Mysterious Resurrection: I Am Not Ghost Eye Yang Jian

A fanfic about a mysterious resurgence. In the last semester of my senior year in high school, I fell asleep in class. When I woke up, there was a man standing on the podium. He said his name was Zhou Zheng. He said ghosts cannot be killed. He said there is a price to pay for mastering ghosts. He said that ghosts have laws, and the laws cannot be violated. He said that these three laws are paid for by life, and those who cannot remember them will not survive tonight. I thought I was dreaming. But I recognized these three sentences - they came from a novel I had read, "The Mysterious Resurrection." What frightened me more was not Zhou Zheng, but the hands I saw when I lowered my head. Those are not my hands. People around me call me "Yang Jian". I became the protagonist in the novel. The person who stepped on bones and blood to the end in the supernatural world. But I'm not him. I don't have his coldness, his decisiveness, or his heart that can still grit its teeth and rush forward in despair. I am just an ordinary senior high school student who was still worrying about my math homework yesterday. The system gave me ghost eyes and a cold reminder: the probability of survival is 31.7%. The Knocker knocks the rhythm of death behind him, and the Hungry Ghost stretches out its all-devouring arms from the wall. I know their rules, I know where the plot goes, I know who can be trusted and who can't. But knowing doesn't mean you can survive. What's even scarier is that my very existence is changing the course of the story. The butterfly has flapped its wings. In the original novel, people who deserve to die may live, and people who deserve to live may die. And I am becoming a person who is even stranger to me