Chapter 195

Mo Yi slowly looked around the servants around him and narrowed his eyes quietly.

Although he had been waiting for such an opportunity for a long time, he had already agreed to the other party's request so hasty and rashly, and there was no cooling time for props yet, so it was obvious that he was sending himself into a dangerous situation where he could not escape, which was really unwise.

Mo Yi smiled politely and calmly:

"If he wants to see me, let him come to me in person."

After saying that, he brushed the butler's shoulder without changing his face and continued to walk forward, his steps were steady and steady, as if the group of faces surrounding him were pale and stiff so that they almost didn't seem to be human servants.

There was silence in the corridor, and only the slight sound of footsteps steadily on the soft carpet were heard.

——No one stepped forward to stop him.

When Mo Yi turned the corner at the end of the corridor, his eyes glanced at the place where he was standing without a trace, and his heart couldn't help but jump slightly - countless expressionless pale faces lined up in the dim corridor, and all servants wearing straight black and white uniforms were staring at the direction of their departure, while the butler was standing in front of everyone, staring at him with empty and dark eyes, which contained a faint ominous meaning.

The two walked forward along the empty corridor.

Mo Yi frowned slightly, and felt an indescribable sense of uneasiness in his heart. He knew that the other party would never give up. After all, his prompt was basically equivalent to breaking up the other party's layout. Now it was too late to reconstruct the method of killing - he was forcing the other party to appear, but Mo Yi also knew that the other party would not give up so easily.

The two have returned to the door of the room.

Mo Yi pushed open the door of the room with a thoughtful look on his face, then seemed to remember something, turned his head and said to Wen Chen:

"By the way, that..."

Before he could finish speaking, he felt a huge pulling force coming from behind him, which caught him back unexpectedly, and fell down without warning-

In his chaotic and upside-down vision, he saw a pair of pale arms stretching out from the dark frame, and his blue fingers tightly wrapped around his shoulders. The door not far away in front of him closed at the same time, as if there was life, blocking Wen Chen's shocked face outside the door.

The back of Mo Yi's head hit hard on the hard frame, and a drowsiness wrapped in pain came in an instant. As the sky turned dizzy, consciousness was pulled into the darkness by a force that could not resist.

In a trance, he seemed to hear Wen Chen's angry but panicked voice, but he couldn't tell what Wen Chen was saying. In his sight, he saw fog rushing into the room from the gaps and bottom of the door panel, and condensed the translucent outline of his palm in the air.

Mo Yi struggled to reach out his hand, lifting his soft arms as if he wanted to hold the hands that were stretched toward him, but a second before the fingertips touched each other—

The eyes suddenly became dark.

The arms pulled him into the painting.

The nausea and dizziness brought by the concussion covered Mo Yi's gaze with a hazy gauze curtain. Seeing everything was filled with blurred shadows. Even if he tried hard to open his eyes, he could not see the scene in front of him. He felt as if he was being pushed to the depths by the surging tide. The arms that pulled him into it were no longer found. The eyes seemed to be a world flooded by pigments. The pale marble broken limbs floated and floated in the pigments, but Mo Yi could not touch a trace of it. Everything around him was empty, and a sense of powerlessness enveloped him.

There seemed to be a phantom like a withered rose in front of my eyes.

But before Mo Yi could catch its appearance, the huge attraction like a vortex suddenly pulled him in.

After a dizzy turn, Mo Yi felt himself falling heavily to the hard floor, his limbs and torso were vaguely sore, and his mind was buzzing. He struggled to stand up, holding the only support beside him with his palms. There were still waves of dizziness in his sight, and everything was vaguely ghosted.

Mo Yi closed his eyes tightly, pressed his forehead against the cold wall, waiting for his fierce dizziness to pass.

The surging nausea in the body finally subsided a little. Mo Yi slowly opened his eyes, and the ghost shadow in front of him faded a lot. Although it was still a little blurry, he could basically see the scene in front of him clearly.

He couldn't help but be stunned.

The wall I was holding on just now was hung with countless oil paintings, each of which was framed by black wood of gold wire. The painting closest to me was a pale woman lying quietly on the blood-stained silk, and her whole head rolled down, and her pair of dark eyes covered with a faint gray were half open, staring at the outside of the painting in a hollow and quiet manner.

This is...the painting hanging in his room.

And it should be a complete version that will only be presented if you die.

——And I should have been pulled in from this painting just now.

Mo Yi slowly took a few steps back and looked up at all the paintings hanging on the wall. He quickly identified several familiar faces: a still life was hanging on the upper right of the wall, and in the picture were several bottles and bitten apples. The bottles in one corner of the picture were quietly pouring over, and black sticky liquid flowed out of the mouth of the bottle, and a texture like asphalt flowed on the tablecloth. The oil painting hanging directly above the wall was a roaring ocean, with the waves of dark blue and deep black rolling up violently in the thunder and lightning. The dark ocean was bottomless, and there were many familiar scenes.

——These are all pictures hanging in the room of the players who died.

So... In this way, each of the oil paintings hanging in the player's room leads to this place.

Mo Yi took a deep breath, but suddenly found a place he had not noticed just now. Looking through the gaps between the oil paintings and oil paintings, you could see that the color of the wall was familiar brass, as if it was a gate.

He took a breath, turned around suddenly, and looked at the room he was in carefully.

The dried and semi-dried pigments seemed to be rushing in from the gaps in all directions, bulging out from the gaps between the ceiling walls and the ground, as if countless overlapping tumors were bulging into ugly shapes. Countless white broken tables and chairs were quietly sinking into the hard blocks between the paint and the paint. They looked old and had mottled and yellowed surfaces, but they could still be identified - this was the tables and chairs in the room where the wedding was held.

However, the walls and ceilings in the room were dazzling scarlet. Although the gorgeous and lush decorations faded and accumulated dust, they could still see the appearance of the room where the dance party was held.

Or, they are originally the same room.

Mo Yi's eyes were suddenly attracted by somewhere ahead. He walked slowly forward, stretched out his hand to lift the old gauze curtain hanging heavily in front of him, and his gaze became clearer-

At the end of the room, deep in the fungi forest formed by the accumulation of pigments, there was an altar covered with dust and almost difficult to tell the shape. On the altar, the place where newlyweds vowed each other, was quietly standing a dark coffin. The coffin was wrapped in thin golden silks as dark as night, flashing in the dim light.

The coffin looked smooth and brand new, without a trace of dust on it, and looked particularly weird among the countless piles of solidified pigments and old and rotten instruments.

Mo Yi saw some blurry bulges on the cover of the coffin.

When he got closer, he realized that what was placed on it was a withered rose.

Mo Yi frowned slowly and looked up at the whole room. The uneven walls of the room mixed the characteristics of the two rooms. The pale whiteness of the wedding room overlapped on the scarlet red of the dance room. The luxurious decoration and the plain gauze curtain were divided into each other. Countless solidified and raised pigments almost divided the room into two completely parallel but interconnected rooms, making people feel a strange sense of time and space disorder.

This room, hidden in the brass door, is like the heart of the entire house.

The oil paintings hanging on the door and the oil paintings in the player's room are connected to each other, like blood vessels tightly connected to the heart, connecting the room with other places in the house, and this is the core and soul of the entire house.

Mo Yi felt his heart slowly tightened by the guess that came to his mind.

He took a deep breath and took his eyes back from this almost unrecognizable room.

At this moment, the familiar man's voice sounded in his ears. The voice seemed to come from all directions in the room, as if a huge net was covering Mo Yi. His voice was low but young, and he was slowly chanting:

"There is a sad and unpredictable cellar, and fate has abandoned me there; the pink and happy sunshine cannot enter, and I am alone with the gloomy night god..."

Mo Yi was stunned for a moment, and suddenly realized what the other party was chanting-

This is a chapter in "The Flower of Evil", called "A Ghost", and the other party is reciting the first paragraph of this poem, [Night].

This poem is not a very famous chapter in the Flower of Evil, and Mo Yi himself did not study Baudelaire much, so he was not very familiar with this poem. He only knew that the verse provided at the beginning of this copy was quoted from this poem - "A Ghost".

As the male voice chanted slowly and long, Mo Yi could feel his long-lasting impression of this poem slowly emerge.

"...A graceful and glorious ghost, from time to time, shines, stretches, and unfolds until the whole figure appears."

Mo Yi was stunned.

ghost?

Before he could think further, he only listened to the man's low recitation and reached the second part [Aromatic]:

"...The deep and strange charm is intoxicating, and the years of the past are reappearing now! The lover picks the wonderful flowers of memories from the precious body..."

fragrance.

Mo Yi's eyes slowly sank. He now recalled the content of the whole poem completely clearly. There were two parts left [Picture Frame] and [Portrait] that the male voice had not yet read. The prompt at the beginning of the copy was extracted from the [Portrait] part.

He let out a breath slowly and felt the suffocation swelling in his chest.

The prompt at the beginning of the copy is far more than just the rules about the black, white and red colors, but the structure of the entire copy is metaphorized in it! The four parts of the poem "A Ghost": night, fragrance, picture frame, portrait, and each paragraph can find corresponding rules and key clues in this copy.

It can even be said that this poem is the basis and skeleton of this copy.

But... why? Baudelaire has so many masterpieces, so why did he choose this one?

And more importantly, if this copy was established according to this poem, will the context of the copy I had roughly conceived before still be true?

Mo Yi frowned, and his mind was in chaos, as if it was stirred pool water. The rotten leaves and sludge deposited at the bottom of the pond were stirred up, making his eyes chaotic and hazy, unable to see through the meaning of the scattered clues in front of him, but he knew very clearly in his heart that everything was related, and he only needed to find a key point in it.

The man was still chanting the poem "A Ghost" in a low voice, which was the third time.

Mo Yiyuanpiao's thoughts were pulled back. He raised his head in confusion, trying to tell where the sound came from, but he still returned in vain. He frowned and thought-

The housekeeper said that his master wanted to see him, but Mo Yi had been in this room for a long time now, but he still had not seen the person who was said to be looking to see him.

And...why do you have to read this poem over and over again?

Is it prompting something?

Mo Yi was stunned, as if he was shocked by some of his thoughts. His brows became tighter and the next second, he suddenly moved. He walked quickly in the direction he came, and then suddenly stopped his pace in front of the brass-colored door, staring at the countless paintings hanging crookedly on the door.

His eyes paused on a painting near the right side of the gate, and then bent down and took it off.

The painting is a pitch-black cellar, with cold gray light coming in from the narrow window on the cellar.

After picking the oil painting, Mo Yi noticed that when the male voice began to recite for the fourth time, he did not read the first paragraph of the poem [Night]. He turned the oil painting in his hand to the back, and saw a line of vague words written in handwriting at the back of the canvas. It was the passage in [Night]: "There is a sad and unpredictable cellar, and fate has discarded me there."

Mo Yi's eyes slowly lit up.

He threw the painting aside and began to search on the wall for possible corresponding pictures for each paragraph of the poem. When he finally found the fourth painting and picked it off, the male voice in his ear, who had been chanting the poem since he had just begun, suddenly stopped. The air became particularly quiet, which almost made Mo Yi feel a little uneasy.

At this moment, a sour sound came from behind, as if bones were rubbing against each other, and it seemed that something was shattering into fine fragments—

Mo Yi turned around and saw the wall covered with condensed pigments behind the altar slowly cracking the spider-web-like cracks. The pieces of the pigment fell to the ground quickly. Then, as the large pieces of pigment peeled down, there were still viscous pigments that had not yet solidified gathered into a torrent and rushed out of the wall.

The pigment as sticky as asphalt exudes a rich and pungent smell, mixed with a faint sweet smell.

Mo Yi slowly walked towards the cracked gap. The light inside was really dim and there was almost no visibility. He could only vaguely see the undulating semi-solidified pigment forming a strange structure, which looked like a strange cave. When he walked to the altar, he vaguely saw something moving in the cave covered with pigments.

The sticky and smooth sound slowly came from the darkness with a hint of coldness.

Mo Yi's eyes gradually adapted to the darkness. He saw a skinny man lying in the semi-solidified pigment.

The man's face, covered with paint, was pale like a dead person, his black eyes were half chaotic and half clear, and he was staring at him tightly, leaving only his skin and bone-covered fingers tightly holding the brush. The paint on the brush was slowly dripping down, and in front of him was a huge canvas, with a familiar portrait of a dry and faded woman, with no color yet being filled.

There was a paranoid and crazy light in his eyes, and his expression as if he was unconscious, and he was still muttering something in his mouth. After listening carefully, he could still vaguely recognize that he was chanting Baudelaire's poem.
To be continued...