Translator: CinderTL
Jiang Cheng noticed a journal on the desk titled Anatomy and Clinical. The title instantly reminded him of the two anatomy professors Yuan Xiaoyi had mentioned.
After the incident, the professors had vanished without a trace. Their students never saw them again, and the School of Medicine's website had even removed their names.
Judging by the seal on the door, Jiang Cheng was eighty percent certain this had been the professors' former office, sealed off after the incident.
"Doctor!" Fatty exclaimed excitedly. "Come quick! I found something!"
Fatty stood by a small table discarded against the wall. Several sheets of paper lay on the table, along with a bottle of blue-black ink and a logbook pressed beneath it.
Jiang Cheng picked up the logbook and discovered it was nearly identical to the one they had seen in the security room earlier.
He handed the logbook to Fatty. "Sign it."
Fatty visibly recoiled at the thought of signing, but because the doctor had asked, he hesitated only briefly before scrawling his name—Wang Fugui—across the page.
Without lingering, they found the staircase on the opposite side of the floor and hurried to the third floor.
As soon as they reached the third floor, Huai Yi suddenly turned, as if sensing something. He frowned at the staircase they had just climbed and asked, "Did anyone else hear that?"
Wen Liangshan swallowed nervously. "I thought I heard something earlier. Could it be the other group?"
"No," Huai Yi said grimly. "We haven't heard a peep from them since we split up. I suspect this building is blocking our communication. Even if we're on the same floor, in different corridors, we wouldn't hear each other's cries for help."
"That's terrifying!" Wen Liangshan exclaimed, his wide-eyed expression betraying his naivety. This was clearly beyond his comprehension.
The implication was clear: even if one group was being slaughtered by a ghost, the other group, just a short distance away, might remain completely unaware.
"It's not that bad," Jiang Cheng interrupted. "Just focus on staying alive."
Huai Yi's brow furrowed slightly, but Jiang Cheng immediately patted him on the shoulder with practiced casualness.
Huai Yi's expression shifted subtly. He understood instantly: Jiang Cheng shared his suspicion and had likely sensed the same presence lurking in the darkness behind them.
But some hunches were best kept to oneself. Voicing them would only breed panic without offering any advantage.
Even if something was truly following them, could they turn back now and fight it?
Their only hope for survival lay in securing the signature.
Yuan Xiaoyi had specifically mentioned the Second Specimen Display Room on the third floor, located at the end of the corridor. Inside, human specimens floated in transparent glass jars.
Though the room was supposedly empty, eerie "tock-tock" sounds echoed through it in the dead of night, as if someone were tapping on the glass jars. Moreover, the room remained inexplicably clean, requiring no maintenance.
Jiang Cheng suspected that the third-floor registry book might be stored in this very specimen room.
With a clear objective, they moved faster. Jiang Cheng led the way, using his phone as a flashlight to scan the walls. After passing several signs, they finally located the specimen room shrouded in urban legends.
"Second Specimen Display Room," Fatty read the sign beside the door slowly, enunciating each word.
Wen Liangshan stared at the door and said in an eerie, strained voice, "You... you see? The door's open."
Only then did they notice that the door was slightly ajar, as if someone had deliberately left a crack. As they drew closer, a frigid draft seeped from the gap.
This time, Jiang Cheng didn't force Wen Liangshan to open the gate. Instead, he pushed it open himself.
As the flashlight beam pierced the darkness, the sight that greeted them sent a chill down their spines.
Various human organs floated eerily in glass containers, their grotesque forms amplified by the harsh light. The once-clear liquid inside the jars had become murky and clouded, filled with swirling, fibrous clumps that made their scalps crawl.
Jiang Cheng and his companions slowly entered the room. Their first thought was that it would be a shame if nothing supernatural happened in such a bizarre setting.
The exhibition hall was far larger than they had anticipated, divided into two chambers—an outer gallery and an inner hall—with rows of display shelves obstructing the view in each.
Despite the urgency, Jiang Cheng insisted they stay together. He had a gut feeling that splitting up in this place would mean either losing someone or finding an unwelcome addition to their group upon reuniting.
Weaving swiftly between the shelves, Jiang Cheng grew increasingly certain that the registry book must be hidden somewhere within.
After thoroughly searching the outer gallery, they moved into the inner hall. But the scene that greeted them took them completely by surprise.
Rows upon rows of severed hands and feet floated in glass containers, as if waving a macabre greeting to these uninvited guests.
"This is strange. Why are there so many severed hands and feet?" Huai Yi murmured, his voice tinged with suspicion. Though he'd never been to a place like this before, he knew it was the School of Medicine's specimen display room, designed for students to observe anatomical specimens firsthand.
Normally, a few duplicates of each specimen would suffice. But here, dozens of severed hands and feet filled the shelves.
What was the purpose of such a collection? It didn't feel like a medical school at all. It reminded him of those foreign horror films where psychotic collectors stored their macabre trophies.
These were all part of someone's morbid collection.
The others shared the same growing unease. Finally, as they rounded a corner and reached the last row of exhibits, Wen Liangshan, who was also using a flashlight, couldn't help but cry out.
"What the hell are you yelling about?!" Huai Yi yanked him back roughly. If the situation weren't so precarious, he would have taught him a lesson.
Wen Liangshan's eyes were fixed on the nearest glass jar, perched on a higher shelf. Inside, suspended in murky liquid, was a human head.
Jiang Cheng directed his flashlight beam toward the head. The solution in the jar was cloudy and opaque, but the head remained eerily lifelike, defying its age.
It belonged to a middle-aged woman with long, black hair that drifted gently through the liquid. From Jiang Cheng's angle, he could see the pale muscles of her severed neck.
Fortunately, the severed head's eyes were closed, its expression serene.
As the light stretched further into the distance, Fatty's face grew increasingly pale. He leaned against a display shelf lining the wall, crammed with human heads. The shock of this sight far surpassed anything the other specimens had evoked.
But there was also good news: opposite the shelf of heads, they discovered a small table that looked like it had been hastily placed there. On the table lay a registration log.
This time, Jiang Cheng bent down and signed his name.
As he straightened up, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of a glass jar filled with severed fingers on the shelf in front of him.
The next instant, he froze. Through the jar's reflection, he saw that the dozen or so human heads on the higher shelves behind him had all opened their eyes.
(End of the Chapter)
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