Chapter 71: Predators Always Scout Their Hunting Grounds First!
The surviving chosen ones had returned to the safe room—the director’s office.
But those who didn’t make it back… must have eaten something wrong, acquiring a distinct odor that caught the nurses’ attention.
Under the pretext of patients needing “rest after meals,” the nurses forcibly escorted these unlucky chosen ones to the wards.
Even when the chosen ones begged the travelers for help, the number of nurses inexplicably surged, quickly overwhelming the travelers.
Syringes in hand, the nurses administered [sedatives] to the chosen ones.
Those who had been resisting suddenly felt their heads grow heavy, their bodies limp and compliant.
Led to the inpatient ward, they lay on soft beds, soothed by gentle music, their will to resist fading.
The nurses’ sweet, coaxing voices lulled them deeper into relaxation.
Surrounded by patients sleeping soundly, these chosen ones soon succumbed to the comfort of this false paradise.
Eat, sleep, repeat… Maybe this isn’t so bad?
The moment that thought crossed their minds—their national screens went dark.
Viewers knew instantly: they were gone.
The global chatroom erupted with reactions:
“Sigh… In this bizarre world, normal logic doesn’t apply. The slightest hesitation means death.”
“I still don’t get how Dragon Country’s chosen one always nails it. His actions seem reckless, yet he never missteps.”
“Everyone calls Dragon Country’s guy ‘ruthless,’ but let’s be real—that’s the only way to survive here.”
“After watching so many clears, haven’t you learned? Treat normal NPCs normally, but the freaks? Never assume they’re human.”
Gradually, the chat shifted from discussing Detective Mitarashi Saburō to Zhang Yangqing.
The once-admired genius detective now clung to life by a thread, while the unassuming transcendent stole the spotlight.
Another pattern emerged:
Chosen ones with fewer travelers struggled, many injured and barely hanging on.
Meanwhile, those with large groups—like Kangaroo Country’s Jones and Eagle Country’s veteran—stood confident, their forces barely dented.
And then there was Dragon Country’s contender, leading not just a small army but an enhanced one.
Inside Smiling Sanitarium, 35 chosen ones rested in the director’s office.
Some exhaled in relief, finally filling their stomachs after a day of starvation, eager to collapse onto the plush sofas.
Others fought back nausea, trying to forget what they’d just eaten.
While most rested, a few were already warming up.
Eagle Country’s veteran and Sakura Country’s detective made their final preparations.
Time: 5:30 PM.
Per the radio broadcast:
“Citizens hunting in the wild, note: after dark, beasts grow stronger. Prioritize daytime expeditions.”
In other words, post-6:00 PM, everything beyond the city limits would mutate.
Prey would become fiercer—and likely, so would the doctors and nurses, since the sanitarium counted as “wilderness.”
Though, given their prolonged starvation, their strength might’ve waned. A factor to weigh.
Time left:
-
30 minutes until 6:00 PM.
-
2.5 hours until 8:00 PM (shift end).
Most survivors planned to strike around 7:30 PM.
These two hours were for either recuperation or intel-gathering—a personal choice.
Eagle Country’s veteran, now changed out of patient garb, led a few eerie travelers on reconnaissance.
Detective Mitarashi Saburō, ever strategic, left his female companion to rest while scouting with his assistant.
Why the assistant? Simple: she was expendable.
Zhang Yangqing, meanwhile, swapped into his iconic security uniform and strolled out with two enhanced specters in tow.
While others sneaked like thieves, he patrolled openly.
The only one playing it safe? Kangaroo Country’s Jones.
Time: 5:50 PM
The sanitarium grew eerily quiet, the atmosphere thickening like coagulating blood.
Not due to dimmed lights—the very air seemed dead, pressing down on chests.
Empty halls echoed with every footstep, amplifying the isolation.
(After all, humans are social creatures. Solitude breeds unease.)
Some chosen ones skulked through corridors, noting nurse stations and weaker-looking doctors—targets for their hunt.
Like predators stalking prey, they mapped risks:
Which areas were hazardous?
Where might guards unexpectedly appear?
Survival here demanded meticulous planning. No one wanted to falter at the finish line.
Except three men.
They strutted through the halls in full security gear: gas masks, riot shields, batons.
Spotting skulking “patients,” they beat them toward the wards.
Dragon Country viewers laughed:
“Zhang’s fully embraced his security guard role now!”
“Others sneak; he treats this place like his backyard.”
“Most dedicated professional I’ve seen—whatever he does, he becomes it.”
“Wait… Do you hear engines?”
Then—rumble.
Chosen ones rushed to windows.
A convoy of pickup trucks rolled toward the inpatient ward, carrying potbellied figures:
Butchers.
Chains dragged behind them; cleavers hung at their waists.
But the true horror?
Their masks—hyper-realistic animal heads, expressions twitching as if alive.
