Chapter Nineteen: The Crimson Hospital

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“Screech—” Lin Hai pushed open the iron gate and walked inside, muttering, “What a damn door! This place isn’t fit for human habitation.”

Lin Fan tiptoed after him, whispering, “Uncle, what is this place? Are you sure Xin’er is in here? We’re barging in like this—what if it’s an ambush?”

Lin Hai scoffed and turned back, “An ambush? Who the hell would come to a dump like this besides people like us?” He swung the flashlight over the buildings, glancing around.

The entire structure was dilapidated; shattered windows were nailed shut from the inside with heavy boards, not a crack left bare. The plaques on the stone pillars flanking the entrance had long since been removed, while the walls bore patches of paint that obscured any clue to the building’s former identity.

“Who knows what this hellhole is! I’m not sure if Xin’er’s in here, but I guarantee some riffraff are hiding out inside. Since we’re here, we’ll find out. If we can’t find the kid, we’ll nab a couple of little ghosts as proof... come here and close your eyes.”

Lin Hai made a sign with both hands, then wiped his palm across Lin Fan’s eyes, pointing to the ground. “Take a look.”

Lin Fan opened his eyes and looked down. At once, a long pattern emerged along the stone tiles beneath his feet—intersecting grooves, deeply etched as if made by a chainsaw, all leading straight towards the main entrance of the abandoned building.

“Are those marks left by the Wind Dragon?” Lin Fan was shaken to his core. Could the effect really reach so far? His uncle’s destructive power was incredible!

Lin Hai gestured at the three-story building, “Yes, follow me. The answer’s waiting for us inside.”

Bang! Lin Hai strode to the door and, without ceremony, kicked open the lobby entrance.

Lin Fan hurriedly pulled a flashlight from his backpack and rushed forward to intervene. “Come on, Uncle, can’t you be a bit gentle? Even the ghosts would be scared off! Leave the rough stuff to me.”

Worried Lin Hai’s recklessness might alert whoever was inside, Lin Fan, anxious for Xin’er’s safety, volunteered to take the lead. The two of them followed the Wind Dragon’s trail through the dark corridors, moving with caution.

The hallway was pitch black, flanked by rows of closed doors. Lin Fan couldn’t resist shining his flashlight through a glass pane on one door, peering inside.

“Uncle, look! This used to be a hospital.”

The beam swept the room: scattered medical instruments on the floor, an emergency stretcher in the center, several office chairs toppled in the corner...

Lin Hai nudged Lin Fan aside, pressed his face to the glass, and peered in, uneasy. “Damn! Nephew, this is a bad omen. Hospitals are breeding grounds for resentment and yin energy—prime territory for vengeful ghosts! Something terrible must have happened here...”

Just then, Lin Fan yanked Lin Hai’s arm. His lips trembled as if he wanted to speak, but no words came; his face was so pale not a drop of blood remained, and both hands clung to Lin Hai’s left arm for dear life.

“What’s with you now? You’re going to pull my arm clean off!” Lin Hai spun around and shook him off.

Lin Fan quickly switched off the flashlight and, pointing to the end of the corridor, stammered, “Wh—wh—what is that?”

Through a sliver of moonlight leaking in from a broken window, they saw, faintly, a white mass suddenly appear a dozen meters ahead.

From afar, it looked like a giant white spider crouched in the shadows, poised to strike at its prey.

Lin Hai sensed something was wrong. He raised his flashlight and shone it ahead, his brow furrowing.

What lay ahead was no spider. Squatting there were three children in white hospital gowns, their backs to the two men, fiddling with something on the ground...

Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle... Suddenly, a ball the size of a soccer ball rolled out from between the legs of the middle child.

Lin Hai stepped forward and stomped on the ball. Under the flashlight, the object was revealed: the severed head of an adult, staring up from beneath Lin Hai’s foot.

Lin Fan gasped sharply.

“Damn, that’s just disgusting!” Lin Hai leapt back, then with a swift kick, sent the head soaring in an arc over the squatting children, rolling off into the darkness.

Thud, thud, thud... The sound of the head thumping down the corridor faded gradually, as if it were tumbling down a distant staircase.

Both Lin Hai and Lin Fan couldn’t tear their eyes away from the three children.

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As the sound of the rolling head finally disappeared, the three children slowly turned around.

The flashlight illuminated three ghastly, pale faces, each one twisted and covered in black markings. Their mouths silently opened and closed, as if muttering unknown words. Most terrifying were their eyes: deep, hollow pits, like black holes, from which bloody tears trickled, glimmering red.

The children were emaciated, their joints visible beneath their thin skin. Their hands—or more accurately, claws—were like sharpened talons, tips of bone protruding and gleaming coldly, sending chills down the spine.

Clearly, these were no ordinary children.

The sight made Lin Fan feel as if his veins would burst, every part of his body trembling, hands and feet icy cold. The muscles beneath his skin twitched uncontrollably, and veins stood out on his forehead. He rasped, “Uncle, are these... are these what we’re looking for? What do we do now?”

Lin Hai remained calm, glancing at Lin Fan with a teasing smile. “Not bad, nephew! Didn’t faint, did you? I’ll give you a Best Progress Award when we get home.”

Lin Fan, hearing Lin Hai still had the nerve to joke, protested anxiously, “Is this really the time? Can you be serious? What the hell are these things?”

Lin Hai handed him the flashlight, nonchalant. “Demon children! Souls of children who died unjustly, tortured in life, their grudges unrelieved. Their resentment gathers here, this place of pure yin, and transforms them into these abominations. These are just small fry—just hold the light for me. I’ll finish them off in no time. The real boss is still ahead.”

He produced a stack of talismans from his robe and swiftly traced a circle in the air. The talismans floated in a ring before him. He pressed his palms together, formed a seal, and began chanting.

The three little ghosts, who had planned to attack, sensed danger at this display and quickly scuttled deeper into the corridor.

Lin Fan, seeing them about to escape, called out in panic, “Uncle, hurry! They’re getting away!”

At that moment, Lin Hai’s hand movements ceased. He finished his incantation, gripped his right hand with his left, then thrust his index and ring fingers forward, chanting loudly, “In the endless desolation, O Creator who lingers; in the eternal void of sorrow, O Spirit of the Last Days who traverses; Supreme One who governs truth and illusion, heed my call! Let the boundary of light and dark be shattered, let the sealed abyss return! Where the wind passes, marks remain; where the goose flies, feathers fall! Little pests, where do you think you’re going—Soul Locking Spell! Seal!”

As he spoke, a surge of invisible force shot from his fingertips!

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—a barrage of talismans, propelled by the energy, shot toward the three specters like bullets, swirling around them.

“Roar—!”

Snap! Snap! Snap!

With three crisp sealing sounds, the screeching of the ghosts was abruptly cut off.

“Heh, how’s that, nephew? Your uncle’s not bad, eh? Come, let’s collect our spoils.” Lin Hai boasted as he swaggered forward.

“Not bad! But what are these lousy ghosts? Ugly as hell, but weak—hell, I could have handled them myself.” Lin Fan had hoped to witness a dramatic battle and maybe pick up a move or two, but it all ended so quickly he felt a bit disappointed.

He was about to step forward when Lin Hai suddenly retreated.

“Why are you coming back?” Lin Fan asked, puzzled.

Lin Hai stopped beside him, a little sheepish. “Heh, not my choice. Oh, I forgot—demon children are social creatures. I didn’t expect to run into so many at once! Didn’t you say you could handle them? Here’s your chance, I’ll take a break.”

Bang! Bang! Bang! From up ahead came the sound of seals breaking.

Lin Fan sensed something was wrong and looked forward. Instantly he felt dizzy, nauseous, and his scalp tingled.

On the floor, walls, and ceiling ahead, dozens of demon children in hospital gowns were crawling toward them, bodies contorted.

They swarmed the corridor like an army of ants, still pouring out from the darkness, surging relentlessly toward the two men.

Their appearance was the same as the previous three—twisted faces, bony limbs, claws sharp and deformed. Each movement was accompanied by the sound of stone grinding. The oncoming wave grew ever more terrifying, and the corridor seemed to tremble.

“Uncle, don’t joke with me, I can’t handle this!” Lin Fan stammered, face pale and limbs weak.

“You think I want to? The problem is, I didn’t bring enough talismans! If you don’t want to die, help me hold them off. Have confidence, believe in yourself! Remember: lose anything but your style, throw away anything but your character! Come on, I believe in you! I need time to draw a formation.” Lin Hai had already taken out a cinnabar brush and was crouched, fully focused, sketching a magic array across the corridor floor.

He knew these demon children, though vicious, posed no real threat to Lin Fan; he could safely leave him to fend for himself—hoping the experience would toughen him up.

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Lin Fan was already trembling, drenched in cold sweat. He had never faced such danger before, always hiding behind Lin Hai as backup. Now, suddenly forced from healer to DPS, terror gripped him. “You old bastard, you want me to hold the line? What about my damn life!” But with a horde of malevolent spirits about to swarm him...

“Run? If I run, the old man will be torn to shreds! He may be ruthless, but I can’t abandon him! But I can’t die here either!... Damn it, I’ll fight you all—”

In that crisis, his survival instinct surged. He recalled a spell from the “Compendium of Creation”—the Soul Stilling Technique.

He decided, to hell with it, may as well try—do or die.

At the critical moment, Lin Fan surprisingly calmed down. He shed his gear, planted his feet, and closed his eyes—not just to steady himself for the hand seals, but mainly not to have to see the hideous ghosts approaching. All in—what will be, will be. He focused on recalling the incantation and hand gestures for the Soul Stilling spell.

Whether Lin Fan was thick-skinned or a born genius, he instantly entered a state of utter focus and emptiness. He muttered the incantation, fingers shifting through the seals, as invisible energy gathered around him, the dark elements nearby growing restless.

Lin Hai behind him had no time to notice, engrossed in his own spellwork.

For a first attempt at magic, it was enough for Lin Fan to muster energy at all—expecting to master the Soul Stilling Technique was wishful thinking.

Before he could finish, the leading demon children were upon him, eyes glaring, claws flashing as they struck at his vitals.

Clang! Clang! With a series of crisp impacts, Lin Fan staggered back, clutching his chest in pain. Luckily he kept his footing—otherwise, he’d have crashed into Lin Hai and taken the blows for nothing.

“Damn it! You’re not playing by the rules! Can’t you at least give a warning? I haven’t even finished the spell!” Lin Fan glanced back at the sweat-soaked Lin Hai, then instinctively checked his own body. Aside from torn clothes, he was unscathed—not a drop of blood, though his insides felt battered.

He thought, “What’s going on? Hell! Am I really invulnerable? My uncle wasn’t lying? Is this my family’s inherited talent? Incredible! I totally forgot—I’m not afraid of you bastards now!”

With new confidence, Lin Fan strode forward, hands on his hips, taunting the demon children. “Come on, you little brats! Look at you—you’re even uglier than my uncle! Still dare to do evil? Have you no shame? No sense of decency? Who’s afraid of whom? Today, let this unrivalled, devastatingly handsome man teach you how to be a good ghost!”

The nearest demon children, after a flurry of attacks failed to harm him—instead shattering their own claws—bared their fangs in anger, refusing to give up. They crouched low, then sprang at Lin Fan again.

He didn’t dodge, but swung his fists like lightning. His blows collided head-on with the onrushing ghosts.

Bang! Bang! Two demon children were sent flying, gouging deep grooves in the floor as they crashed back through the crowd, bits of wall and cement falling as they went.

A fresh wave surged from behind. Riding the momentum, Lin Fan stamped his foot, leaped into the air, spun, and delivered a spinning kick, leaving a blurred afterimage.

His foot connected squarely with three more demon children, smashing their faces and sending them crashing into the ceiling, where they skidded before falling. The ones crawling above were swept down as well, tumbling like shooting stars.

Wails filled the corridor, but the demon children ignored their fallen, pouring in endlessly, like bamboo shoots after the rain, swarming toward Lin Fan.

He fought furiously, hands and feet flying, barely keeping up.

But soon he realized, these monsters weren’t being beaten back—instead, they fought more fiercely. There seemed no end to them, their attacks tireless. Though they couldn’t harm him and his stamina held, the endless onslaught was unnerving.

“Roar—!” Suddenly, a sharp scream came from deep in the corridor.

Instantly, all the demon children paused, as if receiving a command, then redoubled their attack, crawling even faster toward Lin Fan.

He felt the increased pressure, silently praying for Lin Hai to finish the formation—this couldn’t last forever.

This time, he attacked first, crouching and lunging at the oncoming horde. But as he struck, something felt wrong.

“Damn! What’s happening?” Every punch and kick missed. Yet he felt terrifying shockwaves battering his soul.

“Could it be—?” A sense of foreboding filled him.

Before he could react, all the demon children surged into his body. Moments before so full of life, Lin Fan now stood like a wooden post, eyes staring, before collapsing stiffly to the floor.