Disease of Immortality

Inpatient Building. Inside the dim office, flesh squirmed across the walls. Despairing faces faintly surfaced from the meat, wailing without cease. From the dust-covered desk, a walkie-talkie sputtered to life. Amidst static and electrical noise, a muffled voice came through: "Hierophant, I have a matter to report." "What is it?" The middle-aged, white-haired man sitting before the desk frowned slightly, lifting his gaze. "Didn't I say not to disturb me unless it was important?" "No, it's just..." The speaker on the other end grew tense. "A few among the late arrivals seem rather restless. Should we... give them a warning?" "Those who are restless won't settle down no matter how much you coax them." The Hierophant's eyes darkened, his voice cold as he commanded, "Dispose of them as quickly as possible. Don't make trouble. Understood?" "Yes, understood." A trace of unease slipped through the trembling voice. "Only... if we keep waiting like this, I'm afraid our situation won't hold out much longer." "Rest assured, it will all be over soon." The Hierophant smiled faintly. "The sprout of calamity will soon burst forth. Guided by the Holy Spirit, this turbid, wicked world will meet its final reckoning. Blessed are the people of Yacheng; the people of Haizhou will be the first to receive deliverance and blessing!" "Praise be to the Holy Spirit!" The voice through the walkie-talkie turned fervent. "May the Holy Spirit bless you, my brother." The Hierophant smiled and cut the transmission. Outside the door, the wailing never ceased. The shrill shrieks swelled once more. "Doctor... Doctor..." "Help..." "Don't do any more, Doctor, please, no more..." "Doctor, save me..." "Die! Die! Die! You're all going to die!!!" "I want to die too... Please, kill me..." When the surging wails swept in on the wind once more, pushing open the tattered double doors revealed a grotesque hall of flesh that had long since transformed into a demonic realm. Countless squirming muscle fibers, limbs, and cancerous outgrowths adorned every ward and corridor, leading to the very center, where a bizarre mass of flesh coiled amidst myriad dark purple vessels and sinew, its human silhouette all but lost. Agonized faces rose and sank within the flesh, shrieking, blood seeping from hollow eyes, steeped in despair and anguish as they endured unending violation and torment. "How beautiful." The Hierophant bent down, stroking the root-like tendrils of flesh, his eyes growing feverish. "How could such a magnificent creature be born in this foul, wicked world? How could it earn such a generous boon?" This was none other than the Disease of Immortality, bestowed by the Nine Vices: White Manor back when Quancheng fell! At that moment, the wailing reached a new crescendo! Yet mixed within the roaring screams were cries of delight and longing. Around the mass of flesh, mutated doctors shuffled forward, thrusting pitch-black blades with all their might deep into the outgrowths. In an instant, black corruption spread, spewing a stench of rot. Even the writhing faces all around swiftly withered and shriveled. Then came a second blade, a third, a fourth... Dozens of blades crisscrossed, plunging into the flesh orb, leaving vast swathes of wither and decay that nearly reduced the endlessly proliferating growths to mush. Yet soon enough, fresh buds of flesh sprouted anew from within. The cursed life grew rampantly, rising from scorched earth and decay. "It works! It really works!" Beside the Hierophant, the Hospital Director, who had watched the entire process, was ecstatic. He slapped the man's shoulder with a swollen hand. "The patient can barely hold on! Just a little more, just a little bit more... Doctor Lian, your method really is the one that works!" "Merely doing my duty." The Hierophant, Lian Cheng, turned back with a smile. "It mostly relies on everyone's sacrifices and dedication." "Rest assured, everyone!" The Hospital Director bent down joyfully, scooping up a large chunk of rotten flesh from the floor and holding it up for all the faces to see, practically dancing with delight. "Do you see? We're on the verge of success!" No need to hesitate, no need for despair or fear! The doctors will save the patients! The doctors must save the patients! The doctors will surely save the patients! Amidst pious prayers and supplications, the Hospital Director laughed heartily, yet pus dripped like tears down his bloated, rotting face. "Everyone will definitely get to die." We will surely meet our end in peace and serenity! *** Meanwhile, in the dead-silent, cavernous archives, dust hung thick in the air. "Disease of Immortality?" Ji Jue frowned, looking down at the scrawled, almost illegible records on the paper. "Are you serious?" "Absolutely!" Tong Hua was equally pale, her fingers trembling slightly. Asking an Aether practitioner whether they could read something clearly was like asking an Ember if they fucking knew alchemy. With Tong Hua's family heritage and abilities, even if it were genuine gibberish, she could have deciphered every line of it. What was more, the case histories pieced together from various fragmented records were more than enough to corroborate the truth. An infectious disease known as... the Disease of Immortality. An ailment that had run rampant among patients before Quancheng's fall, before the entire hospital plunged into the subterranean depths. The flesh of those incurable patients proliferated, mutated, and deformed uncontrollably, yet dying proved nearly impossible. Runaway cancerous cells gradually turned them into spine-chilling monstrosities, while the ensuing agony shattered their reason and minds... until they ultimately became an ineradicable disaster. In the end, everyone mutated because of it, plunging into darkness that persisted to this very day. Unkillable, unburnable, indestructible. Even minced to pieces, it would regenerate; touching flesh would transmit the contagion; and even if reduced to ash, familiar faces would sprout anew from whatever flesh the ashes fell upon, shrieking in despair. Immortality, in the most literal sense. Yet aside from their vital spark, their sanity, their selfhood, and everything else had twisted beyond recognition, until they finally degenerated into disaster beasts. Such catastrophes had occurred more than once. Every single time, they were accompanied by large-scale taints of Vile Folly. On Hope Hospital's ranking of threatening plagues, it was listed as No. 61. It was a "blessing" bestowed upon suffering patients by the White Manor, one of the Nine Vices corresponding to the Vortex. The abomination's infection completely deformed living beings, rendering them incurable. Once transformed, the mutated flesh and spirit could never be restored; even if promptly excised, the gouged-out flesh and soul would continue to scream in endless despair. Until higher-order methods erased them simultaneously from both the physical and spiritus planes. Even now, such a horrifying threat remained concealed within the hospital. Just thinking about it gave Ji Jue a massive headache. Yet amidst the dead silence, Tong Hua's expression suddenly shifted. She made a cautionary gesture toward him and pointed outside. Then Ji Jue heard it. Heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. Amidst the faint wails, the sound was unnervingly crisp, accompanied by the dull, scraping drag of something heavy, creeping closer bit by bit, heading straight for their location. Finally, it stopped just outside the door. A clear knocking sounded—three raps, steady and calm. Then came a long, suffocating silence. An eerie chill spread through the air. Even the demonic fetus in Ji Jue's grasp, which had been straining against its chain, fell quiet and began to shiver. In the silence, there were no footsteps walking away, nor was there any deafening crash of someone breaking down the door. Only a patience that seemed willing to wait until the seas ran dry and rocks crumbled to dust. And the sheer agony of waiting. Until Ji Jue reached out and slowly pulled open the door to the archives. Under the flickering lights, an exaggerated grin stitched together with seams appeared right before his eyes. "What took you so long?" In an instant, he was right in his face. Across Director Qian's visage, blood that seemed never to dry trickled slowly along the gashes. Pitch-black eyes devoid of light stared unblinkingly at Ji Jue. Ji Jue's gaze, however, was involuntarily drawn to what the director was dragging in his hand. A mutilated corpse. A trail of blood snaked alongside the footprints all the way down the hall. In the empty air behind him, someone seemed to tug lightly at his sleeve. It was Tong Hua, concealed nearby. Her fingertip tapped against the back of Ji Jue's neck, transmitting a comparison of records to inform him: this dead person was another Celestial Chosen who had entered the Chrono Ruin at the same time as Ji Jue... Ji Jue's eyelid twitched for a fraction of a second. Pulling his lips back into a smile, he didn't answer the question directly, greeting instead: "It's so late, Director Qian. Are you still working?" "Yes, pest control." Director Qian glanced down at the corpse in his hand and shook it. "There have been so many pests lately, and more and more bad seeds hiding among us. Everyone is busy; I can't let these vermin disrupt the hospital's order..." "Indeed, one bad apple spoils the bunch," Ji Jue nodded in deep agreement. "Need any help?" "No need. This is my job. Newcomers still need a proper balance between work and rest. But speaking of which..." He paused, crimson glints surfacing in his pitch-black pupils. "What are you doing in the archives?" "Looking through archives," Ji Jue replied bluntly, without a second thought. "Searching for study materials to improve my skills. After all, even if OB-GYN doesn't have much work, that doesn't mean we can just sit on our hands and do nothing! The hospital needs us, and the patients need us too!" The more Ji Jue spoke, the more impassioned he became. In the end, he even took the initiative to grab the other's bloodstained hands. "I just want to improve so badly, Director Qian!" For a moment, Director Qian seemed slightly stunned. Then suspicion crept in. "...Is that true?" Those pitch-black eyes webbed with blood vessels leaned close, a foul stench billowing from behind sharp teeth. "I hate liars most of all." "Really, absolutely true!" Ji Jue nodded vigorously. "Although I wasn't used to it at first, I want so desperately to help patients and save lives! Director Qian, you kno—" Before he could finish, Director Qian's face drew closer and closer. It was practically pressed against his. Then it dipped downward, looking as if it were about to bury itself in the crook of Ji Jue's neck. Goosebumps erupted across Ji Jue's skin, leaving him utterly dumbfounded: *Fuck, the casting couch already? Wait, aren't they usually supposed to go after the young nurses? Surely he's not lusting after men too...* He reined himself in and held still. Fortunately, there was no physical contact. Director Qian's nostrils twitched. He seemed to be sniffing intently. Soon, he pulled back. The exaggerated smile returned to his face, looking as though he had just had a revelation. "So that's it! No wonder!" "Turns out you're sick too..." Thick blood trickled down his cheeks like tears, carrying an air of compassion, yet combined with that smile, it looked almost mocking. "To think you could empathize so deeply with others. Good, truly wonderful! A true physician must possess such benevolence!" "Keep it up. You must keep doing your best, understand?" He gave Ji Jue a final pat on the shoulder and turned to leave. Utterly bewildered and having no idea what had just transpired, Ji Jue subconsciously called after him, "Director Qian!" "Hmm?" The departing monster looked back. "W-We in OB-GYN are running short on a lot of equipment and medicine. To treat patients more effectively, I'd like to requisition some supplies." With that, Ji Jue pulled a pre-filled requisition form from his pocket and offered it over, his expression shy and bashful, like an awkward young junior who struggled to speak up. "Mm, very good, all good. As for pharmaceuticals, the Dispensary is out right now, so who knows how much is left. And this equipment... Forget it, just go to the Storehouse and fetch them yourself." After glancing at the top of the form, Director Qian looked away. Dropping the corpse, he pressed a bloody thumb onto the paper, leaving an imprint like a signature and authorization. "Old Li is getting on in years and isn't the easiest to talk to. Remember to bring a gift," he reminded in parting. "When people get old, they tend to get forgetful. Don't take it personally." "Understood." Ji Jue nodded, smiling and waving as he watched Director Qian's figure disappear down the hall. After a long while, he let out a protracted breath. Following Tong Hua's silent prompt, he looked down at the winding blood trail on the floor, and further back toward where it came from—the corner at the end of the corridor... He couldn't help cocking his head slightly. Footprints? Whose? "Someone was following us just now," Tong Hua said from her invisible vantage point beside him. "Three of them. Outsider Celestial Chosen. They were looking to kill." "...What a coincidence." After a moment of contemplation, Ji Jue suddenly chuckled. "We haven't even met face-to-face yet. How did we end up thinking of the exact same thing?"