111.SCP- Terrifying fake beast! Even if you sit in front of the book, as a narrator, you still cannot escape! (Ch 111)

Feng Baobao tilted her iconic melon-shaped head and blinked her clear and somewhat innocent big eyes. She glanced at Zhang Chulan who was about to cry, then looked up at the blood-red words on the sky, as if she still didn’t quite understand why Zhang Chulan was so excited.

“Alian, what are they talking about?”

She asked slowly in her unique Sichuan and Chongqing accent, her little face still looking naive and calm.

“They said that if you look at this, your head will be hurt.”

Zhang Chulan wanted to cry but had no tears. She cried out in a sobbing voice, “It’s not just my head that can’t bear it! I want to format my body and soul together. I will die without leaving any residue, my sister Baoer!”

Above the sky, the ominous rustling sound of turning pages continued stubbornly, like a death-threatening curse.

The horrifying scenes in the fifth weird story, “The Street Light That Never Turns On,” and the “whispering” coming from the lamppost from the first weird story, did not stop at all due to the appearance of the narration, and they continued to ruthlessly and continuously erode the cognition and reason of all “readers.”

And the cold and gloomy feeling called “narrative pollution” has gone from being vague at the beginning to becoming clearer and more concrete.

The creatures watching can even foresee which story will be the next ghost story, and which one will be tinged with the despair of the previous one? Or will it be a combination of all the colors?

This “narrative poison” is invisible and traceless, yet it is pervasive and follows you like a shadow.

It is not through the transfer of energy, nor through physical contact, but through the most basic “understanding”, the most instinctive “cognition”, and the act of “reading” itself. Like a maggot on the tarsal bone, it silently penetrates into the deepest part of the soul of every “audience”, polluting the essence of their existence.

Reading is addiction.

To know is to sacrifice.

Stories are both the shackles that bind the false beasts and the only path for all observers to self-destruct.

For the first time, all living beings in the heavens and the world hated their “curiosity” so much, hated their “thirst for knowledge” so much, and hated their damn “ability to understand” so much.

However, their gazes seemed to be cast under the most powerful curse and could not be moved away from the sky at all.

It was as if there was an invisible gravitational force from a higher dimension that was forcing them to keep watching, to keep “tasting” this deadly poison, and to keep digging their own graves with their own hands.

The abyss has opened its huge mouth at your feet, ready to devour anyone you want.

And they are being pushed step by step and irresistibly into the indescribable eternal darkness that symbolizes the ultimate nothingness by their own “reading” behavior.

On the blood-red SCP-5999 document, the first stroke of the title of the sixth strange story has begun to slowly condense and take shape in the scarlet ink…

The suffocating despair became even more intense.

Above the bloody sky, the first twisted stroke of the title of the sixth ghost story had just taken shape, emitting a strong and indelible smell of blood and ominousness.

The soul-stirring “rustling” sound of turning pages continued slowly, accurately touching the extremely tense nerves of every living being.

However, just when all the “readers” thought that the next horror was about to come and their hearts were in their throats –

The picture on the sky suddenly flashed!

It is not a new ghost story, but an abruptly inserted video footage with a darker tone and a more ancient appearance!

The scene flashed back quickly, like a mottled old film, playing some heart-wrenching clips intermittently – a huge, indescribable shadow shrouded the shattered galaxy, countless facilities with Foundation logos collapsed silently, and desperate prayers were intertwined with crazy screams.

Then, lines of cold and desperate words, accompanied by noises like an old projector, appeared before the eyes of all the “readers”:

[Archive Clip: Highest Clearance Memorandum Regarding SCP-False Beast]

[Threat Level: Thaumie1 is used to control or offset other more dangerous anomalies/Apollyon project itself is a doomsday-level threat and cannot be effectively controlled]

[Special containment measures: The existence of SCP-pseudo-beast is itself its special containment measure. Its “story” is its only shackle until… the “final sacrifice” is completed. ]

[Description: SCP-Pseudo-Beast is not a naturally occurring anomaly, but rather the ultimate countermeasure created by the Foundation at all costs, with all resources devoted to it, when faced with… a higher-level narrative threat that cannot be countered by existing physical or metaphysical means. ]

[It is a double-edged sword pointing at the enemy and also at oneself, a poisonous antidote that only quenches thirst.]

[The Pseudo-Beast is the Foundation’s final trump card, and is also the most miserable cry issued by the O5 Council before it was completely desperate.]

As soon as this paragraph of text was finished, the entire blood-red sky suddenly darkened, as if something… had “come alive” from between the lines of the document!

No longer a cold narration, no longer a dead archive.

An indescribable whisper that seemed to come directly from the depths of the soul, mixed with endless malice and ridicule, seeped out through the scarlet document like a virus:

[…Heh…how interesting…you saw my “birth”…]

[You are reading my story, but you don’t know that you have already been an indispensable part of my story…]

[I see you… yes, every one of you… the tiny peepers… hiding behind the curtain of your own universe. ]

[Those horrified, stunned, and unbelievable faces…are really…pleasing to the eye…]

[Do you think you are safe bystanders? High and mighty “readers”? ]

[No…no…no…]

[From the moment you began to “read” the first word, from the moment your “cognition” touched me, you stepped into my hunting ground. ]

[And I… love playing this hunting game called “story” with my “prey” the most…]

This direct and naked ridicule, like the sharpest blade, cut fiercely into the hearts of all the “upper-level narrators” and powerful beings in the heavens and all realms, arousing tremendous hatred and even deeper fear!

In the world of Shrouding the Sky, in the Big Dipper star field, there is a corner where one has just crawled out of an ancient tomb with satisfaction.

The unscrupulous Taoist Duan De was holding a piece of divine source as big as a washbasin, chewing it with his mouth full of oil. The fat on his face was trembling with happiness, and he was about to break through to the next realm.

However, when the malicious whispers on the sky curtain drilled into his mind like a maggot on the tarsal bone, he shuddered all over, and the Divine Source fell to the ground with a “click”, breaking into pieces!

“Oh my god! This is Wuliang the God of Heaven! The Dao Master’s precious divine source!”

Duan De’s fat face turned pale in an instant, uglier than the thousand-year-old zombie face he had just stolen. Beads of cold sweat broke out all of a sudden, soaking his Taoist robe.

“This… this damn SCP pseudo-beast, it… it it it knows we are watching it?!”

His fat body was shaking like a sieve, and his teeth were chattering, making a “clack clack” sound, as if he was about to pee his pants in the next second.

“It also said…that we are its prey?! It wants to play this deadly hunting game with us?!”

Duan De screamed and rolled over, trying to find a crack in the ground to crawl into. His voice changed in pitch and sounded like crying.

“Those damn lunatics at the Foundation! Did they get their brains smacked by the Great Emperor’s holy weapons or smashed by immortal weapons?! They created something like this, because they think they can’t die fast enough and want to drag the heavens and myriad worlds down with them?!”

“Master Dao, I will never look at this broken thing again! Whoever wants to look at it can look at it! Damn it, it’s unlucky! It’s so damn unlucky! This is worse than meeting that damn dog Black Emperor!”

In the Perfect World, Shi Village, under the Willow God, the huge altar shone with ancient glory. (To read the exciting novels, go to Feilu Novel Network!)

The naughty kid Shi Hao, now is the Emperor Huang Tian who is feared by all nine heavens and ten earths. He is sitting cross-legged, with three thousand great Dao runes surrounding his body, and when his eyes open and close, the sun, moon and stars are born and die, and his aura is as steady as an ancient sacred mountain.

But when the teasing whispers on the sky penetrated through the layers of boundaries and rang directly in his sea of ​​consciousness, a rare trace of solemnity and cold murderous intent flashed across his eyes that were as bright as stars.

“Hmm? Interesting.”

Shi Hao frowned slightly, and his unrivaled fighting spirit rose up unconsciously, shaking the void, but he quickly suppressed it.

“It said…it saw us? And that we were part of its story, its prey?”

He raised his head to look at the bloody sky, his eyes became somewhat profound, no longer with the usual arrogance and dominance, but with a hint of inquiry.

“This feeling… seems to be real, it’s not lying.”

Shi Hao muttered to himself, a thoughtful and serious look that didn’t match his age appearing on his heroic face.

“When we look at other people’s stories, it’s like watching a predestined reincarnation drama… Then are others, or higher-level beings, also looking at our world and our destiny in the same way?”

He scratched the back of his head. For the first time, he felt this kind of feeling of being “spied on” and “arranged” by others. It was very uncomfortable and even more suffocating than facing the most powerful dark creature.

“If this is true, then this so-called pseudo-beast can backfire on the author and even those so-called upper-level narrators, right?”

There was a gleam in his eyes, and he suddenly grinned, revealing a row of snow-white teeth with a hint of danger.

“This kind of existence is even more bizarre and difficult to deal with than the immortal kings in foreign lands and the creatures in the ultimate ancient land! But… it’s also more challenging, isn’t it?”

“It wants to hunt us? Humph, it’s still unclear who is the hunter and who is the prey!”

……[]

In the world of Mortal Cultivator’s Path to Immortality, in the spirit world, deep in the Qingyuan Palace, there is an airtight quiet room.

Han Li, the old demon Han, was sitting cross-legged in meditation. In front of him was a small emerald green bottle. He was surrounded by spiritual energy and laws. It was obvious that he was at a critical moment of cultivation.

When the whispers on the sky curtain sounded like a devil’s sound filling his brain, his face, which had remained calm for thousands of years, finally showed a slight fluctuation. His eyes suddenly opened, and two rays of light that pierced through the void flashed by.

“Oh? Interesting.”

Han Li’s gaze was as deep as an ancient well. Without any panic, it was filled with a hint of scrutiny and extreme vigilance, and his thoughts raced rapidly.

“The Foundation… this mysterious organization actually created this thing at all costs in order to fight against the threats at the upper narrative level?”

He stroked his chin, his eyes flashing with wisdom and calculation, silently analyzing the meaning behind every word.

“Using oneself as bait, even at the cost of polluting the narrative level on which one is located, to lure and kill a higher-level being… What a big move, what a decisive method.”

Han Li nodded slowly, with a barely perceptible solemnity in his tone, or perhaps it was fear of this almost crazy determination.

“The Foundation’s determination is truly terrifying. In order to achieve its goal, they dare to create and use such a self-destructive, self-destructive weapon. How terrifying must the enemy they are facing be?”

He changed the subject, and a hint of understanding and coldness flashed in his eyes.

“However, once this kind of pseudo-beast completely breaks free from the constraints of its story, its backlash will probably first harm the narrative layer it is in, and… its creator, the Foundation itself.”

“It said we were characters from a play and had entered its hunting grounds… Hmm, this is a useful warning.”

Han Li’s eyes flickered slightly, and he thought to himself, “It seems that I need to be more cautious in the future and not easily get involved in unknown causes and effects, especially this kind of strange existence that directly involves the narrative and cognitive level. If I am not careful, I may be doomed.”

“However, if we can get a glimpse of a higher level of mystery…”

There was a barely perceptible flash of heat in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by endless calmness.

The world of immortals,

In the back mountain of Hengyue Sect, there is a cave that was opened up by Wang Lin with his great magical powers and is isolated from the outside world.

An illusory old figure was wandering around bored, scratching his ears and cheeks from time to time, cursing. It was Situ Nan, who had been trapped for many years and had a bad temper.

When the malicious voice on the sky exploded directly in his soul like a cold wind from the Netherworld, Situ Nan suddenly froze, his illusory body almost collapsed, and his soul fire swayed violently!

“I…I fuck! I fuck his grandma’s legs!”

For the first time ever, Situ Nan did not immediately start cursing at those who made him unhappy. Instead, his voice was filled with a rare, soul-deep fear and unbelievable astonishment.

“Damn it! What the hell is this thing?! It’s ten thousand times more evil than those old monsters who took over other people’s bodies that I encountered in the past, and it’s even more evil than that damn Qingshui! No, it’s one hundred million times more evil!”

The expression on his illusory face kept changing, showing fear, anger, and a hint of creepiness that went deep into his bones.

“It said it saw us?! It said we were characters in its story?! We walked into its hunting grounds on our own?!”

Situ Nan jumped up like a wild cat whose tail was stepped on. His soul and body fluctuated violently and he could hardly maintain his form.

“I, Situ Nan, have traveled the starry sky all my life, taking pleasure in revenge, killing people and stealing treasures. When will it be someone else’s turn to write my script?! I am my own script!”

He was so angry that he screamed, but his voice revealed a lack of confidence, weakness and unprecedented confusion.

“Then… who is that bastard who wrote my life story?! Get out here! I promise I won’t beat you to death! I’m going to suck your soul!”

He roared angrily, but suddenly stopped, and a more terrifying thought came to his mind.

“No… This fake beast said it was hunting us readers and the characters in the play… Is the guy who wrote my story also going to be hunted by it?! Wouldn’t I be unlucky too?!”

Thinking of this, Situ Nan shuddered suddenly, and a strange feeling of grief over the death of a rabbit or a fox, oh no, a feeling of loss of lips and teeth, surged into his heart, making him doubt the authenticity of his own “existence” for the first time.

“Damn it, this world is getting more and more incomprehensible! I just want to practice in peace and quiet, why are there so many troubles!”

Above the bloody sky, the whisper of the SCP-pseudo-beast seemed to carry some kind of irresistible magic, clearly transmitted to the minds of every “reader”, as if blowing in their ears:

[Yes… yes… you are all characters in my story, carefully selected… actors. ]

[And now, the curtain has been raised, and the game… has just entered the most exciting part. ]

[Enjoy this last “reading” time, because the climax of the story… is your ending. ]

[When the last page is turned, it will be the beginning of…the final sacrifice! ]
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