Chapter 2: The Most Terrifying Part of the Game is Just the Rookie Village (Part Two)

The lights in the main hall were on, their glow stark white, perfectly matching the atmosphere of a hospital horror film.

Shen Lian stopped crying and carefully examined the people in the main hall.

Including himself, there were twelve individuals in total.

The burly man holding a fire axe appeared extremely menacing; no one dared to approach him.

A woman dressed in professional attire sat in a chair. Shen Lian noticed she was barefoot—she must have removed her high-heeled shoes.

Nearby, at the elevator entrance, stood a young member of the “Love Funeral” clan with his signature washed-out hairstyle. His gaze inadvertently swept over the female白领, revealing a remarkably strong constitution—he still maintained his lustful interest even now.

Two female students stood in another corner, wiping away tears. Shen Lian recognized their school uniforms—they were from the local high school nearby.

As for the youth clad in a white lab coat and wearing gold-rimmed glasses, he toyed with a surgical knife, exuding an inexplicable air of refined depravity.

Shen Lian wanted to continue observing when suddenly, a man rushed in.

He looked utterly wretched, his meticulously tailored suit soaked with blood, hair disheveled as if by shock, face pallid.

Shen Lian glanced down at his watch: 9:59 PM.

This was the last survivor.

The minute hand completed its circuit, reaching exactly ten o’clock.

A voice suddenly rang out in the hall:

Dear players, welcome to the horror game.

The tone rose and fell, its gender indiscernible, as if reciting a prose poem—somehow managing to sound inexplicably deserving of a punch.

“Congratulations on overcoming some small obstacles to reach this beautiful beginner village.”

The adjective “beautiful” successfully ignited Shen Lian’s urge to roast it.

“Now, let us begin the newbie quest.”

“There should be 40 players present; actually, there are only 12 players here.”

Including the player who had just arrived, there were thirteen people in the entire hall.

Shen Lian realized something.

“Among you, there is one ghost. Please ensure you don’t get killed by it before five o’clock in the morning.”

The burly man holding the fire axe cursed under his breath.

The high school girls who had been hand-in-hand moments ago unconsciously separated their hands, then guiltily clasped them together again.

Shen Lian lowered his head, the corner of his mouth curling slightly upward.

Friendship indeed.

This group began to mutually guard against each other, ever vigilant.

“May your gaming experience be enjoyable.”

When Shen Lian opened his eyes again, he found himself in a hospital department.

He was all too familiar with this place.

Second floor, outpatient building—the Psychiatry Department 3.

Had they been dispersed separately? Perhaps he ought to think for a moment.

Among them, there is one ghost.

Judas was the thirteenth; he recalled the thirteenth person who had rushed in at the last moment—the man dressed in a suit.

Could it be him?

Could it be such an easily guessed ordinal number as thirteen?

Shen Lian couldn’t be certain.

A “ghost” wouldn’t simply stand there waiting to be killed by others.

What Shen Lian could be sure of was that this fellow would undoubtedly sow discord and commit murders.

If Shen Lian possessed extraordinary combat capabilities, he would have reached the conclusion: Isn’t it just a ghost? Just kill all twelve people except for me.

Unfortunately, he was merely a noob when it came to fighting.

This department couldn’t be lingered in; they must transfer to another location.

The places he thought of were the monitoring room on the fifth floor and the morgue on the second basement level.

The monitoring room counted as a strategic point, likely to occur to more than one person, while his own combat strength wasn’t particularly high—moreover, he’d even broken limbs.

As for the morgue, which normal person would think of going there amidst such an atmosphere and environment?

Regarding whether abnormal events might happen in the morgue, Shen Lian believed the possibility was less than ten percent.

After all, this was the “beginner village,” where the quest issued was an internal problem that tested human nature more so.

“So what if there are abnormal events?” he mused. “Do I fear death now?”

Life holds little joy, and death should hold no terror. For someone like him, what could possibly instill fear?

He opened the drawer of his desk and effortlessly found a piece of iron wire.

His primary physician was an old mischief-maker who boasted about being able to open all the doors in the hospital with just one piece of iron wire. Shen Lian had learned a few tricks from him as well.

Then he suddenly recalled that next to the morgue should be the legendary electric saw room.

Perhaps, he could obtain an electric saw there—a type used for cutting corpses.

At this moment, his head hurt, yet his spirits began to surge with excitement.

He pulled open the door by a narrow slit; luck was on his side—no one was outside.

The internal staircase lay at the end of the corridor.

Treading lightly, he walked over and unlocked it using the iron wire.

Shen Lian thanked himself for treating the hospital like home.

He continued descending the stairs noiselessly.

First floor.

Basement level one.

Basement level two.

Shen Lian seemed to catch the scent of formaldehyde.

Gathering every ounce of strength within him, he hurled the hammer in his hand towards the camera lens.

It missed its mark.

One more try.

The instant the hammer left his grasp, Shen Lian felt utterly drained.

Fortunately, this time it hit its target.

The two impacts produced loud sounds, shattering the silence. He bowed towards the morgue and murmured softly, “Rest in peace.”

Borrowing the ghastly green light from the “safe passage” signboard, he opened the door to the electric saw room.

Cut down whoever comes through, he thought.

Shen Lian obtained an electric saw.

However, at that very moment upon holding the saw, he found himself uncontrollably pondering a philosophical question:

“Should I use this electric saw to kill myself first?”

Slitting the carotid artery and windpipe would be swift work indeed.