16 016. [Sword of Physics]_1

[Sword of Physics]

[Excellent]

[The most reliable weapon, suitable for combat in all kinds of situations]

[In the Abandoned Capital, in critical situations, anything could potentially become a weapon]

[Not easy to bend, hard to damage, absolutely durable]

["Use this thing to knock on that damn bastard's forehead!"]

[Price: 1000 Silence Points]

This thing looked like a crowbar.

One end was straight and the other was bent with a notch at the tip, a tool used for prying nails, door locks, and such, having nothing to do with the description of a "holy sword."

As to why it was called the "Sword of Physics," one probably had to ask Dr. Gordon Freeman.

The reason Lu Ban chose it, aside from its reasonable price, was the absence of any negative descriptions, which was an important reason as well.

Most weapons under the "Deadly Weapon" category were either cursed, attracted the gaze of strange beings, or simply made people go insane; finding one without any negative effects was truly difficult.

Compared to firearms that were easy to injure oneself with, a stick was indeed the most reliable.

Lu Ban got out of the car and, following the navigation, arrived at a wasteland, where the [Sword of Physics] had already been exchanged into his hand.

About sixty centimeters in length and weighing less than three kilograms, it was made from some metal that Lu Ban couldn't identify, with a hexagonal stick body, and the handle wrapped in coarse cloth to prevent slipping. Just holding it in his hand, he felt very empowered.

Every man couldn't resist the joy of picking up a stick and brandishing it, and the crowbar was no different.

Lu Ban tried it out by swinging the crowbar, smashing it down on a protruding Stone on the ground.

Crack—

The hard, aged cement turned Stone immediately had a small dent, and Lu Ban also felt the special quality of the crowbar.

Besides being extremely hard, it could effectively reduce the recoil force. Even when he hit something, Lu Ban wouldn't get shaken from the reaction force, and as he swung the crowbar, his strength seemed to increase a lot, and his skill with the crowbar improved; it seemed he could at least pry open common iron doors.

Just like the Suona, a sort of veil-like knowledge enveloped his cerebral cortex, immersing his entire brain in a continuous trickle of that knowledge.

"Quite nice."

Lu Ban looked up with satisfaction, only to see across the wasteland, a dilapidated building.

That was the Jiangcheng Grand Theater.

The theater was designed in Western style, with an exaggerated dome and doors and what seemed to be European-style columns and decorations that Lu Ban couldn't understand. Only the colorfully painted stained-glass windows, now dim and dusty, spoke of past splendor.

This wasteland used to be all part of the grand theater's planning. Lu Ban had read reports that Jiangcheng once had a plan for an art city, intending to build a series of antique art buildings around the Jiangcheng Grand Theater, which was later shelved.

The dome of the grand theater was no longer splendid, only blackened traces from fires remained, and after more than a decade of exposure to wind and rain, the whole theater looked extremely rundown. Moss and wild grass were everywhere, but they instead conveyed a desolate, post-apocalyptic atmosphere.

Lu Ban walked towards the gate; suddenly, he heard the flapping of wings nearby.

A flock of birds rose from the theater's rooftop, seeming to have made this place their nest.

The setting sun cast its last glow, making the grand and artistically impressive building resemble a dying behemoth, quietly awaiting its end.

With some time left before nightfall, Lu Ban planned to go inside and check things out in advance.

Creak—

The rotten wooden planks made a heart-pounding noise as Lu Ban stepped into the shadows of the grand theater.

The doors had been locked originally, but years of wear and scavengers had long since cleaned the place out, making it easy for Lu Ban to enter.

The once splendid foyer was in a state of disrepair, the ticket booth was a mess, and there were some flyers for performances on the ground.

According to the blueprints, several major doors in the foyer connected to the main theater hall, and extending to the left and right were the makeup rooms, dressing rooms, and control rooms for the backstage area.

There were no lights, and the path was very dark; the two corridors were like the wide-open maw of a terrible beast, waiting for prey to walk into its trap.

Lu Ban thought for a moment and decided to check out these rooms first.

He turned on his flashlight, and the ellipsoidal beam illuminated the ground. Unlike the outside, the rooms that the sunlight couldn't reach had no vegetation, only spider webs and dust.

As the flashlight's beam swept across, Lu Ban saw some kind of creature scuttling away from the light, quickly squeezing through a door gap.

With a flashlight in his left hand and a crowbar in his right, he advanced along the dim corridor.

The doors of most rooms were already broken, and with a light kick from Lu Ban, they'd swing open, stirring up a cloud of dust.

There were no sounds in the room. As the flashlight's beam moved around, his gaze fell on tangled wires, toppled cabinets, moldy clothes racks, and... a human face!

Lu Ban's eyebrows twitched as he stared at the mirror reflecting the light from the flashlight.

In the mirror was his own figure, looking ghastly pale under the glaring light, quite terrifying.

"A mirror?"

Lu Ban was curious, how could there still be a mirror left after so many years of abandonment?

Shouldn't it have been taken away long ago?

He couldn't help but move closer, looking at the mirror's spotty, dirty surface, crisscrossed with cracks.

The reflection of Lu Ban in the mirror also moved closer.

Upon closer inspection, Lu Ban noticed that the mirror was stuck to the wall, resembling a dressing mirror.

However, the shape of the mirror was strange, perfectly square, not very large, and it faced the entrance of the room.

Why would there be a dressing mirror facing away from the entrance?

Lu Ban noticed a bit of a viscous liquid reflecting the light from his flashlight at the point where the mirror met the wall.

The liquid was amber-brown, thick in texture, like some sort of oil, and it emitted a fetid, putrid stench. Moreover, as Lu Ban watched, he realized that this liquid was freshly oozing out!

Upon realizing this, Lu Ban instinctively stepped back, and then he saw his reflection in the mirror—his own ghastly pale, cold, indifferent self—smiling at him.

Clang—

Instinctively, Lu Ban swung his crowbar down, shattering the entire mirror, and the reflection of Lu Ban split into hundreds of pieces before dissipating.

He shone the flashlight onto the spot where the mirror used to hang, only to find a charred area that was clearly scorched by a great fire. The seeping grease was nowhere to be seen, as if it had never existed.

The room fell silent once again.

"There's definitely something amiss here... could it be the ghost of a victim of a fire? Or something else?"

Lu Ban relaxed his grip on the crowbar only to tighten it again.

"But after the mirror was shattered by my crowbar, there was no further incident. Is it because the entity lost its vessel, or could it be that the crowbar itself possesses the power to expel evil?"

He crouched down, inspecting his reflection in the broken pieces of mirror, and saw nothing unusual.

Lu Ban cracked a smile.

The reflection smiled back.

Facing this situation, Lu Ban was afraid, but not completely so.

Fear came from man's innate dread of death and the unknown.

As for not being afraid... well, if there really was some dirty thing aiming to kill him, blowing the suona and ascending to heaven together would be the worst-case scenario.

In the end, death comes for all, who would he be afraid of?

He stood up, using the crowbar to support himself as he walked out of the room.

Moving forward, Lu Ban inspected two more dressing rooms in the dim corridor but found no trace of the makeup mirrors.

He arrived at the end of the hall.

The crooked door plaque with faded writing marked the room.

Control Room.

*

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