Chapter 166: “Did we run into a wall?”
The corridor was narrow, and the atmosphere was oppressively silent.
The group of people closely followed the wall, groping their way forward, their footsteps muted, with only faint sounds of clothes brushing against each other.
It was so quiet, almost terrifyingly quiet.
It was like a dark, deep lake, surrounded by boundless darkness from all directions. The fear brought by the unknown was endless, creating a sensation of breathlessness.
The faint beam of a flashlight was like a thin ribbon, and everyone’s heart hung on it.
Wen Jianyan proceeded cautiously, step by step.
As he walked, he mentally sketched a map of this floor.
Up until that point, they had covered about fifty percent of the distance, but… they hadn’t encountered any high–risk patients.
Wen Jianyan discreetly glanced to the side without saying anything.
The metal railing reflected a faint light under the flashlight, with obscure, dark shadows inside.
“Still no sign of anyone?” He lowered his voice and asked Blond, who was walking beside him.
Blond nodded and replied in a similarly hushed tone, “None.”
“…”
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, retracted his gaze, and continued walking slowly.
Along the way, the iron doors of the wards were wide open, but they hadn’t seen a single soul.
This didn’t make him feel safe; on the contrary, an unprecedented sense of crisis loomed.
The corridor ahead seemed endless.
Time passed second by second, and the groping in the darkness felt so prolonged, gradually blurring the meaning of time and distance, as if they had crawled through a century in a tunnel.
Wen Jianyan suddenly stopped.
Su Cheng, who was following closely behind, was caught off guard and almost collided with his back, triggering a chain reaction in the team. A muffled question from the rear followed, “What’s wrong?”
Wen Jianyan silently lifted his eyes and slowly surveyed the surroundings.
Strange…
In theory, they should have covered 100% of the distance by now.
However, the corridor in front of them still seemed endless.
Although darkness and silence could blur human senses, Wen Jianyan had been counting seconds in his mind from the beginning, calculating his steps. Even with potential deviations, it shouldn’t be off by much.
Under the weak beam of the flashlight, the corridor extended into the depths, with iron railings and cells on one side, cold walls on the other, and unfathomable darkness in the distance.
It felt like they were constantly treading in place.
…Something didn’t seem right.
Wen Jianyan slowly moved his fingers, his palm sweating and the cold body of the flashlight warming under his grip.
“Did we run into a wall?”1 Su Cheng, behind him, asked in a hushed tone.
“I’m not sure—”
Wen Jianyan subconsciously shook his head, but the next second, the response got stuck in his throat, unable to come out.
“It’s okay,”
Blond, on the side, looked in the direction illuminated by the flashlight and spoke in a low voice, breaking the silence. “I can see the exit; we should be there soon.”
“…”
Wen Jianyan’s gaze flickered, and he said, “Okay, let’s keep going then.”
Soon, just as Blond had mentioned, after passing through the last two iron gates, the staircase leading upward appeared before them.
There seemed to be no immediate danger around. A faint light penetrated from above the stairs, dispelling the thick and viscous darkness in the corridor they had just traversed.
Like a spider silk descending into the abyss or a piece of driftwood appearing before drowning, it carried a magical allure that made people uncontrollably want to exhale a sigh of relief.
Wen Jianyan halted his steps at the staircase, holding his breath and listening intently.
There was no sticky sensation or squirming sound above his head. There were no footsteps below the stairs, and there were no signs of patients from the second underground floor appearing.
“Go up and check; is there a nest?”
He asked Blond.
Blond nodded and took a few steps toward the stairs. He stopped at the junction, stood on tiptoes, and looked into the distance, then shook his head and confidently said:
“Don’t worry, nothing’s there.”
He then turned back, looking at the others below the stairs and waving his hand: “There shouldn’t be any danger upstairs. Hurry up.”
The rest followed suit immediately.
Only Wen Jianyan remained motionless, standing in place, clutching the flashlight. He silently watched his companions stride forward into the darkness.
The light on the staircase was dim, but against the infinite darkness behind, it seemed like a tranquil firefly that brought peace, silently sparkling not far above their heads.
Su Cheng passed by him, standing a few steps above Wen Jianyan. He turned and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Wen Jianyan lifted his eyes; his amber eyes faintly gleamed under the flashlight’s light. His expression seemed obscure, nearly merging with the darkness behind. Abruptly, he said, “We ran into a wall.”
“What?” Su Cheng was puzzled.
“You asked me just now if we ran into a wall.” Wen Jianyan stared at his teammate, saying lightly, “Why did you think that?”
Su Cheng wasn’t someone who would memorize a map or calculate time and steps by heart. In other words, he probably had no idea how long they had been walking on this floor or how long the road was.
He also didn’t know why he had stopped just now.
However, the moment Wen Jianyan stopped, the latter didn’t ask for the reason—he didn’t ask if he had seen or heard anything strange. Instead, he directly inquired, “Did we run into a wall?”
Wen Jianyan shifted his gaze to the other three.
They had their backs turned, not even turning when he and Su Cheng were talking.
Since entering this corridor, they hadn’t uttered a word, not even showing their faces.
Something was off.
Too off.
More importantly, the anomaly wasn’t just in this corridor but also among his teammates.
…every single teammate.
Like colors fading from a canvas, Su Cheng and Blond’s faces lost expression. They stared at him motionless, their four eyes fixed on Wen Jianyan, devoid of any emotion. It could even almost send shivers down one’s spine.
Wen Jianyan subconsciously tightened his fingers, discreetly taking a step back.
“Ka-ka—”
“Ka-ka—”
A faint, bone-grinding sound echoed in the silent corridor, sounding particularly harsh.
The other three teammates, who had never shown their faces, slowly, bit by bit, turned their heads. Under the dim light at the end of the stairs, not far away, Wen Jianyan saw their faces—
Three featureless, blank faces.
“…”
F*ck!!!
Wen Jianyan jumped up, turned around, and ran for his life.
He sprinted along the same path he came, the chaotic footsteps behind him like a shadow, almost as if they were sticking to the back of his head.
Even without turning back, he knew those five “teammates” were closely following him, as if chasing his soul with a relentless determination.
F*ck, f*ck, f*ck!
Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth, cursing inwardly. His heart raced in his ears, the hot blood rushing against his eardrums and emitting irregular, pulsating sounds.
Is this for real?!
As he ran, his brain spun rapidly, contemplating his current situation.
What’s going on?
How did all of this happen?
How did his teammates get replaced? Where are his real teammates now?
When were they replaced?
Why did they lead him up the stairs? What’s up there?
First and foremost, the timing was crucial.
If he could identify the moment his teammates were replaced, he could likely deduce the reason for his predicament, the motives of the others, and even a series of other pieces of information.
Wen Jianyan ran while mentally retracing every moment since leaving the elevator, searching for clues frame by frame as if a movie were rewinding.
But he failed.
There were no opportunities.
Ever since they entered the first underground floor, they have been moving together.
Wen Jianyan had always been leading the way.
As a seasoned anchor, everyone was cautious, and no one would do something like “actively touching suspicious objects” or “voluntarily entering a suspicious area.”
Wen Jianyan couldn’t find any opportunities where his teammates might have been replaced.
This was too strange.
Wen Jianyan showed a bewildered expression.
In most instances, crises usually had specific trigger points, and there were rarely insoluble, completely unexplained killings.
No anchor would survive under conditions where death was certain.
The footsteps behind him were like a shadow.
Wen Jianyan could almost hear the whooshing sound made by the steps. The strange sensation of being caught the next second had tightened his muscles, and he couldn’t help but increase his speed.
No, no, no, keep thinking!
He clenched his teeth.
There must be some clue overlooked.
If stuck in a dead-end, start over!
Frame by frame, scenes flashed through his mind. Every second was carefully analyzed, and Wen Jianyan felt his brain starting to ache.
The corridor…
Still extending.
Seemingly endless.
Even though he had been sprinting at full speed for over five minutes, the surroundings remained unchanged, as if nothing had altered.
In theory, now they were in the real world, and the buildings and environment wouldn’t change with the mental world of psychiatric patients. It was precisely because of this that Wen Jianyan initially speculated whether he had encountered a situation like running into a wall…
…Running into a wall?
Wen Jianyan widened his eyes slightly, as if suddenly realizing something.
When Su Cheng asked the question about “running into a wall,” it reflected Wen Jianyan’s genuine thoughts at that moment.
Just as he was wondering if he was running into a wall, Su Cheng asked the same question at that very moment.
Next, Blond, seemingly possessing telepathy, successfully answered his “doubt.” And shortly after, the stairs that should have appeared did indeed manifest in front of him.
“…”
Wen Jianyan’s mind slowly formed a bizarre speculation.
Why didn’t Luce and his teammates speak at all?
Perhaps it was because the other three were temporary teammates, and Wen Jianyan didn’t value their safety as much. Hence, he rarely thought about them throughout the journey.
Why did “Su Cheng” and “Blond” suddenly chase after him? If they were truly “replaced” by some creature, their goal should be to lure him, not capture him.
Unless…
Regardless of whether it was luring or capturing, it was all his own speculation.
Wen Jianyan meticulously recalled everything that had happened.
Exactly.
Every event unfolded in the direction he “imagined.”
Su Cheng’s question, Blond’s scouting.
And when he became suspicious and alert about the “teammates,” those three individuals conveniently turned around, revealing featureless faces, precisely confirming his speculation.
“…”
Wen Jianyan abruptly stopped in his tracks.
He stood in place, his heart pounding wildly and fine beads of sweat breaking out on his back. Under the intense nervousness, his whole body trembled slightly.
There was a dead silence in his ears.
A pitch-black, unfathomable silence.
There were no footsteps behind him.
Nothing at all.
He slowly, step by step, turned around, looking back.
In the faint light of the flashlight, he could clearly see that there was no one there.
No one was chasing.
No one was following.
No one was with him.
Both ends of the corridor were engulfed in deep-sea-like darkness, resembling an isolated island cut off from the world. Only Wen Jianyan stood alone, panting heavily.
Chapter 166: “Did we run into a wall?”
The corridor was narrow, and the atmosphere was oppressively silent.
The group of people closely followed the wall, groping their way forward, their footsteps muted, with only faint sounds of clothes brushing against each other.
It was so quiet, almost terrifyingly quiet.
It was like a dark, deep lake, surrounded by boundless darkness from all directions. The fear brought by the unknown was endless, creating a sensation of breathlessness.
The faint beam of a flashlight was like a thin ribbon, and everyone’s heart hung on it.
Wen Jianyan proceeded cautiously, step by step.
As he walked, he mentally sketched a map of this floor.
Up until that point, they had covered about fifty percent of the distance, but… they hadn’t encountered any high–risk patients.
Wen Jianyan discreetly glanced to the side without saying anything.
The metal railing reflected a faint light under the flashlight, with obscure, dark shadows inside.
“Still no sign of anyone?” He lowered his voice and asked Blond, who was walking beside him.
Blond nodded and replied in a similarly hushed tone, “None.”
“…”
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath, retracted his gaze, and continued walking slowly.
Along the way, the iron doors of the wards were wide open, but they hadn’t seen a single soul.
This didn’t make him feel safe; on the contrary, an unprecedented sense of crisis loomed.
The corridor ahead seemed endless.
Time passed second by second, and the groping in the darkness felt so prolonged, gradually blurring the meaning of time and distance, as if they had crawled through a century in a tunnel.
Wen Jianyan suddenly stopped.
Su Cheng, who was following closely behind, was caught off guard and almost collided with his back, triggering a chain reaction in the team. A muffled question from the rear followed, “What’s wrong?”
Wen Jianyan silently lifted his eyes and slowly surveyed the surroundings.
Strange…
In theory, they should have covered 100% of the distance by now.
However, the corridor in front of them still seemed endless.
Although darkness and silence could blur human senses, Wen Jianyan had been counting seconds in his mind from the beginning, calculating his steps. Even with potential deviations, it shouldn’t be off by much.
Under the weak beam of the flashlight, the corridor extended into the depths, with iron railings and cells on one side, cold walls on the other, and unfathomable darkness in the distance.
It felt like they were constantly treading in place.
…Something didn’t seem right.
Wen Jianyan slowly moved his fingers, his palm sweating and the cold body of the flashlight warming under his grip.
“Did we run into a wall?”1 Su Cheng, behind him, asked in a hushed tone.
“I’m not sure—”
Wen Jianyan subconsciously shook his head, but the next second, the response got stuck in his throat, unable to come out.
“It’s okay,”
Blond, on the side, looked in the direction illuminated by the flashlight and spoke in a low voice, breaking the silence. “I can see the exit; we should be there soon.”
“…”
Wen Jianyan’s gaze flickered, and he said, “Okay, let’s keep going then.”
Soon, just as Blond had mentioned, after passing through the last two iron gates, the staircase leading upward appeared before them.
There seemed to be no immediate danger around. A faint light penetrated from above the stairs, dispelling the thick and viscous darkness in the corridor they had just traversed.
Like a spider silk descending into the abyss or a piece of driftwood appearing before drowning, it carried a magical allure that made people uncontrollably want to exhale a sigh of relief.
Wen Jianyan halted his steps at the staircase, holding his breath and listening intently.
There was no sticky sensation or squirming sound above his head. There were no footsteps below the stairs, and there were no signs of patients from the second underground floor appearing.
“Go up and check; is there a nest?”
He asked Blond.
Blond nodded and took a few steps toward the stairs. He stopped at the junction, stood on tiptoes, and looked into the distance, then shook his head and confidently said:
“Don’t worry, nothing’s there.”
He then turned back, looking at the others below the stairs and waving his hand: “There shouldn’t be any danger upstairs. Hurry up.”
The rest followed suit immediately.
Only Wen Jianyan remained motionless, standing in place, clutching the flashlight. He silently watched his companions stride forward into the darkness.
The light on the staircase was dim, but against the infinite darkness behind, it seemed like a tranquil firefly that brought peace, silently sparkling not far above their heads.
Su Cheng passed by him, standing a few steps above Wen Jianyan. He turned and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Wen Jianyan lifted his eyes; his amber eyes faintly gleamed under the flashlight’s light. His expression seemed obscure, nearly merging with the darkness behind. Abruptly, he said, “We ran into a wall.”
“What?” Su Cheng was puzzled.
“You asked me just now if we ran into a wall.” Wen Jianyan stared at his teammate, saying lightly, “Why did you think that?”
Su Cheng wasn’t someone who would memorize a map or calculate time and steps by heart. In other words, he probably had no idea how long they had been walking on this floor or how long the road was.
He also didn’t know why he had stopped just now.
However, the moment Wen Jianyan stopped, the latter didn’t ask for the reason—he didn’t ask if he had seen or heard anything strange. Instead, he directly inquired, “Did we run into a wall?”
Wen Jianyan shifted his gaze to the other three.
They had their backs turned, not even turning when he and Su Cheng were talking.
Since entering this corridor, they hadn’t uttered a word, not even showing their faces.
Something was off.
Too off.
More importantly, the anomaly wasn’t just in this corridor but also among his teammates.
…every single teammate.
Like colors fading from a canvas, Su Cheng and Blond’s faces lost expression. They stared at him motionless, their four eyes fixed on Wen Jianyan, devoid of any emotion. It could even almost send shivers down one’s spine.
Wen Jianyan subconsciously tightened his fingers, discreetly taking a step back.
“Ka-ka—”
“Ka-ka—”
A faint, bone-grinding sound echoed in the silent corridor, sounding particularly harsh.
The other three teammates, who had never shown their faces, slowly, bit by bit, turned their heads. Under the dim light at the end of the stairs, not far away, Wen Jianyan saw their faces—
Three featureless, blank faces.
“…”
F*ck!!!
Wen Jianyan jumped up, turned around, and ran for his life.
He sprinted along the same path he came, the chaotic footsteps behind him like a shadow, almost as if they were sticking to the back of his head.
Even without turning back, he knew those five “teammates” were closely following him, as if chasing his soul with a relentless determination.
F*ck, f*ck, f*ck!
Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth, cursing inwardly. His heart raced in his ears, the hot blood rushing against his eardrums and emitting irregular, pulsating sounds.
Is this for real?!
As he ran, his brain spun rapidly, contemplating his current situation.
What’s going on?
How did all of this happen?
How did his teammates get replaced? Where are his real teammates now?
When were they replaced?
Why did they lead him up the stairs? What’s up there?
First and foremost, the timing was crucial.
If he could identify the moment his teammates were replaced, he could likely deduce the reason for his predicament, the motives of the others, and even a series of other pieces of information.
Wen Jianyan ran while mentally retracing every moment since leaving the elevator, searching for clues frame by frame as if a movie were rewinding.
But he failed.
There were no opportunities.
Ever since they entered the first underground floor, they have been moving together.
Wen Jianyan had always been leading the way.
As a seasoned anchor, everyone was cautious, and no one would do something like “actively touching suspicious objects” or “voluntarily entering a suspicious area.”
Wen Jianyan couldn’t find any opportunities where his teammates might have been replaced.
This was too strange.
Wen Jianyan showed a bewildered expression.
In most instances, crises usually had specific trigger points, and there were rarely insoluble, completely unexplained killings.
No anchor would survive under conditions where death was certain.
The footsteps behind him were like a shadow.
Wen Jianyan could almost hear the whooshing sound made by the steps. The strange sensation of being caught the next second had tightened his muscles, and he couldn’t help but increase his speed.
No, no, no, keep thinking!
He clenched his teeth.
There must be some clue overlooked.
If stuck in a dead-end, start over!
Frame by frame, scenes flashed through his mind. Every second was carefully analyzed, and Wen Jianyan felt his brain starting to ache.
The corridor…
Still extending.
Seemingly endless.
Even though he had been sprinting at full speed for over five minutes, the surroundings remained unchanged, as if nothing had altered.
In theory, now they were in the real world, and the buildings and environment wouldn’t change with the mental world of psychiatric patients. It was precisely because of this that Wen Jianyan initially speculated whether he had encountered a situation like running into a wall…
…Running into a wall?
Wen Jianyan widened his eyes slightly, as if suddenly realizing something.
When Su Cheng asked the question about “running into a wall,” it reflected Wen Jianyan’s genuine thoughts at that moment.
Just as he was wondering if he was running into a wall, Su Cheng asked the same question at that very moment.
Next, Blond, seemingly possessing telepathy, successfully answered his “doubt.” And shortly after, the stairs that should have appeared did indeed manifest in front of him.
“…”
Wen Jianyan’s mind slowly formed a bizarre speculation.
Why didn’t Luce and his teammates speak at all?
Perhaps it was because the other three were temporary teammates, and Wen Jianyan didn’t value their safety as much. Hence, he rarely thought about them throughout the journey.
Why did “Su Cheng” and “Blond” suddenly chase after him? If they were truly “replaced” by some creature, their goal should be to lure him, not capture him.
Unless…
Regardless of whether it was luring or capturing, it was all his own speculation.
Wen Jianyan meticulously recalled everything that had happened.
Exactly.
Every event unfolded in the direction he “imagined.”
Su Cheng’s question, Blond’s scouting.
And when he became suspicious and alert about the “teammates,” those three individuals conveniently turned around, revealing featureless faces, precisely confirming his speculation.
“…”
Wen Jianyan abruptly stopped in his tracks.
He stood in place, his heart pounding wildly and fine beads of sweat breaking out on his back. Under the intense nervousness, his whole body trembled slightly.
There was a dead silence in his ears.
A pitch-black, unfathomable silence.
There were no footsteps behind him.
Nothing at all.
He slowly, step by step, turned around, looking back.
In the faint light of the flashlight, he could clearly see that there was no one there.
No one was chasing.
No one was following.
No one was with him.
Both ends of the corridor were engulfed in deep-sea-like darkness, resembling an isolated island cut off from the world. Only Wen Jianyan stood alone, panting heavily.
