That's... the missing urban legend!

All the other urban legends have been found, so why is there only one missing? Jiang Cheng suspects that this lost urban legend is the real reason for Lin Chen's death.

Moreover... it is likely related to that mysterious man in black.

Combining this with Weng Qing's description, Jiang Cheng developed a profile of Lin Chen.

She was likely a woman with a typical background, an unhappy original family, a lack of security, and consequently, a personality with strong attachment tendencies.

Introverted, simple, kind, naive, but also easily trusting of others, easily deceived, and overly concerned about the feelings of others, thus neglecting her own pain.

Due to the influence of her upbringing, her personality was weak, even cowardly, and easily influenced and manipulated by others.

Li Maoshen exploited these traits, firmly grasping Lin Chen's weaknesses, and implementing his plan step by step.

Of course, he didn't have a good ending either, becoming part of the urban legend he filmed.

Tomorrow, no matter what, he must figure out what the last urban legend is!

The dim room suddenly lit up for a moment, followed by a rumbling sound of thunder.

It's raining.

Looking at the night outside the window, an unease welled up in Jiang Cheng's heart. He rarely had similar feelings. It seemed... something very bad was about to happen.

...

Building 2.

Room 404.

The first thing Jiao Tailang did after returning to his room was to check the entire place thoroughly. The mission was about to end, and he didn't want any surprises at the last minute.

Liu Guo was already dead, and Wei Jinting was probably not likely to survive either. He had also called both rooms, with the same result as Jiang Cheng.

As long as he paid more attention tonight, nothing major should happen.

Jiao Tailang had his own understanding of Wu. He was 50% certain that Wu was the ghost that had infiltrated the mission.

But he really didn't know how it had circumvented the rules and infiltrated as a player from the beginning of the mission.

He had never encountered or even heard of a similar situation.

But if he could survive this time, then he thought he would find out.

Sitting on the sofa, Jiao Tailang closed all the doors and windows in the room, then turned on all the lights, except for the one in the bathroom.

Then he quietly thought about the information he had collected, but as he thought, the shadow of a woman couldn't help but appear in his mind.

Her enchanting figure, and... her scarlet lips.

Sister Qing was really too pitiful. She had been hurt by Li Maoshen, that scumbag, and that was why she had become like this.

Seeing the photos hanging in her room, it was hard to imagine how much darkness she had experienced, and how she had once been blinded by revenge.

In the bedroom, he had promised Sister Qing that he would help her catch Li Maoshen and make him suffer the punishment he deserved. He wasn't just saying it casually.

He was really going to do it.

Sister Qing was a good woman, and she shouldn't have had to endure these things. The person who had hurt her must be punished.

Jiao Tailang's eyes gradually became sharp.

...

Outside Room 808, the rain was pouring.

Slightly different from the structure of other rooms, this place was arranged more warmly.

There was also a balcony, although small, where you could dry some clothes and quilts when the weather was good.

Connected to the balcony was the bedroom, which was completely dark at the moment, but there was a little light in the living room.

It was a very small night light, attached to the corner of the wall, emitting a yellowish light, giving a half-dead feeling.

Near the wall in the living room was a very large easel, and in front of the easel sat a figure.

If someone were standing here, they would find that the figure was a little strange.

Arms hanging down, legs together, the whole person looked very well-behaved, seemingly trying to shrink into a small ball.

The paintbrush was left aside.

The whole body presented a very uncomfortable feeling.

At the same time, the figure kept trembling, and the wooden chair it was sitting on made a slight "creak" sound.

"Please... please let me go..." The figure rippled like water, and you could hear that it was a very young woman.

"I... I can't paint what you want anymore." The woman sobbed, her face not visible, very pitiful, "Stop it, don't... don't go on like this..."

The figure was looking at the sofa.

As soon as the words fell, a flash of lightning streaked across the sky, and a black shadow suddenly appeared on the originally empty sofa.

No.

The shadow had always been there.

It just hadn't moved or spoken, and the surroundings were as quiet as death. The shadow was completely integrated into the darkness.

At the moment the shadow appeared, a sense of heaviness unique to the passage of time spread, extremely vicissitudes, making it hard to breathe.

The woman began to breathe heavily, as if someone was holding her underwater. It seemed that everything was leaving her.

She seemed to be sinking into the depths of the ocean, or walking into a tunnel with no end.

Despair, only despair, besides that... nothing.

The shadow that had disappeared into the darkness seemed to have been born in the darkness, born in the darkness, and returned to the darkness. The only thing that was raised was that pair of deep red eyes, without the slightest ripple.

Before the next flash of lightning illuminated the night sky, the black figure appeared behind the woman.

In the light of the lightning, on the large canvas in front of her, was a painting of a man sitting in front of a laptop.

The background was a rather messy bedroom.

The man's face was flustered, his chin raised high, one hand grabbing his upper jaw, and the other hand clasping his lower jaw.

The veins in the corners of his eyes were bulging, and there were already signs of his mouth being torn apart.

The brushstrokes were sharp, and bright red paint flowed on the canvas, shocking, even giving the illusion that it was not paint, but blood.

The corner of a pure black trench coat drooped down, the man bent slightly, and under the towering collar, was a handsome face, his eyebrows and eyes outlined like a painting.

Two hands were gently placed on the woman's shoulders, the pale white knuckles clearly visible, and slender fingers resting on them.

Just such a simple but intimate action actually made the woman tremble even more, and her breathing became rapid.

The man in black leaned down, his chin resting on the woman's head. "I won't let anyone hurt you." Caressing her intimately, he whispered, "After all, you gave me life, sister."

Lifting his head, the man in black looked at the canvas that was gradually becoming eerie. Liu Guo, who had lost his life on the canvas, actually began to move slowly. "So now, please continue your creation," he lowered his head and said with a smile, "We need... more urban legends."

Turning his body indifferently, the man in black looked in the direction of the bedroom and said calmly, "We have a guest coming. I'll go entertain them."

As soon as the words fell—

"Creak—"

The balcony door was pushed open, and a room full of wind and rain poured in.

A figure appeared silently behind the door, with lightning flashing across the night sky behind it.