Chapter Twenty-One: The Demise of Ghosts and Spirits (Part One)

When the three of them once again stood outside the gates of Qingshan Psychiatric Hospital, it was just past seven in the evening. At Hu Hai’s insistence, they had left Liu Qing, who was still somewhat shaken, at home. The three of them, however, pressed on with great enthusiasm, advancing boldly to the hospital entrance.

Although it was still relatively early, the hospital gates were tightly shut. Situated in a remote area, there were no residential neighborhoods nearby, and so the broad, tree-lined avenue was almost deserted. On either side, the dim streetlights cast mottled shadows of the trees on the road. The gentle rustling of autumn leaves in the cool evening breeze carried with it the clean scent of foliage, invigorating their senses and making them all the more alert.

Before leaving, Hu Hai had hastily taken a cold shower, which had long since sobered him up. Along the way, he wore the Soul-Returning Ring on the index finger of his right hand, quietly reciting the incantation taught to him by the Ancestor of the Yellow Springs. As he chanted, he made gestures with his fingers, pointing east and west, and occasionally, when Shi Jun and Morto weren’t looking, he would poke them playfully while humming the tune to the “Three-Section Staff.” He was clearly restless, eager to get started, flexing his hands in anticipation of action.

Shi Jun and Morto, meanwhile, were deep in discussion about their next steps. From their daytime observations, they knew there were only two ways to get into the hospital: The first was through the main gate, but that seemed unlikely. They were neither relatives of any patients nor hospital staff, and since Qingshan Psychiatric Hospital was a semi-closed facility for severe cases, visits at night were virtually impossible. One glance at the gatekeeper’s strictly businesslike demeanor was enough to extinguish any hope of entry.

That left only the second option: scaling the wall. Although the wall was more than two meters high, Morto knew the art of flight. He might not be able to carry both companions at once, but taking Hu Hai was no problem, and Shi Jun was agile enough that, with a little assistance, he too could make it over. The hospital’s perimeter wall was quite long, so it would also be easy to find a secluded spot for their climb, minimizing the risk of being seen.

The next challenge was how to slip into the main building unnoticed. From Liu Qing, they had learned that the hospital covered about 25,000 square meters. In addition to scattered staff residences, a recreation center, and a cafeteria, the main structures were a central building and two side wings—this was the heart of the hospital. The central building was a prominent, gray-white structure of eight stories: the first three floors housed various departments, the fourth floor was for the director’s office and conference rooms, the fifth was a recreation center for patients, and everything above the sixth floor was patient wards. The side wings, each three stories tall, were also patient areas. Their task tonight was to search each floor and every room, to see if any strange incidents were occurring, to uncover the identity of the man shrouded in darkness, and ultimately to determine whether the disturbances at this hospital were connected to the lost spirits mentioned in the Netherworld Medallion.

* * *

“I can cast an invisibility spell on us, so ordinary people won’t be able to see what we’re doing,” Morto declared confidently. “But the spell won’t last long—at most two hours by your world’s reckoning. And once it wears off, there’s a short cooldown before I can cast again. Still, with our skills, that should be more than enough time to finish the job.”

Of course, Morto didn’t mention that his own lack of training made the invisibility spell weaker, and Shi Jun and Hu Hai, knowing nothing of such matters, simply assumed all invisibility spells worked this way and didn’t ask further.

“So, should we split up or stick together?” Hu Hai, clear-headed now, pondered Morto’s words for a moment before asking.

“There are pros and cons to both approaches,” Shi Jun said, glancing at Hu Hai with some concern. “Splitting up could save time, since the spell is limited. But given potential dangers, staying together is the safer choice. This hospital is quite large, but as long as we get into the main building, even if the spell runs out, it’ll be hard for anyone to spot us. I say we stick together, at least for now.”

After a short discussion, they agreed that caution was wise and decided to move as a group. With their plan settled, the trio quietly scaled the hospital wall and slipped toward the main building, unseen.

Shi Jun had imagined that, while hospitals normally operated around the clock, psychiatric hospitals might be different. There shouldn’t be as many emergencies here, and by nightfall, the place should be deserted.

Yet, as they reached the main building, they witnessed a surprising scene: from both side wings, two orderly lines of patients emerged, each person serious-faced and striding quickly toward the main building. At the same time, a dozen or so men and women in white coats—young and old alike—came rushing out of the main building. Some wandered silently, heads bowed and lost in thought; others chased and laughed, playing boisterously; one, even more bizarre, raised his head and began singing loudly, breaking into dance while wildly waving his coat, which he’d stripped off.

“What’s going on? It’s long past recreation time—who let them all out?” barked a young man at the front of the patient line, suddenly stopping and frowning sternly at the others. “Hurry up and get them all back inside!”

At his command, all the patients sprang into action, forming small groups to restrain the white-coated figures—some coaxing gently, others resorting to force—and began herding them back toward the main building and the side wings. The commotion quickly turned into a cacophonous uproar.

The young man leading the patients looked about Shi Jun’s age, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, with a faint fuzz of new mustache on his round, babyish face—still very much a youth. Yet he bore himself with an air of authority, hands behind his back, watching the chaos with a grave expression. He sighed heavily and shook his head, the picture of a child imitating his father’s mannerisms—three parts solemn, seven parts ridiculous. Most astonishing of all, neither he nor those around him seemed to notice anything amiss, as if this was all perfectly normal.

“What now?” Hu Hai stared blankly for a long moment before finally tugging at Shi Jun’s sleeve.

“Follow that guy—he looks like he’s in charge,” Shi Jun said, nodding at the young man. Then he turned to Morto. “Do you sense anything strange about him?”

Morto, always the bold one, had wanted to split up from the start and had never taken the spirits seriously. He shook his head. “His spiritual energy is very weak and a bit chaotic. Surely this isn’t the kind of person you’re looking for? That would be far too dull! How about this—I’ll follow him, and you two check elsewhere?”

Shi Jun saw right through Morto’s bravado and laughed. “Trying to play the hero again, aren’t you? Just behave yourself for once!” With that, he grabbed Morto and, together with Hu Hai, followed the young man into the main building.