C28 Escape from the Hospital

Alone in the strange stone room, Ethan felt a loneliness he had never known. He now realized humans were truly pack animals—no one was meant to live completely alone. He regretted that he had argued the Tiger Taoist to death; now he was stuck with a corpse, like a tomb keeper in this cursed cell.

The hospital staff seemed to have forgotten this place entirely. For two full days, no one came, no one brought food, no one checked in. Ethan was shocked that the Tiger Taoist had survived here for over fifty years. Truly, anyone who achieved greatness—good or evil—must have possessed extraordinary willpower.

By now, Ethan understood why the old Taoist had given him the Dragon Pearl without hesitation.

Inside his stomach, the pearl unleashed two violent energy surges every single day.

One was an unbearable, scorching heat, as if he were being roasted alive in an oven. Every muscle felt burned to ash, yet his mind stayed terrifyingly clear, forcing him to feel every second of agony.

The other was an icy, soul-deep cold, like being locked naked in the Antarctic blizzard, forced to eat frozen dirt while freezing from the inside out.

These two extreme forces clashed inside him, peaking every midnight. Ethan’s abdomen glowed faintly, and the torture began.

The old man had not been kind. He had passed his own living hell to Ethan. No wonder the Taoist had hidden in this mental hospital for decades—with the Dragon Pearl inside him, even a god could not live normally. Ethan now understood the peaceful smile on the Tiger Taoist’s face as he died: he was finally free from the pain.

Ethan’s stomach growled with hunger, but at that moment, the pearl flared again. He gritted his teeth and endured, imagining he was in a sauna. But the pearl’s power was a thousand, ten thousand times worse. He regretted never going to steam rooms more often—maybe he would have built up resistance.

What was so great about this treasure that every clan killed for it? It had only brought him endless suffering.

The ward was large, with many connecting rooms. Rats and wild rabbits scurried everywhere, but whenever Ethan’s power erupted, all animals fled in terror. His body temperature swung between fire and ice; his thin hospital clothes were torn to rags from his scratching and twisting.

Yet in this unbearable state, Ethan’s senses sharpened to an inhuman level.

He could hear the breathing of insects on the trees. He could hear the heartbeat of a bird sleeping on a branch far away.

And then… he heard footsteps.

Two people, moving silently, like ghosts drifting through the air. Only Ethan’s superhuman senses could detect them.

The steps stopped right outside his cell.

BOOM.

The thick blue-stone wall exploded outward.

Two men in black suits and dark sunglasses stepped in. No dust, no sound, no effort—they had shattered a wall that Ethan could not even scratch.

Ethan froze, staring.

The men ignored him at first, scanning the room like hunters searching for prey. They rushed through every chamber, then returned and stood before him.

“Where is the old Taoist?” one asked coldly.

Ethan lifted a shaking finger and pointed behind them.

The two men spun around, ready to attack—only to find nothing. They glared at Ethan, annoyed. He pointed again.

With a flick of the wrist, the nearest man sent Ethan flying into the air, as if pulled by an invisible magnet. Ethan could not resist at all. The man’s big hand wrapped around Ethan’s neck like it was holding a piece of paper.

“Stop playing games. Where is he?”

Ethan could barely breathe. He pointed toward the broken stones.

The other man waved his hand, and the rubble scattered, revealing the Tiger Taoist’s corpse.

The man holding Ethan dropped him roughly. Both men walked over and began searching the body. When they found nothing, one of them sliced open the Taoist’s chest with his bare finger—as if cutting tofu. He pulled out the heart, stomach, intestines, examining each organ carefully like a curator studying art.

Ethan vomited violently. His stomach was empty, so only bitter stomach acid came out. He had seen many cruel and crazy people in this world, but these two were on another level of perversion.

Apparently, anyone connected to the Tiger Taoist was not normal—including Ethan himself.

After tearing the body apart and finding nothing, the two men turned their gaze to Ethan.

To his stomach.

Ethan’s blood turned cold.

He turned and ran for his life.

The two men chased silently, like shadows refusing to be outrun.

Every step Ethan ran made the Dragon Pearl burn worse. Sweat poured from his forehead. A wild, scorching energy rampaged inside him. His steps unsteady, he let out a long, wolf-like howl and began to twist and dance uncontrollably.

His voice was like a flood breaking a dam, like a dying wolf mourning its fate. His body twisted faster and faster; the energy inside cycloned violently.

He forgot he was being chased. He forgot everything except the fire that wanted to melt him from the inside. White steam rose from his skin, as if he were on fire.

Just as the heat peaked, ice-cold energy exploded. Frost formed on his hair and eyebrows. Ethan screamed louder, dancing faster, trapped between heaven and hell.

Strangely, he welcomed the pain.

It numbed the emotional pain—the shame, the failure, the memory of Dana’s bleeding face. For a moment, he felt nothing but physical agony, and that was almost peaceful.

Finally, Ethan collapsed, completely exhausted.

He gasped for air, the frost on his head melting slowly.

When he opened his eyes, he was stunned.

The two men in black were lying on the ground, twitching, foaming at the mouth, unconscious.

Ethan had no idea what had happened. There was no one else there. Had they both suffered seizures at the same time?

He did not care.

This was his only chance to escape.

Staggering, he limped out of the broken cell. The sky was still dark. He dared not go toward the front gate; the staff would beat him and lock him up again. Weak as a child, he stumbled into the deep hills behind the hospital.

The mental hospital was hidden in a remote suburban mountain. There were no clear paths. Ethan just wanted to run as far as possible. To him, this hospital was now the scariest place in the world.

Nocturnal animals dashed past him. He noticed X City’s environment had clearly improved—many small animals that had once disappeared had returned. Ethan laughed bitterly. The ecosystem was thriving, but he was worried about running into a tiger or protected wild animal. If he killed one in self-defense, he would be the one arrested and punished by law.

Sometimes human laws were absurd.

In the darkness, thorns and branches cut his hands and feet. But he kept going.

After hours of painful walking, Ethan finally escaped the mountains. He saw faint lights ahead—a small village.

Daybreak came.

The village was tiny, no more than ten households. It felt completely cut off from modern civilization. Villagers were already awake; roosters crowed, dogs barked, smoke curled from chimneys. It was a peaceful, old-world scene Ethan had not known in years.

His throat was on fire. He knocked on the nearest door.

A young boy around fourteen or fifteen opened it, saw Ethan’s ragged, bloody, filthy appearance, and screamed, running back inside.

An old man came out next, staring at Ethan in shock.

“Who… are you?”

Ethan’s clothes were completely torn, his body covered in cuts and dirt, his hair matted. He could barely be recognized as human.

“Uncle, my name is Ethan. I’m a traveler. I got lost in the mountains, haven’t eaten in days. Can I please have some water? I’m not a bad person.”

He knew he could not explain the truth. A simple lie was better.

The old man studied him, saw he was harmless, and softened.

“Ah, a traveler! We almost never get visitors here. Come in, come in! You city people love coming to our poor, remote mountains. No good roads, nothing…”

He welcomed Ethan inside.

Before Ethan could finish speaking, his stomach let out a loud, embarrassing growl.

“What was that?” the old man asked.

“Sorry… it’s my stomach,” Ethan mumbled, ashamed.

“Haha! You’re starving! Sit on the kang—it’s still warm. Rest. My grandson and I will make you breakfast. We don’t have fancy food, but we’ll fill you up!”

The old man helped Ethan onto the brick bed. It was dirty, but much cleaner than Ethan was. The little boy peeked from the inner room, staring at the strange guest.

Exhausted beyond limit, Ethan closed his eyes and fell into the deepest sleep he had ever experienced. No dreams, no pain, no memories—just pure, silent rest.

He woke up to an irresistible smell of food.

Breakfast was laid out on a small table over the kang: thin millet porridge, two plates of pickled vegetables, and several dark, steamed buns. To Ethan, they smelled like the finest feast in the world.

He did not hesitate. He grabbed the buns and ate like a starved man.

He had never tasted anything so delicious. In moments, he devoured every bite on the table.

The room went silent.

Only Ethan’s chewing and swallowing could be heard.

He finally noticed the atmosphere. The old man and his grandson stared at him, dumbfounded. Ethan had eaten all their food.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Ethan asked, embarrassed.

The old man laughed loudly. “It’s fine, young man! You were starving! We can cook sweet potatoes. Are you full?”

Ethan’s face turned red. “I’m so sorry. I ate everything. Let me help you cook—”

“No way! You’re dirty, you didn’t wash your hands! I don’t trust you to cook!” the little boy shouted, sticking his tongue out.

Ethan scratched his head, laughed awkwardly, and rushed outside to wash himself properly.

Seeing his silly, embarrassed expression, the old man and grandson burst out laughing together.

For the first time since the wedding, since the shame, since the madness…

Ethan felt warm.

He felt human again.