The moment this strange fragrance appeared, all the darkness within ten kilometers of Fang Mo began to stir.
In a pitch-black alley.
A twisted mannequin crawling rapidly across the ground like a spider suddenly raised its head.
A black wig concealed its hollow eyes. Its neck eerily twisted ninety degrees toward a certain direction, and it remained frozen like a statue in the deathly silent alley for a long time, as if thinking, as if confused...
At last, it turned around and crawled rapidly toward the source of the strange fragrance like a humanoid cockroach.
Inside a dark classroom.
A pencil hovering above a sheet of white paper continued drawing twisted lines without pause, sometimes circles, sometimes crosses, as though an invisible schizophrenic stood beside the desk, scribbling something in a frenzy.
At the same time, that scalp-crawling voice still echoed through the classroom.
"If that man is dead, draw a circle on the paper... If that man is dead, draw a circle on the paper...
Spirit of the Pen... Spirit of the Pen... You are my past life, and I am your pres—"
Suddenly, the voice stopped abruptly.
The pencil hovering over the paper froze as well.
"So fragrant... so fragrant... I want to eat it... I want to eat it..."
The voice rang out again, but this time, the pencil did not continue scribbling on the paper. Instead, it eerily rose into the air, its tip as sharp as a blade, and violently smashed through the classroom window before flying in a certain direction.
Pitch-black alleys, deserted street corners, cabinets in old houses, battered trash cans, the shadowed sides of streetlights...
Pair after pair of eyes opened. Like dying people who had thirsted in the desert for more than ten days, they greedily stared toward the source