Chapter 85: The Walking Dead |
"You're right, Bai," Stephen agreed. "The Surveillance Room is on the first floor. I passed by it while I was filming. It's very close to here. Let's hurry over! We can feel our way along the walls!"
"Without Chris Wolf around, there's nothing to fear from that priest!"
Stephen truly lived up to his title as a professional Reporter. Even after nearly being chopped to pieces, he remained brimming with a sense of justice. Without such a strong moral compass, he never would have become a frontline Reporter who constantly weathered brutal storms.
"Alright, Stephen. You lead the way, I'll be right behind you," Bai Mu replied.
"Leave it to me, Bai."
After Stephen took a few steps forward, Bai Mu stepped onto Chris Wolf's back, raised his Baseball Bat high in the air, aimed at the massive man's temple, and smashed it down mercilessly.
[You have killed Chris Wolf.]
To avoid any disagreements with Stephen, Bai Mu took action behind his back.
There was no need to hesitate when dealing with a serial killer. If the law could not punish him, the Baseball Bat in his hands would deliver the verdict.
Many people in this world could never be trusted—unless they were dead.
Unfortunately, Chris didn't drop any equipment. However, since a notification from Paradise chimed upon his death, he likely counted as a minor elite monster that would yield extra rewards during the Script's final calculation.
After finishing off Chris, Bai Mu quickly caught up with Stephen's pace. The two followed the edge of the staircase down to the first floor. Along the way, Bai Mu scavenged some gear from the corpses of the fallen soldiers.
Their firearms had all been destroyed by the ghost, but some weapons and armor remained intact. Items like bulletproof vests and tactical helmets were in perfect condition.
This area essentially served as an equipment supply zone for Players, but defeating Chris Wolf was a mandatory prerequisite to take this route. If one chose to flee, they would have to run in the opposite direction and wander blindly. Perhaps they would only stumble upon this supply point during the middle or late stages of the Script.
Bai Mu had essentially taken a shortcut. However, none of this equipment could be brought out of the Script; it could only be used within this current world. He didn't scavenge too much, only stripping a bulletproof helmet and vest for both Stephen and himself.
"Do we really have to wear these, Bai?"
The faint glow of the Camcorder illuminated Stephen's face. To speed up the looting process, Bai Mu had been using the screen as a makeshift flashlight.
Stephen looked troubled. "These clothes feel a bit sticky, don't you think?"
"It's fine, Stephen. That won't affect the armor's protection." Bai Mu patted him on the shoulder. "Do you want me to help you put it on? Are you injured and struggling to use your hands?"
"No... No need, I can do it myself." Stephen hurriedly slipped the bulletproof vest over his head.
The outer layer of polyester fiber was completely soaked in blood, making it undeniably sticky. However, from Bai Mu's perspective as a Player, the equipment's stats were perfectly normal, and its defensive capabilities were completely unhindered.
"Are you not changing into one, Bai?" Stephen asked as he fastened his helmet strap.
"I'll just wear the helmet," Bai Mu replied. He only equipped the bulletproof helmet. The vest was just a piece of ordinary equipment, definitively inferior to his rare, special-effect item, the Dance of Elvis.
The helmet, on the other hand, was an acceptable upgrade. Aside from his gas mask, his only other headgear was the Conehead Zombie's party hat. The former offered absolutely zero defense, and the latter carried quite a strong odor. More importantly, no sane person would wander through a peril-filled asylum wearing a traffic cone on their head.
"Take this to protect yourself." Bai Mu handed over a small combat knife. "Hurry up and lead the way, Stephen. We can't let that priest slip away."
"True enough," Stephen agreed, turning around to continue feeling his way through the darkness. "But I think after this shoot is over, I need to find an exorcist to get me some garlic and a crucifix. Speaking of which, Bai, are the exorcists from your part of the world more effective? I remember seeing those Eastern exorcists in yellow robes before. They use copper swords for exorcisms, along with yellow talisman papers. They look way more reliable than holy water and garlic."
"Those are called Daoist priests, not exorcists," Bai Mu corrected. "When we have time, I'll introduce you to a few Daoist temples. However, I don't think there's anything to worry about, Stephen. My hometown has an old saying: a straight body fears not a crooked shadow. The two of us are doing undeniably righteous deeds, and that all counts toward our karmic merit."
"Karmic merit?" Stephen echoed, seemingly unfamiliar with the term.
"It means that good deeds bring good karma," Bai Mu explained. "The more good you do, the more merit you accumulate, and then the gods will bless you and keep you safe."
"Eastern witchcraft is so mysterious," Stephen muttered.
The two passed through the messy, overturned pulpit and entered a much more modern corridor. The floor was paved with marble tiles. The lighting was still pitch black, but after their eyes adjusted, they could just barely make out their surroundings.
"The Surveillance Room is just ahead," Stephen said. "It should be just a bit further and to the left."
Just as Stephen spoke, Bai Mu suddenly sensed someone in front of them.
A living person. He could hear a heartbeat and breathing.
A wheelchair faced the two men. Sitting in it was a withered patient. His entire body was emaciated, as if suffering from severe, long-term malnutrition, and his skin was as rough as sun-dried tree bark.
"A ghost!" Stephen gasped, gulping hard.
The moment he made that sound, the patient suddenly leaped up from the wheelchair.
The man showed absolutely no signs of being disabled; his movements were alarmingly agile. He lunged fiercely at Stephen, but Bai Mu took a quick step forward and delivered a brutal elbow strike squarely to the man's jaw.
Several teeth clattered onto the floor as blood poured from the patient's gums.
Bai Mu pinned him to the ground and demanded, "Who are you?"
Stripped of his vicious demeanor, the patient was now shivering uncontrollably. Faced with someone even more ruthless than himself, all of his aggression completely vanished.
"There are more people over there," Stephen pointed toward the opposite end of the corridor.
Bai Mu looked up and spotted several more withered patients. They were either sitting in wheelchairs or leaning against the walls, their heads hanging in despondency. Every single one of them looked like dead grass, utterly devoid of life. Many were missing body parts—some lacked ears, others had no skin, and a few were missing entire hands or feet.
"These are the asylum inmates who were listening to the priest's sermon earlier," Stephen noted. "I saw them."
Hearing this, Bai Mu slightly loosened his grip.
He suddenly understood that these people were the test subjects mentioned in the emails—the ones who had suffered horrific abuse and torment within the asylum. Not only had their bodies been tortured, but their minds had completely shattered.
This guy lunging at them was not necessarily driven by malice. Perhaps, much like a child, he simply wanted to play a prank when he saw people walking by.
It was similar to packs of dogs in rural villages. Whenever a stranger wandered into their territory, they would chase after them for a while, just for the thrill of it.
While Bai Mu was observing the scene, Stephen had already kicked open the door to the Surveillance Room, combat knife in hand. It was completely empty. There was no sign of the priest anywhere.
"There's no one in the Surveillance Room!" Stephen announced.
"Do you know the priest?" Bai Mu asked the patient pinned beneath him. The patient nodded.
"Tell me where he went, and I'll let you go."
Trembling, the patient pointed in a specific direction. "T-There..."
Bai Mu looked toward where he was pointing. There was an electrical hazard sign mounted above a staircase leading to the basement. The main power switches were down there.
Bai Mu released the patient. The man immediately curled into a tight ball, clutching his head like a frightened little beast, and began to mutter, "It hurts... hurts... don't hit me... it hurts..."
Bai Mu tossed down a piece of milk candy and hurried toward the electrical room with Stephen in tow.
After he left, the patient timidly picked up the candy, unwrapped it, and placed it in his mouth.
"Sweet... haha... sweet..."
That hollow laughter echoed down the silent corridor, but no one responded. Every single patient remaining there was just like the walking dead.