Chapter 1968: The Mystery of the Ghost Skull 29

Missing the mirror?

Jiang Haochen hurried to catch up, suddenly realized, and instantly understood why he felt strange.

Before the Apocalypse, he was a business elite who cared about his image; whenever he saw a mirror he'd stop to tidy himself up. No mirror on the washstand, so it's no wonder he felt something was missing.

There's nothing strange about it; mental hospitals generally don't have mirrors to prevent patients from becoming emotionally unstable upon seeing themselves.

Andre finished speaking and sped upstairs, not caring about Jiang Haochen's embarrassed expression.

In the blink of an eye, Andre had already gone one floor ahead of him.

This guy, he's bold enough... not afraid to walk that fast and run into that thing...

Jiang Haochen muttered to himself.

Although he hadn't spent much time with Andre, he always felt this kid was like Lin An—both seemed like emotionless robots, rarely feeling afraid.

Three minutes later.

Inside the chaotic filing room, Jiang Haochen strained his eyes, trying to find Sen Tian Zhen Yi's information among the crowded cabinets.

Ye Wild Lin Shan... not this one...

Sen Tian...!? Hmm... okay, is it Sen Tian Ya Mei?

Liang Shan Chu An Fourth Rank...

Huh? Annie? Why are there foreigners... damn... it's a dog's name.

Like a merciless file‑checking machine, Jiang Haochen threw himself into searching the files; in a short while, their feet were buried under the file folders strewn on the floor.

In the poor lighting, Jiang Haochen even felt his eyes were about to go blind.

Andre, have you found it... that guy couldn't have never been treated here, right? How do I feel...!?

Sen Tian... Zhen Yi!

Damn! I found it!

Just as Jiang Haochen couldn't help doubting whether they had come to the wrong place, a file placed on the third shelf suddenly came into view.

Seeing the familiar name on the file folder, Jiang Haochen was so excited he almost jumped up.

But as soon as he took it out, his gaze suddenly froze.

Andre, this file is so thin... compared to others, there's very little inside...

The thickness of a hospitalization record equals a book, but in Sen Tian Zhen Yi's file there's probably only one sheet of paper.

Let's open it and see first; the more problematic it is, the more it shows we're on the right track.

Ignoring the file's thinness, Andre raised his head, quickly walked to Jiang Haochen's side, and opened the file directly.

That's right, though your judgment is indeed correct—I didn't expect it, but that guy really is missing something.

Shlaa

As the file folder's seal was torn open, a thin white sheet fell out.

Without wasting time praising Andre a few sentences, Jiang Haochen hurriedly leaned in, using the faint light from outside the window to look.

Sen Tian Zhen Yi, male, thirty‑eight years old.

Condition description: organ deficiency causing hysteria. After treatment, there was no improvement; due to his special condition, he has been transferred to the mental Research Institute.

Condition description: *****

One minute later.

That's it? Just this little? We've searched so long, and this is all we found?

Jiang Haochen stared at Andre, who was head down in thought, his face grim as he shook the report in his hand.

He had thought he could find Sen Tian Zhen Yi's past here, or at least something useful.

But aside from some test terms he could barely understand, the only useful things on this paper are these two points.

1, this guy is indeed disabled.

2, this guy is beyond help, sent to the Research Institute.

These two points, frankly, they could have guessed even without looking at this.

Leaning wearily against the table, Jiang Haochen felt a bit irritable. With no clues, he now felt like a headless fly, feeling off everywhere.

Suppressing the chaotic thoughts in his mind, after a moment Jiang Haochen simply urged Andre:

"Let's go, let's see if there's a map around here to find where the mental Research Institute is."

"It looks like the information can only be there."

"No, no need to look."

Just as his words fell, Andre calmly raised his head and pointed straight upward:

"Although the sign upstairs isn't for the mental Research Institute, the top‑floor research team is likely affiliated with this unit."

"With so few files, it means the previous records were transferred. Logically, even if the records were moved, the hospital should have made a copy. No copy means the doctors here think nothing is missing."

His simple words shocked him; hearing Andre's analysis, Jiang Haochen instantly understood his meaning.

"You mean the records were moved upstairs, so there's no need to supplement them here?"

"Damn, how did I not think of that!"

Jiang Haochen finished speaking and then smacked his own head, feeling that since entering the mission his brain had turned rusty.

Andre saw this, smiled, and didn't say much more.

No more nonsense; after confirming nothing was missed, the two headed for the top floor.

"It's getting colder and colder.."

Breathing white mist from his mouth, Jiang Haochen gripped a chair leg he'd found as a weapon, carefully following behind Andre.

Almost as soon as he reached the top‑floor stairwell, he felt a wave of cold hit him.

It felt as if the roof wasn't a research institute but a cold storage for corpses.

For some reason, he faintly seemed to hear a sound.

"Andre, did you hear any sound? It seems like..."

Not waiting for Jiang Haochen to prick up his ears, the next second a shrill scream instantly exploded.

"Pain!!!!"

"I'm in so much pain!!!!"

"Damn!!"

The sudden scream made Jiang Haochen's foot slip, nearly causing him to fall.

His hairs stood on end as he stared in horror at the darkness above; in an instant, goosebumps erupted all over his body and his heart pounded. Before he could instinctively grip his weapon, he grabbed Andre and turned to flee, only to see Andre seemingly unafraid, charging straight forward.

"It's not a ghost! It's a TV!"

"What?!"

Half a minute later.

Jiang Haochen, his face grim, gazed at the television mounted on the wall of the upper-floor hall.

In the pitch-black hall, the television repeatedly playing the same footage was genuinely eerie; its blue background light kept shifting, bathing the entire hall in a cold, deathly aura.

"It hurts...! I'm in so much pain!!!"

"Cut off my hand! Doctor! I can't take it! I can't take it!"

On the TV, a middle-aged man strapped to a hospital bed screamed desperately, struggling and waving his arms, pleading with the doctor beside him to amputate his right hand. Tears streamed down his face; the man even broke down sobbing from anguish, just so the doctor would cut off his hand.

Yet the doctor standing beside him remained unmoved, calmly beginning to speak to the camera:

"As you can see, in psychiatry there is a type of patient whose condition is particularly special."

"After losing a limb, they often still feel that the limb is present; in this state, they continually feel pain in the missing part—whether it is being cut or burned."

"This hallucination arising from a cognitive error is called Phantom Limb Syndrome."

In the footage, after speaking, the doctor turned and grabbed the man's right sleeve, shaking it.

The empty sleeve contained nothing.