This street used to be a bustling commercial area, about five or six meters wide, with heavy foot traffic before the incident. It was one of the most well-known districts in the outer city. So when the incident occurred, the Quarantine Center responsible for pollution control at the base was severely criticized.

Of course, they were used to being scolded all the time.

As the exam candidates gradually entered the shops, Ruan Xing moved along the street without venturing into the surrounding stores.

Some storefronts still looked brand new, with colorful neon signs displaying different names.

But the deeper he walked, the vibrant decorations faded, replaced by older, dust-covered facades.

Turning into a narrower alley, Ruan Xing glanced upward. The three-story-high passage was too enclosed for sunlight to reach. Moss climbed the walls, and tangled electrical wires crisscrossed overhead.

Hanging outside a third-floor window was a large, three-dimensional metal sign.

Freshly painted. A deep, bloody red.

Happiness Cinema.

The cinema’s glass doors, about two to three meters wide, came into view. The dark green glass was shattered all over the ground, leaving the floor unclear. It was pitch black inside.

Outside the entrance, several posters were plastered on the wall. Some were brightly colored, promoting recent blockbuster films, covering older, faded posters beneath them.

Instead of removing the old ones, they had simply pasted new ones over them. The staff here must have been quite lazy.

Ruan Xing peeled off a layer.

The second layer’s posters were from several years ago. Surprisingly, beneath them was yet another layer.

Layer after layer, like a Russian nesting doll.

Fortunately, he soon reached the last one.

The bottommost poster was barely legible—its text blurred, and the date was indistinguishable.

Carefully, Ruan Xing peeled off the final layer.

The paper was thin and fragile, and the images were unclear. Only a few words were faintly recognizable.

From Ruan Xing’s left shoulder, Fu Gui hopped to his right. [What does it say? I can’t read it.]

Ruan Xing folded the poster and stuffed it into his pocket before stepping forward. “Let’s go inside.”

The first-floor lobby was dark. As Ruan Xing entered, his eyes struggled to adjust. Once he could make out shapes, he searched for the light switch.

Click!

The lights flickered on.

Directly ahead were a few uniquely designed seats, likely for customers to rest in. Scattered around were numerous movie tickets, all for the films advertised on the posters outside.

To the left of the entrance stood a row of self-service ticket machines. Their screens were pitch black and unresponsive.

To the right, the counter was neat and tidy, stocked with snacks and drinks. A popcorn machine was placed beside it.

Fu Gui fluttered over, peering into the popcorn compartment, then sighed in disappointment. [No popcorn.]

Ruan Xing searched but didn't find the floor plan of the cinema.

Or rather, he couldn’t find the floor plan for the second and third floors.

That was unusual. Normally, a place like this would have clear maps, complete with emergency escape routes to guide customers in case of an accident.

If there was a floor plan, it should cover the entire cinema, not just part of it.

It was as if someone had deliberately hidden the maps for the second and third floors.

Fu Gui muttered, [Something feels off.]

Ruan Xing pulled out his gun.

The layout of the first floor was simple.

Mainly a rest area, ticket counter, staff lounge, and offices.

The second floor was likely where the screening rooms were located.

With no elevator, Ruan Xing had to take the stairs, and after climbing two flights, he was already out of breath.

[Not to be rude, but you really need to work out. Good thing this test doesn’t include a fitness assessment—if it were a university fitness test, you’d definitely fail.]

Ruan Xing scoffed. “Shut that crow mouth of yours.”

The second floor had an odd layout. At the top of the stairs was a dimly lit hallway, completely sealed off from outside light.

As if deliberately designed to be mysterious, the second floor had no light switches or windows for natural light to seep in.

The only source of illumination came from the flashlight on Ruan Xing’s smart brain.

It was eerily quiet. Perhaps due to the enclosed space, even Ruan Xing and Fu Gui’s breathing sounded unnaturally loud.

The entire second floor felt like a space completely cut off from the outside world.

At that moment, he felt like a traveler stepping into another dimension.

Ruan Xing had never been to any cinema before, but in his mind, this place shouldn’t be much different from a hotel.

You just had to follow the sequence and find your assigned room.

Theater 1, Theater 2, Theater 3, Theater 5…

As he moved down the hall, Ruan Xing counted the room numbers silently.

One is missing?

Wasn’t there supposed to be another number between 3 and 5?

When people encounter something that doesn’t align with their understanding, they instinctively seek confirmation—to reconcile reality with what they know.

Like how people naturally age over time, but if someone suddenly appears younger, the first reaction isn’t to think they’ve reversed time but to wonder what cosmetic treatments they’ve undergone.

Because the first possibility simply doesn’t fit with common sense.

Ruan Xing stepped back and counted again.

Theater 2, Theater 3, Theater 5.

No mistake.

He walked to the end of the hallway.

There were a total of five theaters on the second floor—Theaters 1 to 6.

However… there was no Theater 4.

Apart from the inexplicably missing Theater 4, everything else seemed normal.

Fu Gui squawked, [What kind of dumbass runs this place? Did they seriously just mess up the numbering?]

But that seemed unlikely. There was probably another reason.

Maybe they had skipped the number 4 due to superstition?

That wouldn’t make sense either—Ruan Xing distinctly remembered that among the scattered movie tickets on the first floor, quite a few were for screenings in Theater 4.

Ruan Xing found the staircase to the third floor.

The same oppressive darkness greeted him.

But unlike the second floor, a distinct scent filled the air the moment he stepped onto the third floor.

It was the smell of something that had been burned and then extinguished, leaving behind the lingering traces of incomplete combustion.

At the same time, an inexplicable feeling swept over Ruan Xing.

This floor—this was the true source of his unease.

Ruan Xing tightened his grip on the gun as his flashlight swept across the walls.

Theater 7.

His steps were slow and soundless against the carpeted hallway.

The silence pressed in from all directions, but Ruan Xing could feel something watching him.

He raised his wrist, letting the beam of light sweep over the next door.

Theater 4.

The smell, which had been a mere presence before, now surged with a vengeance.

It felt like countless tiny figures were stabbing daggers inside his nasal cavity while some traveled up into his brain, wielding hoes and crowbars to pry at his very mind.

His body convulsed. For a split second, the overwhelming sensation severed his consciousness from his physical form.

A fraction of a second later, he snapped back to himself.

By then, the crow was already shrieking. [Run! The pollution level just passed 50%!]

Ruan Xing immediately turned and ran back to his previous path.

But the hallway had changed as it stretched infinitely.

No matter how far he ran, he kept passing the same screening rooms.

Theater 7, Theater 4.

Theater 7, Theater 4…

He was trapped.

Realizing this, Ruan Xing stopped.

On his shoulder, Fugui trembled. [It's a rule.]

The higher the pollution level, the more likely it was for rules to form within the zone. Those caught inside had only two options: find a loophole and escape or purify the area.

Of course, there was another method—an overwhelming brute force.

But for a lone powerless Mage, that option clearly didn’t apply to him.

Fu Gui cawed furiously. [What the hell?! Didn’t the Quarantine Center say they’d already handled the main part? Why the hell is the cleanup this ridiculous?]

The feeling of being watched intensified.

Fugui muttered, [I can sense it. The pollution source… it’s behind Theater 4!]

Ruan Xing had no time to question how Fu Gui knew.

He walked slowly, trying to escape the looping corridor.

But he remained trapped in the cycle.

Theater 7. Theater 4.

Theater 7. Theater 4…

Since he couldn’t leave, there was only one thing left to do.

Go inside.

Ruan Xing turned toward Theater 4.

Fu Gui swallowed hard. [Are we really going in?]

Ruan Xing replied, [If you can fly out, be my guest.]

Once the rules were in place, the area became a self-contained domain. Regular Awakened couldn't simply force their way out, let alone a weak little crow like Fu Gui.

So, Fu Gui had no choice but to hunker down on Ruan Xing’s shoulder, its tiny claws nearly tearing the fabric of Ruan Xing’s shirt.

Ruan Xing disengaged the safety on his gun and pulled the door open.

Then, he froze.

The doors opened outward.

Between the cracks of the door, countless blackened handprints were crammed together. Looking closely, Ruan Xing realized that the handprints weren’t just layered—they were twisted, distorted, and overlapping grotesquely.

Like countless people had desperately clawed at the doors, trying to escape from Theater 4.

He stole a glance at the crow on his shoulder. It looked tense, wary, but still wearing its usual clueless expression.

Ruan Xing remained silent.

He didn’t want to tell Fu Gui what he had just seen.

—

The moment he stepped into Theater 4, the suffocating stench vanished.

Dim, yellowish light unfolded, like the pages of an aged newspaper.

The scene before him rippled, shifting and blurring as though he was staring into the distorted reflection of water.

Suddenly, shadowy figures surrounded him. Their faces were unreadable, their forms hazy, and their postures eerily stiff—like a flickering film reel, frozen in a choppy sequence of broken frames.

At the center stood a semi-circular wooden reception desk covered in the marks of time. It looked to be at least twenty years old.

But just half an hour ago, when Ruan Xing first arrived at Happiness Cinema, the counter on the first floor was brand new and made of pristine white oak.

As he took a step forward, the yellowed lighting grew brighter. The old, flickering film-like quality around him shifted into normal color as he moved.

It was as if someone from outside the film had suddenly stepped into it, merging seamlessly with this strange world.

The shadowy figures around him began to change. Their faces remained blurred, but their stiff postures loosened. The flickering frames smoothed out, and the world around him came to life with noise and motion.

Had these figures truly become more real—or had he started to resemble them by delving deeper into this eerie world?

Ruan Xing reached the counter.

A short man stood behind it, wearing a black vest. His hair was slicked back with thick pomade, gleaming like polished leather. Its peculiar shape made it look like he had a lacquered black mango stuck to his head.

He flashed a polite, practiced smile. “Are you here to see the new movie?”

As he spoke, his fingers moved methodically over an old ticket machine.

"Here’s your ticket. Today, only Theater 4 has available seats."

Ruan Xing stood still, refusing to take it.

“I’m not here to watch a movie.”

The receptionist’s smile stiffened. "Everyone comes here to watch movies. Are you saying you didn’t come here to watch a movie?”

At his words, the surrounding “customers” froze.

Then, like mechanical dolls, they slowly turned their heads.

Only their heads.

One woman in a red dress twisted her neck a full 180 degrees.

Their joints creaked like old hinges, and their blank eyes locked onto Ruan Xing.

Fu Gui let out a panicked shriek in his mind [Yes, yes, yes! We’re here to watch a movie!]

“No,” Ruan Xing stated firmly. “I’m not here to watch a movie.”

Fu Gui’s small body trembled violently.

Why would you break the rule?! Breaking the rule means getting wiped out!

The receptionist’s smile suddenly froze like a machine with jammed gears. It repeated, over and over again, in a mechanical voice—

"What did you say?"

At the same time, the surrounding customers had somehow crept closer.

Their stiff expressions remained unchanged as their vacant eyes locked onto him.

One after another, they repeated:

"What did you say?"

"What did you say?"

"What did you say?!"

Saliva dribbled from their mouths. Their jaws slowly pried open, growing wider and wider—like a paper cutter, splitting their heads horizontally to fully expose their whole mouth.

The girl in the red dress—the one closest to Ruan Xing—let out a high-pitched, shrieking laugh. Her lower jaw hung grotesquely open, revealing a forked tongue slithering between rows of jagged, grime-covered teeth.

It was clear that if Ruan Xing refused to comply, these "customers" would devour him alive.

On his shoulder, Fu Gui had already clamped its wings over its eyes.

However, Ruan Xing remained perfectly calm.

“I’m not here to watch a movie,” he replied.

“I’m here to apply for a job.”

With that, he calmly unfolded the old, faded paper and slapped it onto the counter. Though the text was nearly illegible, it was still recognizable as a recruitment poster.

I’m not here to challenge you. I’m here to join you.