interference.
Sizzle.
The mont the cross touched his skin, a faint burning sound rose. Wisps of black smoke drifted up from his forehead. At the sa ti, as if contaminated by sothing filthy, the surface of the silver cross was rapidly stained with a layer of dark gri.
As that blackness was forced out, the hollow look in Old John’s eyes quickly regained clarity.
When his consciousness finally broke free from the hallucination, he took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from his brow, and his face tightened with lingering fear.
“Vengeful spirit illusions really are terrifying.”
“Yes,” Everly replied.
In truth, both she and Old John had already been on guard against Narcissa’s illusion attacks.
When the exorcists and Dylan’s group of five had sealed Narcissa’s corpse with burial shrouds, they had all encountered hallucinations created by her. In addition, when Dylan’s group attempted to seek help from psychic specialists, Narcissa had also used illusions to injure diums, priests, and others who tried to intervene.
This showed that Narcissa was not limited to killing through rules alone. When her own existence was threatened, she could also deploy ntal attacks to confuse and mislead her targets.
Because of this, the grandfather and granddaughter had deliberately brought several items capable of resisting psychic interference. Throughout the entire process, they remained ntally taut, refusing to relax even slightly.
And yet, even under such precautions, they had still fallen into the trap.
Fortunately, Narcissa’s illusion was not without flaws.
Gary, who had always been extrely noisy, suddenly becoming completely silent—this was the first flaw.
The Book of Death, which had previously referred to Narcissa as a “vengeful spirit,” suddenly calling her “Narcissa” in the new chapter—this was the second flaw.
Everly, no matter how terrifying the situation, would never scream like that, nor would she ever show such weakness—this was the third flaw.
And most importantly, as a rule-based vengeful spirit, Narcissa should only be able to induce hallucinations before her kill conditions were t. She should not be able to actually kill anyone through illusions alone. Yet in the hallucination, she had prematurely taken Old John’s life—this was the fourth flaw.
One flaw after another accelerated Everly’s escape from the illusion, allowing her to regain consciousness just before both of them had driven themselves into self-destruction.
Fortunately, the worst-case scenario had not occurred. And the fact that Narcissa had resorted to personal intervention ant she was already at the end of her strength.
Only one final extraction remained.
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