The document review took a full three hours. During that time, Yi Chen sat motionless on the sofa, back straight, not making a single move.
When the final document was signed and stamped, the female doctor leaned back and stretched her arms overhead, letting out a long yawn and extending her limbs. Her trim figure beneath the white coat was on full display in that moment.
Unfortunately, Yi Chen’s gaze never left the tea leaves in front of him.
“Sorry about that~ We had another wave of patients brought in yesterday. I have to personally review and sign off on every single one of their files.
We just need to finish one last formality, and you’ll officially be a full-time employee... Oh! And what you drank earlier was our institution’s specialty—Grave Tea. This whole big bag is for you. Keep it safe.
Once you finish it, you can buy more through the organization.”
“Thank you.”
Yi Chen promptly stuffed the tea leaves into his pocket. Food that actually suited his current physical condition was extremely rare, he wasn’t about to let this chance go.
The female doctor placed her right hand over her chest.
“I haven’t properly introduced myself, have I?
I’m Lu Xin, one of the attending psychiatrists at Lushan Mental Asylum. I provide personalized psychological care for any kind of patient need.
Didn’t expect to see you again after just two years. You really are worthy of being Mr. Yi’s descendant—honestly, you might even surpass him.”
Yi Chen merely nodded slightly, offering no other response. He had little interest in the father he had never met. As long as he knew the man wasn’t a murderer, that was good enough.
What intrigued him more were the questions surrounding the orphanage, and why he himself had survived.
“Before we finalize your contract, you’ll need to make a choice. There are many types of employees here, and we usually assign roles based on how you performed during your temp period.”
As she spoke, Lu Xin reached out and lightly wiped a bit of foundation from Yi Chen’s cheek.
“Not bad at makeup. Ever thought about staying on as a mortician? It’s low-risk, pays well, and comes with access to some of the asylum’s internal resources.
And honestly, you’re in the right mental state for working with the dead.”
“Wouldn’t be the worst.”
“Haha, I knew you’d say that! But let’s just keep that as a backup option. Throwing someone your age straight into the morgue really would be a waste.
Besides, that place is poorly ventilated. Stay down there too long and you might start losing your grip on reality.
I imagine you still long for the world outside and for chances to grow, right?”
“Mm.”
“Given your impressive track record over the past two years, we’re assigning you the role of Lone Wolf. With commissions and bonuses combined, your income could be more than ten times what you earn now. You’ll also get absolute priority when choosing solo missions.
As a Lone Wolf, you operate independently—no oversight, no team assignments. All missions must be completed alone, so it won’t feel much different from your temp days.
Information brokers in every region will actively approach you. You’ll be able to investigate anything you want, though some intel will come at a steep cost, sometimes extremely steep.”
“That’s fine.”
Independence was what Yi Chen had learned from his time in the orphanage. He wasn’t the type to entrust important matters to companions.
After signing a few documents, the process was complete. No weapons were issued, no ID badges handed out. That was it—formalities wrapped up with quiet efficiency.
According to Dr. Lu Xin,
the organization had already updated his identity information. Through telegrams, pagers, letters, and other available channels, all personnel affiliated with the organization would soon be informed.
“Come on, I’ll give you a tour of the hospital. This place is one of the organization’s most important strongholds. As a Lone Wolf, you’ll definitely be dealing with Lushan Asylum often.”
“Alright.”
Lu Xin took Yi Chen’s small hand in hers, a gesture that gave off the vibe of an older sister leading her younger brother.
As they wandered through the hospital, Yi Chen gradually noticed something was off.
The people locked deep in the wards weren’t your typical “mental patients.” They were abnormalities/aberrations—targets related to mission objectives.
The entire Lushan Mental Asylum felt more like a containment and research facility than a hospital.
Even just during the tour, they passed quite a few staff members with grim faces and hardened auras. Each one seemed like they had serious combat capabilities.
“A containment facility?”
“That’s right. All the aberrations we manage to capture alive are held here. We offer them the most comprehensive psychological treatment possible. If their mental conditions can be stabilized, they’re eligible for discharge—or even recruitment.
Capturing an aberrations alive earns you 300% mission compensation. But be careful—only attempt it if you’re confident in your abilities.”
“Understood.”
After getting a rough idea of the layout of Lushan Mental Hospital, and walking down a long corridor, Yi Chen finally asked the question that had been weighing most heavily on his mind:
“Dr. Lu Xin, do you know anything about an institution called Black Mountain Orphanage?”
“A special institution established jointly by international organizations within our country. It holds what's known as Class-One Personnel Authority and is tasked with the elite cultivation and selection of young human children.”
“What does Class-One Personnel mean?”
“It means the orphanage has full discretionary control over orphans, criminals, undocumented individuals, and others like them. In other words, these people can be directly allocated to Black Mountain Orphanage, without any legal oversight or restrictions.
Yi Chen, you’re probably the only escapee since the orphanage was founded. Am I wrong?
But don’t worry, your information was encrypted through special means. According to our investigation, the orphanage has already marked you as deceased. They believe your body was cremated and reduced to ashes.
Unless you purposely show up screaming at their gates, they won’t come looking for you.
And if I’m not mistaken… you want to burn that place to the ground, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. People need dreams—only then does life become meaningful, only then can we swim upstream against the current.
But I must remind you, Black Mountain Orphanage is backed by many powerful forces. Even our organization doesn’t dare interfere directly with some of its operations.
That said, we’ll provide you with the resources and support you need to grow. I hope you’ll reach the strength needed to realize your dream soon.”
“Thank you.”
“By the way, I’m guessing you have something else you want to ask me?”
“That’s right… I still don’t understand why I’m alive—when I should be dead.”
“Hold on, that’s not really my area of expertise. But as luck would have it, we have a specialist here at the hospital, someone who’s very well-versed in death. He can give you far better, more complete answers.”
Unknowingly, the two had walked deep into the hospital. As they passed by one particular patient room.
A jet-black tongue suddenly shot out from the narrow gap of the door’s observation window, swaying up and down in the air.
Immediately, an old woman’s voice drifted from within:
“The scent of death… yet so vividly alive. This isn’t my portion for today, is it, Dr. Lu Xin?”
“This one’s a new staff member. He shares a similar origin with you and would like to consult you about death. He’s also brought a little gift for you.”
Yi Chen reacted quickly. He pulled out some tea leaves from his pocket, pinched a small amount between his fingers, and pressed it gently onto the tongue protruding from the window.
The tongue curled up, took the tea, and withdrew into the room. A pleased, raspy voice followed:
“Lushan Grave Tea… and from the sunlit slope near the summit, no less. Rare and precious—what a thoughtful gift. If you’ve got more, I’d be happy to chat with you for an hour.”
As soon as she finished speaking, the supposedly locked iron door creaked open on its own.
It was as if the old woman inside had never been confined at all—she could walk out whenever she pleased.
Dr. Lu Xin gestured politely:
“Granny Tang is one of our permanent residents. She voluntarily came to live here about seventeen years ago, she wasn’t captured or admitted by force.
According to her own words, she’s been dead for over four hundred years. I think you’ll find the answers you’re looking for with her.
Go on in. You won’t get many chances like this.”
Yi Chen hadn’t expected to find someone in the hospital who was… essentially a corpse.
“All right.”
As he stepped into the room—squelch!—the sole of his shoe landed in a sticky, smoking black liquid. The floor was completely covered with it.
Rather than feel disgust, Yi Chen found the black liquid strangely familiar—even comforting.
As the black smoke rose and entered his nostrils, it seemed to stimulate his body. From between his brows, the same black liquid began to seep.
In the corner stood an antique dressing table made of locust wood.
An elderly woman dressed in regal, court-style clothing was sitting there, combing her hair. There were no lamps in the room—only the faint light seeping in from the hallway behind them, barely enough to make out her reflection in the mirror.
Bang!
The iron door slammed shut, cutting off the last source of light. The room plunged into complete darkness.
Then—A faint flicker appeared from the corner. A red candle had been lit on the dressing table.
By its glow, Yi Chen could finally see the reflection in the mirror:
A pale, wrinkled face. Exaggerated red lips. Two bright crimson dots on her cheeks.
The old woman, reflected in the glass, stuck out her slick black tongue toward Yi Chen with serpentine dexterity.
“Come feed me the tea already~ I’ve been waiting forever.”