The Record of Repairing the Broken Body

My soul lamp is going out. Three years ago, my grandfather, who was supposed to be lying in a coffin, used an anonymous text message to trick me into entering the old theater in Wunuo Town. Twelve bloody Nuo faces stared in the darkness, and every sound of the gong accurately struck the zodiac sign of my birth date. I saw his soul being sewn onto the stage curtain, and those threads were all pulled out of my scalp. There are only two relics he left me: the ancestral Nuo noodle with a half-cracked left eye, and a curse carved into the palm of my hand - the Soul Lamp Seal. The world is being swallowed by "sandboxes" - weird dreams condensed on the wounds of reality, each with its own crazy and absolute rules. In the morgue, you must play the role of the corresponding "corpse" or "night watchman"; in the hospital, you must abide by thirteen hospitalization rules that are difficult to distinguish; in the abandoned school, you must pass an exam that will never graduate... If you break the rules, you will become part of the sandbox, and your soul will suffer forever. And I, a defective product with only 5% of my soul capacity left and may be completely extinguished at any time, The road that my grandfather paved for me with his life ended in a lie called "third choice". The remnants of Butian Pavilion, the church that worships the abyss, and those predecessors who turned into monsters according to the rules are all staring at me. They wanted to blow out my lamp and take away the few soul-suppressing bones in my body that are said to be able to open or close the "Gate to Return to Ruins". This is a story about finding cracks in a given ending. When the world tells you that you were born to be consumed, do you choose to burn it out quietly, or do you burn out a new possibility in the last light?