Chapter Eight: Hospital Tales (Part Five)

“Cold, so cold,” Luo Hanya felt as if he were someone dressed for summer suddenly thrust into the polar regions. His face was tinged with blue from the chill, his limbs growing increasingly numb and unresponsive, his head heavy and dazed, on the verge of collapse. As the cold intensified, Luo Hanya finally realized he could not endure any longer. He tried to retreat, but discovered there was no trace of the hospital; all around him snow was falling, and the concrete road he had just walked upon had become a snowy wasteland. Trapped in this desperate situation, despair welled up within him. He knew all too well that in such circumstances, despair meant surrendering his life—but what else could he do?

Faced with the endless snow, he could think of no solution. He wondered whether all of this was just an illusion, but the chain of his life force slowly turning red dispelled any such hope. A biting wind followed by another, carrying icy snow pellets, battered him. Luo Hanya could no longer feel the bone-deep chill; his body was beyond his control, and even his consciousness grew hazy.

“How could this happen? Does this script not offer a single chance for survival? What a damned game…” With that final complaint, Luo Hanya collapsed into the snow, in a martyr’s posture.

Time passed—perhaps a day, perhaps longer. For Luo Hanya, it felt like an eternity. At last, his consciousness showed signs of revival, and he seemed to hear a voice within him, shouting desperately, “Wake up, wake up! How can you fall here? Have you forgotten your promise to Shanshan? Wake up!”

“Ah!” Luo Hanya, as though waking from a nightmare, suddenly sat up from the ground, his forehead drenched in cold sweat, gasping for breath.

“You’re awake.” A steady, deep voice rich with magnetism sounded at his side.

Only then did Luo Hanya realize someone else was present. He turned his head and saw an elderly man in black sitting beside him.

The man appeared to be in his fifties or sixties, with frosted temples and a face lined with wrinkles, though his physique was remarkably robust. The hands exposed beyond his black robe were as fair as those of a youth. Sitting upright, the old man’s sharp gaze seemed to pierce all illusions.

Luo Hanya guessed this man had saved him and hurriedly expressed his gratitude, “Thank you, sir, for saving me. Such kindness deserves a lifetime of repayment.”

“Hahaha, boy, do you think an old man like me needs anything from you?” The elder laughed heartily and asked, “Do you know where you are?”

“I do not, sir. I have wandered here by accident. Could you tell me what this place is?” Luo Hanya’s heart sank, wondering if he had trespassed into some forbidden ground, but his tone remained composed.

“Boy, this is the Frozen Hell. With your meager spiritual power, how could you venture here?” The old man in black looked at Luo Hanya in surprise, curiosity in his voice.

“My name is Han Crow Luo. I came searching for the Terror Eater and accidentally arrived here. I was originally in a hospital, but somehow found myself in Frozen Hell, unable to withstand the cold and fainted,” Luo Hanya recounted the events that had led him here.

“Han Crow Luo, you say? You were searching for the Terror Eater? Do you know that the Terror Eater is a great demon? Someone as weak as you wouldn’t even fill the gap between its teeth,” the old man said with unvarnished amusement.

“Is that demon really so powerful?” Luo Hanya asked instinctively.

“Powerful? Hah! Demons are ranked in ten tiers. The sixth, seventh, and eighth tiers are great demons; the Terror Eater is an eighth-tier great demon, a high-ranking existence even in Frozen Hell. Even the weakest first-tier demon can cause large-scale disasters in the human world. Do you think it’s strong?” The elder’s face was full of mockery.

“But if it’s so powerful, why would it create a space in a hospital, feeding on humans trapped in nightmares?” Luo Hanya asked incredulously.

“Wait, you say it’s in a hospital? Did you also encounter a Sleep Spirit?” The old man's eyes lit up, questioning urgently.

“Yes, and I was lucky enough to eliminate one—” Before Luo Hanya could finish, the old man interrupted him, smiling broadly. “Boy, you really are my lucky star.”

The old man gently tapped Luo Hanya’s brow, and a drop of blood flew out from his forehead. The elder formed a seal with his hand and intoned, “Guide of the Path Home, rise!”

The blood transformed into a red line and shot off in a particular direction. “What’s going on?” Luo Hanya asked, bewildered.

The elder casually lifted Luo Hanya, pursuing the Guide of the Path Home while explaining, “Boy, though the Terror Eater is a high-ranking being in Frozen Hell, it has many enemies here. Every ten thousand years, when it lays eggs, it seeks a low-level plane, extracts a segment of space-time, and places its egg within it, scattering sleep spirits to aid its growth. When its offspring outgrows the juvenile stage, the Terror Eater retrieves its progeny—or more accurately, its avatar—back to Frozen Hell to merge and strengthen itself. What you encountered was likely the egg of the Terror Eater, and your sudden appearance in Frozen Hell was probably triggered by you unintentionally touching the spatial mark left by the demon.”

“Sir, do you have a grudge against the Terror Eater?” Luo Hanya seemed to grasp something from the elder’s words and asked.

“Hmph, I have a feud with it that can never be reconciled. I became a demon thanks to its machinations.” The old man’s eyes blazed with hatred, then he laughed wildly, like a madman. “It brought disaster upon itself. Ever since it provoked me, not a single avatar has returned to it, hahahaha.”

Luo Hanya stared at the elder in shock, swallowing hard, his heart sinking. “I never expected I’d let the wolf into the house!”

“Hey, boy, what are you afraid of? Don’t worry, before I became a demon, I was a demon hunter. I became a demon because the Terror Eater framed me, but I won’t harm humans,” the old man said, seeing through Luo Hanya’s inner turmoil, his voice tinged with amusement.

Luo Hanya scratched his head awkwardly, ceasing his wild imaginings, and allowed himself to be carried along by the elder.

Soon, the old man brought Luo Hanya beneath the Guide of the Path Home, which floated quietly in the air, unmoving.

“Guide of the Path Home, return,” the old man intoned, and the guide reverted to a drop of blood, which he directed back into Luo Hanya’s brow.

The system prompt sounded again.

Congratulations, you have obtained Demon’s Blood.