Chapter 4: The Scariest Part of the Game is Just the Rookie Village (Part Four)

Shen Lian didn’t know how much time had passed; it might have been several minutes, or perhaps longer. At least when he was awakened by that eerie sound, he could still maintain consciousness.

The noise sounded like someone had amplified the decibel level of opening and closing drawers many times over.

He saw a human face.

A face with unfocused pupils, sallow complexion, and skin that had lost its elasticity.

Instinctively, Shen Lian adjusted his posture slightly, swinging the saw horizontally across. As a result, the corpse stumbled back a few steps, causing that already unappealing visage to twist even more grotesquely under the impact.

Lifting his head, Shen Lian finally noticed that his freezer door had been pulled open.

The other people’s freezer doors were also open.

Corpses of various kinds all turned their heads simultaneously, staring at him with pairs of vacant eyes in perfect unison.

Zzz—

The whirr of the saw echoed through the air.

The nearest corpse seemed to burst apart like a watermelon sliced open.

Red mixed with white and yellow splattered onto him—it was blood, brain matter, and gray matter alike.

The entire morgue appeared flattened as if transformed into a canvas. The dark background had been daubed with vivid red paint, while someone used the saw to complete an impressionistic masterpiece characterized by bold strokes and vibrant hues.

The approaching corpses dripped saliva, their teeth and nails having evolved to reach limits humans could never attain.

Shen Lian harbored not the slightest doubt: they would pounce on him, tear him apart, and stuff fragments of his flesh into their possibly already decomposing esophagi.

The wound on Shen Lian’s left wrist seemed to have reopened. Those corpses appeared like sharks that had caught the scent of blood, becoming even more frenzied as they attacked from all directions.

Once again, Shen Lian felt an urge to complain at this inappropriate moment. He couldn’t understand why these people, already thoroughly dead, still retained their sense of smell.

Fortunately, their limbs were severely stiffened.

There were too many bodies, and he was nearly exhausted, his grip faltering on the saw which threatened to slip away.

Suddenly, Shen Lian found himself unsure of what he was doing.

He continued repeating those mechanical numbing motions, hacking away at a group of already deceased individuals.

What purpose did it serve?

Put down the saw, he thought. Let’s just leave it be. Hadn’t his hypocritical self always been eager for death?

Blood smeared across his face; he wanted to wipe it off but couldn’t spare the hand.

Put down the saw.

Put down the saw.

The gates of heaven will open for you.

It seemed as though some intangible voice was tempting him.

But Shen Lian abruptly came back to his senses.

Go fuck yourself! he retorted inwardly. Do you think I’m so gullible? You’re trying to exploit my belief in nihilism, aren’t you?

Even a fool knew that according to Christian doctrine, suicides cannot ascend to Heaven.

With one last swing of the saw, he charged forward once more.

“Beep— The system has regenerated procedures, randomizing time, location, and transfer.”

Shen Lian sat on the floor of the MRI room, the saw slipping from his grasp with a clatter.

“It seems I’ve gained some luck?” He told himself a cold joke, so frigid that it left his face expressionless.

Is there something amiss? he thought.

Why did he want to put down the saw at that moment?

If he had set aside the saw, those corpses would have devoured him alive—swallowed whole, sucking out his marrow and devouring his flesh.

This was entirely inconsistent with his aesthetic of death and principles of suicide.

He couldn’t even bear the sight of “beauty” (note), let alone endure such horrors.

Was there something influencing him?

Perhaps this time he regained consciousness because of an attribute deeply ingrained in his bones—a trait where one remains expressionless while internally launching a torrential barrage of mental roasts?

Once again, he chilled himself to the core.

Finding a doctor’s coat left in a cabinet, he changed into it, wiped clean the bloodstains on the floor, and hid away his bloodied clothes.

Picking up the saw, he walked to a corner of the MRI room—a row of chairs stood there.

He sat behind one chair, concealing himself completely.

He needed rest.

Wang Xiaoyan and Feng You, hand in hand, cautiously pushed open the large door leading to the MRI room.

They were wearing uniforms from a nearby high school—the type easily recognizable for their red-and-white striped design. From afar, they resembled two bottles of Nongfu Spring water walking together.

Over this period, panic-stricken and trembling with fear, yet fortunately, they hadn’t encountered any real danger.

“No one is here; we can still hide for some more time.”

Feng You turned her head, softly comforting her close friend with a gentle voice.

Wang Xiaoyan looked at her.

Feng You was truly a very beautiful young woman. Even disheveled hair and pallid complexion could not obscure her facial features as exquisite as paintings, her features perfectly formed. Even the loose school uniform draped over her body managed to reveal hints of her graceful figure.

How wonderful, Wang Xiaoyan thought.

They walked inside and sat down on the floor.