Chapter 26: Setting Twenty-Six

Setting Twenty-Six: Monster Hunter (Part 8)

“You think this thing will work?”

Sha Polang said, pointing at the protective face mask strapped tightly over her face, her voice muffled by the rubber.

“Even if it doesn’t, we still have to go in and save people.” Shan Ziwei replied, equally muffled. “So let’s just pray it does.”

“Trust me—you do not want to experience swallowing a bloodline.” Sha Polang smacked her lips, glancing at the changing survivor count for Setting 5. “Three more dead. What do we do now?”

They stood in the hospital’s first-floor lobby, looking at each other.

“The system wants us to save at least 100 people. It’s down to 311—now 307—four more gone. Should we search floor by floor?”

“We don’t have time to comb the whole hospital for moving people. And even if we find them, where do we put them?”

“Uh… gather them at the hospital entrance? As long as they don’t cross the green barrier, the bald guy won’t hurt them. And those heavy weapons outside can protect them.”

“How many people do you think can fit at the entrance?” Shan Ziwei asked.

“Maybe 50…?” Sha Polang’s voice trailed off.

“If the entrance is packed, how are the heavy weapons supposed to fire without hitting people?” Shan Ziwei sighed. “So our priority isn’t protecting them—it’s eliminating the threats.”

“You mean… the monster and the bloodline-infected people?” Sha Polang’s eyes lit up. “Right now, the only things causing death are the monster and the fighting between infected and normal people. When an infected dies, the bloodline hops to someone else and creates a new infected. So if we eliminate the bloodlines and lure the monster somewhere empty, the people in the hospital will be safe!” She grew more excited, then frowned. “But how do we find them? You can track the monster with your panel, but the infected don’t have markers…”

Shan Ziwei’s eyes gleamed at her mention of the panel.

“Don’t worry.” He smiled, activating the Multi-Function Panel on his wrist. “Even without markers, I can find them.”

His finger pressed “Mode 2.” In an instant, the green radar scan projected—covered in red dots.

Sha Polang leaned in curiously. “What’s this?”

“Area infrared heat-source display. Red dots are living things. Dead bodies don’t emit heat, so…” He pointed at a fading red dot on the scan. “Someone just died here.”

No further words were needed. They both knew what “death” meant in this hospital now. It wasn’t just ordinary illness—it meant bloodline infection and mutual slaughter. The hospital had split into two factions: normal humans and bloodline-infected. In each other’s eyes, the other were monsters to be killed.

“What are we waiting for?” Sha Polang slung her sniper rifle over her shoulder stylishly and took the first step. “Let’s go~!”

In the first-floor billing office, Shan Ziwei and Sha Polang immediately saw a group brawling—one infected fighting five normal people, with one body already on the ground—the fading red dot.

“The infected are Knight-rank Chess Pieces.” Shan Ziwei said, closing one eye for Reconnaissance. “Probably mutated by the bloodlines.”

“No wonder they’re so fierce.”

Sha Polang raised her gun—but didn’t fire, only aimed. Though the infected was stronger than an ordinary person, numbers won out. Under the five’s assault, it soon fell.

“Why didn’t you help—”

One of them started to complain, but before finishing, the female hunter fired a shot right at him. He froze, mechanically looking down at the bullet hole an inch from his foot—a bloodline, like a red string, was pinned to the ground by the bullet, quickly blackening and turning to ash.

“Whew—close. If I didn’t have a ‘Precise Shot’ passive, I wouldn’t have hit that.”

Sha Polang walked over, nudged the infected’s corpse with her gun, and only crouched to pick up the chess piece after confirming no more bloodlines emerged.

“One down.” Shan Ziwei reopened the panel. “We need to head to the second-floor physical examination department now.”

“OK~”

They sent the shaken normal people to the first floor and continued to the next point. After the first few times, they got the hang of it. Using the infrared heat-source tracking, they found one infected after another, and the moment the infected died, they shot the bloodline emerging from the body.

“Bang!”

Even through the face mask, Sha Polang managed a muffled whistle. “Where to next?”

Shan Ziwei didn’t answer immediately. He scanned the panel back and forth until the survivor count dropped again. “Only the fourth-floor red dots are gone now. The remaining infected should be up there.”

“Then let’s hit the fourth floor!”

“…The monster is there too.”

Sha Polang fell silent for a second. The mask hid her expression, but her trembling voice gave her away: “…Are we facing the monster now?”

“Yes.” Shan Ziwei nodded grimly. “We have to deal with the bloodlines and lure the monster at the same time.”

Even through the mask, he could see Sha Polang’s despairing look—because he felt the same.

“Here’s the plan: you take out the infected, and I’ll lure the monster away.”

As a guy, he couldn’t give Sha Polang the more dangerous job. And her attacks were too strong—she’d sever the monster’s tentacles too easily, and severed tentacles meant more bloodlines. So he had to grit his teeth and take the aggro.

Sha Polang shot him a sympathetic look, then took a deep breath and stepped onto the stairs with heroic resolve. “Let’s go, kid—we’re saving the world.”

Shan Ziwei followed with even more tragic determination, quipping to lighten the mood: “We’re saving the world—who’s saving us?”

Little Gaia, silent all along, suddenly raised its head. It gazed unblinkingly at the white-haired youth’s profile, its pale pupils cold and inorganic.

—Indeed.

You go save the world—who saves you?

The moment they stepped onto the fourth floor, even through the masks, the stench of blood hit them. The scene before them exceeded Shan Ziwei’s expectations—for a moment, he thought he’d entered Spirit Collapse again. Everything was crimson. The pristine white floors looked painted with blood. Scattered everywhere were chunks of flesh and organs. Across from them, two bloodline-infected people were dismembering a nurse’s corpse. Blood pooled across the floor. The nurse’s skin had been peeled off—the infected seemed to think that was her true form, excitedly smearing her flesh and blood around the area.

Shan Ziwei swallowed dryly. He’d known the fourth floor—where the monster was—would be the worst, but he hadn’t expected this level of distortion. “R Hospital” had truly become “Slaughter Hospital.” The cruelest irony: it wasn’t the monster slaughtering humans—it was humans themselves.

The moment they appeared, the two infected’s expressions twisted, like seeing rotten meat mixed into fresh flesh.

“Bang—”

Facing the charging infected, Sha Polang fired without hesitation. Shan Ziwei looked right—there was the white, jellyfish-like monster, floating. He ran a few steps toward it, raised his gun, aimed, and fired.

“Bang!”

After firing, he immediately ran a few steps away from Sha Polang and looked back—he worried his damage output was too low, that the monster wouldn’t chase him.

He quickly realized his worry was unfounded. The monster was extremely interested in him—pursuing relentlessly. It had grown accustomed to this floating movement; its white bell expanded and contracted, and suddenly it shot straight toward his face.

“!!!”

Shan Ziwei ducked sharply to avoid its tentacles, ignoring the pain on his head, and scrambled away on all fours.

The monster lifted another tuft of white hair caught in its tentacle, held it up to examine, then tossed it aside—continuing its drift after the white-haired youth.

—Once it caught him, it wouldn’t just be hair. He’d be all its.

Shan Ziwei clutched the newly shortened patch of hair—his back felt cold. He’d become the monster’s prey. This particular sufferer wept internally. Playing hunter to this extent was an accomplishment in itself—hunter and prey had completely switched roles.

Soon, he realized how naive his earlier kiting plan had been. The monster, now with jet-propelled movement, was unstoppable in a straight line. He had to zigzag constantly to avoid being caught. The zigzagging was so disorienting that even he got dizzy. To dodge yet another attack, he turned left 90 degrees and dashed into a corridor.

It was a dead-end corridor with a 90-degree turn ahead. Without thinking, he ran for the corner.

The moment he turned, his heart sank. The corridor was very short—just a few steps to the end. At the end was a door, clearly leading to a room. A dead end.

He immediately tried to retreat—but turned to see the monster already blocking the entrance. With no other choice, he ran to the end, pushed the door open, and locked it.

“Click.”

The lock didn’t calm him at all. He knew this door couldn’t hold a Bishop-rank monster. He stepped back quickly, scanning the room for anything useful.

The room was bigger than expected, filled with blue metal canisters marked with a large circle and a small number in white paint. Before he could look closer, a massive crash came from behind.

“Boom—”

The blue canisters were knocked over, hissing gas. Shan Ziwei watched in horror as the white soft-bodied creature—the monster had simply crashed right through!!!

Ignoring the pain in his leg from the fallen canisters, he scrambled to run—but a tentacle wrapped around his right arm, soft yet unyielding.

Given: Shan Ziwei has his condition. Shan Ziwei encounters tentacles.

Find: The psychological shadow area of this particular sufferer.

His mind went blank. Almost instinctively, he raised his gun and fired point-blank at the monster.

“KABOOM—”

The explosion engulfed the entire room. Even through the mask, he felt a wave of heat. He was thrown against the wall, his vision blacking out. He nearly lost consciousness, dimly aware of debris raining down on and around him.

“Mmph… cough…”

The sharp pain brought him back. Role-Play’s 100% pain simulation was no joke. He was half-buried in rubble, the collapsed ceiling forming a dark, cramped angle. The white-haired youth sat in this narrow space, his legs pinned, his left hand hurting, his head throbbing—a chunk of rock had cracked his skull, and though it healed quickly, the pain still pulsed.

Players healed instantly from any wound in the game, but the pain didn’t lessen. Shan Ziwei looked at his fully blackened SP bars and struggled to reach a bandage from his tactical vest with his right hand.

His right arm was still wrapped in a tentacle. With only one hand free, he couldn’t pull it off. He was about to ignore it—when the soft tentacle tip gently twitched.