Chapter 4: Xiao Zhe

Lin Yan stopped dead halfway down the stairs, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Behind him, the coppery stench of blood and the scraping of something being dragged drew steadily closer.

Ahead, the small boy remained crouched in the corner, his sobs echoing through the empty stairwell. Every cry carried a bone-deep chill that seemed to pierce straight through Lin Yan’s soul.

He couldn’t go back, nor go forward.

What now? Come on, think.

His mind raced.

The photograph belonged to the boy, and the note on the back had led him to Room 307. That meant the boy was probably there to provide a clue rather than just another monster that existed solely to kill.

Here goes nothing!

Drawing a slow breath, Lin Yan slowed his pace and cautiously approached the crouching figure.

He stopped just about ten feet away, deliberately keeping his distance. 

“…Xiao Zhe?” he called softly, keeping his voice as gentle as possible.

The crying stopped instantly.

The little boy slowly—agonizingly slowly—turned his head.

His face was deathly pale, and his eye sockets were nothing but two empty black hollows. Yet there was nothing frightening about him, only an overwhelming sadness that made Lin Yan’s chest tighten.

“You know me?” the boy asked. His voice was soft and hollow, echoing faintly through the stairwell.

Lin Yan held up the photograph. “Is this yours? I found it in Room 304.”

The boy stared at the picture. Two streams of blood silently trickled from his empty eye sockets. “That’s me…” he whispered. “Mom took that picture. I… I miss my mom.”

“You want to go home, don’t you?” Lin Yan asked gently. “Your mom said you could go home once you’re all better.”

The little boy nodded hard, clutching the rag doll tighter against his chest. “Mm-hmm! But the doctor said…” His voice trembled. “He said I wasn’t ever going to get better. He said he was going to turn me into a new specimen.”

A specimen? A chill ran down Lin Yan’s spine. So this hospital really had been conducting inhuman experiments.

“Don’t be afraid.” Lin Yan slowly pulled the brass key he’d found in Room 304 from his pocket. “What about this? Is this yours?”

The instant the boy saw the key, his whole body shuddered, fear written all over his face. “N-No… It’s not mine.”

He instinctively shrank back, clutching his doll even tighter. “That’s… that’s the key to Specimen Room 7! Don’t go in there! There are… there are corpses inside that can move!”

Specimen Room? Key No. 7?

Lin Yan silently committed the information to memory. It seemed this key granted access to a dangerous area.

“Xiao Zhe, do you know how to get out of this place?” Lin Yan asked, getting straight to the question that mattered most. “Do you know where I can find the discharge papers?”

The boy tilted his head, seeming to think it over. The one-eyed doll in his arms suddenly swiveled its lone eye toward Lin Yan.

“The director has the discharge papers,” the boy replied quietly. “But he’s really scary. Still… I know a secret.”

“What secret?”

“The nurse’s diary.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “She wrote that the director has a secret…  and it’s hidden inside a mirror.”

A mirror again!

Lin Yan perked up. “Where’s the diary?”

“In the leftmost drawer under the counter at the nurses’ station.” The boy instinctively shrank back, clutching his doll tighter. “But there’s a security guard standing watch there. He’s really mean and doesn’t like anyone touching the nurse’s things.”

The nurses’ station was clearly somewhere he had to go, but it was crawling with danger.

“Thanks, Xiao Zhe.” Lin Yan smiled sincerely. “I’ll find the diary… and I’ll help you find your mom.”

A faint, almost ethereal smile spread across the boy’s face. It looked unsettling on his ghostly features, yet somehow remained heartbreakingly innocent.

“Thank you, big brother.” He held out his hand. “This is for you.”

Resting in his small palm was a button.

Just an ordinary-looking white plastic button, with a short length of thread still dangling from it.

[Material Discovered: Button of Innocence (Special)]

[Quality: Common]

[Description: A button imbued with the pure, unwavering wish of a child. It carries a faint protective power and may be able to shield its wielder from a small amount of malice when it matters most.]

Lin Yan accepted the button. It was warm against his palm, as though traces of the child’s body heat still lingered within it.

“Hurry and leave now, big brother,” the boy suddenly urged.

He turned toward the top of the staircase, terror overtaking his features. “Sh-She’s here!”

Looking up, Lin Yan saw a twisted figure slowly crawling down the stairs.

It was the headless nurse. Her tattered uniform hung in bloody strips, and blood streamed from the ragged stump of her neck. She carried her own severed head by the hair, letting it hang against her hip.

Long black hair framed a face twisted into a crazed, hate-filled grin.

It was the “big sister” from Room 307!

“Found you… Rule Breaker…”

Lin Yan’s expression hardened, but there was no time to hesitate. “Take care,” he called to the boy before turning and sprinting downstairs.

This time, nothing blocked his path.

He raced all the way to the second floor without stopping.

The layout was nearly identical to the third floor, but the lighting was noticeably dimmer. The air was thick with the mingled stench of disinfectant and rotting food.

Leaning against the wall, Lin Yan forced himself to calm his racing heartbeat.

Everything that had just happened had given him a lot to think about, but it had also pointed him in the right direction.

First, he needed to retrieve the nurse’s diary from the nurses’ station. Somewhere inside it lay the truth about the director and the mirrors.

Second, the specimen room was clearly another key location. Key No. 7 would probably come in handy there.

Finally—and most urgently—he needed a weapon, or at least something that could actually keep him alive.

He had already used the Malevolent Eye of Insight he’d crafted earlier, so at the moment, all he had was the small blade on his Swiss Card and the Button of Innocence.

Not nearly enough.

He needed stronger materials and better tools.

With that in mind, Lin Yan scanned the second-floor corridor.

A short distance away, an overturned medical cart lay on its side, its contents scattered across the floor—a snapped IV pole, shattered glass vials, and several rust-covered surgical forceps.

A glint flashed through his eyes.

“Materials… just what I needed.”

He crossed to the overturned cart and crouched beside it, looking like a scavenger digging through junk for hidden treasure or a master craftsman appraising precious rough gemstones.

He picked up the broken half of the stainless-steel IV pole. Though rusted, it was still structurally sound.

Next came a pair of surgical forceps. The jaws no longer closed properly, but the solid metal handles still had some heft to them.

Finally, his gaze settled beneath the cart.

Wedged underneath was a coil of black tubing—something between an electrical cable and a rubber hose.

“Not exactly top quality…” Lin Yan muttered, a confident smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But it’ll do.”

He took out the fishing line and beeswax, along with the nibless body of the fountain pen he’d lifted from the doctor.

“This time…” he murmured. “I’ll make something that lets me both fight and defend myself.”

His fingers flew into motion.

He wrapped the rubber tubing around one end of the broken IV pole, binding it tightly with a fishing line to fashion a simple handle.

Next, he removed the back end of the surgical forceps and secured it to the opposite end of the pole with beeswax and strips of rubber, forming a pointed striking head.

Finally, he threaded the Button of Innocence through its holes with a fishing line and carefully tied it to the base of the handle.

Every movement flowed effortlessly into the next, carrying a strange, hypnotic elegance.

Even surrounded by the horrors of this cursed hospital, Lin Yan looked less like a man fighting for survival than an artisan immersed in his own workshop, bringing another creation to life.

[Ding!]

[Talent Activated: Omnicrafting!]

[Materials fused!]

[You have created a Crude item: Unyielding Guardian’s Staff (Growth)!]

[Unyielding Guardian’s Staff (Growth)

Quality: Crude+

Effect:

1. Blunt Strike : Deals minor damage to both corporeal and incorporeal targets.

2. Innocent Guardian (Passive): Automatically generates a weak protective barrier when its wielder suffers a fatal blow. Cooldown: 24 hours

3. Pierce the Veil: Successful hits against incorporeal targets have a low chance of revealing their true form for 1 sec.

Description: Though crudely crafted, this weapon embodies its creator’s unwavering resolve to protect. It may not be elegant or especially deadly, but its resilience is undeniable. Given enough battles and proper care, it may one day evolve into something far greater.]

An eighty-centimeter staff appeared in Lin Yan’s hands.

One end was fitted with the modified surgical forceps, the grip wrapped in black rubber tubing, and a single white button dangling from the pommel.

The whole thing looked like a bizarre cobbled-together contraption.

He gave it an experimental heft.

It felt reassuringly solid.

It might look like something salvaged from a junk pile, but Lin Yan could already feel a faint connection between himself and the weapon, as though it were becoming an extension of his own arm.

Tightening his grip, he looked toward the far end of the corridor.

The nurses’ station was in that direction, and waiting for him there was one very nasty security guard.