Chapter 18 Human Nature

The last person was Manager Wu Dahai.

Among them, he was the eldest and the heaviest, his middle-aged physique burdened by years of indulgence. Naturally, his stamina was lacking.

Whether out of desperation or calculated malice, Wu Dahai, in his frantic escape, seized the arm of the person ahead of him and yanked them backward with all his might, using the momentum to propel himself forward.

The unfortunate soul he dragged stumbled violently, nearly falling. In that instant, they became the last in line.

Shing!

A silver arc flashed through the dim corridor.

The one whom Wu Dahai had sacrificed was decapitated in an instant, their head severed cleanly from their body before they could even utter a scream.

Fang Xiu, witnessing the scene, came to a halt. He idly stroked his thigh twice more before resuming his run, utterly unperturbed by the thought of falling behind. Young and vigorous, with a body honed by regular exercise, he was at the prime of his physical prowess.

He had no concrete method to awaken his spiritual senses, so he could only attempt these uncertain, seemingly futile gestures.

The corridor stretched endlessly. The group ran for a full minute before finally reaching its terminus, where an open space greeted them.

It was a dining hall.

Spacious and deserted, it was filled with aging tables and chairs. In the corners, a few stoves and several large, blackened cauldrons stood in eerie silence.

Wang Ziteng's face lit up with elation. "There must be an exit to the outside in the dining hall!"

The words sent a wave of excitement through the group. Ignoring the unsettling atmosphere of the place, their eyes swept across the room until they spotted a door on the far left side. Without hesitation, they bolted toward it.

Fang Xiu, as always, maintained his position near the back of the group, his pace unhurried, his gaze calmly surveying the surroundings.

Beyond the door lay another narrow, dimly lit corridor—this one even darker than the last. The overhead fluorescent tubes flickered ominously, as if on the verge of extinguishing at any moment.

No one cared about their surroundings. All they desired was to escape.

The corridor ended abruptly. Wang Ziteng, who led the way, turned pale. "It's a dead end!"

The group was met with a solid wall.

It defied all logic. In Wang Ziteng's understanding, a dining hall—a place meant to accommodate a crowd—should always have an emergency exit, a passage leading to the outside. How could it simply end here?

Was the entire hospital a sealed fortress, never meant to let anyone leave?

"Look! There's a door!" someone suddenly exclaimed.

At the far right of the dead-end corridor, a narrow wooden door stood—so narrow it barely allowed a single person to pass through. Its once-painted surface had long since faded, and a small glass window adorned its upper half.

Seeing the door, no one wasted time deliberating. They shoved it open and rushed inside. Whatever lay beyond, it was surely better than staying outside with the lurking terror.

Fortunately, the room was devoid of any monstrous presence.

It was a cramped storage space, cluttered with brooms, mops, and worn-out furniture.

With all five of them crammed inside, there was barely any room to stand.

"D*mn it! It's a d*mn supply closet! There's no way out!" Wang Ziteng cursed, his composure shattered.

The others shared his despair.

A dead end.

They had trapped themselves, sealed in a coffin of their own making.

Had they chosen the wrong path?

Fang Xiu, unfazed, thought to himself: Next time, I'll take the left path.

There was no urgency in his demeanor, for to him, this was merely a trial run, a minor misstep on the path to the correct answer.

He considered his options. The most efficient course of action would be to reset—to seek out the monstrous doctor and die, triggering his return to an earlier point.

There was no time to turn back. The countdown had already begun. Two minutes had passed, leaving only one before the doctor would strike again. Running back now would be an act of suicide, delivering himself straight into her grasp.

Sacrificing someone to buy time for the rest was an option—but an ineffective one.

Including himself, only five remained. No one knew how much further they had to run, how many more lives the road ahead would demand.

Just as Fang Xiu was preparing to step outside and embrace death on his own terms, Wang Ziteng's furious voice rang out.

"This is all your d*mn fault, Fang Xiu! If you hadn't chosen the wrong path, we wouldn't be trapped here!"

"That's right!" Wu Dahai echoed, his face twisted with anger. "If you didn't know which way to go, why didn't you discuss it with us first? Why did you have to make the decision alone?"

The only other remaining survivor, aside from Zhao Hao, said nothing, but the reproach in his eyes was evident.

Fang Xiu's lips curled slightly.

He rarely smiled—only in moments of extreme exhilaration, usually when facing the supernatural.

Yet, in this instant, as he looked at Wang Ziteng and the others, he found himself amused.

Zhao Hao stepped forward, his voice filled with rage. "The hell is wrong with you people? No one forced you to follow him! You asked for his opinion, he made a choice, and now that it's gone wrong, you blame him? If you're so d*mn smart, why didn't you pick a path yourselves?"

"We may not be smart, but at least we wouldn't have acted recklessly like him!" Wu Dahai shot back, his voice dripping with indignation. "If he didn't know the way, he should have consulted all of us! We trusted him, and he led us to our doom! He betrayed that trust and condemned us all!"

A manager's cunning was not to be underestimated. With a few well-placed words, Wu Dahai silenced Zhao Hao, leaving him speechless.

"Enough!" Wang Ziteng barked, cutting through the rising tension. "What matters now is survival."

His voice lowered, his tone adopting a calculated edge. "The entity only kills one person at a time. After each kill, it grants us a brief window of safety—two to three minutes.

"There's only one way out of this. We must choose someone to act as bait, to lure the creature away while the rest of us escape."

The room fell into an eerie silence.

Even a fool could see that this was not a distraction—it was a death sentence. One life, sacrificed so the others could flee.

Wang Ziteng's eyes flickered with subtle satisfaction as he surveyed their hesitant expressions.

He had planned this from the start.

By turning the blame on Fang Xiu earlier, he had planted the seeds of resentment in their hearts. Now, when the moment of decision came, the choice of who to sacrifice was already obvious.

If they had to choose someone to die, who better than the one responsible for their predicament?

He understood human nature well. Panic made people seek a scapegoat. Once resentment festered, the crowd would follow the path of least resistance.

If he had waited, someone might have suggested he be the one to die—a wealthy heir, a man of privilege. But by striking first, he dictated the narrative.

And so, just as the tension reached its peak, Wang Ziteng acted.

With sudden force, he shoved Fang Xiu toward the door.

"He's the reason we're here!" Wang Ziteng shouted. "He led us into a dead end—he should be the one to atone! Help me push him out!"

The others hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances.

They did not wish to die—but to save themselves at the cost of another's life? That was a line not easily crossed.

"Let him go!" Zhao Hao roared, charging at Wang Ziteng in fury.

Wang Ziteng's face twisted in panic. "Wu Dahai! What the hell are you waiting for? Help me!"

His command was sharp and direct, aimed at a single person.

When seeking assistance, never ask vaguely—always call someone by name.

Never say, "Can someone help me?" Say, "Wu Dahai, help me now."

The effectiveness of such a tactic was something Wang Ziteng understood all too well.

Even in a moment of chaos, he played the game of manipulation with precision.