March 2nd.
The weather was clear.
The sun shone brilliantly, and the temperature was just right.
Qingshan, a Class-A tertiary psychiatric hospital, boasted not only state-of-the-art facilities but also the largest expanse of open lawn in all of Yanhai City.
It was believed that letting patients roam freely across the grasslands aided their recovery.
Like wild horses freed of reins, they could gallop as they pleased beneath the open sky.
A noble idea.
But reality, as always, was rather cruel.
Two patients sat stiffly on a wooden bench, their eyes vacant, staring into the distance for hours on end. What they saw, no one knew.
Another patient gazed skyward, locked in a silent duel with the sun itself—determined not to look away first.
Yet another marched with dramatic flair, hands on hips, holding a slipper to his ear like a phone, bellowing, "Raise my salary! Pour in the billions! I've studied stock '000285'—it's guaranteed to skyrocket!"
Nearby, a circle of patients squatted attentively around a self-proclaimed general, who stood before them, passionately outlining battle strategies, spittle flying.
"Stand tall! Once we take the city, all the buns inside are ours. Charge with me!"
"Kill!"
"Advance!"
Life in the psychiatric hospital was carefree and unfettered. Though confined within its walls, every patient remained absorbed in their own grand affairs.
Some pursued dreams.
Some fought for pride.
Some were deeply engaged in 'scientific research.'
On a distant patch of grass:
Two figures lay prone on their stomachs, butts in the air, peering with rapt attention.
"The ants are moving house," one said.
"They are indeed," the other replied.
Lin Fan and Old Zhang had been lying there for nearly an hour, utterly absorbed in watching ants carry away their tiny treasures. What seemed boring to others was, to them, an endless source of fascination.
"Old Zhang, what time is it?" Lin Fan asked.
Old Zhang rolled up his sleeve and glanced at his million-yuan Rolex. "Half past ten."
"Oh," Lin Fan murmured. "We got up at six, came here at six-thirty. It's been four hours. Just thirty minutes left until lunch. I'll go cultivate for a bit—call me when it's time to eat."
He'd suddenly recalled his Qigong training while watching the ants.
"Alright," Old Zhang replied, eyes never leaving the insect parade. Then he glanced up, "Want some acupuncture?"
Lin Fan considered it. "Sure. After your last session, my heart was racing, and my body felt so warm… it was wonderful."
Old Zhang scanned the surroundings. He had to avoid the orderlies—they were always eyeing his belongings. He'd seen too many companions lose their precious items to them.
Take Teacher Tony, for instance—he only wanted to give someone a haircut. The moment he took out his scissors, they were confiscated. Despite rolling on the floor and sobbing, the orderlies remained unmoved.
So cruel.
Old Zhang's Galactic Circulation Method was quite advanced. With silver needles in hand, he sought acupuncture points—not through medical precision, but by instinct. He simply pierced wherever felt right.
Following intuition was the only true way.
"How's it feel?" he asked.
"Tingly," Lin Fan replied.
"Perfect. You'll feel great in a moment. I thought about it last night—my technique can be taken even further. Next time, I'll let you try my newest discovery."
"Sounds good."
Soon, the session was over.
Old Zhang resumed watching the ants, still lying flat on the grass.
Lin Fan sat cross-legged nearby, eyes closed, still as stone.
The Qigong technique was a gift he had received. Whenever he focused, images appeared in his mind—tiny figures moving in patterns he didn't fully understand, yet somehow… he knew.
The world fell silent.
Everything grew calm.
A soft smile formed on Lin Fan's lips.
His mind wasn't sharp, and he lacked a deep understanding of cultivation.
But if a true cultivator were here—someone with insight—they would have instantly recognized the technique's extraordinary nature.
It hailed from another world. An ancient, sacred path of cultivation.
There were Five Taboos:
Falsehood, Greed, Restlessness, Arrogance, and Lust.
To practice, one had to attune their heart to nature, sense the drifting energy particles within heaven and earth, absorb them into the body, and convert them into Qi—thus strengthening one's life force.
Lin Fan's state of mind was pure and serene, as though he had entered deep meditation. Invisible particles of energy were subtly drawn to him, slowly flowing into his body.
Muscles beneath his clothes trembled faintly as unknown forces coursed through his skin. The silver needles embedded in him were pushed out by muscle contractions, shooting through his clothes and into the soil with a sharp whoosh.
One hour passed.
Old Zhang looked up briefly, then resumed watching the ants.
Two hours passed.
He looked up again, and returned his gaze to the tiny migration.
In the bustling city center of Yanhai, life surged across busy streets.
But beneath the surface, in the damp and fetid tunnels of the sewer system, a very different scene unfolded.
Filthy, dark, and reeking, the tunnels echoed with the splashes of hurried footsteps.
Four figures approached through the sludge—three males and one female.
They wore casual sportswear. One held a wooden sword, another carried a long blade on his back, a third clutched a string of prayer beads, and the lone girl, her hands empty, had several small wooden vials fastened to her waist.
"This place is disgusting! Do evil spirits have no sense of hygiene? The stench is unbearable!"
The girl—petite, dressed in a frilly pink outfit with twin pigtails draped over her shoulders—looked like a living doll.
If a twisted old man had stumbled upon her, he'd likely exclaim, What a high-quality little loli!
"Amitabha," muttered the boy with the beads, brows furrowed. "We tracked the demon hound here. We ought to report back, not venture deeper."
"Scared, are you, bald-head?" the girl snapped. "It's just a dog—we beat it half to death earlier! What's there to fear?" She pouted at her now-filthy shoes. "These are brand-new! That vile beast better pay. I won't let this go."
The boy with the wooden sword chimed in, "Xiang Ying is right. That hound is merely a Level-2 evil entity. We're four Level-2s ourselves—what's the danger?"
A disciple of Mount Mao, he gazed longingly at Xiang Ying. He admired her deeply, but her wealthy background made him feel inferior—he came from humble roots.
Still, he hoped his loyalty would win her affection, that she might look beyond their disparity.
Just then—
From the depths of the tunnel came a sound.
"There it is!" Xiang Ying cried. "The demon hound's just ahead—let's go!"
The Mount Mao boy nodded fervently. "Let's hurry, Xiang Ying. If we kill it now, everyone will be amazed. Slaying a demon right after arriving in Yanhai? No one else could manage that."
And so, he and Xiang Ying dashed forward.
The Daoist and Buddhist boys exchanged glances, sighed, and followed.
Tap. Tap.
Their footsteps echoed, fading into the shadows.
Darkness swallowed their silhouettes whole.
Moments later—
A scream pierced the silence.
"Ahhh!"
(End of Chapter)