The torrential rain falling from the sky, reflected by the Red Pattern, seemed to form a natural projection screen.
Severed limbs, arms, heads, scraps of skin, broken bones, and remains slid down in turns amid pain and fury, flickering with eerie light.
Scene after scene was cast onto those floating televisions, colliding with the images already on their screens, making the strange even stranger and the terrifying even more terrifying.
The slippery, narrow footholds made things even harder for a living person climbing through darkness and steep heights.
The people at Tianhai Hotel were often experts in exercise and fitness, and Lan Yu, elegant and well-presented as he was, was no exception.
Both his feet were planted on a television. His sneakers had been completely soaked by the rain, becoming heavier and more slippery.
Rainwater streamed down from his hanging hands like waterfalls. His right hand had already turned pale from soaking, but fortunately, his mechanical left prosthetic was still intact.
Perhaps without that expensive, sophisticated mechanical prosthetic, it would have been difficult for anyone else to carry out such a demanding climb in the rain.
But what Lan Yu had to do was far more than climb at high altitude. He also had to search for clues along the way, seeking a way to survive in the cracks.
All around the Yin Realm were countless different scenes and chaotic scraps of information, most of which were merely interference with no real meaning.
He needed to sift through such disorderly information, taking the essence and discarding the dross.
Along the way, he painstakingly and cautiously used the televisions to climb to the Twelfth Floor.
After ascending merely two floors, he was already panting heavily, his legs slightly weak.
There were three main difficulties in climbing through the air.
First, he