I'm in Tokyo, caught in the clutches of the demon princess.

Page 105

A flashlight is a handheld flashlight with a handle.

I fiddled with it out of habit, and the flashlight actually turned on.

Feng Zejian's brows furrowed as well.

This thing shouldn't be lit up.

Feng Zejian walked deeper into the mental hospital with a flashlight in hand.

The main gate of the mental hospital building had been removed and moved somewhere, so Feng Zejian entered easily.

What comes into view is a dilapidated lobby, registration room, and information desk.

There was a blackboard on the wall with the names of the doctors and nurses on duty, but their names were long gone; it was as if a piece of the blackboard had disappeared.

Feng Zejian walked into the information desk, which contained some miscellaneous items and dried-up medicine bottles.

Small pebbles and glass shards are everywhere in the hospital.

You can still smell some of the disinfectant that's unique to hospitals if you look closely, but there's mostly a sense of desolation.

There was also an open meeting minutes book on the triage desk.

The record contains visitor registration information and hospitalization information for some patients.

Feng Zejian casually flipped through the pages and took a look.

The paper is old and yellowish, the handwriting is rather delicate, the color is somewhat bluish-purple, and there are traces of water seepage, making it look a bit double.

But Feng Zejian could still see it very clearly.

Feng Zejian was flipping through the pages, having nothing better to do, when he came across an unexpected name.

"Kasahara Kawaji visited on October 3, 1970, to see the patient in special ward 503."

Suddenly, a ball rolled into the hall.

Looking at it from the wind, the ball was half deflated, yet it was still bouncing normally.

Feng Zejian didn't pay any attention and continued flipping through the pages. He sensed that thing was getting closer.

Feng Zejian activated his Eye of Truth and saw a spirit with a pointed chin, wearing a hospital gown, with eyes that drooped up and down and snot running down its nose.

It's not threatening, just a little disgusting.

Feng Zejian's eyes then turned bloodshot, his aura suddenly erupted, and he said in a gloomy voice:

"roll."

The spirit was so frightened that it scrambled away and ran away as fast as it could.

Feng Zejian frowned as he looked at the notebook.

If Kasahara Koji was from Nara Prefecture, then it would be reasonably plausible that Kasahara Kawaji's father was also from Nara Prefecture.

Although there's a decades-long difference between the two, what is a reporter doing at a mental hospital?

It seems necessary to make a trip to ward 503.

Feng Zejian left the information desk and headed to the fifth floor.

Elevators weren't widely used back then; stairs were the norm.

You can only walk through the Fengze area, one layer at a time.

The building was unusually quiet, with only the sound of wind blowing through the crumbs.

Feng Zejian arrived at the third floor, and on each floor he would look around, since spirits were a very novel thing for him.

Just then, the sound of flushing came from the toilet on the third floor.

Feng Zejian was certain that it was the sound of flushing water, although it was very unreasonable for the sound of flushing water to come from this hospital that had been abandoned for nearly half a century.

Feng Zejian continued upwards, following the sound of rushing water.

This kind of thing was either done by a living person or a dead person; in short, it had nothing to do with him, whether he was alive or dead.

Feng Zejian quickened his pace and reached the door on the fifth floor. The door was locked, and it was a new lock.

Of course, this was no challenge for Feng Zejian, whose body blurred and passed through the wall.

The ethereal transformation in Fengzejian involves the etherealization of his own clothes as well.

Upon reaching the fifth floor, Feng Zejian was stunned.

On the fifth floor, petrified statues appeared one by one in the corridor. The statues had different expressions, but they were all lifelike, showing fear, pain, despair, confusion, as well as joy and liberation.

These are all real people. When Feng Zejian saw this scene, a terrifying thought flashed through his mind.

He felt the scene was very beautiful and reflected the myriad aspects of human life.

Feng Zejian shook his head, trying to shake his thoughts out.

It is a mental hospital after all. People who come here, whether they are normal or not, will become somewhat abnormal.

Feng Zejian ignored the statues and arrived at the door of room 503. The door was not closed, but wide open, and Feng Zejian went inside.

Even after half a century, this room remains luxurious enough.

A private bathroom, a large bed big enough for two people to sleep in, facing south with bright natural light, an old-fashioned large TV, solid wood bedside tables and a Western-style table lamp with a very vintage incandescent bulb.

There was also a tea set on the table, which was very exquisitely made. Feng Zejian picked it up and examined it. He touched it with his hand and realized that the color and the feel of it were definitely a purple clay teapot.

Who exactly lived here? Not many people in that era could afford such a thing.

Even if no one is in the room, the bed linens are always neatly folded, so they must have been tidied up.

Feng Zejian opened the TV cabinet, only to find it completely empty. There was nothing on the bedside table either, and there was no toilet either.

There was nothing in the gaps under the bed.

Using a partially blurred effect, Feng Zejian searched through the blankets, but found nothing but cotton wool.

Feng Zejian pursed his lips and bit them.

Has the trail ended here?

Feng Zejian sat on the bed, his viewpoint focused on the television.

When Feng Zejian saw the TV screen, which was somewhat black and gray, he tilted his head slightly, smoothed out the mattress, walked to the TV, and reached inside to rummage around.

Reaching inside, he found a jumble of electronic components packed together. Then, Feng Zejian touched something that didn't belong to a television set.

Chapter 137 Sitting on the Mountain and Watching the Tigers Fight

Feng Zejian took it out; it was a cassette tape, which looked several times smaller than ordinary cassette tapes from the early 21st century.

It lay quietly inside its protective shell.

Feng Zejian looked at the cassette tape in his hand, a smile appearing on his lips.

This is a real surprise.

Feng Zejian was about to leave, but the spectacle on the fifth floor still held an inexplicable attraction for him.

As Feng Zejian walked and observed, he came to a hospital ward.

The door was covered with countless talismans, bound by iron chains, and sealed with a padlock.

Feng Zejian peered inside with his Eye of Truth and found no energy fluctuations.

What's inside? And why is it locked up like this?

Feng Zejian touched the door and put his hand through it. He didn't feel anything strange. Then, Feng Zejian mustered up his courage and stuck his head in. Inside was an ordinary ward, except that a statue holding a piece of paper was sitting in a chair by the window.

Feng Zejian went inside.

Looking around, the atmosphere here is great.

The surrounding walls are covered with oil paintings, sketches, and watercolors.

These paintings are filled with bloodshed, but they also possess endless beauty.

For example, in the painting next to Fengzejian, a girl is found dead in a grassy field with large wounds and exposed organs, while beautiful flowers grow all over her body.

Another painting depicts a dozen pairs of eyes, so realistic they would surely send chills down anyone's spine if they saw them.

But Feng Zejian could see that each of these eyes had its own state and mood.

To be able to convey something even to a layman like myself simply by painting the eyes—that's blatant art.

Another picture shows a long-haired woman with only her head hanging from a rope. Blood-red flowers bloom downwards from the severed neck, and blood vessels can be seen in the details.

Feng Zejian was shocked.

The painting next to it depicts a headless body standing quietly, with green vines growing from the severed area.

You say it's scary? Feng Zejian doesn't think so.

There is no deliberately created atmosphere of terror here.

The scenes are very realistic, and he could feel the creator's pity for these tragic victims.

Feng Zejian looked at the man sitting in the chair.

The man was not old, probably close to thirty, and even as a statue, he possessed great charisma and demeanor.

The man wearing the tuxedo had the classic Western handsome face, naturally curly hair, a pleasant smile on his face, and expectation in his eyes. Following his gaze, the only thing that wasn't a sculpture was a piece of paper.

There was only one short sentence on the paper.

"All the words in this room are my works. Friends who have come here, what do you think?"

Feng Zejian looked at the paper, then glanced at the pen in the pen holder on the table next to him. He took out the pen and lightly drew a line on the back of his hand, and sure enough, it dried up.

Kazema wrote below the question with an empty pen.

“Your work is true art, but it is an art that is not understood by most people; it is cruel yet beautiful.”

Only faint marks were left on the paper; although no words were written, this was still a response to him.

He put the pen back in its place, returned the paper to the statue's hand, looked around, and left the room.

After Feng Zejian left, the faint marks on the paper in the man's hand turned red.

Then it turned into dust.

Feng Zejian, who chose to leave at that moment, didn't notice that he had subconsciously applied makeup earlier, and the traces were slowly becoming visible.

The golden pen cap shone in a light that seemed to come from nowhere, reflecting the name of a person: Torya Salti.

At this moment, Feng Zejian had already arrived on the first floor.

Without hesitation, Feng Zejian walked towards the door, but just as he was about to step out, he felt as if he touched something.

It was a feeling of déjà vu, and the suction force alerted Feng Zejian.

"Oh no, it's a crack."

Feng Zejian was sucked into another world.

The atmosphere here is quite terrifying.

It was now completely dark, and the bewitching and beautiful scarlet moon hung in the sky, making the once calm Fengze extremely restless.

Feng Zejian raised his hand, and an ice mask appeared, which he then put on his face.

The black mark on his right wrist began to spread, eventually covering Feng Zejian's entire body and turning into a black hooded cloak.

Feng Zejian was thoroughly investigated, only in this way could he feel sufficiently safe.

Moreover, the mask was a Nuo mask, indicating that he had not come to any other place and was still in this mental hospital.

Outside the main gate, a fierce battle was taking place within the grounds of the mental hospital.

Many of the people here are acquaintances of Kazesawa, such as Kasahara Koji, Fujimura Yu, and Fujiwara Takeshi, the teacher of the Elite-A class.

Unexpectedly, this man was also from the Yin-Yang Bureau, along with others: a young man with red hair whose entire body was engulfed in flames but whose expression was icy, and a woman with four eyes.

They were fighting together against a fleshy ball with countless hands and feet, and human faces, both male and female, with black hair deep in the crevices of the tumor.

Feng Zejian saw the exit of this world at a glance, but it was on the other side. The shortest distance required passing through the very center of the battlefield. If he went around it, those people would definitely see it. The crack showed no signs of healing, so Feng Zejian was not in a hurry. He could wait and see what these people were capable of.

Feng Zejian, dressed entirely in black, was almost undetectable in the shadows.

Black threads shot out from the lump of flesh, and several people dodged to avoid it.