Chapter 88: You Are the True Professional Reporter |
Judging from the recording angle on the screen, the priest had placed the Camcorder on a box in front of him and spoke directly into the lens. He had recorded this video all by himself, with the walls of the sewer serving as his background.
This time, Bai Mu clearly saw the priest's face. The man was much older than Bai Mu had anticipated. His face was entirely covered in wrinkles, his skin lacked any luster, and his eyebrows were a dry, withered white.
He wore a solemn black clerical robe and a pair of black leather boots that appeared to be made of waterproof material.
"Greetings, outsiders."
A slightly hoarse voice emanated from the speaker.
"Since God has allowed you to come before Him, then I too must follow His divine will."
"May both you and I welcome true freedom."
The priest traced a cross over his chest. True to his nature as an old religious fanatic, he spoke in cryptic, mystical riddles rather than plain human language.
"What does this old fanatic mean?" Stephen asked in confusion, pressing the play button to rewatch the brief video.
"However, he is only saying this because the monster he left behind failed to kill us."
"In his dreams!" Stephen exclaimed indignantly. "As if he could get off that easily! I almost died because of him, and I haven't even settled that score yet!"
"Let's hurry up and follow his footprints, Bai!"
[Side Quest updated. Objective changed: Catch up to the priest alongside Stephen.]
Stephen was just about to follow the muddy shoe prints toward one side of the fork in the path.
There were signs marked on the walls; one side led to the male ward, and the other to the female ward.
They had passed through the Administration Building and arrived at the underground level of the wards.
In the distance, they could see a new iron ladder. Climbing up would likely lead them to the patients' daily living quarters.
The water-stained shoe prints led all the way to the base of the iron ladder. The direction Stephen was about to take was the exit leading to the male ward.
But Bai Mu shook his head and said, "That is the wrong way, Stephen. The priest must have gone out through the female ward."
"The female ward?" Stephen scratched his head. "Why would it be the female ward? There are clearly no shoe prints over there."
"Those prints are nothing but a smokescreen."
Bai Mu crouched down and looked at the channel. Rapid currents flowed past him, and occasionally, water would splash up over the edges of the channel, leaving behind wet stains.
"Look closely. Is the splash radius near the iron ladder leading to the male ward slightly farther than it is here?" Bai Mu pointed toward the fork on the left.
Stephen stood on his tiptoes and shaded his eyes to peer into the distance. "You are right, but what does that have to do with the priest?"
"Let's get moving first. I will explain as we walk."
"Alright, Bai. Even though I don't quite understand, I trust that you are right."
Bai Mu waved him over. With Stephen following closely behind, the two continued toward the iron ladder leading to the female ward.
"But how exactly did you figure out it was a smokescreen? Is there something special about those water splashes?" Stephen asked.
"Those are splashes created when the priest threw his boots into the water channel," Bai Mu explained as he placed his hands on the iron ladder and began to climb. "He merely wanted to mislead us. His boots are waterproof, so the soles of his feet never got wet. By taking off his boots and tossing them into the channel to wash away, he could walk through the passage barefoot without leaving a single trace."
"This man is extremely calculating. I am afraid he had planned to do this the moment he chose this route. First, he walked a certain distance wearing his boots, using the footprints to lure us here. Then, he recorded his own face to convince us that we were closing in on him."
"Afterward, he deliberately walked toward the wrong exit, dumped his boots there, and took the other path out."
"If we were in a rush to track him down right now, we would overlook these details and end up being led on a wild goose chase."
"What a sinister old fanatic!" Stephen ground his teeth. "But how could you even spot something like that, Bai? Were you a Detective in the past?"
"You know how it is, Stephen," Bai Mu replied with a calm and composed demeanor. "As an independent Reporter, I frequently received commissions from wives to capture evidence of their husbands' infidelity. After catching enough mistresses, you naturally learn to observe the finer details."
"Bai, I truly feel inferior when comparing myself to you," Stephen sighed in admiration once more. "Even though I have been a Reporter for over a decade longer than you, I still have so many areas where I lack professionalism. You are the true professional Reporter; I am merely a cameraman at best."
"Don't sell yourself so short, Stephen," Bai Mu said, pushing hard against the iron grate above them. "You are already quite outstanding."
Dim light spilled through the gaps. Bai Mu hauled the iron grate open, and together with Stephen, he climbed out of the sewer.
The two entered an area very similar to the basement they had just left. It still featured the same dilapidated interior, though this place was significantly drier.
Sickly yellow light illuminated the crumbling, neglected concrete. In a corner, Bai Mu spotted a rusted operating table. It was covered in a thick layer of dust, having clearly gone unused for many years.
Despite the dust blanketing it, horrifying bloodstains remained visible. It looked like a slaughterhouse chopping block. Only through years and years of butchery and bloodletting could fresh blood seep so deeply into the metal, forming such dark, mottled red stains.
If this were the set of a ghost story, there would undoubtedly be some sort of malevolent aura radiating from the table.
In fact, it truly did exude an aura of sinister malice. Various archaic torture devices lay scattered around the operating table like discarded trash.
From heavy iron saws and bone-cleavers down to tweezers and glass petri dishes, one could almost envision a group of masked doctors dismembering a fresh corpse upon that very table.
It might not have even been a corpse, but rather a living human who had not received so much as a drop of anesthesia.
And operating tables like this one were not alone in the basement; there were several.
"Good heavens, were they conducting human experiments down here over a decade ago?!" Stephen held his breath, this basement filling him with sheer terror.
Bai Mu picked up his Camcorder and recorded the objects in the room as he made his way toward the exit. Just before he stepped out of the basement, a notification chime rang out.
[You have recorded evidence: The Unspeakable Basement.]
By this point, the battery on Bai Mu's Camcorder was almost completely depleted. He smoothly swapped in a spare battery and ascended the stairs with Stephen, arriving at the first floor of the ward.
Flanking them on both sides were iron cages resembling prison cells, all completely empty.
The rhythmic sound of pouring rain drifted in from the windows.
Before they realized it, a torrential downpour had started outside, accompanied by the rumbling boom of thunder.
The female ward had long since been abandoned. A section of the wall had collapsed, allowing wind tinged with the scent of rain and damp earth to blow through the gaping hole.
A pitch-black shadow suddenly materialized amidst a flash of lightning. Even without the lens of the Camcorder, the figure was clearly visible, floating in midair without any semblance of a physical body.
It was not the priest, but the same black phantom that had brutally massacered the soldiers in the Administration Building earlier.
Bai Mu almost thought an early boss battle was about to trigger. In a split second, he switched his title back to "Friend of the Witch"
, fully intending to immediately activate Berserk.
Yet the black phantom only lingered for a fleeting moment. It made no move to attack, merely casting a single glance toward Bai Mu and Stephen before vanishing into the storm.
It felt like an illusion, as if the black phantom had never even been there at all.
But beside him, Stephen clutched his chest, gasping heavily for air.
"My heart is about to beat right out of my chest."
Bai Mu's reaction was not as extreme, but his brow furrowed into a deep frown.
The black phantom possessed no distinct facial features, yet he could have sworn their eyes had met.
It seemed the phantom held no desire to attack the two foreign Reporters.