The girl's face appeared even more ethereal and otherworldly, accentuated by the vivid crimson of her outfit that seemed to glow faintly against the surrounding darkness. Her long black hair floated and fluttered around her as though stirred by an unseen wind that existed only for her. Zhang Ya stood directly in front of Chen Ge, so close that less than thirty centimeters separated their faces. The cold radiating from her body seeped through his clothes and skin like icy water poured directly into his veins. His lips quickly turned purple, and small clouds of breath escaped with every shallow exhale as the temperature around him plummeted.
Even the man who claimed he feared nothing felt genuine fear coil tightly around his heart in that moment. Instinctively, every fiber of his being urged him to lean backward, to put distance between himself and the red-dressed specter. But he found himself completely unable to move. The crying-face candy he had swallowed seemed to have melted into a flowing river of ice inside his bloodstream, freezing his blood vessels, locking his muscles, and rooting him in place as though his body had turned to stone.
A spirit's desperate cry for help surged through his veins like a second heartbeat. Waves of negative energy gathered and pressed around his heart, constricting it like a pair of invisible hands squeezing with merciless force. The candy was impossible to swallow now; it lodged in his throat, choking him. Chen Ge felt the air being squeezed from his lungs, darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision as though he might faint from lack of oxygen.
Zhang Ya moved toward him with agonizing slowness, her presence radiating pure, unrelenting cold. She finally stopped directly in front of him. That face—beautiful yet utterly without warmth—hovered so close that Chen Ge could feel the chill radiating from her skin. Her beauty was overwhelming, breathtaking, the kind that could stop the breath in a person's throat and leave them frozen in awe and terror.
His throat refused to produce any sound. The candy had fully melted now, its bitter-sweet taste spreading across his tongue like poison. Chen Ge could feel a powerful spirit surging and coiling within his own body, fighting for control. Looking at Zhang Ya—now only six centimeters away—his calves began to quiver involuntarily, small tremors that spread upward through his legs despite his best efforts to stay steady.
This is not what I had in mind at all! Someone stop her! The thought screamed inside his skull, raw and panicked.
Perhaps the title of "Specter's Favored" finally activated in that desperate moment, because the blind, wounded monster—still reeling from the Pen Spirit's attack—suddenly surged forward at full speed. Its thin, serpentine body slithered and writhed across the floor like a giant snake desperate to reclaim its prey. Its bony, shriveled hands clamped onto Chen Ge's shoulders with bruising force. The lower half of its elongated body arced upward, coiling and preparing to leap onto his back and claim him completely.
The sharp pain exploding from his shoulders snapped Chen Ge out of his fear-induced trance. He whipped his head around to look at the monster—and, in that split second, gave it an appreciative nod. A small, grim acknowledgment of gratitude.
Appreciation?
The gesture seemed to offend the monster deeply. The head that hung high above suddenly went mad with rage. It abandoned any intention of confronting Zhang Ya directly and instead chose a vulnerable spot on Chen Ge's neck to bite. The twisted human head opened its jaws impossibly wide—but stopped abruptly half a meter from its target.
It wasn't that the monster wanted to stop. It was forced to.
In the darkness, long strings of bloody hair had whipped out like living ropes and bound its body tightly, wrapping around its thin limbs and elongated torso. The monster screamed in fury and glared resentfully at Zhang Ya. It had not attacked her earlier—not out of fear—but that did not mean it respected her power.
The three monsters quickly communicated in some silent, unspoken way. Their focus shifted instantly to Zhang Ya. Chen Ge did not know exactly what she intended to do, but he saw her beautiful face suddenly drop into an expression of pure, murderous intent. Her black hair drilled forward like thousands of needles, piercing directly into the monster's body. Her slender arms reached out, gripped the creature's head with terrifying strength, and slammed it violently against the nearest wall.
The monster wailed for the second time that night. The first had come when Chen Ge drove the Pen Spirit's pen into its eye. This second scream was deeper, more guttural, filled with genuine agony.
This is so cruel, Chen Ge thought, watching in stunned silence.
As Zhang Ya began her brutal assault on the monster, the suffocating chill that had paralyzed Chen Ge finally eased enough for him to move. He quickly stepped backward, putting distance between himself and the fight. The screaming spirit inside his body weakened as the crying-face candy continued to dissolve completely on his tongue. The cold around his eyes receded slightly, and his vision sharpened once more. He could see clearly in the darkness again, every detail of the corridor and the battle standing out in sharp relief.
The three monsters now fought desperately against Zhang Ya. Her red outfit blazed like fresh blood in the darkness, a vivid signal of her burning anger and bottomless resentment. It looked as though she intended to tear the creatures apart piece by piece and consume whatever remained.
Ten minutes later, the corridor had become a scene of absolute slaughter. The monsters were increasingly wounded—limbs torn, bodies shredded, their once-cohesive forms fraying at the edges. When they remained joined to their human hosts, these thin monsters were at their strongest. Detached from their anchors, however, their power weakened dramatically. Even with the advantage of numbers, they could do almost nothing against Zhang Ya's overwhelming force.
The difference in power is so huge? Chen Ge stared in disbelief. The thin monster had been the most terrifying ghost he had ever personally encountered—until now. He had initially assumed it would be a near-equal match for Zhang Ya. Clearly, he had underestimated her strength by an enormous margin.
She is definitely unique, he realized. To have earned her own dedicated page inside the black phone, she must be far beyond ordinary ghosts.
Chen Ge tightened his grip on the cleaver, refusing to let his guard down even for a second. At most, Western Jiujiang Private Academy had been a three-star scenario—but after witnessing Zhang Ya's dominance here, he now suspected it had only truly been a two-star threat. As a ghost born from that academy, she was effortlessly handling monsters from the genuine three-star Third Sick Hall. This could only mean one thing: something far scarier than the thin monster still hid somewhere deeper inside this wing. Something that had yet to reveal itself.
Chen Ge's fingers twitched involuntarily around the cold, blood-smeared doorknob of Room 3. The metal felt unnaturally warm beneath his palm, almost feverish, as though the door itself were alive and breathing. He took several slow, deliberate breaths, forcing his racing heartbeat to steady. Then, with a decisive motion, he reached into his pocket and removed the almost completely shattered ballpoint pen—the one still imbued with the lingering power of the Pen Spirit. Its casing was cracked, ink leaking in dark rivulets down his fingers, but the tip remained sharp enough for one final use.
"It's already a new day," Chen Ge said aloud, voice low but firm. "I want to use my fortune-telling chance." He straightened the broken pen carefully above the nearest brown mattress, its stained surface bulging unnaturally from years of neglect. Holding the pen like a ritual object, he asked the question that had been burning in his mind since Zhang Ya disappeared through the blood door. "Pen Spirit, is there any way for me to save both myself and Zhang Ya right now?"
Without the slightest hesitation or pause, the Pen Spirit guided the broken tip across the mattress fabric. Three simple words appeared in shaky, ink-heavy strokes: Enter the Door.
Chen Ge stared at the message for a long moment. "Isn't that a bit too fast?" he muttered, half to himself and half to the invisible entity guiding the pen. "Don't you need to think about it? Weigh the risks?" But the pen remained still; no further words came. The answer was absolute and uncompromising. He pocketed the ruined pen with a grim nod, then turned his full attention to the half-open blood door. The decision crystallized inside him—he would not abandon Zhang Ya to whatever waited on the other side.
Chen Ge pulled out his phone again. The battery indicator blinked dangerously low—only a sliver of red remained. He quickly redialed Men Nan, the line connecting almost immediately despite the poor signal. "Men Nan, didn't you say mysterious memories sometimes surface in your mind? Are there any blood-red scenarios among those memories?"
"There are," Men Nan answered after a brief pause, his voice quieter than before, as though speaking about them required physical effort.
"Try to focus on those memories right now," Chen Ge urged, keeping his tone calm but insistent. "Tell me—is there anything specific I should pay attention to regarding those blood-red scenes?" He could not simply leave Zhang Ya behind. He was already in too deep, and he knew he would need her strength and protection in the future. Losing her here was not an option.
"The extra memories are rarely connected to blood-red scenes," Men Nan replied slowly, as though searching through mental fog. "But when they do appear, they always seem to happen inside a similar setting." He paused again, gathering the fragments. "It's a fully enclosed room—no windows, only one door. The space is very small, almost claustrophobic. There's a wooden bed in the center, and binders—restraints—are attached to the frame. Machines stand next to it. It looks exactly like an electroshock therapy room."
"Electroshock therapy?" Chen Ge repeated, a chill running down his spine. The description matched the director's old notes perfectly.
"Yes," Men Nan continued. "In the memory, various monsters enter the room. They twist the binders around the bed frame, securing them tightly. Then they converse with each other in low voices, as if warning one another: 'Don't wake it up.'" Thinking back on the scene seemed to place a heavy strain on Men Nan's mind; his breathing grew uneven, his tone laced with pain. "I couldn't see the monsters clearly—the memory is too fragmented—but I do remember one detail. One of them had a broken face… and the monster mentioned a name. I think it was… Wu Fei."
The broken face and Wu Fei were both former patients of the Third Sick Hall—occupants of Room 10 and Room 9, respectively. They ranked among the most dangerous presences ever documented in this hospital.
"Is there anything else?" Chen Ge pressed, stepping closer to the blood door despite every instinct screaming at him to retreat.
"There's one more thing," Men Nan said after another pause, "but I'm not sure whether it will help you. Ten years ago, the main persona once told me that if I ever needed to find him again, after entering the blood-red door… I should not speak at all."
"Okay. Thank you." Chen Ge ended the call with a decisive press of his thumb. He zipped his mouth shut symbolically, silencing any further words. Then he grabbed Doctor Skull-cracker's hammer in one hand, the cleaver in the other, adjusted his backpack straps, and—without allowing himself another second to hesitate—stepped through the blood door into the unknown.