Infinite spooky game

Chapter 174 Red Maple Leaf Boarding School () "I will be resurrected in two hundred years"

There are many graves in the cemetery, and the bones of Aboriginal children are buried there.

After outsiders landed on the new land, they burned the remains of the original tribes with fire. The iron tools inscribed with sacrificial inscriptions were burned into molten gold, and the history of the aborigines recorded by generations of prophets was also destroyed.

The outsiders who won the war occupied the indigenous lands, plundered gold and silver, and issued harsh laws that prohibited the indigenous people from believing in their own gods and using their own languages.

Children were imprisoned in boarding schools to learn the language of the invading alien race. From then on, everyone lost their names, leaving only a cold number -

The same goes for 47.

Under the torture day after day, he forgot many things, but he only remembered that when he was young, his mother held his hand and wrote a line of words on the sand with a wooden stick, like insects and snakes.

In the dead of night, he traced the strokes of those words over and over in his mind, and wrote the forbidden glyphs on the collected pieces of paper behind his teacher's back.

The gods the tribe once believed in were deemed "evil gods" and even mentioning them was taboo. But he quietly used a red pen to outline scarlet eyes on the paper, and prayed for a long time for His gaze.

His parents who died in the war taught him to draw Him countless times, and he also drew Him countless times. When he closed his eyes, he could see the outline of that eye in the dark.

A teacher once witnessed the whole process of 47 coming down from the cross late at night.

The boy relaxed against the wooden frame covered with sharp wooden thorns, his expression showing a kind of unconscious calm, which is reminiscent of the statues of gods enshrined in the church. He raised his head slightly and looked up at the sky, his lips trembling and he didn't know what he was saying.

47 was punished as a matter of course.

The teachers agreed that 47 should be crucified, just as real devils were treated in the Middle Ages.

That kind of behavior does not seem to be out of ignorant hobbies, but rather like a deliberate resistance and provocation. The teachers felt that their authority had been challenged, and their methods began to become more severe.

There was a sense of joy in their tone when they said this, as if they had finally caught a model used to scare other children, and could warn and threaten others not to do the same next time.

They tried to ignore 47 and allowed this strange child to write and draw in various places where they could see it, and were always ready to use cement to smooth the words and drawings on the wall.

He would sometimes use rainwater to clean dirty wounds. Bright red blood drops would drip on the ground, making shallow pits, and small flowers like eyes would bloom after the rain.

But no matter what they do, 47 will always continue to carve words and totems wherever they can after recovering.

Those are the eyes of the "evil god" and the totem of his tribe.

They tied 47 to an iron frame and moved the iron frame to a dark iron house. But no matter whether they use hemp rope or iron chains, 47 will miraculously escape every time, and he will remain expressionless as always, calmly and focusedly writing in the room where he is detained.

The teachers soon discovered his secret behavior, angrily accused him of trying to bring disaster and death, and maliciously announced to all the children: "47 is the incarnation of the evil devil in the world, and he should rot and die in the ground forever." Here, with the company of stinky corpses.”

At first, he used charcoal that was hidden somewhere. After the teachers searched him, he dipped his fingers in mud and smeared it on the wall. After the mud was removed, he dug into the hard wall with his nails and carved deeply words that the teachers could not understand.

The ghost's limbs are covered with bloody holes left by nails, some of which have scabs, and some are still bleeding downwards.

The teachers tried a variety of methods, including spankings, electric shocks, and lobotomies. Every method imaginable at the time for correcting a "bad boy" was applied to the only bad boy.

After all faith was banned and people abandoned their gods out of fear, he became the evil god's only believer in the world.

He held rituals devoutly, praying for the evil god's attention and blessing.

The strange scene spread in the school, and the teachers gradually realized that this might be a kind of witchcraft that they could not understand; or that the child numbered "47" was really favored by the gods.

This is beyond the scope of what humans can do. It is more like being driven by some kind of force that the world cannot understand. To describe it based on the knowledge within the cognitive scope of the teachers, it can be called "demon possession".

In fact, they also did this, but often the day before they penetrated 47's limbs with iron nails and erected the cross on the back hill; in the early morning of the next day, 47 would reappear in the school like nothing happened, like an ancient A vengeful ghost in a horror story.

The nails that fixed him were pulled out by a pair of invisible hands and thrown into a pool of blood. He stepped on the steps made of empty air and stepped steadily on the wet ground.

But scratches always grow faster than cement repairs. When densely packed characters and blood-colored eyes crawled up their desks and beds like moss, they still felt a kind of fear, as if they represented the aboriginal race. Ghosts were floating above each of them.

They also thought about giving up on those words, but Mr. Tolson insisted on the concept that "if you want to exterminate a nation, you must first destroy its history and language" and demanded that they must completely eliminate the backward culture of the indigenous people.

They could only report all the strange situations related to 47 to Mr. Tolson, but this old gentleman who believed in science scolded them: "Since you can't kill him, then go kill his companions. I don't believe it." All of them know that damn witchcraft!”

The teachers were inspired. Whenever 47 did something weird that was not in line with their knowledge, they would punish a child with the cruelest means and tell him that it was all 47's fault.

"As pagans who once believed in evil gods, you were born with dirty and sinful blood, and are destined to be unable to bathe in the gaze of gods. And 47 is the worst child among you, trying to summon the terrifying evil gods to hinder your process of atonement. "

That's what teachers say.

The children also began to hate 47, as if he were the source of all misfortune, suffering and pain. They spat and threw stones at 47 one by one to show the teachers their determination to draw a clear line with the evil god.

47 is never silent, silently bearing all the malice with his eyes lowered, like a clay statue. And those children and teachers who spoke harshly to him would always be hurt unintentionally and in incredible ways.

A teacher encouraged a child to stab 47's heart with a knife. The child was found dead in the dormitory the next day, with a knife pierced through his chest and nailed to the wall.

Fear and hatred spread among the students, but 47 seemed to have no idea what was happening. He was still squatting in the corner, not eating, drinking, or sleeping, painting the walls with his eyes full.

At this point, the teachers realized that 47’s fanaticism for the “evil god” had surpassed their love for their own kind, and there was nothing they could do against him…

On June 1869, 6, Mr. Tolson announced that "good boys" would be baptized in the church.

He clicked on a list of numbers. The teachers were initially surprised but soon understood that "47" was also on the list.

Mr. Tolson never believed that there was witchcraft that could not be solved by science, and Mr. Barron racked his brains to decipher the mysteries of witchcraft. The two reached a consensus on certain things.

The children got on the truck, but instead of going to church, they were sent to a windowless iron house.

They were herded into a public bathroom, the door was closed from the outside, a stupefying drug was blown into the room through the exhaust pipe, and they lost consciousness for a few seconds.

What followed was a series of blood collection and injections that were not allowed by public order and good customs...

……

In the cemetery, a cross mottled with brown bloodstains stands tall, and a square of short graves are piled up close together under it. The crooked stone tablets are engraved with numbers that are almost worn away by the years. They are messy and unclear. rule.

Qisi lowered his head and counted the numbers, feeling that something was missing in the scene.

Eyes...the whole school should be painted with eyes...

He thought like this and wondered about his own thoughts: Why did he think there should be eye patterns in schools? After walking among the tombs for a while, Qisi felt a little dizzy. He raised his hand and touched his forehead, and sure enough he felt it was hot.

He has a fever.

The effects of insomnia are still taking place, and are getting more and more serious as time goes by. In a few days, he will probably have difficulty even walking, let alone exploring the main mission.

Qisi remembered something and took out a white paper from his backpack.

A lot of words have been written on the back of the white paper.

One part is identifiable and records the story of a child named "47"; the other part contains unfamiliar glyphs and various strange strokes crawling around, like ghostly symbols.

Ziss guessed that he had seen aboriginal writing at a certain time and thought it was an important clue, so he copied it.

But he was not impressed.

The amnesia is so severe that no pattern of memory loss can be found for the time being.

Qisi took out all the papers with writing on them and reviewed them from beginning to end.

He lowered his head inadvertently and caught a glimpse of something from the corner of his eye. He saw that the dark mud was covered with strange symbols, which were the same as those copied on white paper.

Then he realized that the ghostly drawings on the white paper were extracted from the soles of his feet.

"Do these words mean anything? Or... are they implying something?"

The words on the ground were arranged in a majestic manner, and they wanted to be caught in Qisi's eyes at the first moment. Even if he could not recognize the meaning of any word, he would still feel a kind of shock simply from the quantity.

Qiss was so noisy that he felt dizzy for a while. He decisively looked away and continued to study the number on the tombstone.

He groped all the way and found the tombstone numbered "47", and squatted down holding on to the cold stone bricks.

There was no grave behind the tombstone, only an empty coffin lying in the pit. The bottom of the coffin was engraved with a line of text that did not belong to any language in the world, but Qiss surprisingly understood it——

【I will be resurrected in two hundred years】

So says the coffin.

"Is it such an obvious reminder? Lie down now and wait two hundred years to fake the corpse?" Qiss narrowed his eyes and made a joke out of a sense of humor that only he could understand.

The warm wind rising from the ground brought bursts of bloody smell, and bright red blood beads dripped from the cross, blooming into eyes-shaped flowers the moment it hit the ground.

The scene in front of him suddenly became consistent with his imagination. Qisi felt that he had learned something, but he could not remember anything.

Songs with incomprehensible meanings rippled in my ears, and colorful figures passed before my eyes, then flew away into shapeless blocks of color, diluting the brain's ability to process information.

He poked the bottom of the coffin with his finger and found that it was surprisingly clean, with no dust to be touched.

Perhaps the safest way is to let the tool man lie down and try it first, but it is undeniable that there are very few people he can dispatch at present. To be precise, there is only one Zhang Yiyu.

And Zhang Yiyu still has great uses...

As for the coffin, it’s not like I’ve never laid in it before, and it’s familiar the second time.

Qisi tilted his head and thought for a while, then took out the Poseidon scepter from the tool list and thrust the tip of the halberd into the coffin lid.

The metal and wood made a crisp sound after the collision, and there were no new scratches on the dark wooden cover.

"It's quite strong and can effectively prevent corpse fraud." Qi Siwu smiled to himself, stepped into the coffin, and slowly lay down.

The narrow space reminded him of the employee dormitory of the black factory where he lived many years ago. But compared to then, the situation was better, at least now there was no fishy smell that made him nauseous.

Well, lie down in the coffin, create an alibi and at the same time give instructions to Zhang Yiyu remotely, and then throw out some false clues... perfect!
Qisi was thinking happily, while struggling to lift the lid next to the coffin and pull it onto the coffin box.

After lying down, he tentatively pushed the coffin lid and found that with his strength, he could still push it open.

Well, safe and secure.

In the silence, the soul leaves in the toolbar suddenly trembled crazily.

Qisi reached out to touch Ye Jian and heard Zhang Yiyu's anxious voice: "Boss, Jiang Junjue seems to have noticed that I lied and asked me to be lenient if I confessed... What should I do?"

Qiss lay back, feeling a little sleepy, and his voice became nasal: "Tell him that you are a witch, and the side task is to kill the 'philanthropist', but you don't know who the 'philanthropist' is."

"Ah? Is it okay if I expose myself so quickly?...Also, what is the status of a 'philanthropist'?"

"I promised to let you leave alive, even if it is just to avoid being sanctioned by the rules, I will do my best to complete the contract. Since you choose to trust me, then follow all my arrangements."

"Uh, but why?"

Qisi continued talking to himself: "If I don't show up in the classroom before ten o'clock, you should find an opportunity to come to the cemetery to the east as soon as possible and open the coffin behind tombstone No. 47."

He pulled up the coffin lid and closed it inch by inch. When he said the last word, the last ray of light was blocked.

Indulging in the silence, he will fall into a sleepless sleep. The time in the darkness became immeasurable, and there was a vague conversation between a man and a woman, and the sound of shovels filling the soil came and went.

I don’t know how long it took, but new voices gradually came from the distance.

First, a middle-aged male voice said: "I once learned spiritualism from the vice-president. I wonder if I can summon the ghosts of the aboriginal people and ask them to read a paragraph for us."

Another voice was very cold: "Well, you can try it."

"Hey, don't believe it. I would rather believe that this magic exists than believe that it doesn't exist..."

"Oh."

Two voices sounded one after another, one of which was very familiar.

Qisi listened for a while, raised his hands to cover his face, and laughed silently.

(End of this chapter)