Mysterious Awakening

The persistent, odd thumping echoed in the hallway with a rhythmical, methodical pattern akin to a finely tuned clock, ringing out its alarm against the usual silence, undeterred by the unlocked classroom doors.

The old man remained outside, yet the darkness in the corridor, thick and impenetrable as squid ink, silently seeped into the room.

In the face of this ominous invasion, the classroom went through incredible, expansive transformations.

The once new and smooth walls began to show signs of distress as the wallpaper continuously flaked away, unveiling a coarse and irregular texture beneath. Patches of dark green mold blossomed on the weathered surface, exuding a bone-chilling, musty odor. The books placed on the chairs started to age at an alarming rate, their vibrant pages rapidly turning a sickly yellow before crumbling away. The concrete floor, once sturdy and reliable, also began to decay. It weathered away to reveal the rusting iron rebar underneath, and in places, even began to cave in.

Time seemed to have accelerated, with decades passing in what felt like a mere instant. The classroom bore the brunt of this temporal distortion, standing ravaged and ruined as if weathered by many years of neglect.

Yet, amidst the chaos, the classroom lights clung onto their luminance. Their bright, white radiance flickered like a lonely candle amidst a tempest, casting a final, feeble glow as if they might be snuffed out at any given second.

Terror etched itself onto each student’s face. Some let out terrified screams, others cried for help, and a few quivered in their seats. However, one man, Right, maintained his composure. Stationed at the podium, he stood like a sentinel, surveying his surroundings, always alert for the slightest disturbance.

Faced with a territory-controlling specter, he knew this was a situation beyond his usual capabilities.

“Right, look!” Jing suddenly bellowed, breaking the tense silence. His complexion was ghostly pale as he pointed a trembling finger at a few students on the classroom desks.

Before this, they’d been unnoticed. But now, with them in plain view, he finally comprehended the horrifying situation.

Thump, thump-thump.

The odd, rhythmic thumping resounded once again.

In the wake of this sound, a male student who had been alive and standing among them mere moments before started convulsing, his body trembling violently before rigidly collapsing to the floor.

“Li Ming, what’s happened to you?”

“What is going on? What is happening? We need help!”

A terrified female student sat frozen in fear, her voice choked with sobs as she cried out in desperation.

“He was perfectly fine just a second ago. How could this…?” A wavering voice muttered, its owner too shocked to complete the sentence.

Jing’s face hardened, his eyes steeling with resolve, “Why are you all panicking? There’s a ghost outside the door, we are in mortal danger. You will soon understand the true horror of a ghost capable of forming a ghost domain.”

His words hung heavy in the air, each student looking at him with pure, unadulterated fear. They were like prey trapped in a predator’s den, shivering with dread.

“Right, haven’t you figured out anything yet? If you don’t come up with a plan, we are all going to die in this place,” Jing cried out again, his voice echoing through the transformed classroom.

The tremor in his heart echoed the fear that permeated the very atmosphere of the ghost domain. He realized, with an unsettling clarity, that anyone within these spectral borders, himself included, could become a victim of the malicious spirits.

“If you can’t stomach the suspense, take off on your own. But don’t harbor illusions that I’d risk my life to save yours,” Right warned, his face lined with tension. The fear that was evident in his eyes showed that he was hesitant to take any rash steps in this perilous domain.

“Racing blindly through the ghost domain is a surefire way to meet a swift end. Do you really think I’m oblivious to that fact?” Jing shot back, irritation lacing his words.

“Since you’re aware of the danger, then sit still and keep quiet. Death isn’t selective here, it comes for us all. Don’t flatter yourself by thinking that your knowledge makes you special. To these ghosts, every human is equally mortal,” Right admonished, his voice ringing with solemnity.

“Damn it,” Jing muttered under his breath, the grim reality settling in.

Miles, too, felt an icy grip on his limbs. The gravity of their situation had finally sunk in, forcing him to swallow his fear and stay composed. This was far from a trifling matter.

His gaze strayed towards the blackboard that was on the verge of toppling from the wall. The words scrawled on it held his attention, especially the last phrase: Understand the ghost’s rules.

“Right is hesitant to take any step because he’s studying the old man who haunts the doorway, trying to unravel his behavior patterns. Only once he’s discerned the rules can he make a calculated move. Quick, think, what patterns could this spectral elder possibly follow?”

His mind began to churn at a frantic pace, piecing together fragments of information from the stories shared in the forum, connecting them with the events unfolding around him.

There must be some correlation; there must be shared elements.

In one such tale, a user named Thunder King was in his home when the door was shut. The old man stood outside the door, knocked, entered, approached the room door, knocked again, and then intruded.

At present, the ghostly figure loomed outside their corridor, knocking on the door but yet to make an entrance.

Why would the ghost enter the netizen’s home but refrain from doing so here?

The situations were identical, and yet the outcomes diverged. What caused this discrepancy?

Could it be the timing that differed?

And what aspect of time was missing?

Was it the duration of the knock?

This could very well be the key.

Summoning up a surge of courage, Miles exclaimed, “Right, it has to do with the knocking.”

“The knocking?” Right focused on the student who’d made the bold claim, his interest piqued. “What are you implying?”

Gulping down his fear, Miles stammered out his theory, “It’s speculative, but I believe the entity eliminates its victims via the door knock. Maybe the old man’s strategy is tied to timing, or it could be something else entirely, but it unquestionably involves knocking. If we could somehow inhibit the spectral figure from knocking, it might give us a fighting chance.”

If the very act of knocking had the power to kill, then this ghost was a manifestation of sheer terror.

“This creature’s potential is surfacing too rapidly,” Jing mused internally, his eyes locked onto Miles with a potent glare, his fists clenched with a grim resolve, “I cannot allow him to walk out of this school alive.”

“I’ll put my faith in you, just this once,” Right declared gravely, withdrawing his intense gaze. He was cornered. Inaction was not an option. If he did not intervene, every person present would perish.

Without a second thought, Right sprung into action. His movements mirrored the agility and ferocity of a wild beast as he lunged forward. His thin upper body and portly lower body exhibited an explosive power that transcended ordinary human capabilities.

“Boom!”

Accompanied by a thunderous crash, the classroom door was sent flying off its hinges under the impact of his charge, along with it, the old man’s lifeless body.

Understandably, no one ventured forward to help the elderly figure back up, their actions restrained by sheer terror. His corpse lay in a bizarre, unnatural position, mimicking a rigid puppet whose limbs were manipulated at will, devoid of the suppleness that characterizes a living being.

Ghosts cannot be slain.

Right would not forget this universal truth, a rule he himself had penned down.

Even if this old man was crushed into a pulp, then incinerated into ashes, he would not perish. Instead, he would resurface in the most extraordinary ways.

Only a ghost could best another ghost.

Right gritted his teeth, his voice echoing through the room, “Look for the opportune moment, and flee as soon as you spot a chance. I’ll hold this entity back.”

Once he finished speaking, his ample cloak seemed to inflate, and the protrusion in his belly wriggled unsettlingly.

A hand, or to be more precise, the silhouette of a hand, began to stretch out from beneath a layer of skin. The hand bore a ghastly grey-blue hue, tipped with razor-sharp nails that seemed to yearn to break free of the skin confining it.

However, the belly skin enveloping this hand demonstrated surprising resilience, refusing to tear. What’s more, this hand extended over two meters in length.

Was this even human?

In this surreal display, the monstrous grey-blue hand reached out and seized the old man sprawled on the floor, as the stuttering buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead added to the macabre ambiance of their clash.

The darkness that had previously consumed the classroom dissipated in an instant, replaced by the comforting glow of the lights. Despite the walls still bearing a mottled appearance and the ground seeming on the brink of collapse, the cataclysm appeared to have been momentarily subdued.

“It worked,” Right murmured, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

His eyes expanded to their limits in sheer terror, the wave of fear washing over his gaunt, almost skeletal visage with such intensity that it seemed to physically affect him.

The old man’s decrepit figure that had collapsed on the ground was now in motion, slowly rising to his feet. His eyes, the color of dust and decay, shifted subtly as though he was focusing his attention on Right.

“It can’t be, he’s moving again? Even after I’ve imposed my restrictions?” Right’s features morphed drastically with disbelief and fear. Reacting instantly, he roared out his command, “Leave, leave now! Get out while the ghost domain hasn’t fully manifested. I’ll stay here, I’ll try to keep this entity at bay.”

This ghost was clearly of a threat level far beyond what he had initially anticipated.

A cold dread seeped into his very core as if his heart was drenched in icy sweat, leaving him to ponder with trepidation what cruel twists of fate awaited them.