A Familiar Scene, I Feel Like I've Seen It Somewhere Before

The Magic Book was as black as ink, cold to the touch. The cover featured an abstract drawing of Devil's Smile, with a complex line combining Astrolabe and Heptagram in the center, adorned with magical symbols representing the Six Elements, and Human Heart Pattern at the top.

This is a translated manuscript, the original of which is unknown. Russell skimmed through it and found the entire text obscure and incomprehensible. A large portion of it was devoted to recording religious history, myths, and the origins of alchemy, while a small portion contained magical knowledge that needed to be deciphered.

Between paragraphs are notes and insights from the writer, and the language used is a mix of English, Greek, Arabic, and a few other languages that are incomprehensible.

[Bite!]

[The host has come into contact with the Vohrs Manuscript, triggering Lottery Draw. Would you like to draw a prize now?]

The Vohrs Manuscript... Who was Voorhees?

Russell frowned, silently chanted "draw," and soon the system notified him that he had obtained an Item Card.

[Item Card: Vohrs Manuscript (Truth in the Eyes of a Madman, or Cursed Wisdom)]

Isn't this the same plot point from last time when we encountered a chainsaw and then drove it out? Using the same trick twice, system, you're really asking for trouble...

Wait, it smells delicious!

Russell was about to complain when he suddenly realized that the 'Vohrs Manuscript' obtained from the Item Card could be taken out of the mission world!

This is fantastic news. Every Magic Book is a bit arrogant. Without a certain level of understanding of magic, one might be able to read the words in the book, but rote memorization won't help. Knowledge only stays in the mind for a short time, and after that, it will be completely forgotten.

Despite the generous prize draw, Russell didn't immediately open the Item Card; instead, he flipped through the original cards again.

He skipped over the texts he couldn't understand, figuring he could translate them later. He turned directly to the pages of religious history and mythology, searching for accounts of demons.

Through this Magic Book, Nikolai learned how to offer sacrifices to the devil, but as an ordinary person, he couldn't understand the profound magic hidden within the words. Russell, a novice, also couldn't understand it, but he knew the book was priceless and would provide him with irreplaceable help for a long time.

Russell closed the book and put it in the inside pocket of his clothes. This book was his most precious possession at the moment, worth more than all the cards combined.

In the living room, Jennifer bit off the necks of five people, leaving behind Beast, gruesome tearing marks.

During the sacrifice, it was Nikolai who pierced her heart with a sharp knife. What goes around comes around, and retribution is inevitable!

Low Shoulder Band died before they could become famous, and the only proof that they ever existed is the five pairs of worn-out shoes on the ground.

This aligns with the consequences of making a deal with the devil, who only engages in risk-free transactions and considers equivalent exchanges a loss. Never fantasize about getting something for nothing from the devil; they've slept with more women than you've ever seen, and you can't outsmart them in terms of social experience.

The living room was a scene of utter devastation. Russell frowned, refusing to look, and walked straight out the door. Jennifer grabbed Nikolai's clothes, wiped her mouth haphazardly, and quickly followed Russell.

Crystal Lake Camp!

The calm water was like a mirror, deathly still, with only a gentle breeze rippling across its surface. On the shore, tents lit by bonfires burned fiercely, and corpses lay scattered around them.

In the woods, the young man who had tried to strike up a conversation with Jennifer was hiding behind a tree, covering his mouth. He peered into the camp, now devoid of survivors, his eyes filled with intense fear.

A group of seven hiked to Crystal Lake Camp, only to find it deserted. A guy with a camera, dreaming of becoming a great director, saw this as a golden opportunity. Since no one was watching, he figured they could film whatever they wanted, so he persuaded everyone to dig up a serial killer's grave to use as footage.

Of the six, four opposed and two supported, their opinions diverging. The future director, with his two supporters, strode away. Before leaving, he took a shovel and an axe from the camp, and then...

The three never returned. In their place came a tall, murderous man wearing Hockey Mask.

Jason, the Hundred-Man Killer Youth!

Everyone was mercilessly slaughtered, except for the young man who was fishing by the lake and narrowly escaped with his life. He witnessed the brutal killing from a distance, crouching behind a tree, too afraid to make a sound, until Jason left.

"The Chinese guy is right, it's too dangerous here, I have to get out of here..."

The young man crouched behind the tree for a while, making sure the murderer was far away, before he tiptoed away. Just as he turned around, he found his vision darken and a wall appeared in front of him.

It wasn't a wall, it was a person, and he almost bumped into the other person's chest.

The young man was both surprised and delighted. He continued to confide his fear to others, but when he looked up, his surprise instantly turned to coldness, and he froze on the spot, terrified.

The tall figure wore Hockey Mask and tattered gray long shirt and trousers. He held a rusty Great Cleaver in his right hand, and through the gaps in the mask, a pair of chilling eyes could be vaguely seen.

"No..."

A flash of cold light!

The youth's body remained standing, his enormous head flying into the air and crashing three meters away. Blood gushed from the smooth cut of his neck.

Blood splattered onto the Hockey Mask, but Jason remained unmoved. He silently turned and looked into the distance. After a long silence, he strode out and disappeared into the woods.

Meanwhile, Russell was driving back, and this time he had found a real shortcut. It was still a dirt road, with signs at the intersections, so he definitely wouldn't get lost again.

"Russell, didn't you say you wouldn't take shortcuts anymore?" Jennifer, sitting in the passenger seat, lifted the hem of her skirt; she was the epitome of someone who, after having enough to eat and wear, would think of other things.

"I'll rush back and look at the map. It doesn't matter if I copy it occasionally..." Russell ignored the two long, straight legs. After seeing Jennifer eat people, he crossed her off the list of potential targets. Fortunately, he had already entered her photo into the file, otherwise it would have been a real problem.

"Okay, I was worried that something else might happen and take up your time." Jennifer looked at Russell with affection, her eyes brimming with desire, a blatant flirtation.

The vixen's face was incredibly alluring at that moment.

Unfortunately, Russell has already blurred out this face in his mind!

"Whatever happens next..."

There are many America road horror movies. I've already seen Deadly Curve. Now, let's the Hills Have Eyes, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Rest Stop, And Then There Were None, and House of Wax... As he thought about it, Russell's lips curled into a smile.

"That's good too, it'll help me clear out my inventory!"

As they were talking, Hockey Mask carrying a large knife walked out from directly in front of the dirt road.

Russell: "..."

Damn, am I hallucinating again?

Jennifer glanced back at the car and sighed helplessly, "A familiar scene. I feel like I've seen it somewhere before. These killers are too stubborn. Don't they know that a sneak attack has a higher success rate?"

After venting her frustrations, Jennifer pushed open the car door, opened her mouth wide, roared, and hovered in mid-air as she lunged at Jason.

The blade was just a bit too big, and the mask was changed. Did they want to torture me again?

Jennifer scoffed, her pupils turning silver; she could be incredibly fierce when she was full!

Brush!

A flash of silver light, and blood dripped from the rusty Great Cleaver. Jason kicked aside the headless corpse in front of him, grabbed the head that had fallen from mid-air, and lifted it up by its long hair.

His gaze, fixed intently on Russell, seemed to say...

Russell got out of the car speechlessly, patted the Desert Eagle on his lower back, and said, "A familiar scene, I feel like I've seen it somewhere before!"

[Failure Diary]

After my previous book flopped, I decisively switched to another one that also flopped. A month later, my editor asked me why I switched.