When the dying chill spread across his neck, Lin Mo heard that cold voice——
[Welcome to the "Corridor of Fear", participant number 734.
[Rule 1: Every copy has a way out, but the way out is often hidden in the scariest places.
[Rule 2: Don't trust anyone, including your own memory.
[Rule 3: Survive, or become part of the corridor.
From the moment he suddenly sat up in the morgue, he was forced to step into an infinite loop of horrific copies:
It's the sound of combing hair at midnight, and the stranger's face gradually becoming clearer in the mirror;
It's a mountain village on a rainy night, and a team of paper figures carrying a red coffin is always three meters behind;
It was a hospital besieged by zombies, and his face from ten years ago flashed across the surveillance screen...
Each dungeon is screening "qualified candidates", and points can be exchanged for skills or lives. But when he touched the corners of the truth among the layers of lies, he discovered that the so-called "corridor" might just be a glass jar in the palm of his hand——
These "players" who are struggling to survive have always been specimens under observation.
And the strange symbol engraved on the walls of all the copies is, as he goes deeper, pieced together his forgotten past bit by bit.
"It turns out... I died once a long time ago."
When trust became the deadliest poison, when memory became the sharpest knife, Lin Mo clenched the half candle in his hand and chose the most dangerous path in the boundless darkness:
"You want me to be a specimen? Then open this glass jar first."
