Chapter 3

"Achoo!"

Wu Chang sneezed inside the instance, rubbed his nose to shake off the aftereffect, and muttered, "Who's thinking about me, little cutie?"

After a brief adjustment, he began checking his current situation.

Since he'd been dragged into the Abyss Game, all he could do now was try to survive.

Although the Abyss Game's matchmaking system was a scam, its entry setup was considerate—it automatically dressed him in attire matching this world.

In addition, it gave him a player-essential personal space.

But as a starting backpack, the Abyss Game was stingy—the personal bag was a real backpack, with space no larger than a normal shoulder bag.

Right now, the bag contained only one item: the silver revolver used by the camo man.

Wu Chang pulled out the silver revolver, and a sense of security immediately grew in his chest.

All fear stems from insufficient firepower.

With a weapon in hand, he at least had basic self-defense capability.

As he played with the revolver, a line of text appeared on it.

"Item Name: Silver Dawn."

"Item Rank: D."

"Item Skill: Burning Bullets."

"Skill Description: Silver Dawn automatically generates special silver bullets over time; when they strike a target, they inflict burn and explosion damage, doubling damage against spirits and monsters."

"Silver Bullets: One silver bullet auto-generates per hour; one energy point can be consumed to instantly refill one silver bullet. Current silver bullet count: 6/6."

Looking at the silver dawn in his hand, Wu Chang's resentment toward the camo man lessened, and he began exploring the room.

According to the quest hint, the place he was currently in was called Moonlight Sanatorium.

Called a sanatorium, it was more like a prison.

The interior was bare-bones: a crude iron bed, yellowed white sheets, a heavy metal door, and a small window barred by thick metal rods.

Who the hell would choose to recuperate in a place like this?

It was midnight, and thick clouds blocked the moonlight; the only light in the room came from a small kerosene lamp on the nearby desk.

The kerosene lamp felt ancient—the world of this instance was far ahead of reality in timeline, likely before electric lights were invented.

If the timeline were even earlier, he might've given the locals a small shock with his firearm.

Wu Chang picked up the kerosene lamp and examined the room's details.

With the light, he saw a wooden board on the wall, nailed with his medical records.

"Patient Room 207: Xiao En."

"Diagnosis: Delusional Disorder (Early Stage)."

"Treatment: Psychotherapy combined with medication."

"Patient's current mental state: Stable."

Now it made sense—no wonder the room's decor was so hardcore; Moonlight Sanatorium also functioned as a psychiatric hospital.

Xiao En on the records must be him; early-stage delusional disorder didn't sound too bad. Below the records was the admission notice for Moonlight Sanatorium, written in red ink, strikingly vivid.

"1. This sanatorium operates under closed management; no one may leave without a pass issued by the director."

"2. In this sanatorium, believe only medical staff—do not trust any patient, not even yourself."

"3. All medical staff here wear white uniforms; do not trust anyone in casual clothes claiming to be staff, even if they look extremely familiar."

"4. After dark, do not leave your room. If you wander out due to sleepwalking, upon waking, stay calm, cover your ears, close your eyes, and lie on the floor until dawn."

"5. If any medical staff or doctor asks you about specific delusions, immediately inform other staff—they will come to handle it."

The sanatorium's rules weren't many, but each was bizarre, leaving Wu Chang baffled.

At waist height on the door was a food slot; he slid open the inner panel and peered through—just as he expected, the door across the hall bore a faint red resentment.

How do you make a button people feel compelled to press? Answer: Put a warning on it saying, "Do NOT press it."

The admission notice strongly warned against leaving the room after dark—someone would inevitably try.

As his ability activated, the faint red resentment unfurled into a curtain, replaying the deceased's final moments.

The deceased was a player dressed in a mage's robe—why call him a player? Because under the robe he wore basketball sneakers.

The mage stood in the room, waving his staff and whispering incantations; magic manifested as starlike glowing particles swirling around him, forming a transparent barrier.

He was clearly a veteran—he chanted continuously for five minutes, stacking four different shields before stopping.

With all four shields intact, he cautiously left his room—everything seemed normal, no incidents. Emboldened, he strode forward, ready to explore the night-time sanatorium.

But after only a few steps, his body suddenly froze, then collapsed with a scream.

He seemed to have seen something horrific, crawling desperately back toward his room on hands and knees.

The ten-plus-meter distance became an abyss; just as he was about to reach his room, his face twisted in terror, emitting incoherent whimpers, then convulsing violently into a pile of sludge.

Literal sludge.

His state resembled hand-pounded Chaoshan meatballs—without thousands of beats, you can't get that fine, tender texture. Whipped until elastic, boiled, then thrown on the ground—it could bounce half a meter high.

Even in death, the mage's four shields remained unbroken.

Wu Chang frowned—lethal effect ignoring defense?

Something this abnormal must be unnatural; his years of gaming experience told him the two main quest lines tied to this instance must relate to the sanatorium's night.

To uncover the secrets of the sanatorium's night, the ability to move at night was the foundation.

He replayed the mage's death footage repeatedly, trying to discern the mechanism of the lethal attack—had the mage triggered a trap, or entered a forbidden zone?

Each replay made his sense of the mage's final moments clearer; on the fourth viewing, he nearly fully embodied the mage's perspective.

As he desperately crawled toward his room, he suddenly shivered, feeling as if someone was watching him from behind.

From the mage's viewpoint, he turned his head—and saw the detail he'd missed or ignored in the previous three viewings.

At the end of the corridor behind the mage, a fat man in a hospital gown stood in the middle of the hallway, watching everything coldly.

That fat man was not medical staff, yet he could move freely at night.

Wu Chang's consciousness withdrew from the lingering grudge. It seemed that to move at night, he would have to find that fat man in the hospital gown first.

(End of chapter)