Chapter 226: Beyond the Asylum (Part 2)

Heh.

Li Cheng had no energy to be angry, so he grinned instead.

In China, hospitals can be classified into many tiers based on evaluation criteria such as size, research focus, personnel and technical strength, and medical equipment.

From community-level tier-one hospitals, to cross-community tier-two regional hospitals, to tier-three hospitals serving the entire nation across regions, provinces, and cities.

But Saint Elizabeth Psychiatric Hospital belongs to an entirely different track's "top-tier" institution.

Located in Washington, D. C., United States, it was established in 1855 as the first psychiatric hospital operated by the federal government.

Initially, it primarily admitted soldiers suffering from mental illness, but with the outbreak of the Civil War, large numbers of soldiers were sent to Saint Elizabeth, severely straining the hospital's finances.

Short on funds, the administration quickly discovered a new revenue stream: admitting people who were not ill.

Whether drunken brawlers, illegal immigrants reported by civilians, or anyone else—they took them all. Since federal subsidies were paid per bed, the more patients, the more money the hospital made.

Eventually, greed-driven, the hospital partnered with police, the FBI, the CIA, and social elites, locking up journalists exposing corporate scandals, anti-government figures, leftists, wealthy widows, and others under the guise of mental illness.

Patients were tortured through drugs, bloodletting, electrotherapy, hydrotherapy (immersing people in hot water for hours until their skin rotted), resulting in countless deaths; survivors who escaped were often broken shells.

Compared to Saint Elizabeth, Gotham's Arkham Asylum had to step aside. This was the real veteran.

"The system doesn't act without reason. This Saint Elizabeth in New England is likely connected to the real-world Saint Elizabeth."

Li Cheng paused, then tried opening his player panel, "My inventory and skill tabs are sealed, but the Emergency Escape Card is still lit—ready to use anytime."

It seems the Emergency Escape Card has higher priority than the system's restrictions."

He hesitated, muttering to himself: "According to player forums, the chance of Full Roleplay Mode is already extremely low.

During Full Roleplay, the arena determines the mission trend based on the player's displayed traits.

For example, puzzle-type players get deduction tasks, battle-obsessed players get slaughter tasks. It rarely fails.

To avoid ridiculous situations like 'a Level 40 Battle God starving to death in a locked room because he can't open a password lock.'

So it must be that my intelligence is too high—like a rotten apple in the trash bin, impossible to hide—so the system labeled me a deduction-type player."

If my inventory were usable and Hui Yu were here, she'd definitely complain: "Why describe yourself with a rotten apple from the trash bin?"

"Anyway, first get up."

Wearing a restraint suit, Li Cheng wriggled on the floor like a caterpillar.

Using friction between the restraint suit and the wall, he spent a long time before finally managing to stand upright against it.

"Phew, that was exhausting."

No wonder it's Full Roleplay Mode, Li Cheng panted heavily, thinking, "The character I'm playing is slightly shorter than my real-world height and shows no signs of physical training. Not good."

In horror games, protagonists are often in escape mode; if I could run as fast as a Hong Kong journalist, that'd be ideal.

But I fear ending up like some horror game protagonists—can't run fast, with a stamina bar that explodes after two steps.

"Mmm, mmm."

His lips wriggled, rubbing together repeatedly until the tape gave way; he spat it out with a "Pah!" into the white mask.

After spitting out the tape, his breathing improved. Li Cheng scanned the room, searching for sharp objects like knives or nails to cut through the restraint suit and regain mobility.

Unfortunately, the walls, floor, and even the underside of the padded mattress serving as a bed showed no signs of sharp tools.

"Fine, you win. I'll just hop my way through this mission."

With hands and feet bound, Li Cheng used his phantom limb to flip off the system, then hopped toward the isolation room door.

The door itself was also wrapped in white padded material, with no food slot (indicating this isolation room was only for temporary detention).

Above the interior door handle was embedded a seven-digit rotary English password lock.

The presence of an interior door handle seemed odd at first, but given the psychiatric hospital setting, it made sense—if a staff member accidentally got locked in, they could still escape via the password lock.

Above the password lock was a narrow, long strip of paper, bearing a line of elegant English handwriting.

"whatmancannotliveinahouse?"

What man cannot live in a house.

Li Cheng raised an eyebrow. You're throwing riddles at me now?

Using his nose to turn the dial through the white mask, he first tried silly answers—postman, walkman, ironman—before finally entering the correct one: snowman.

Click.

The isolation room door swung open, revealing the hospital corridor.

No jump-scare ghost face appeared as expected; the corridor looked perfectly normal.

Tile flooring, white-painted walls, fluorescent tubes hanging from the ceiling, and a faint, lingering smell of disinfectant in the air.

Leaning against the doorframe, Li Cheng glanced left and right—the corridor was empty, no doctors, nurses, or patients visible.

From the "1F" sign at the corridor's end, he deduced this was the hospital's first floor.

After a moment's thought, Li Cheng used his mouth, through the mask, to snatch the English note and flipped it over.

The note was clearly torn from a newspaper; its back bore a news article.

【Conne Group's New Female CEO Considers Selling U. S. Operations】

The article's date: December 24, Christmas Eve. No year was listed; its significance remained unclear.

"I'll keep it for now. The handwriting is elegant, and there's a citrus scent—likely a clue left by a woman."

Li Cheng hopped down the corridor, still holding the note in his mouth: "Time in the script world should be night—the windows are dark, and rain can be heard outside."

Before he finished speaking, an anomaly erupted.

The rustling rain sound suddenly grew louder, denser, noisier.

Bloodied handprints spontaneously appeared on the glass outside the corridor, as if countless patients had desperately clawed at the windows before dying.

All windows trembled, as if any second those palms would shatter the glass and burst into the hospital.

The "rain" came fast and vanished quickly. Within half a minute, the bloodied handprints stopped forming and gradually faded under the rain's wash.

(End of Chapter)