Death's path corresponds to life's path.
If the death path is misjudged, the living face an inescapable doom.
Ji Li's two previous plans to strike first weren't wrong. Aside from Liuzi's vague death, both his own attack and the lanky man's death carried a brief delay.
And the lanky man's final words had created an illusion:
*Don't look at it.* He had mistaken his own death as the result of watching the frame.
From his perspective, the frame had first targeted Ji Li. In the chaos, his gaze caused the frame to shift, sweeping over his face. That was when he was branded, cursed, and killed.
Believing it was his own glance that triggered the death path, he ignored the truth—the frame moved on its own.
That single mistaken warning had driven Ji Li's reasoning into a bottomless pit.
He had concluded the death path was direct eye contact with the frame.
But the yellow-haired man never opened his eyes, never once looked—yet still died.
A far darker truth emerged.
The real death path: the moment the frame captures your full face, it engraves your portrait—and you die.
Realization chilled Ji Li to the bone.
The video call was still active.
The yellow-haired man had used the rear camera to film the coffin. When he died, his phone fell to the ground.
Now Ji Li's phone showed only darkness—meaning the other phone's screen, carrying his face, was fully exposed.
Ji Li's scalp prickled with dread. He tried to throw his phone away—yet in lowering his head for an instant, he saw it.
The empty frame had emerged from the coffin. Suspended in the air, it faced the fallen phone screen. And through it—his face.
The death path was set to strike.
He hurled the phone aside, but the chill surrounding him only thickened.
A hand reached once more from the coffin, seizing his hair and dragging him back toward it.
Ji Li panicked, slashed the strands free, and rolled forward—only to be seized again.
In desperation, he pulled his clothes over his head to cover his face, then clawed at a raised stone in the ground, forcing a shaky stalemate against the ghost's pull.
But it was only a delay.
From countless missions, he knew: he was already at the very edge of the death path.
Perhaps the frame hadn't fully imprinted his face. That was why he hadn't died instantly, unlike the others.
He braced himself—face hidden, one hand gripping the stone, feet pressed against the coffin lid—balancing on the brink.
*Smash the damn frame!*
The second persona shrieked in his mind.
*Impossible! The frame is the ghost's vessel—it can't be destroyed!* The third persona answered coldly, proposing another path.
*There's less than half the mission left. If you keep your face covered and wrestle with it until the timer ends, you might survive.*
Ji Li shook with effort, sweat pouring beneath the cloth. But the cold breath at his side lingered.
He could feel it—the empty frame hovering before him, waiting for exposure… or the mission's end.
He growled back:
"No. My left arm is useless—I can't last three hours. And avoiding the death path isn't enough. The mission requires finding the life path to end the haunting. If I don't, when time runs out, the ghost will still be here—and without rules, I'll never escape this alley!"
Countless solutions flashed through his mind. None broke the deadlock.
Frowning, he steadied himself. The life path had to be here—something he'd overlooked.
And then—through the fabric over his face—he felt a flicker of light.
"Light…"
"Light!"
Suddenly, it struck him—the anomaly from before.
Why, in the second round, when the frame had caught his face directly, hadn't he died instantly?
Instead, he'd faced the same half-death struggle as now.
The streetlamp.
That time, the first thing he saw wasn't the frame—it was a blinding reflection.
The frame's surface was glass. It needed a clear image to brand a face.
But standing beneath the streetlamp, the glare had blurred his reflection. The ghost couldn't carve his portrait completely.
That was why he hadn't died immediately.
The mystery shattered. The pieces fell into place.
The life path was clear: prevent the frame from ever capturing his face.
In that—life could be found.
*Your bag!*
*There's a headlamp inside. Put it on your head—it completely counters the ghost's death path!*
*It won't be able to capture your face anymore, only a blur of light!*
The second persona, having once died with Ji Li, feared that sensation deeply. The moment the life path was revealed, it screamed frantically in his mind.
Ji Li didn't need telling—he was already moving.
Before the ghost struck, he remembered clearly: his backpack was open, lying close by after the earlier struggle.
Abandoning his grip against the hand, his body was dragged toward the coffin. But he reached out by memory, snatched the bag into his arms.
*Hurry! Only three seconds left!*
The third persona lost its calm, shouting in alarm.
Ji Li clutched the bag with his injured arm, fumbling inside with his right hand.
**Three!**
His fingers brushed against something oddly shaped, cold, with straps around its edge—no time to think.
**Two!**
He yanked the cloth from his head. In the instant his vision cleared, he dropped his gaze, refusing to look at the frame floating before him.
**One!**
Half his body was already inside the coffin. The hand dragging him belonged to the corpse of the yellow-haired man!
In half a second—he switched on the lamp and fixed it to his head.
The empty frame, the ghost's vessel, aligned with his face at the same moment.
But this time Ji Li didn't flinch. The 30W beam on his head turned his face into pure light.
In the ghost's eyes, his features no longer existed. No portrait could be carved.
Thud!
The empty frame swayed in the air, then crashed to the ground.
Inside its white background appeared the image of a gaunt old man.
It glared with hatred at the living man before the coffin—then vanished.
The corpses of Liuzi, the lanky man, and the yellow-haired man, which had been under Ji Li's feet, disappeared as well.
The white-clad funeral procession also dissolved. No trace of the supernatural remained in Beggar's Alley.
Ji Li's strength collapsed. His blood-drained arm was long numb, and he fell helplessly to the ground.
As he blacked out, his phone vibrated. A new email had arrived, right on time.
Recipient: **Acting Manager Ji Li, Tianhai Hotel Branch Seven**
*Successfully received the third resident. Upgrade conditions met.*
*Branch Seven promoted to a one-star hotel.*
*Five new staff members will be recruited to assist the manager.*
*Note: Before reaching two stars, an acting manager may create only one reasonable rule to restrict staff. No essential differences otherwise.*
Sender: **Tianhai**