“Sir, I don’t see any doctors,” Zhou Jiayu told Lin Zhushui what he had observed. “I can’t find a single person in a doctor’s uniform on the screens. Only patients are left in this building…”

“Can’t find them?” Lin Zhushui asked.

“No,” Zhou Jiayu confirmed after a thorough re-examination, his voice strained. “It seems all the doctors in this hospital have vanished…”

Lin Zhushui frowned slightly, about to speak, when Zhou Jiayu’s phone rang. He picked it up and saw it was Lin Jue’s number.

“Answer it first,” Lin Zhushui said.

Zhou Jiayu pressed the call button and heard Lin Jue’s voice on the other end, tinged with anxiety: “Jiayu, something doesn’t feel right.”

Zhou Jiayu asked her what was wrong.

Lin Jue said, “We found a patient’s file…”

“A patient’s file?” Zhou Jiayu echoed.

Lin Jue said, “This patient’s name… is Li Yihao.”

As soon as she uttered the name, Zhou Jiayu was stunned. Wasn’t that the name of the Doctor Li who had just led them to the director’s office? For it to be the same name and surname would be too much of a coincidence. “The same Li Yihao from just now?”

“Yes,” Lin Jue confirmed. “His photo is in these files, and he looks exactly like that doctor.”

Goosebumps erupted on Zhou Jiayu’s arms. If Doctor Li was a patient here, then it was possible that the so-called director was also a patient rather than a doctor.

Lin Jue seemed to have guessed what Zhou Jiayu was thinking. She said, “We’re currently looking for other files to see if we can find anything else, but there’s a problem with the archives…”

“What problem?” Zhou Jiayu asked.

Lin Jue sighed, “Currently, we haven’t found any files about doctors, so we can’t confirm who the doctors in this hospital are.”

Hearing this, Zhou Jiayu glanced at the large screen next to him, which was still displaying the hospital’s situation. “I’m in the monitoring room right now, and I haven’t seen any doctors in the surveillance footage either…”

Lin Jue fell silent for a moment, then said they would keep looking and asked Zhou Jiayu to tell Lin Zhushui the situation to see what he thought. Zhou Jiayu nodded, agreeing, and they arranged to meet on the fifth floor in half an hour before hanging up.

However, even before Zhou Jiayu could speak after hanging up, Lin Zhushui directly said, “Can’t find the doctors’ files?”

“Yes,” Zhou Jiayu was slightly surprised that Lin Zhushui had guessed. “Shibo said they couldn’t find any files about doctors.”

“They must have been destroyed,” Lin Zhushui tapped his fingers lightly on the table. He tilted his head slightly, his thin lips parting, “This Jiang Zhu, he’s interesting.”

Zhou Jiayu was wondering what Lin Zhushui meant by “interesting” when he noticed unusual movements among the patients on the monitors behind him. They stood up and started running downstairs. Several of those in wheelchairs, who had difficulty moving, were still determined to go downstairs, wheeling themselves along.

“What’s going on?” Zhou Jiayu was startled. These patients were like a swarm of locusts, each with an excited smile on their face, as if they were rushing to do something extremely important.

So, what exactly was that thing, Zhou Jiayu wondered.

The patients quickly reached the first floor, gathering in the large hall, their heads densely packed together, accompanied by whispers. Each face bore an almost neurotic smile. They seemed to be discussing something extremely important; Zhou Jiayu even saw a few of them biting their hands until they bled from excitement.

“What are they going to do…” A cold shiver ran down Zhou Jiayu’s spine.

Lin Zhushui’s lips curved into a displeased arc: “See if the director is in the crowd.”

After a careful search, Zhou Jiayu actually found the director who had jumped out of the fifth-floor window and escaped, among the crowd. However, on the first floor, he had swapped his white doctor’s coat for the light blue patient uniform. If it weren’t for his long face and exaggerated behavior, Zhou Jiayu would have found it difficult to distinguish him from the other patients.

Zhou Jiayu said, “Found him, in the crowd, and he changed his clothes into a patient gown…” The video footage wasn’t particularly clear. He saw more and more patients gathering on the first floor, and then with a loud bang, the iron gate between the first and second floors was lowered, trapping everyone in the first-floor hall.

The director, now in a patient gown, climbed onto a high platform in the hall. He was waving his arms, seemingly saying something, but since the video only showed visuals and no audio, it was hard to tell. After he finished speaking, he climbed down from the platform. Then, Zhou Jiayu saw someone else climb onto the high platform. Seeing this, he initially thought the person climbing up would say something like the director, but to his surprise, four or five people climbed up at once, each holding a weapon.

Zhou Jiayu looked incredulous. Then, he watched as these few people began to fight on the platform. Fortunately, the screen’s colors weren’t vibrant, so Zhou Jiayu couldn’t clearly see the color of the blood, but even so, he could sense the terrifying implications within the exaggerated movements of these people from the blurry footage. Someone was pushed off the platform, falling to the ground and never getting up again. The onlookers cheered, dragging his feet and throwing him into a corner like trash. The struggle continued until only one remained.

While watching these scenes, Zhou Jiayu was also briefly explaining to Lin Zhushui. Lin Zhushui suddenly reached out and covered Zhou Jiayu’s hand. “Are you scared?”

“Not… not really,” Zhou Jiayu said. “I just didn’t expect the hospital to be like this.”

Lin Zhushui said, “If you don’t want to watch, then don’t.”

Although Zhou Jiayu was happy that Lin Zhushui said that, he didn’t feel he was that delicate. He said it was fine, then clasped Lin Zhushui’s hand, intertwining their fingers, and turned his gaze back to the screen. The scene continued, the victorious patient letting out an excited roar. He was covered in blood, raising his hands excitedly on the high platform.

Then, Zhou Jiayu saw a piece of clothing being handed up to the high platform from the crowd—it was a doctor’s uniform.

“This hospital… doesn’t have any doctors, does it?” Zhou Jiayu uttered his difficult guess. “All the doctors… are chosen from the patients.”

“There’s another possibility,” Lin Zhushui said, perhaps concerned that Zhou Jiayu was frightened. He gently embraced him from behind, his tone calm, but stating a chilling truth. He said, “Do you think, among those patients, there might also be doctors who were once healers?”

Zhou Jiayu was speechless. He was embraced by Lin Zhushui, his back against his warm, solid chest, but this otherwise romantic atmosphere was completely ruined by the video in front of them. Zhou Jiayu’s mind conjured up the extremely hideous scars on the director’s face, and it was hard for him to imagine how many of these patients had participated in such cruel struggles. The victorious patient happily put on his director’s uniform. He jumped down from the high platform, waving to the crowd. The iron gate that had previously lowered now rose again. The agitated crowd returned to their lifeless state, slowly dispersing from the corridor and gradually disappearing, leaving the first-floor hall empty again, with only an unconscious patient lying quietly in the corner, awaiting death.

Zhou Jiayu couldn’t bear to watch any longer and asked if they should go to the hall to check. Lin Zhushui nodded, agreeing to Zhou Jiayu’s suggestion.

The two left the monitoring room and went to the first-floor hall. The floor of the hall was still stained with fresh red blood, a messy sight. Zhou Jiayu ran to the patient’s side and saw that he was still motionless. He reached out to check his breathing, then sighed, “He’s dead.”

Lin Zhushui frowned slightly.

Zhou Jiayu had thought the man was just severely injured, but he hadn’t expected him to simply lose his life like that. He stood up and looked around. “Sir, are they just leaving this person’s body here?”

“Someone should come to clean it up,” Lin Zhushui guessed.

Facts proved Lin Zhushui right, because after about a few minutes, several people in hospital doctor uniforms appeared in the hall, holding mops and other cleaning supplies, looking like they were about to clean the scene. If he hadn’t just seen that scene in the surveillance video, Zhou Jiayu probably would have wanted to ask one of them about the situation, but now, he just wanted to stay far away from them.

Fortunately, the “doctors” showed no intention of speaking to him. They bowed their heads, meticulously tidying the hall, and two of them even prepared to drag the patient’s body out. Zhou Jiayu couldn’t resist asking, “Where are you dragging him?”

The doctor looked back at him indifferently. “To the back mountain. Do you want to come along?”

Zhou Jiayu shook his head.

The person then turned his head, his expression detached, and dragged the body out. Zhou Jiayu inhaled the faint smell of blood in the air, feeling as if he was trapped in an absurd dream. Fortunately, the person next to him gave him a sense of reality. Zhou Jiayu sighed, fixing his gaze on Lin Zhushui’s face, thinking of it as a way to cleanse his eyes and comfort himself.

“Sir, what should we do?” With so many people here and the remote location, even if they called the police, they probably wouldn’t arrive until the next day. Moreover, mentally ill patients aren’t held accountable for murder. Zhou Jiayu asked.

Lin Zhushui said, “Let’s go to the archives and check on Lin Jue and the others.”

Zhou Jiayu agreed. They had initially arranged to meet Lin Jue in half an hour, but it seemed unnecessary now. The two went from the first floor to the fifth floor again. This time, as they went up, Zhou Jiayu noticed that the patients who had been scattered everywhere were gone, having disappeared somewhere. It was around two in the afternoon, and although the sun was shining brightly outside, a chilling cold permeated the building.

The fifth floor was also empty, with some scattered toys on the ground, likely left behind by the patients when they left. Zhou Jiayu walked to the archives door and smelled that musty odor again. He paused and called out, “Shibo, have you found anything?”

“I think this mental hospital should have been shut down a long time ago,” Lin Jue said, coughing as she came out of the room, holding two record books. She handed them to Zhou Jiayu. “Take a look.”

Zhou Jiayu took them and saw they were admission records. After a quick flip-through, he quickly found a problem: “What’s going on… this hospital hasn’t been admitting patients for several years?”

“That’s right,” Lin Jue said. “No new patients have been admitted, and no patients have been discharged either.”

Zhou Jiayu was shocked. “How is that possible? No new admissions is understandable, but no discharges—these patients must have families, right? Wouldn’t their families object?”

Lin Jue sighed, “I guess not, because this mental hospital is very special.”

Normal mental patients would have families, and their families would also supervise their treatment. Even if the environment was poor, at least no lives would be lost. However, the situation at this mental hospital was quite peculiar. Most of the patients admitted to this mental hospital seemed to have been carefully selected, with the majority being individuals with very weak social connections. For example, patients like Jiang Zhu, with backgrounds of deceased parents, were not considered special here.

The cost of a mental hospital is not low. For good treatment, it requires not only expensive medications but also a very comfortable environment. It is hard to imagine what kind of care they would receive in a mental hospital with such conditions.

“So what exactly do these people want to do?” The truth seemed to be right in front of them, but it was hard to believe. The unusual situation at this hospital clearly had a reason. Zhou Jiayu said, “Or rather, what did they do to Jiang Zhu?”

“I don’t know,” Lin Jue sighed. “But a rough guess, it certainly won’t be anything good.”

“These patients are gone again. Should we go look for them?” Zhou Jiayu asked. “There must be more secrets among them.”

“We know where they went,” Lin Jue said. “Just now, when we were looking through the files, someone came and asked if we wanted to go pray with them.”

“Pray?” Zhou Jiayu was startled. “They believe in religion too?”

“I’m not sure,” Lin Jue said. “They said the prayer location is in the back. Should we go check it out?”

Lin Zhushui said, “Let’s go.”

So, everyone decided to go and see what the situation was.

First, they fought in the hall, and then they gathered for prayer. These mental patients seemed to be accustomed to doing these things, needing no prompting, they proceeded methodically according to their routine. The building next to this one was somewhat like a church, but its architectural style was quite different, and it lacked iconic objects like crosses. This building was obscured by the hospital, and they hadn’t noticed it when they came in. If Lin Jue hadn’t mentioned it, they probably would have had to spend some effort to find it.

As they got a little closer, Zhou Jiayu heard countless whispers, as if many people were speaking simultaneously. The building’s door wasn’t fully closed but left a small gap, just enough for them to see what was inside. All the patients in the hospital seemed to be there, kneeling on the ground, hands clasped, muttering something. At the very front of the kneeling crowd, a black wooden table was placed, and on top of it, covered with a white cloth, was something that, from its shape, appeared to be a lying person.

“New guests have arrived,” someone at the front of the kneeling crowd suddenly spoke. The person was wearing a hooded black robe, their face obscured. They had been sitting in the shadows, but now they suddenly stood up and spoke loudly towards the entrance, “Let us welcome them.”

Zhou Jiayu was startled; clearly, this person was referring to them. Then two or three patients rose from the ground and pulled open the heavy door in front of Zhou Jiayu and the others.

“Long time no see, my guests,” the man said with a smile. He was excessively tall and appeared very thin. Perhaps due to his unique physique, Zhou Jiayu immediately remembered seeing this person during the school incident—he was likely the Jiang Zhu that Xu Jinghuo had mentioned.

“Jiang Zhu?” Zhou Jiayu quietly called out his name.

Jiang Zhu’s voice was somewhat cold. He said, “You certainly came quickly.”

Zhou Jiayu said, “No, we came too late, Jiang Zhu.”

Jiang Zhu looked around and said, “You’re right, you came too late.”

The patients continued to pray incessantly, their faces twisted in fervent smiles, looking at Jiang Zhu as if he were an omniscient, omnipotent god. Jiang Zhu stood opposite Zhou Jiayu and the others, quietly meeting their gaze.

Zhou Jiayu was about to step forward when he saw the surrounding patients push out a huge iron cage. Inside the cage lay a naked man with mutilated limbs. His hands and feet seemed to have been chopped off, leaving only a bare torso lying in the center of the cage. He saw Zhou Jiayu and the others at the door and made guttural sounds, opening his mouth repeatedly, revealing a dark, empty cavity—his tongue also seemed to have been cut out.

The man’s appearance was very unsettling. Zhou Jiayu pursed his lips: “You did this?”

“Yes, I did it,” Jiang Zhu admitted very directly. He walked to the cage, reached his hand through the gap, and grabbed the man’s neck. “I know what you want…” His voice was low and deep, like a devil’s whisper.

The man in the cage whose neck was being choked by Jiang Zhu continued to make guttural sounds. But whether it was Zhou Jiayu’s imagination or not, the man, instead of feeling fear when Jiang Zhu choked him, showed a hint of joy in his eyes, as if he had been looking forward to this day for a long time.

“But I won’t give it to you.” However, the next moment, Jiang Zhu let go of his hand. He burst out laughing, his voice filled with malicious glee. “Wait, just wait.”

“Ugh…” The man looked desperate, constantly trying to move towards Jiang Zhu, but Jiang Zhu no longer looked at him.

“What exactly have you done to this hospital?” Zhou Jiayu’s face was full of disbelief. Although he had already guessed some things, seeing Jiang Zhu’s actions still stirred an uncontrollable surge within him. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one feeling uncomfortable about Jiang Zhu; Xu Rumang and the others also had strained expressions.

Jiang Zhu casually dropped something on the ground, then turned to leave. Zhou Jiayu took a step forward, intending to follow him, but the fervently devout patients surrounding him closed in. If these were mere specters, they could have eliminated them without mercy. But these were living, breathing humans, so everyone could only watch as Jiang Zhu left.

Lin Zhushui’s expression was very cold; he didn’t seem to intend to stop Jiang Zhu either. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper crane. Flames ignited on the paper crane, and it flapped its wings, flying away from the scene.

Zhou Jiayu initially thought they would have to struggle to get out of the crowd, but to his surprise, after Jiang Zhu left, the patients who had surrounded them quickly dispersed. They moved, orderly, from this building towards the inpatient ward. If it weren’t for the strange expressions on their faces, they would have looked quite normal.

Zhou Jiayu walked to the cage and bent down to pick up what Jiang Zhu had dropped. He saw that Jiang Zhu had dropped a videotape, and the number thirteen was written on it.

“A videotape,” Zhou Jiayu said. “Want to watch it?”

“Since we’re already here, why not?” Lin Jue was also in a bad mood. She said, “Let’s call the police first. We can’t handle so many patients here.”

There were at least a hundred people in this hospital. If they were ghosts, it would be one thing, but they were hundreds of living people. Even if they had mental problems, they were still human. Xu Jian was also a bit helpless and picked up his phone to call. This place was very remote, and even if they called the police, they probably wouldn’t arrive until the next day. They had felt before coming that this matter was not simple, but upon arriving, they found it was even more complicated than they had imagined.

After getting the videotape, they went to the monitoring room again, where there was video playback equipment. Of course, they also brought the person from the iron cage with them. After Jiang Zhu left, this person remained motionless like a corpse, which made people feel very uncomfortable.

In the monitoring room, Lin Jue inserted the videotape into the computer’s optical drive and saw a seated person appear on the screen. The person was a young man, dressed in a white straitjacket, sitting on a chair with his head bowed.

“This isn’t Jiang Zhu, is it?” Everyone had seen Jiang Zhu’s photo before, and the person in the video looked different from Jiang Zhu.

“No,” Lin Jue said. “Isn’t he wearing a name tag on his chest? He should be a patient here…”

As soon as Lin Jue finished speaking, she saw several more people appear in the video. These people were wearing the white uniforms unique to doctors. They held syringes with medicine, and some held thick record books, as if preparing to record something.

Zhou Jiayu suddenly had a bad premonition. He said, “What are these people going to do…”

Then, they saw the doctor insert the syringe into the patient’s neck. A moment later, the patient, wrapped in the straitjacket, began to struggle painfully. At this point, everyone vaguely guessed what this videotape was—this mental hospital was experimenting on patients, though the nature of the experiments was still unknown.

Xu Rumang could no longer contain himself and blurted out a curse. The others also had ashen faces, showing expressions of unbearable grief.

But this was only the beginning. The medication injected into the patient’s body began to take effect continuously. He seemed to be in more and more pain, struggling wildly, but he was firmly restrained and unable to move. If it were just this, everyone might not have been so angry, but the sight of those few people in doctor’s uniforms sparked their fury—these people, seeing the patient in such agony, were actually laughing, and one even reached out and pushed the patient directly to the ground, watching him writhe painfully like an insect.

Amidst the painful moans were words spoken with laughter. One of the doctors said, “We don’t know how long he’ll live, but it’s very interesting.”

The footage suddenly froze here. Zhou Jiayu turned his head and saw that Lin Jue had pressed pause. She said, “Sorry, I need a moment.”

Everyone understood her emotions. Xu Jian also cursed, “These people are truly not human.”

Lin Jue didn’t speak. After lighting a cigarette from her pocket, she said, “Let’s continue.”