Chapter 26 (1/2): Mental Health Center

Song Nanxing woke up choking for air.

The foul, fishy gas released by the Frog-headed People seemed to still linger in his nose; every breath made him dizzy and nauseous. Song Nanxing frowned tightly, shaking his head to clear the haze, trying to prop himself up, only to find his body unable to move.

His limbs were bound by something, and a warm, slick object slowly slid across his palm.

The not-so-unfamiliar sensation made Song Nanxing jolt awake, eyes snapping open to see the familiar blue patterns before him.

Twisted, irregular blue markings flowed above him like a slow-moving blue stream in the night. But if one looked closely, they’d see that darkness was actually a dense net woven from countless tentacles of varying thicknesses.

It was like a spherical cocoon, trapping him inside.

The tentacles seemed to sense he had woken up. A thinner one climbed up along his waist, its smooth tip winding and rubbing around his neck.

Song Nanxing stiffened, not daring to move recklessly, unable to comprehend why the tentacles—previously only appearing in the mist—had suddenly shown up in the hospital. His last memory was of a Frog-headed Person dragging its umbilical cord as it walked toward him…

The tentacle, seeing him unmoving, slowly brushed its pointed tip along his cheek.

He remembered these tentacles as cold and slippery, their surface secreting clammy mucus that made one’s skin crawl. But this time, something was different. The tentacles were actually warmer than a human’s body, and their surface was dry and slick, not coated in any discomforting mucus. The dry, smooth tip kept gliding and curling around his cheek and neck, not exerting much force, carrying a disturbingly gentle, almost affectionate touch—it felt extremely strange.

Song Nanxing dared not act rashly, only pursed his lips to endure it, his mind racing for a way to escape.

The tentacle’s initial probing met no resistance and grew bolder.

The slick tip brushed faintly over Song Nanxing’s lips. His full lips were dry and pale from dehydration, but still soft to the touch, a little warmer than his skin.

As the tentacle rolled gently over them, his lips were pressed inward, then quickly bounced back.

It seemed to have discovered a new amusement, repeatedly and tirelessly brushing across Song Nanxing’s lips.

Song Nanxing noticed its bizarre behavior, but couldn’t figure out its intent—until soon, he realized what it wanted to do.

The tentacle began trying to pry his lips open and force its way into his mouth.

The sensation was revolting. In a flash, Song Nanxing’s mind was flooded with hundreds of gory scenes from horror movies.

A strange tentacle trying to crawl into your mouth—there was no need to guess how that would end.

Song Nanxing refused to sit still and await his doom.

Calmly, he slipped his hand into his pocket and felt for the folding knife.

The tentacles seemed unaware of his subtle movement, the tip repeatedly sliding between his lips, but Song Nanxing kept his mouth tightly shut, preventing it from getting in for the moment.

His eyes glinted coldly in the darkness. Once he had determined his escape route, he made a risky decision—he actively parted his lips.

Given permission, the tentacle slid joyfully into his mouth. Song Nanxing endured the nausea, counting the timing in his mind.

When the tip of the tentacle was fully inside his mouth, his eyes turned icy cold. He bit down with all his strength—

The counterattack went even more smoothly than he expected. He had thought he might not be able to bite through the bizarre tentacle in one go, but in reality, it took little effort to sever the tip.

The tentacle jerked back as if shocked or in pain, yanking itself free. Its root began to writhe and twitch violently, spurting out white liquid in bursts.

Some splattered onto Song Nanxing’s face, and he caught a whiff of its strange, fishy odor.

But he had no time to dwell on the tentacle’s odd behavior. In the darkness, his gaze was cold and steady as he flicked open the folding knife. The thin, sharp blade stabbed precisely into the most vulnerable soft flesh at the center of the tentacle’s sucker, then sliced downward.

Blue blood spurted out, and the intertwined tentacles convulsed and trembled violently. The previously impenetrable prison now had a gap.

Song Nanxing seized the opportunity and slipped out.

Outside was the familiar hospital consultation room; it seemed the tentacles hadn’t dragged him far.

Clutching the knife, Song Nanxing ran forward desperately without looking back.

But for some reason, those strange tentacles didn’t chase him. Only after confirming there was no pursuit did he stop, panting for breath.

A strange sweet, fishy taste lingered in his mouth. Only then did Song Nanxing realize he had been clenching his teeth the whole time, and the severed piece of tentacle was still in his mouth.

Song Nanxing: “…….”

Expressionless, he spat out the tentacle along with the sweet, fishy blue blood.

Sticky liquid dripped down his cheek. He wiped his face with his hand, and seeing the white residue in his palm, his face turned faintly green.

He remembered: after raising the Little Octopus, he had read up on octopus facts. One article mentioned that octopuses have a Chenghua Arm used for reproduction, with a groove along the ventral side and no suckers on the inside…

The tentacle that had just wrapped around him also had no suckers on the inside.

Song Nanxing: “……”

Expressionless, he thought, if there was a way, he’d definitely chop all those tentacles off next time.

*****

Song Nanxing pulled himself together, checked the time on his phone, and headed for the consultation room to the west.

He remembered that before he lost consciousness, the young woman’s belly had been hugely swollen, her umbilical cord still attached to a Frog-headed Person larva. It had been half an hour since he fainted—he hoped the frog eggs in her belly hadn’t hatched yet.

And that Frog-headed Person larva… it was clearly much more intelligent and human-like than the other monsters, even capable of disguise and ambush.

Song Nanxing gripped his knife and cautiously approached the last consultation room, only to find a large and small pile of bloody sludge outside.

Judging by the shape, it should be the young woman who had been parasitized and the Frog-headed Person larva.

On this night of utter collapse, there was finally some not-so-bad news.

Song Nanxing wiped his face and prepared to go upstairs to check on Zhou Xuan. The stairwell was quiet now. He wondered how Zhou Xuan was doing after being gone so long.

Just as he reached the elevator, sirens wailed at the main entrance.

Two police cars screeched to a halt at the Community Hospital entrance, and over a dozen officers in metallic protective suits, armed to the teeth, got out.

A powerful flashlight shone on Song Nanxing. He raised his hands and shouted, “There are still Polluted Monsters on the second floor! Zhou Xuan from the Operations Team is upstairs!”

The lead officer stepped forward, scanning him repeatedly with a detector before showing his credentials and asking, “I’m Xin Zechuan from Special Operations Bureau Group Six. Chu Captain from the Containment Center sent us to support Zhou Xuan. She reported that this hospital suffered severe contamination, with a large gathering of Polluted Monsters.”

His gaze swept the empty first floor and settled on Song Nanxing, who was covered in blood: “So what’s the situation now?”

Song Nanxing gave a complicated look: “We found that all those monsters had unhatched frog eggs in their bellies. Zhou Xuan was worried that if the eggs hatched, the contamination would spread further, so he lured them all to the second floor and trapped them. I came down because I heard someone calling for help, but that person had already been parasitized and controlled by a monster…” He hesitated, then added honestly, “Most of the contaminated people here are delirious and move slowly, but the Frog-headed Person larva I encountered seemed intelligent.”

Xin Zechuan, however, didn’t look too surprised. He nodded at Song Nanxing and waved to the others, “Split into three teams—head upstairs.”

Song Nanxing followed Xin Zechuan up the stairs.

The stairs to the second floor were covered in drifting strands of broken Spider Silk, evidence of a fierce battle. Further up, the stairwell was completely blocked by thick webs.

Xin Zechuan and a few teammates spent some time clearing part of the especially tough webs with flame guns and military knives, barely making a passage wide enough for one person.

Xin Zechuan led his team out first. Song Nanxing brought up the rear. Just as he crawled out and set foot on the second floor, he heard a series of sharp inhalations.

Song Nanxing looked up toward the sound and saw the ceiling was covered with thick webs. From the webs hung thick, resilient strands of Spider Silk, each suspending a cocoon about half as tall as a person. These cocoons swayed in the corridor’s air, some of them thrashing violently as something inside struggled.

Spider-formed Zhou Xuan crawled over from the far side of the corridor ceiling. His once gentle, steady eyes now held a cold, inhuman indifference.

He hung upside down from the ceiling, his huge abdomen raised, eyes cold and scrutinizing as he stared down at them.

Xin Zechuan and the others were shocked at his appearance but managed to stay calm.

Xin Zechuan cautiously took a step forward: “Zhou Xuan? Chu Captain sent me to support you.”

Zhou Xuan’s eyes flicked, and he jumped down from the ceiling, upper body leaning forward and abdomen raised, eight spider legs moving slowly in a lofty, menacing stance. After a moment, the coldness in his eyes faded, and he managed a stiff smile: “You came a bit late. I’ve already taken care of it.”

Xin Zechuan breathed a sigh of relief at his return to normal, though he looked helpless: “Nothing we could do—there really weren’t enough people. Otherwise, Chu Captain wouldn’t have sent us here.”

They were all ordinary people. Against these monsters with bizarre abilities, they could only rely on firearms and their training, fighting while constantly worrying about contamination.

If manpower hadn’t been so tight, Chu Yan wouldn’t have sent them to support the hospital.

That could only mean Chu Yan was dealing with an even trickier situation.

Zhou Xuan sighed, “There are two ordinary people in the consultation room over there showing contamination symptoms. They need to be sent to the Mental Health Center immediately.”

Xin Zechuan nodded: “Go get them out. We’ll finish clearing the site and take you over.”