Yang Jian was sleeping, but his sleep was light; he could even keep hearing the echoing, ethereal, and eerie chiming in his mind, a melody made up of just a few notes that played incessantly, a kind of mental torture that was hard for anyone to endure.
The chimes from the Eight-Tone Music Box were both a death talisman and the key to preserving one's own life.
Once the music started, the first person to open the Eight-Tone Music Box would be cursed with an inability to die, a curse that could last for days on end.
Conversely, as soon as the music stopped, the cursed person was doomed to die without a doubt.
There was no known solution to this curse.
It was too dangerous; hence it was sealed away by headquarters most of the time and rarely used.
But today, Yang Jian was less than forty hours away from the outbreak of the curse.
