Jiang Qiao entered the building.
With just one glance, he saw bright red footprints everywhere—on the floor, the ceiling, and the walls.
He looked in the direction the footprints extended.
Soon.
A Vicious Ghost dressed in a blue Zhongshan suit and army-green rubber shoes, looking like someone from the 1970s or '80s, came into view.
The Vicious Ghost looked as if it were out for a stroll.
It walked in a very casual manner.
Sometimes it wandered up and down the corridors; other times it entered the emergency stairwell and headed upstairs or downstairs.
Every so often, it would stop and stand perfectly still.
As if it were thinking.
If one only looked at this scene, it would be difficult to associate it with a Vicious Ghost.
It had neither the stench of a corpse nor any signs of decay. Its face was pale, but in these two years, there had been far too many people suffering from malnutrition, unable to get medicine when they fell ill and forced to tough it out. That was hardly strange.
That was also why some people had approached it.
They had thought it was another person searching for a way out of the building, and figured that if everyone formed a group, there would be strength in numbers.
Who could have guessed that this ghostly thing was actually the ghost wandering through the building?
Who could they even complain to about this?
Although rumors had spread since last night that the building was haunted, no one had died, and no one had seen a ghost. All the rumors came from the inexplicable activity in the corridors at night.
Occasionally.
It seemed as though someone was standing outside a door, whispering.
But when people listened carefully, they could not make out anything. They could