WTNL Chapter 136

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Ping An Asylum
Chapter 136: No. 043, Intellectual Disability

It seems that this instance was some kind of mental hospital.

The straitjacket was impossible to escape from within, and Wen Jianyan quickly gave up trying.

He turned his head to look outside the iron bars.

Within his line of sight, it was pitch black, filled with foul odors and meaningless noises, as the bus swayed forward in the night, completely obscured from view.

Wen Jianyan withdrew his gaze and looked around inside the bus.

Due to his body and neck being securely fastened, his field of vision was very narrow; he was unable to see the entire bus, nor could he discern which of them were his teammates.

He thought that Blond would be the easiest to identify, but…

Wen Jianyan scanned the various colored heads in the distance and couldn’t help but sigh.

Unexpectedly, on this vehicle, the number of people with black hair was the lowest.

As time passed and the engine’s vibrations subsided, the bus slowly came to a stop, and the doors opened.

Laughter, muttering, cursing, and shouting filled the air as patients dressed in straitjackets were dragged up from their seats one by one, as if they were livestock being herded off the bus.

Wen Jianyan followed the crowd toward the lower part of the bus.

In the thick, ink-like darkness, an old, grayish-white building appeared before his eyes. It was a pointed Gothic structure with a huge cross on top, looking quite old and withered. The area was large, and the peeling walls were covered in ivy. Each window appeared particularly narrow, sealed off by mottled iron bars.

Soon, the mental patients were herded into the building.

Wen Jianyan was pushed forward, analyzing the current situation rapidly in his mind as he walked. 

This instance was quite different from the previous ones.

Firstly, as mental patients, their range of movement and contact with objects were severely restricted, making it nearly impossible to use a phone like in the previous instances.

In other words, whether it was point redemption or the instance form, there could be some significant changes.

Through the entrance, the hall was spacious and eerie, with a discomforting scent of disinfectant permeating the air.

Not far away, one could see a long, dark corridor, and at the end of the corridor was an activity room.

Lively and cheerful music drifted out from between the iron bars, and through the narrow gaps, one could see many figures wearing blue and white hospital gowns.

Some people stood tightly against the iron bars, their facial features deeply distorted and crazy eyes fixed on the slowly advancing queue, emitting eerie laughter.

“Damn, this is too creepy.” 

An anchor walking beside Wen Jianyan spoke, retracting his gaze with lingering fear.

Wen Jianyan glanced at him without changing his expression.

Based on what he had observed so far, there were quite a few anchors in this instance. Among the mental patients who had been transported from the bus this time, anchors occupied almost half of them; otherwise, the queue wouldn’t have proceeded so smoothly.

A person who appeared to be the head nurse came out. Her face was flat and lifeless, and her eyes were devoid of expression. She quickly scanned the new patients entering the facility and said, “First, take them for cleaning; they’ll be registered after they’re done.”

“Cleaning? Are they planning to make us take a shower?” muttered one of the anchors.

“It seems so.”

Wen Jianyan: “…”

He had an ominous premonition.

The patients in straitjackets were stripped of their clothes in batches and forcefully pushed into the bathroom.

The bathroom had peeling tiles, flowing dirty water on the floor, and poor facilities. The partitions were so narrow that it was almost impossible to turn around. Ice-cold water was pumped out from high-pressure nozzles, and the attendants were rough and brutal in their cleaning.

Wen Jianyan clenched his teeth, slightly turning his head to endure the painful sensation of the strong water jet washing over his skin.

The intense stream of water left torturous red marks on his fair skin, and droplets dripped from his wet black hair, making him look especially disheveled.

In the “Integrity First” live broadcast room:

[!!!”]

[Oh my god, this instance… it’s really taking it to the extreme!!]

[Damn, every time this happens, I start to hate the harmony system of the Nightmare!]

[Why can’t the camera go lower, why?!]

After the crude “cleaning,” everyone was assigned blue and white striped mental hospital uniforms. Wen Jianyan quickly put it on and skillfully tucked a small piece of mirror fragment into a crevice of his clothes. Although he was wearing a straitjacket on the outside, the clothes underneath were the ones the anchors were wearing when they entered the instance.

When his straitjacket was removed, Wen Jianyan quickly retrieved the mirror fragment from his pocket and discreetly concealed it in the palm of his hand. 

After all, this item couldn’t be stored in the system backpack, and if he lost it, there would be no way to recover it.

The wet patients lined up and shivered as they walked out of the washroom under the supervision of attendants holding electric batons.

Wen Jianyan took the opportunity to glance around.

Soon, two familiar figures appeared in his line of sight.

The closest one to him was Blond, whose bright blond hair had turned brown after getting wet and was clinging to his face. He looked like a pitiful, drenched dog.

Blond had the best eyesight, and it was evident that he had spotted Wen Jianyan earlier. When he saw Wen Jianyan looking in his direction, his eyes lit up. If it weren’t for a burly attendant standing right beside him, Wen Jianyan had no doubt that Blond would have jumped up and waved to him.

And about seven to eight meters behind Blond…

Was Su Cheng.

He kept his head down, moving slowly within the queue, his wet hair covering his pale face, making it hard to discern his expression.

Wen Jianyan discreetly furrowed his brow.

Just now, the head nurse with a folder reappeared in front of everyone.

As she walked, she recorded information in her folder and, in a robotic tone, recited each person’s number. The attendants behind her distributed wristbands representing the assigned numbers to each patient.

“…Number 039, Paranoid Schizophrenia.”

“…Number 040, Gender Dysphoria.”

“…Number 041, Bipolar Disorder.”

“…Number 043…”

The nurse paused in front of Wen Jianyan. Her cold and expressionless gaze lingered on him for a moment, and she said, “Intellectual Disability.”

Wen Jianyan: “…”

In the “Integrity First” live broadcast room:

[Hahaha!]

[This is hilarious! They’ve got him labeled as intellectually disabled!]

[Hahaha, I strongly suspect the instance is taking revenge on him!]

[LMAO, bewildered!]

A nurse approached and placed a paper wristband on Wen Jianyan’s wrist, displaying his number and mental illness.

The moment the wristband was put on, a familiar system sound echoed in Wen Jianyan’s ears:

【Welcome, anchor, to the A-level instance “Ping An Mental Asylum”. This instance falls under the point accumulation type, and it is not time-limited!】

Point accumulation type?

Wen Jianyan was momentarily puzzled, searching his memories for related information. 

Although he hadn’t experienced this type of instance before, he had a general understanding of how this type of instance worked through his recent research.

In this type of instance, random tasks were assigned with no distinction between main and side tasks, but the point rewards varied. After completing tasks, points would accumulate, and once a certain point threshold was reached, the instance would automatically be completed.

Choosing easier tasks meant a slower completion rate while selecting more challenging tasks would lead to faster progress.

【When the accumulated points reach 10,000, the instance will be automatically cleared.】

The paper wristband flashed, displaying several lines of densely packed small text:

[Identity Card]

Name: Wen Jianyan
Age: 24
Occupation: Nightmare Live Anchor
Relevant Plot: Admitted to Ping An Mental Asylum for treatment due to intellectual disability

【Survival time allocation completed.】

The blood-red countdown began: [5:00:00]

The next second, Wen Jianyan saw a small task panel appear at the edge of his vision.

【Primary task released: Proceed to your assigned room.】

As an intellectually disabled patient with little perceived threat, Wen Jianyan was not put back into a straitjacket. He quietly followed the queue and arrived at a single room on the third floor.

“Creak—”

The rusty iron door closed behind Wen Jianyan with a loud “clang.”

The moment he stepped into the room, he heard the familiar system notification sound:

【Ding! Congratulations, anchor, for completing the mission: Proceed to your assigned room.
Reward: 200 points】

Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes, deep in thought. The primary mission was completed quickly, but at this point accumulation rate, it would take who knows how long to accumulate ten thousand points.

After completing the first task, the task panel updated again:

【Primary task released: Rest in the room overnight.】

【Intermediate task released: Rest in the solitary confinement room overnight.】

At that moment, Wen Jianyan heard a commotion coming from outside through the narrow window on the door. It seemed like a mental patient had gone mad, attempting to wrestle an electric baton from one of the attendants, causing chaos in the corridor.

Shouting, laughter, footsteps, and screams all merged together, fermenting in the dim and narrow corridor.

“Zzzzzzz—”

The sound of electric shocks echoed.

The trouble-making mental patient’s body went limp, collapsing to the floor. At the sight of the person’s face, Wen Jianyan’s heart tightened.

The person trying to snatch the weapon from the attendant…

Was none other than Su Cheng!

Su Cheng’s eyes rolled back, his mouth twisted, and he received a sedative injection in the neck, causing him to slump to the ground.

“Take him to the solitary confinement room.” 

The head nurse ordered, straightening her disheveled clothes coldly.

Wen Jianyan clenched his teeth. This time, he was absolutely certain it was the doing of the Oracle Guild—letting anchors enter the instance and then making them act recklessly. To kill someone, there was no simpler or quicker method.

“Hey, hey!”

Wen Jianyan used his palm to forcefully strike the iron door, trying to attract their attention.

He kicked the door with his leg, displaying a crazily aggressive side, hoping to get himself locked up as well. “I’m not crazy! If you dare, take me away too!”

“Clang!”

The attendant struck the door with the end of the electric baton, “Quiet down.”

They continued to carry the limp Su Cheng away.

Wen Jianyan stared at their receding figures and gritted his teeth angrily.

Damn it, this couldn’t continue. With Su Cheng’s current condition, if he was taken to the solitary confinement room, he would almost certainly die.

At that moment, the image he had seen earlier flashed through his mind…

The cross hanging in the center of the lobby.

The Christian decoration hanging from the neck of an attendant.

“Number 040, Gender Dysphoria.”

When the nurse uttered these words, a clear hint of disgust briefly crossed her otherwise stoic face.

Wen Jianyan narrowed his eyes.

He knew that in the previous century, homosexuality had been referred to as “Gender Dysphoria” for a period and categorized as a mental illness.

After a brief silence, he raised his voice again, “Hey, the handsome guy with black hair in front, your butt is really perky; I bet you’re packaged down there too, huh?”

The attendant’s steps faltered, and they turned to look in his direction, their expressions twisted with disgust.

This was getting interesting.

A mischievous grin played across Wen Jianyan’s lips.

“Don’t you know? I like men.” 

Wen Jianyan leaned his entire body against the iron door, pressing his cheek against the cold metal bars. The ends of his eyes were raised, and his amber eyes shone amidst the light and shadow: “Do you want to come in and have some fun?”

“Bang.”

The limp Su Cheng was roughly thrown to the ground, and two attendants approached with stern expressions. They raised their electric batons and jabbed them through the bars.

“Shut up unless you want to taste the pain…” one of them warned.

“Can’t you understand what I’m saying?” 

 The young man laughed.

He raised his eyes, circled his slender index finger and thumb, and slid up and down the electric baton suggestively.

“Then let me explain it clearly.”

Wen Jianyan leaned over, his eyes burning with fire, which was both temptation and provocation.

His voice was soft, and his words were clear but rude to the point of being vulgar: “I like men’s c*cks and butts.”


The author has something to say: 

“I have a way to provoke people.”

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