007 The Library Under Attack

To ensure my own safety, I couldn’t just sit and wait for disaster to strike. The day after the incident in the dormitory building, I made my way to the library, determined to look for information. Though D University was a closed campus, its resources were truly abundant, covering virtually every field of knowledge. There was no shortage of materials on supernatural legends either: from the Classic of Mountains and Seas, to collections of real paranormal cases, to ancient techniques for refining corpses.

From the computer, I learned that the section on paranormal literature was located on the library’s basement level. I hurried to the elevator, only to find an “Under Maintenance” sign stuck on its doors. The notice read, “Elevator under repair, please use the stairs,” with a huge arrow below it, as if afraid people wouldn’t know where to go.

As I entered the stairwell, the dim yellow light made me pause. It felt eerily similar to the ghostly cries in the dormitory. Forcing myself to be brave, I charged straight down to the basement. To my astonishment, the entire floor was bathed in a golden glow. The walls weren’t normal brick, but earth—as if I were in an underground bunker. If not for the abundance of books, I would have thought I had wandered into a cavern.

I glanced at the sign by the entrance: “D University Library Paranormal Reading Room.” Since I hadn’t gone to the wrong place, I reassured myself that nothing would go awry.

Inside, there were only six or seven bookshelves, sparsely populated with books. I had expected that finding the right material would be a tedious process, especially since I didn’t even know what keywords to search for. But at this rate, it might only take an hour or two.

So I started at the first shelf, methodically searching book by book. That familiar, chilly sensation crept over me again—I glanced around warily. There was no one, and the silence was uncanny.

I went to the borrowing desk, only to find it deserted as well. Odd—where was the staff member who handled borrowing registrations? It might make sense for there to be no students, but not having a staff member was strange. Hesitantly, I called out, “Is anyone there?”

Swallowing nervously, I called again, softer, “Hello? Anyone?” Still, no reply. Maybe the staff member was in the restroom, or perhaps off duty today. I was probably overthinking things—why scare myself? I reassured myself, and my nerves settled somewhat.

About half an hour later, at the fifth bookshelf, I still hadn’t found anything about playing cards. But I did come across information on the patterns depicted on the cards: that strange bronze mirror, and the bizarre creature on the Charcoal Head’s card.

After the incident with the Ruthless One, I had shared all my theories with Charcoal Head, who in turn showed me his playing card. But neither of us could identify the creature—it was at best some kind of beast.

Now, finally, I found a description in a book: a Yaksha.

A legendary monster—green hair like vines, over two meters tall, long and bony, one hand gripping a trident, the other a shield, with a pair of horns on its head. I never expected the playing card to depict such a strange creature. What did it represent?

Yaksha—said to fly and burrow, immortal and ageless. The “A” might signify “first,” “strongest,” or something similar. Perhaps there was a connection. As for the mirror, there was no shortage of information: the Yellow Emperor’s Mirror of Destiny for the true chosen one; the First Emperor’s Bone-Reflecting Mirror, which could reveal the internal organs; the Mirror of No Ill, said to cure all diseases. But none matched the mirror on my card—could it be something even more extraordinary?

Lost in thought as I examined my card, I was startled by a sudden tap on my shoulder. I spun around, practically leaping from my seat.

“Hey there, is such a reaction necessary? I just wanted to ask if you know where the staff member in charge of borrowing registrations went.”

The person before me wore a white lab coat and glasses, scholarly and dignified, like a doctor. Sensing my scrutiny, the bespectacled man frowned slightly. “It’s rather rude to stare. My name is Zhang Yisheng, from the Medical School.”

“Dr. Zhang? I know you’re a medical student, but isn’t calling yourself ‘doctor’ a bit presumptuous?” I teased, still a little jumpy.

“It’s ‘Yi’ as in ‘first,’ and ‘Sheng’ as in ‘life’—Zhang Yisheng. Thank you.” His expression darkened slightly, but he didn’t show much displeasure. Since he seemed good-tempered, I let the joke drop.

“To be honest, I don’t know where the staff member is. They weren’t here when I arrived.”

“I see. Thanks.” With that, Zhang Yisheng turned to leave. As he walked away, I caught a glimpse of the book he intended to borrow—something about acupuncture. But if he was here in the basement reading room, it was likely some forbidden or unorthodox text. For a medical student with such a promising future, what could he be looking for here?

In fact, I’d heard of Zhang Yisheng from the very start of my studies—his name was legendary. The most brilliant medical student in D University’s history: assisting in surgeries as a freshman, all of which were successful. His technique, courage, and precision were universally admired. After all, performing a surgery was an exhausting feat.

Around such a prodigy, I couldn’t help but feel inferior—and that inferiority sometimes bred a touch of scorn. If I could one-up him, my little sense of competitiveness would be satisfied. First place? Hah, yet he still had to ask me questions.

Less than two minutes after Zhang Yisheng left, a shriek echoed from the reading room entrance. Could it be the Ruthless One? Had she followed me here? The memory of that monstrous woman with her inverted triangular fangs made my skin crawl. Clutching my playing card tightly, I rushed to the doorway—but whatever had happened was already over.

I saw Chen Hao huddled in a corner, clearly the source of the scream, with Zhang Yisheng beside him tending his wounds.

“Chen Hao!” I hurried to his side. “Are you alright?”

“You two know each other?” Zhang Yisheng finished his work quickly and, seeing our familiarity, left without another word.

“Chen Hao! What happened? Don’t be afraid, I’m here!” I cupped his large, trembling face in my hands. His body was still shaking, his lips quivering, and he twisted nervously. It took a while for him to calm down.

“Zijian, I came here to find you, and a strange, tall woman attacked me.”

“She knocked me to the ground and bit my foot!”

“Then Zhang Yisheng appeared and killed the monster in one move!”

“Killed it?” I asked, baffled. “You mean Zhang Yisheng killed the monster? How?”

“He split it in two with a single stroke—it was terrifying! He was so frightening in that moment!”

“Split it in two? With what? Don’t tell me he carries a scalpel everywhere?” I joked, hoping to ease Chen Hao’s nerves.

“No, not at all! He used a playing card—a strange playing card.” Chen Hao, suddenly recalling something, fumbled in his pocket and produced a card. “It looked a lot like this, but the back showed a creature resembling a crab.”

“A crab? Like a crab soldier or shrimp general?” I glanced at Chen Hao’s card—a two of diamonds. Its suit and sequence were connected to Charcoal Head’s, but the image was simple: a giant, hairy hand.

I took out my own card. “Is it similar to this?”

Chen Hao nodded vigorously. “Exactly!”

“Why do you have this playing card too?”

“I was about to ask you the same! But first, tell me—did Zhang Yisheng really split the monster in two with a playing card?”

“Yes!”

“You’re sure you didn’t miss any crucial details?”

“Uh… I remember the monster’s teeth—they were terrifying. Inverted triangles, razor-sharp.”

“I’m still scared just thinking about it.”

Taking a deep breath, I realized it was true—the creature had followed me here.