He Jianlan’s head jerked up. His gaze darted between the white-haired young man and the doctor in the white coat.
Not just him. Even Messiah looked over in visible surprise, concern flickering in his azure eyes.
No one understood what this dangerous doctor meant by an “examination,” nor why he had suddenly chosen Zong Jiu to go first.
But one thing was certain—
Zong Jiu had no right to refuse.
Inside this mental asylum, patients possessed no authority whatsoever to defy the medical staff. The miserable man lying on the operating table was proof enough.
In a horror instance, contenders stood at the very bottom of the food chain. Not only did they need to avoid those so-called “good friends,” they were also forbidden from harming NPCs. Doing so would not increase their evaluation score; if anything, it would only earn deductions.
It wasn’t as though no one had tried before.
Some teams had once relied on special props and unique constitutions to kill a key NPC, causing the instance’s main storyline to collapse entirely. In the end, every participant received an “F” in the system evaluation, resulting in a total team wipe.
Because of that, NPCs held overwhelming authority—especially in this one-man-show nightmare disguised as a mental asylum.
Once inside an instance, you obeyed its rules.
Those who didn’t rarely met a good end.
“Line up. One at a time.”
The doctor waved a hand lazily.
The stern-faced nurses immediately herded the trainees in hospital gowns out of the operating theater like frightened chicks.
In moments, only two people remained in the vast room.
The black snake hanging upside down from the surgical lamp hissed softly, its forked tongue flicking in and out. Its cold obsidian eyes remained fixed on the white-haired young man without blinking.
Zong Jiu stood obediently where he was, his vacant gaze resting lifelessly on a corner of the room.
He hadn’t forgotten the profile written on his identity card.
Autistic teenager.
So he played the role flawlessly, careful not to reveal even the slightest inconsistency before this NPC that nobody wanted to provoke.
At his feet stretched a long black shadow.
He stood right at its edge, as though balanced on the lip of some enormous grinning maw.
Leather shoes approached.
Closer.
Closer still.
Until the darkness swallowed him whole.
Then the man slowly removed his left glove.
A cold hand gripped Zong Jiu’s chin and forced his head upward.
Standing beneath the operating theater’s lone light source, the doctor smiled faintly, inscrutable amusement lingering at the corners of his lips.
Only at such close proximity could one truly feel the terrifying magnetism radiating from him.
Sharp. Dangerous. Contradictory.
His entire existence carried an unsettling dissonance.
The doctor stared directly into those pale pink eyes and let out a soft sigh of admiration.
“Would you look at that… a rare albino autistic.”
Even under such direct scrutiny, Zong Jiu remained utterly motionless.
His head tilted back under the doctor’s grip, loosening the hairband behind his ears. Silvery-white hair spilled over his shoulders like flowing satin.
His flawless face remained cold and detached, lips pressed lightly together.
Like an exquisitely crafted doll displayed behind glass—
beautiful, yet soulless.
Perhaps it was precisely that lifeless indifference that stirred the doctor’s interest.
“Tsk—”
Without warning, the scalpel flashed downward.
The sharp blade sliced cleanly through the blue-and-white striped hospital gown.
Fabric drifted soundlessly to the floor.
A large expanse of pale skin was exposed to the cold air.
The young man’s upper body was lean and without excess fat, his waist slim and sharply defined. Under the dim surgical lighting, the lines of his body appeared sculpted from flawless jade, alternating between light and shadow with breathtaking precision.
Exquisite.
Beautiful.
Behind them, several trainees swallowed audibly.
The barrage of comments in Zong Jiu’s livestream exploded instantly.
[HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT—]
[Doctor, you absolute philanthropist.]
[My eyes have been blessed. Blessed!]
[A’Jiu is too beautiful, I’m ascending.]
[Who could possibly survive a frontal attack like this?! WHO?!]
[I came sprinting from another livestream room and it was worth it.]
[Thriller Trainee’s number one beauty really lives up to the title…]
Then—
the doctor casually picked up the ice pick lying nearby.
The trainees stiffened immediately.
Their expressions changed as memories of the brutal lobotomy from moments earlier resurfaced. Some instinctively stepped backward, faces pale.
Yet unexpectedly—
the ice pick never approached anyone’s eye socket this time.
Instead, the freezing metal slid lightly across pale skin.
A bead of melted frost trailed downward.
The doctor watched with satisfaction as the young man’s body flinched instinctively from the cold touch.
“Let me conduct a proper examination.”
The sharp metal glided slowly across skin like a dragonfly skimming water, leaving damp trails in its wake.
Human warmth quickly melted the frost coating the instrument. Thin rivulets of water slipped down along the contours of his body, tracing past his waistline.
Under the cold sting, white eyelashes trembled faintly.
But the doctor’s grip on his chin never loosened.
Zong Jiu could not move at all.
His expression remained apathetic and distant, his slender neck arched upward like a dying white swan—
fragile,
beautiful,
and carrying a strangely fatal elegance.
The darkness in the doctor’s eyes deepened.
“Why won’t you speak?”
His fingers tightened.
Hard enough to bruise.
Even so, Zong Jiu remained silent.
Internally, however, he felt he deserved an Oscar.
In order to complete more high-risk tasks and squeeze out enough survival points to heal himself, the price he was paying had become absurd.
This was practically selling himself.
Completely exposed.
His image was beyond saving.
Of course—
Zong Jiu was also an extremely vindictive person.
He silently added this debt to his mental blacklist at least ten times over.
He kept his dead-fish stare fixed on the operating table while inwardly cursing this quack doctor, sincerely hoping the man never ended up in his hands someday.
Though the “examination” lasted far less time than the lobotomy earlier, every second dragged unbearably long.
At last, perhaps bored by the silence, the doctor followed Zong Jiu’s line of sight toward the operating table.
His smile turned meaningful.
“Interested in that black iron box?”
“That box once contained something rather interesting.”
A pause.
“Unfortunately… several decades ago, it was stolen by a disgraceful thief. Its whereabouts remain unknown.”
The trainees at the doorway instantly perked up.
An S-rank prop clue.
Who wouldn’t care?
Burning gazes locked onto Zong Jiu’s back. Some practically wanted to rush forward and answer in his place.
But before Zong Jiu could react, Dr. Chu suddenly released his chin.
“Still…”
His voice lowered, smooth and compelling.
“I will retrieve it.”
“Not from the past.”
“From the present.”
A white-gloved hand tapped lightly against Zong Jiu’s collarbone.
Then the doctor leaned closer, laughter brushing softly against his ear.
“Do you want to know more?”
The coarse fabric of the glove scraped unpleasantly across sensitive skin. With only a little pressure, vivid red marks bloomed against the pale flesh like plum blossoms scattered across snow.
Too close.
Far too close.
Zong Jiu could smell disinfectant and the faint scent of rust lingering on the white coat.
And beneath it—
the unmistakable arrogance of someone standing high above others.
A superior looking down in amusement.
‘A gentleman’s revenge can wait ten years.’
Zong Jiu silently repeated the saying in his mind, forcibly suppressing the fury rising in his chest.
He hated being looked at that way.
After amusing himself enough, the doctor finally bent close to his ear and spoke in a voice only the two of them could hear.
“Do you believe… that an integer exists between three and four?”
Pale pink pupils contracted slightly.
Then, as though nothing had happened, the doctor straightened up and slipped both hands into his pockets. The lazy, cynical smile returned to his face.
“The examination is complete.”
“Your body is very healthy. Aside from your mental illness, there are no other issues.”
He waved a hand dismissively.
“We’ll continue with the rest tomorrow.”
“Yes, Dr. Chu.”
The nurses immediately brought over a fresh hospital gown and dressed Zong Jiu in it before ushering him toward the exit alongside the other trainees.
The doctor’s attitude was so casual that Zong Jiu could not help suspecting the man was specifically targeting him.
But he genuinely couldn’t understand why.
Since entering this instance, he had been quiet enough to qualify as invisible.
As the crowd pressed around him, Zong Jiu lowered his eyes slightly.
One hand remained restrained by a nurse.
The other moved almost imperceptibly.
“Clang—!”
The heavy iron doors slammed shut behind them.
Inside the narrowing gap, the white-coated doctor removed his glasses and casually extinguished the surgical lights.
Darkness swallowed the operating theater whole.
Only the white coat remained visible for a brief moment, stark against the blackness—like something naturally born from it.
Just as Zong Jiu smoothly slipped an object into his pocket, the doctor suddenly looked over.
Their eyes met.
The corners of the man’s lips curved upward slowly.
The livestream comments erupted once more.
[This doctor is INSANE.]
[No doubt about it—he’s definitely the boss of this instance.]
[No wonder this place has an S-rank prop when the other venues didn’t.]
[Think about it: two S-ranks are gathered here already. No.3 and No.7.]
[Honestly, this instance probably borders on S-rank difficulty.]
[Damn… lighting candles for the newcomers trapped here.]
Zong Jiu, meanwhile, was still thinking about Dr. Chu’s words.
An integer between three and four.
Taken literally, it was nonsense.
A mathematical impossibility.
But if an important NPC said it, then the statement itself became meaningful.
Which meant—
the clue had to connect to this instance somehow.
Zong Jiu suspected the sentence wasn’t merely related to the S-rank prop.
It likely tied directly into the core storyline of the asylum itself.
Several decades ago…
That timeline coincided perfectly with the old newspaper clippings they had discovered in the reading room.
Back then, this mental asylum had still been a wartime military base.
The origin point of everything strange about this place.
But if the equation truly held—
then what exactly was this mysterious “integer”?
What had happened here decades ago?
What kind of S-rank prop had once been locked inside that black iron box?
And how did it connect to the truth of the instance?
Only after the nurse released his arm did Zong Jiu realize he had stopped walking entirely.
By the time he looked up again, he was surrounded.
Layers upon layers of trainees crowded around him.
Their eyes gleamed with greed.
Suspicion.
Jealousy.
Envy.
It was revolting.
“Hey! We’ve been calling you forever. Are you deaf?”
“What did that doctor tell you?”
“Why aren’t you answering us?”
“You’re not trying to keep the clue for yourself, are you?”
“We found it together, didn’t we? Everyone deserves a share!”
Zong Jiu: “…”
At this point, he had every reason to believe that perverted psychiatrist had done all of this deliberately.
Originally, it should have taken much longer before tensions escalated this far.
Instead, Dr. Chu had personally shattered all of Zong Jiu’s plans, making it impossible for him to quietly slip away later after collecting information from the group.
Damn him.
Zong Jiu cursed inwardly and lazily lifted an eyebrow.
“Oh?”
“Am I obligated to tell you?”
“If I remember correctly… shouldn’t you be the ones begging me?”
His pale eyes swept across the crowd indifferently.
“Is that how you beg someone?”
Silence.
Everyone froze.
Until now, their impression of the white-haired young man had been simple:
beautiful,
quiet,
harmless.
But the moment he obtained information related to the S-rank prop, they immediately tried to pressure him into handing it over.
None of them had expected this supposedly weak E-rank trainee to push back so directly.
The noisy crowd abruptly fell silent.
Not far away, Zhuge An—who had been preparing to leave—paused mid-step and glanced over with visible interest.