Miracles, of course, were impossible.
The only explanation was that Yang Jian's ordinary action just now had broken that ghost's killing pattern, allowing Luo Suyī, who should have been selected and killed at 2:15, to escape the ghost's targeting.
The pattern had been broken.
But why?
How exactly did that ghost select its targets? Could merely moving the carpet have changed it?
If that was truly the case, then this ghost's killing pattern was actually quite simple—so simple that anyone could easily accomplish it.
"The carpet's position changed, then Luo Suyī survived. That ghost didn't stop and begin killing like it had before. Is the carpet the key? No, the carpet isn't the key. The footprints that ghost left on the carpet are the key."
In the dim corridor, the tall male corpse, reeking of death, was still wandering about strangely.
Its heavy footsteps approached, leaving behind one rotten footprint after another.
The footprints were unclear, nothing more than faint black outlines. Only after several days, once the corpse fluid left in the prints had rotted and spoiled, would they become distinct—just like the black, decayed marks Yang Jian had seen when he first entered the hotel. They were especially conspicuous.
"That ghost left its ghost footprints on the carpet, so someone died? No, that's not right either. This ghost is still wandering around now, and it is still making footprints, yet no one nearby has died. That means leaving footprints is only one condition. The other condition is the key."
Yang Jian's gaze flickered. He knew he was already very close to the truth.
Luo Suyī's survival this time had given him a major clue, directly ruling out several far-fetched ideas. Only one condition close to the truth remained.
"Reenacting the scene of us passing through this corridor earlier