Chapter 7: The Shed Skin

A quiet corridor.

In an environment wholly unlike the usual bustle, a head slowly poked out from the patient room, looking left and right, appearing exceptionally… furtive.

Mo Yan leaned against the wall, gazing at the incessantly wriggling hips before him, the veins at his temple beginning to twitch involuntarily.

“What are you doing?”

He forcibly suppressed the urge to kick, his tone filled with helplessness.

“Boss, don’t be impatient. Even though we only have half an hour left, we still need to be cautious. What if…”

Mu Yu turned his head, his face serious and upright, bearing the demeanor of an ancient eunuch admonishing a wayward emperor.

There was nothing he could do; his current posture, bent over and glancing back, was so flamboyant that Mo Yan couldn’t help but feel the urge to hack something apart.

Mo Yan, rather than avoiding Mu Yu, had even turned on the speaker in his headset. Yet some of the technical terms involved were clearly beyond Mu Yu’s comprehension. Otherwise, if he knew he’d face termination in half an hour, Mu Yu would likely be more anxious than Mo Yan himself.

“Hey, Boss, wait for me!” Mu Yu watched as Mo Yan pushed past him and strode out, hastily chasing after, afraid to be left behind.

If the atmosphere of the hospital when Mo Yan first arrived was one of urgent rescue, now the place felt like a dying old man, suffused with a heavy sense of impending death.

Utter silence.

Mu Yu, a little frightened, sidled closer to Mo Yan, inexplicably wishing to speak just to break the silence.

Sometimes, complete silence is more terrifying than shrill screams.

But he opened his mouth, glanced at Mo Yan’s icy face, and wisely closed it again, afraid of attracting those monsters.

Yes, monsters—Mu Yu could find no other word to describe those things. Though they had human bodies, in his eyes, they possessed none of the vitality that should come with life.

It was as if… parasites crawling out of human bodies.

At the thought, Mu Yu shuddered involuntarily, pressing even closer to Mo Yan.

Mo Yan turned his head, glancing at Mu Yu, who was practically draping half his body over him, and sighed.

“If you have questions, just ask.”

“Huh? Boss, aren’t you afraid we’ll attract those monsters?”

Mu Yu was curious, craning his neck to look around.

“The commotion we made in the patient room would have spread across the entire floor. Yet, you haven’t seen any… contaminated entities? Let’s call them that. They seem to lack hearing, or at least aren’t attracted by sound.”

Mo Yan walked purposefully in a certain direction, patiently explaining as he went.

“Boss, you noticed so much—why didn’t you tell the people outside earlier? That would at least save a few lives, right?”

Mu Yu was puzzled; with Mo Yan’s efficient habits, such things shouldn’t be overlooked.

“…The explanation is complicated. Suffice it to say, according to protocol, unless there are follow-up personnel entering, nothing about the incident may be communicated outside.”

Mo Yan pursed his lips, stopping in front of a patient room.

From inside came the faint sound of a wood saw.

Unlike other rooms, copious blood seeped from under the door, as if a smashed tomato had been pressed flat.

“If containment fails, all information regarding the incident is locked down—whether the incident itself, the rules, or even…”

Mo Yan pushed open the door; a sea of crimson greeted him.

“People.”

Mu Yu looked into his eyes, as if beholding unchanging ancient ice.

…

It was like an uncleaned slaughterhouse.

You could hardly find a single clean spot in the room; human organs and skin, like spurting juice, splattered the walls.

The thick blood, almost a mist, rushed out as the door opened.

Mu Yu’s face turned pale, and he spun around, retching repeatedly.

Mo Yan inhaled the metallic sweetness, not a trace of disgust in his expression—only a fleeting sorrow in his eyes.

“Leader… body… destroy…”

A bloodied head lay askew in the center of the room, its throat moving incessantly.

Yes, even after being chopped into pieces, strewn across the room, this person had not died. Invisible blades continued to slice what remained of his body.

A chilling grinding sound emanated.

“Do it.”

Mo Yan forcibly turned the vomiting Mu Yu around, his voice rough as rusted steel scraping.

“Do it.”

Mu Yu still hadn’t recovered; what he saw felt like his brain was being hammered, buzzing with shock.

“Do it.”

Mo Yan gripped Mu Yu’s blue-striped collar tightly, repeating his command, his eyes brimming with barely contained rage—not at Mu Yu, but at himself, powerless and furious.

His tone bordered on pleading.

Mu Yu licked his cracked lips, stepped back, and took the pistol from Mo Yan.

The gun was slick with sweat.

Mu Yu stepped into the room, blood nearly cresting his heel, each step sending ripples through the crimson pool; unknown fragments occasionally grazed past, their slippery feel making him shiver.

Bang.

With the discharge, the persistent noises in the room finally ceased, leaving only the head’s low murmur.

“Is… is it… the leader?”

The head seemed to sense something, speaking with all its strength, but the torn throat rendered his words halting.

“It’s me.”

“Destroy… the… body.”

“My… reagent… found… destroy… will… disappear…”

“All… dead…”

“Mu… twenty-nine…”

The head struggled to say more, but the relentless agony and fading consciousness left him unable to utter a complete sentence; even his voice grew barely audible.

“I understand. Leave the rest to me.”

Mo Yan knelt before the head, his ear pressed to the lips, unmoved even as fragments expelled from the windpipe splattered his face, his tone steady and gentle.

Yet those simple words acted like a sedative, easing the head’s anxious expression; a peaceful look appeared amid the blood and flesh.

As if, with the leader present, all would end.

Then, silence.

Though he still displayed signs of life—in Mu Yu’s eyes, the head breathed calmly—it seemed only an empty shell, devoid of soul.

Unable to feel pain, never to awaken again.

Mo Yan rose, something clutched in his hand, which he slipped into his coat’s lining, and strode out wordlessly.

“Boss…”

Mu Yu hurried after him, worried, handing over the pistol.

Mo Yan now seemed nothing like the refined gentleman he’d first encountered, more like a beast driven to desperation, silent and intimidating.

“Twenty minutes left.”

Mo Yan casually tucked the gun into its holster and strode ahead, never looking back, like an enraged lion rushing to its hunting ground.

…

The eighth floor wasn’t particularly high in Fengzhou City Hospital; as one of the city’s tallest buildings, the inpatient tower boasted twenty-three stories.

So it was only natural the hospital had elevators.

But that didn’t mean Mu Yu felt normal following Mo Yan to the elevator.

How strong-hearted must one be to ride an elevator at a time like this?

Mu Yu couldn’t help but grumble inwardly, watching the descending floor numbers, finally voicing his concern.

“Boss, what if the elevator stops halfway? We’d be trapped inside.”

“I can climb to the fourteenth floor in two minutes. How about you?”

The words were tactful, but the implication slapped “burden” right across Mu Yu’s face.

“But…”

“These monsters seem to stay in the patient rooms for now.”

“But…”

“No buts. You may not realize, but the items released in thirty minutes are equivalent to a micro-missile. We’ll die anyway. Also, stop talking.”

Mu Yu, sensing Mo Yan’s impatience, wisely held his tongue.

Perhaps due to what had just happened, Mo Yan had lost the patience he’d shown at first, not even wanting to utter an extra word.

With a soft chime, Mu Yu followed Mo Yan into the elevator.

Though hospital elevators were larger than most, at this moment Mu Yu felt like a pig trapped in a snare, curling into a corner, nervously eyeing his surroundings.

Only their reflections showed in the silver walls.

Mo Yan stood by the buttons, his unfastened coat conveniently obscuring the floor display; Mu Yu could only glimpse the elevator climbing on the overhead screen, unsure where it would stop.

Such high-rise elevators, especially in hospitals, had security levels nearly maxed out.

Even with all communication cut off within ten kilometers, the hospital’s own generator kept the elevator running smoothly, without a hint of disturbance.

Mo Yan leaned against the wall, seemingly using the brief respite to recover his strength.

In reality, he watched Mu Yu’s furtive movements in the wall’s reflection, his eyes full of contemplation.

His hand, resting on the gun’s grip, unconsciously tightened.

Ding.

Another gentle chime broke the eerie atmosphere in the elevator.

Mu Yu followed Mo Yan, stepping out with long strides, glancing up at the screen where the number 19 flashed.

This floor was as quiet as before; it seemed as if the entire hospital contained only the two of them.

Utter silence.