“Did you hear? Something happened to an F-rank last night!”
At seven in the morning, the nurses unlocked the doors to each ward. The trainees scrambled out of bed, rushed through quick showers, and gathered in the dining hall, buzzing with discussion about the events of the previous night.
After returning Sheng Yu to the ward, Zong Jiu had gone straight to the reading room and informed Messiah about the disappearance of the guy with glasses.
The veterans exchanged glances and immediately abandoned the intelligence-gathering they had been doing. Together, they searched every inch of the ground floor and Basement 1.
The first death in a horror instance usually revealed crucial information. If they could recover the corpse, they might even be able to deduce the source of the supernatural phenomenon itself.
No contender could survive long in the infinite loop without at least some basic knowledge of forensic investigation.
Strangely, however, despite turning the two floors upside down from ten o’clock until the nurses’ room inspection at eleven, they found absolutely nothing.
Only later did they finally discover the corpse of the guy with glasses in the filthy sink of the washroom on Basement 1.
Calling it a “corpse” wasn’t entirely accurate.
What they found hanging inside the sink was a human mop.
A wooden pole had been rammed through the skull and deep into the brain matter, turning the severed head into the base of a mop.
The guy with glasses had been a man with a close-cropped haircut, barely any hair to speak of. Yet thick strips of cloth had been wrapped around the end of the pole, concealing the head perfectly while securing it firmly enough to function as an actual mop.
If one trainee hadn’t accidentally glanced through a gap in the cloth and caught sight of those dead, clouded-white eyes, nobody would have realized what it was.
In such a short span of time, not only had the guy with glasses been decapitated, but his head had been transformed into a mop and hung in plain sight—in a place they had searched over and over again.
Even the bullet chat was horrified.
“I only heard rumors, but apparently that F-rank died horribly. They still haven’t found the rest of his body. Even the veteran contenders said deaths that brutal are rare.”
“If even the veterans are saying that, then what are we supposed to do? Just sit around waiting to die?”
By the time Zong Jiu entered the dining hall, the entire place was steeped in gloom and anxiety.
He greeted Sheng Yu while ladling himself a bowl of congee. Just then, Messiah approached carrying enough buns and fried dough sticks for two people.
“Mind if I join you?”
Zong Jiu nodded and followed the golden-haired Holy Son to the central table.
A closer look revealed that everyone seated there was a veteran trainee who hadn’t taken the pills the previous night. Every single one of them was at least B-rank.
Like stars orbiting a moon, the other trainees covertly watched the table from afar.
“Damn, that white-haired guy’s something else. They actually let him sit with them.”
“Talk about luck. Wonder how much that face helped.”
People whispered among themselves.
“Forget the Holy Son—even Qin Ye and the others are all major players. He’s only an E-rank. Isn’t he afraid of overstepping?”
The comments were dripping with jealousy, but nobody could deny that face of Zong Jiu’s.
At the same time, everyone understood one thing clearly:
The leadership hierarchy of this instance had already formed.
Large-scale horror instances had always worked this way. The leaders gave orders while everyone else followed along. If resources or props were found, those at the top naturally received priority. When the instance ended, they would also claim the largest share of survival points.
And judging by how familiar Zong Jiu seemed with the Holy Son, if he really managed to get into No. 7’s good graces, he could spend the rest of his life without worrying about survival or status.
But the atmosphere at the central table was peculiar.
Zong Jiu was being subtly isolated.
Aside from the kindhearted Messiah—who knew about his hand injury and had helped carry his breakfast—everyone else either deliberately or instinctively ignored him.
A table full of adults resorting to childish exclusion tactics.
Zong Jiu almost laughed.
Still, he understood exactly why.
After all, among the current group, his very existence was the most suspicious.
Under these circumstances, intelligence naturally became more important than ever.
Fortunately, compared to everyone else blindly fumbling through the dark, Zong Jiu already possessed a considerable advantage.
Not only had he nearly narrowed down the candidates for the hidden roles, he was also getting closer and closer to uncovering the true source of this instance.
He needed survival points.
Dangerous missions, chance tasks—he couldn’t afford to let any opportunity slip away. Wherever there was a chance to earn points, Zong Jiu would absolutely be there, working harder than anyone else.
Messiah lightly tapped the table.
“Did anyone discover anything new while searching the library and reading room yesterday?”
Oddly enough, despite the asylum’s filthy and decrepit appearance, the library itself was surprisingly spacious.
Perhaps even mental patients enjoyed reading.
“Nothing,” replied the trainee responsible for investigating the library. “The books are all highly specialized medical texts. There’s nothing directly related to this place.”
“And the reading room?”
The golden-haired Holy Son turned toward He Jianlan.
“Besides the report we found last night, the remaining files are extremely fragmented. The only thing we can confirm is that this place used to be some kind of base years ago, and something terrible happened here.”
He Jianlan paused carefully before continuing.
“We didn’t have enough time to investigate properly last night. If we use the full search period today, we should be able to uncover more clues.”
The moment last night was mentioned, silence fell over the table.
It wasn’t fear of the guy with glasses’ death itself. These veterans had survived the infinite loop long enough to witness every imaginable form of gruesome death.
What truly unsettled them was the complete lack of traces.
Sheng Yu had slept heavily under the effects of the medication, so the details of the incident had been relayed by Zong Jiu instead.
“We should question the F-rank who was there last night,” someone suggested. “Maybe he overlooked something.”
Everyone agreed.
“In that case, our objectives this morning are clear.”
Messiah interlocked his fingers.
“One team to the reading room. One to the library. One to search Basement 1. One to gather information from the NPC nurses. And one to revisit the crime scene. We’ll follow every lead we can.”
Suddenly, Qin Ye spoke.
“There’s still someone missing.”
“Who?”
“Vincent.”
The entire table stiffened.
Vincent was an A-rank contender—the second-in-command of the Night Clan and No. 2’s right-hand man. His strength was beyond question. Even if he couldn’t compare to the top S-ranks, he was still a veteran contender who had survived countless instances.
And everyone knew that members of the Night Clan possessed a unique gift.
At some point, they had all accepted a vampire’s bite.
The infinite loop contained countless vampire-themed horror instances. One of the most famous A-rank instances, Dark Castle, offered a method for transforming humans into half-vampires.
The process was extraordinarily dangerous. Vampire blood was highly toxic, and most people died during the transformation. Few contenders possessed the courage to endure something so close to suicide.
But the rewards matched the risk.
Successful half-vampires gained dramatically enhanced physiques, inherited vampiric abilities, and no longer needed to rely heavily on special props.
Van Zhuo—currently ranked No. 2—had once received the blood of a vampire prince in the S-rank instance Dark Abyss. His strength skyrocketed afterward, eventually reaching the peak limit of what the system defined as “human.”
Second only to one. Above countless others.
Qin Ye’s caution toward Vincent was equally simple.
He himself had once received the blessing of a werewolf during a horror instance.
And werewolves and vampires were natural enemies.
“If Vincent had shown up,” Qin Ye said calmly, “I would’ve noticed.”
Having inherited a werewolf’s senses, his sense of smell was extraordinarily sharp.
“When we entered the instance yesterday, Lao He and I teamed up while heading upstairs. We saw Vincent walk out of the neighboring ward. But afterward, he never came to the dining hall.”
Qin Ye narrowed his eyes.
“My guess is that he wanted to get ahead in gathering clues and went exploring alone.”
No one doubted Qin Ye’s words.
But the information itself was difficult to believe.
“Missing for an entire night? That can’t be possible, right?”
Vampires were creatures favored by darkness. Half-vampires were no exception.
This asylum didn’t seem to have a single window. Day and night looked equally dark, without even a sliver of sunlight entering the building. By all logic, this environment should have been ideal for vampires—perhaps even empowering them.
On top of that, Vincent himself was an experienced veteran contender.
Nobody wanted to believe that someone like him could become the first casualty in a newly opened instance.
“But we searched the entire ground floor and Basement 1 yesterday,” someone muttered. “Including the empty wards. There wasn’t a trace of him.”
“No.”
Messiah lowered his gaze.
“There are still two places we haven’t explored.”
Silence descended again.
There were indeed two unexplored locations.
The first was the locked iron door at the southern end of the ground floor.
The second was Basement 2.
The lock on the southern iron door was unbelievably sturdy. Even brute force couldn’t budge it in the slightest.
As for Basement 2…
There was no light whatsoever.
From the staircase leading down from Basement 1, all they could see was absolute darkness. The stairs themselves were so rotten and dilapidated that they looked untouched for decades.
Last night, while searching for the guy with glasses, the group had attempted to go downstairs.
But before they even descended properly, the B-rank psychic among them suddenly turned deathly pale and collapsed unconscious on the spot.
Psychics were extremely rare.
Their constitution could only awaken under special circumstances within certain horror instances. Though they lacked direct combat ability, their perception of supernatural phenomena was extraordinary.
Most major organizations would go out of their way to recruit at least one.
There was only one psychic in this instance, and after confirming this was a supernatural horror scenario, everyone practically treated him like a national treasure.
When the psychic finally woke up, terror was written all over his face.
The first thing he said was:
“Don’t… don’t go down there. You’ll die.”
Because of that warning, they had temporarily avoided Basement 2.
But if every other location turned up empty…
Then the conclusion was obvious.
They only had three days.
And today was already the first.
According to the rules of horror instances, the longer they delayed, the more uncontrollable the situation would become.
If they failed to gather meaningful clues before noon, then they would have no choice but to force their way into Basement 2.
“Basement 2 is extremely dangerous,” Messiah said gravely. “Don’t act recklessly.”
“We’ll regroup at noon after everyone compiles their information. Then we’ll vote on our next move.”
“Eat first.”
By the time the discussion ended, Zong Jiu had also finished breakfast.
With nothing else to do, he leaned lazily against one arm while his long silver ponytail spilled down his back. His thoughts drifted once again to the words he had seen on the wall the night before.
Last night, he had slept in Messiah’s ward alongside several veteran contenders.
He had voluntarily moved his bedding into a corner, only to unexpectedly discover a strange sequence of letters scrawled across the wall.
pnpso.
It clearly wasn’t a real word, yet it immediately caught Zong Jiu’s attention.
To confirm whether it was merely coincidence, he had deliberately taken a detour after washing up this morning and returned to Ward 12—his assigned room.
Sure enough, among the densely packed mathematical formulas covering the walls, the same sequence appeared again.
pnpso.
This time it was less obvious, harder to notice.
Zong Jiu checked several other wards at random afterward.
Every single one contained it.
That many repetitions could not possibly be coincidence.
Someone had written it deliberately.
But what did it mean?
Zong Jiu had a strong feeling that he had stumbled onto a major clue. He was only missing a few key pieces needed to fully unravel it.
As for sharing it with the others?
The system had already informed them that there was a mole among the trainees. Only an idiot would expose a clue this important before understanding its significance.
The white-haired young man narrowed his eyes, completely unconcerned by the others’ subtle exclusion.
If anything, he enjoyed it.
Whether they could discover this clue themselves depended entirely on their own ability.
After all, if someone simply handed you the answer in a mystery, wouldn’t all the fun disappear?
As a magician whose craft revolved around creating wonder and suspense, Zong Jiu naturally had no intention of ruining everyone’s experience.
The trainees were only halfway through breakfast when the sharp click of high heels echoed through the corridor once again.
The head nurse appeared in the doorway holding a sheet of paper.
She began reading out numbers.
“Number 1 and Number 7. Number 3 and Number 12. Number 5 and Number 9. Number 2 and Number 16…”
The trainees exchanged confused looks.
Soon, every number had been called.
“These are tonight’s sleeping arrangements.”
The head nurse’s expression was icy.
“You were very clever last night. But I advise you not to try the same trick again.”
“If we discover multiple patients sleeping together in the same ward again, the asylum will immediately treat it as a violation of the rules.”
Fear spread across the newcomers’ faces.
“Then what are we supposed to do tonight? Two people per ward is way too dangerous!”
Thanks to Messiah’s plan, everyone had survived the first night safely.
But the medical staff had clearly noticed their loophole and immediately implemented countermeasures.
In contrast, the veterans at the central table barely reacted, continuing to eat calmly.
They understood this perfectly well.
The loophole had only bought them temporary breathing room. It was never a long-term solution.
That was simply how horror instances worked.
After the announcement, the head nurse gestured to the nurse behind her.
“At eight o’clock, all patients are to gather in front of the iron gate at the southern end of the ground floor.”
“Dr. Chu is in an excellent mood today.”
“So he has decided to personally allow all of you to observe the treatment procedures used in this asylum.”
The room instantly erupted into uneasy murmurs.
[Wait, there’s actually a doctor here?]
[True, it’d be weird for an asylum to only have nurses. I was wondering about that earlier.]
[That ‘treatment’ definitely doesn’t sound normal. I need to spam the bullet chat before I have a heart attack.]
Zong Jiu silently flexed his stiff fingers.
Compared to observing the so-called treatment procedures, he was more concerned about the ward assignments.
He was Number 12.
And Number 3—
for better or worse—
was Zhuge An.