Wen Nannan's mental fortitude, honed by the grueling trials of the game and the constant threat of death, allowed her to quickly regain her composure. Panic was not an option—fear would only decrease her chances of survival. These were just illusions, she reminded herself. The ghosts were trying to break down her psychological defenses.
Wen Nannan closed her eyes, determined to ignore the ghostly hands clawing at her.
"You stay here in my place—" a woman's cold voice whispered in her ear, stabbing her heart like a steel needle. "You don't even like it outside—" Chaotic and eerie murmurs surrounded Wen Nannan, laced with temptation.
She stood tense in the elevator, encased in blood, unsure whether these voices were entering her mind from the outside or welling up from within. Despite her best efforts to shut them out, she couldn't escape the mournful wails, terrifying ghost faces, and sharp words that flooded her thoughts unbidden.