I can rewind time to prevent death

Yan Junze had lost all desire to sleep, so he simply got up, poured himself a glass of water and sat down on the couch.

He didn't respond to Zhang Xiaomo.

It turned out that Zhang Xiaomo was quite remarkable, and she remained unusually calm no matter what situation she encountered, arguably bringing the composure of a three-star exorcist to its peak.

Moreover, she was experienced.

The recent dream had felt so real, as if the Resentful Granny truly stood right before him.

And Zhang Xiaomo, without even coming out, knew what had happened to Yan Junze, forcing him to regard this woman with newfound respect once again.

However, at this moment, the feeling that there was something very important he had been unable to recall from the past couple of days filled Yan Junze's chest again.

He sipped his water, straining his memory, unable to grasp what important thing he had forgotten.

But after a long attempt at recollection, he was still utterly confused, merely feeling a sense of unease in his heart, an inexplicable panic ensuing.

After finishing his water, he just sat there on the sofa and, unaware, fell asleep.

The next afternoon, Zhang Xiaomo got her travel bag ready, left Yan Junze her phone number, and then departed ahead of him.

Yan Junze, using the excuse of having one last meal with Lin Ling and Su Muyao who lived upstairs, told Zhang Xiaomo he would be leaving the following day.

There were still two missions waiting for him, opportunities to light up the Spacetime Atlas - he could not afford to waste them.

So, after Zhang Xiaomo had gone, he first went to see Lin Dong to extend his room rental for two days.

He then went to Boom Supermarket to buy two rechargeable flashlights and a gray face mask and, back at the room, plugged in the flashlights to charge continuously.

According to the supermarket owner's introduction, once fully charged, the flashlights could provide light for approximately an hour and a half. Exploring the mission "The Hanged Woman" shouldn't take an hour and a half, especially since he had a second flashlight as backup.

Of course, Yan Junze did not intend to complete both missions at once; he planned to tackle "The Hanged Woman" tonight, and the following night, visit the Lin Family's courtyard to complete the "Drop the Handkerchief" mission.

The reason for acting at night was simple: only under the cover of darkness could he avoid detection. If he were to try during the day, being spotted by just one person could ruin the mission.

After enjoying a hot pot he had cooked himself with Lin Ling and Su Muyao, neither Yan Junze nor Zhang Xiaomo revealed what had truly happened that night, leaving the couple to continue thanking them, believing that they might have been ruined had it not been for their timely arrival.

Yan Junze, not wanting to say much, had a great time dining with the couple, but he didn't dare to drink alcohol, and Lin Ling, seeing his youthful and tender appearance, didn't urge him to drink either.

The gathering dispersed around nine o'clock, and after expressing his gratitude, Yan Junze returned downstairs.

He checked the flashlights, both fully charged.

Now he just waited for the dead of night to begin his action.

Around half-past eleven, it was already difficult to see a single person on Rock's streets.

Yan Junze put on a black coat, equipped the gray mask, and stepped out with his mobile phone and the two flashlights in hand.

He had silenced his phone in advance.

Walking down the street, he could only see lights on in one or two houses, even Lin Ling and Su Muyao upstairs had gone to sleep.

He quickly arrived at number 39 on the old street.

Looking up, the place was just as it had been during the day: the door was in tatters, but the exterior walls were still solid. There were large cobwebs at the entrance, clearly untouched by humans for a long while.

Yan Junze stood at the corner of the wall, glanced around to make sure no one was there, then turned and went up the steps of number 39.

The steps, made of stone, were very stable underfoot.

In a few strides, he reached the door. He didn't need to unlock anything and simply stepped over the broken door panel to enter.

Once inside, Yan Junze turned his head and peered through the door panel towards the street, checking for passersby. Not a soul went by; it was quiet.

He turned around, switched on the flashlight, dimmed its light, and walked into the house.

The old-fashioned houses built in the countryside used to have a front room designed to serve as a shopfront, which was usually vacant and only contained a few stools, devoid of other furniture.

Yan Junze quickly crossed this empty room, a musty smell permeating the air.

But luckily, he was wearing a mask and had anticipated that the air quality would be poor since the place hardly saw any sunlight.

He had sized up the building from the outside during the daytime; it was a three-story self-built house fallen into disrepair, with multiple areas of the exterior wall peeling away.

The staircase leading up was also quite narrow. Yan Junze reached the foot of the stairs and shone the flashlight upwards, only to discover that they were covered in moss.

Clearly, the interior was very damp.

However, upon closer inspection, the stairs at the corner also continued downwards.

That meant there was a basement in the building.

Standing there for a while, Yan Junze pondered whether to go up or down.

The mission briefing hinted that Ye Zhennan, who had hanged herself, was still swaying beneath the house's beams, but it didn't specify which floor, which posed a dilemma for Yan Junze.

He shone his flashlight toward the basement; it seemed even darker inside, less bright than upstairs. At least the second floor and above allowed some moonlight to penetrate, which was far better than the basement.

"Where would a person usually choose to hang themselves if they wanted to do it alone?"

Yan Junze stood at the staircase entrance, contemplating in the dead silence, with no sound coming from around him.

He tried to put himself in the mindset of the woman seeking death—if one wanted to die without being discovered and saved, they would certainly choose a place where people rarely went.

So it seemed the basement might be more fitting.

After shining the flashlight around the second floor for a while, Yan Junze abandoned the idea of going upstairs and decided to head straight to the basement.

As expected, the stair steps leading down to the basement were even more slippery and wet, with a thick covering of green moss underfoot. And these self-built houses, to save money, didn't even have railings on the staircases to the basement.

Yan Junze had to support himself against the wall with one hand, moving down with extreme caution, step by step.

As long as he didn't slide down directly on his rear in a "falling goose" style, taking his time to descend safely was certainly the better approach.

Therefore, he made almost no noise while descending the stairs.

When he was about halfway down to the basement, a strange noise suddenly came from upstairs.

The sound resembled that of a rope being tightened to its limit—an eerily distinctive twang that stood out in the quiet of the night.

Yan Junze froze, "Could it be I guessed wrong? Is the woman not hanging in the basement but upstairs instead?"

However, from where he stood, he could only vaguely determine that the noise was coming from upstairs; whether it was the second or third floor remained unknown.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Should he go straight up to check?

Yan Junze hesitated for a moment, then decided against it.

Since he had already come halfway down the stairs to the basement, it wouldn't be too late to check there first before going up.

Just as he was about to continue down the staircase, Yan Junze suddenly stopped.

Because he had heard a noise from upstairs, he had instinctively shone the flashlight upward.

And at that moment, his flashlight had just moved away from the area above.

But in the brief instant as the light withdrew, he caught sight of a pair of feet at the corner on the first floor—a pair of feet in white women's shoes. Next to the feet hung a rope, about as thick as a finger.