Based on Jones’s observations from multiple instances of supernatural scenarios, the longer a scenario lasts, the more sudden the potential dangers become.
To avoid being lulled into complacency by temporary successes, he remained vigilant.
Nervously approaching the elevator, Jones took extra precautions—he had his assistant take a group of passengers up first. Only after confirming it was safe would the assistant return to ferry the others.
This was the epitome of caution, executed to the best of his ability.
The 18th Floor
The decor here was lavish. Only those holding an apple could push open the door to the director’s office.
Strangely, the room was empty—just a spacious area.
For most chosen ones, it was completely vacant.
But for two, there was a figure inside.
Or more accurately, a corpse.
When Zhang Yangqing and Jones entered, they saw a motionless figure slumped in a chair.
Zhang Yangqing checked and confirmed the person was long dead.
Just then, his phone buzzed with a message from the Dragon Country’s expert team.
The message began with a respectful address: “Honorable Master Zhang…”
The content reminded him that other chosen ones had found empty rooms—only he and another who hadn’t been sprayed with the “freshener” had encountered a corpse.
This might be the trigger condition for special rewards or hidden treasures.
The expert team was eager to make their presence known, as this was their first chance to contribute this round.
Zhang Yangqing pondered. Since he couldn’t see other chosen ones’ screens, the experts’ input was valuable.
In the last supernatural scenario, Egypt’s chosen one, Rahman, had secured a reward item that smoothed his path to success.
If Zhang Yangqing wasn’t mistaken, the corpse before him was the director of Smiling Hospital.
His clothing was the reward item for this scenario.
In this setting, changing outfits could alter one’s identity.
Wearing the director’s attire would allow him to set traps, summon doctors or nurses one by one, and eliminate them—reducing the scenario’s difficulty.
Without the outfit, one would have to risk direct combat.
Zhang Yangqing instructed the passengers to search the corpse for clues.
First, they noted the director had died from a knife wound—a single, precise stab to the back.
A clean kill, suggesting the assailant was supremely confident in their skill.
On the desk were sales contracts detailing a plan to remodel the inpatient ward.
Patients were to be treated like livestock and sold to a slaughterhouse.
Clearly, the director had struck a deal with the slaughterhouse’s owner.
Zhang Yangqing wasn’t particularly interested in the director’s misdeeds—this was the supernatural world, and he wasn’t here to play hero.
Everyone just wanted to survive.
His sole focus was the hidden treasure.
Jones also noticed the clues but found the situation unsettling.
He didn’t know what kind of entity the director was, but whoever killed him had to be formidable.
Hidden treasures often came with unique guardians—ones that might not be weak but could be extremely strong.
Even realizing he might secure the treasure, Jones chose… to give up.
Knowing one’s limits was a virtue.
Survival was enough. Jones recognized he lacked special skills, and recklessness could get him killed.
He already had his reward—why push his luck?
As for the slaughterhouse’s arrival, that wasn’t his concern.
Besides, he had no idea where the treasure was. His intel was too limited.
Meanwhile, Zhang Yangqing, armed with this information, took two security-uniformed anomalies to hunt for the treasure.
The others stayed behind to wait.
At 4:30 PM, he’d return with his team.
With potential danger ahead, a smaller group was wiser.
It was now 4:05 PM—he had 25 minutes to explore.
As Zhang Yangqing left, Dragon Country’s viewers were puzzled:
“Where’s Master Zhang going? Does he already know where the treasure is?”
“How? There’s no hint about its location!”
“Maybe he’s just patrolling to familiarize himself with the layout.”
“No, look—he’s heading straight for the surgical building.”
“I get it now. The surgical building, the operating room… the only one skilled with a knife there is the chief surgeon!”
Some viewers had guessed correctly.
Zhang Yangqing had asked the department head for a hospital tour earlier—including the operating room.
The director’s fatal stab wound was precise, swift, and confident—a single strike.
Only a highly skilled surgeon could pull that off.
With this in mind, Zhang Yangqing headed for the operating room.
At this hour, only his and the two guards’ footsteps echoed through the eerily quiet halls.
Most chosen ones would’ve stayed in the safe room to rest, but viewers knew better—if anyone was in danger here, it wasn’t him.
He’d become the executioner, capable of wiping out all anomalies.
Soon, Zhang Yangqing arrived at the operating room.
Inside were a chief surgeon, two doctors, and two nurses (not wearing blue masks).
They seemed surprised to see security personnel.
“Why aren’t you patrolling? What are you doing here?” the chief surgeon asked sternly, though his smile never wavered.
Smiling was part of the hospital’s creed.
Zhang Yangqing didn’t mince words. He tossed a stack of documents on the floor.
“You killed the director, didn’t you?”
The room tensed instantly.
After glancing at the documents—the sales contracts from the director’s office—the chief surgeon dropped the act.
“We could make a deal,” he offered.
Zhang Yangqing wasn’t in a hurry. More intel meant better decisions.
“What kind of deal?”
The chief surgeon laid out his plan:
He was a man of conscience, aiming to save the unsuspecting patients.
Upon learning of the director’s scheme, he’d stabbed him and planned to ambush the slaughterhouse representatives arriving at 7:00 PM.
If they succeeded, the contracts would be void.
His proposal? Zhang Yangqing would rally more rebels, and he’d inject them with enhancers to boost their chances.
In return, Zhang Yangqing would get the hospital’s treasure.
It was a gamble.
The slaughterhouse butchers’ strength was unknown, but their name alone suggested they wouldn’t be weak.
Viewers split into two camps:
One argued Master Zhang could afford the risk.
The other warned against unnecessary danger—even if he survived, the passengers might not. If the reward didn’t outweigh the losses, it wasn’t worth it.
“So, do we have a deal… or?” The chief surgeon’s pause was heavy with implication: Cooperate or die.
Zhang Yangqing smirked.
“I choose to kill you and take the treasure directly. How about that?”
Your proposal is just, but I don’t feel like it!
Since you’re not being polite, why should I be?
My strength allows me to play this way!
