Xiao Cheng walked along the passageway for nearly fifteen minutes, but still couldn't see the end. The flashlight's beam grew dimmer and dimmer, finally going out quietly and never lighting up again.

At least it can be used as a weapon.

She comforted herself, casually put the flashlight into her pocket, and continued forward, feeling her way along the walls on both sides.

At the end of the passageway was another wooden door, slightly ajar, letting out a faint light.

Xiao Cheng moved closer and peered through the crack in the door.

This appears to be an archive room. There is no one inside. Within sight are several rows of wooden cabinets, with many file folders neatly stacked on them.

She carefully pushed open the door and walked in quietly.

The archives room was small, but it was very clean. A light bulb hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly and emitting a soft glow.

The wooden cabinet occupied most of the space, with a desk in the remaining area. On the desk was a stack of medical reports and a cup of still-warm tea, indicating that the person sitting there had just left.

Xiao Cheng walked over and flipped through the medical records. They were for all five players. Her own record was pulled out and set aside, marked in red with the words "Under Treatment" written on it.

The wooden cabinet was filled with patient files, neatly organized by year.

She randomly picked one out; it was about a boy around ten years old with mild schizophrenia, who recovered well. Attached to the file was a death report; the boy had ultimately committed suicide.

At the end of the death report, three words were written in red pen: Why?

The final question mark was repeatedly thickened and emphasized, almost tearing the paper.

Xiao Cheng didn't know why, but she put the file back with some confusion, then pulled out another one. The same death report, the same suicide, and each report ended with the heavy question, "Why?"

The same was true for the other reports, and as time went on, the red pen handwriting became increasingly illegible and erratic, until the last report, when the handwriting became neat again and the question marks were crossed out with a black pen.

Clearly, the person who wrote the words has already found the answer.

These files left Xiao Cheng completely bewildered. Could they be related to the truth the gardener was looking for?

Before she could come up with a solution, a series of slow, drawn-out footsteps suddenly came from the passageway outside. The sound grew closer and closer, finally stopping at the doorway.

Xiao Cheng held her breath, quickly walked to the door, stood against the wall, took out the flashlight from her pocket, and raised it high, ready to fire.

The door was slowly pushed open, and a pale, bony hand rested on the edge of the doorframe. Immediately afterward, a huge head poked its head in, its thick, bulbous nose twitching twice with a hissing sound.

Xiao Cheng calmly lowered her arm and slowly backed away on tiptoe.

This strange person has no eyes; to be precise, their eyelids have been burned and melted, causing their skin to stick together and form two hideous scars.

He didn't smell anything unusual, so he visibly relaxed and slowly walked into the archives with dragging steps.

Xiao Cheng noticed something hanging around his neck—a metal dog tag with the words "Gardener" printed on it.

The gardener was clearly not the owner of the archives. He carried a rag and a bucket, groped his way to the wooden cabinet, and began to wipe it meticulously.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Xiao Cheng tiptoed to the door, took a deep breath, pulled open the wooden door, and rushed out.

A slight creak came from the hinges of the door, but the gardener clearly heard it. He threw down the rag and roared angrily at the door.

The entire passageway shook violently at his shout, and dust fell from the ceiling, covering Xiao Cheng from head to toe.

She choked violently and coughed uncontrollably as she ran, her heart pounding faster and faster.

The gardener didn't pursue her, but this only meant an even greater crisis. The sound of insects flapping their wings echoed through the passageway, and behind her, a thick fog, darker than darkness itself, was rapidly spreading.

The gardener's figure slowly took shape in the depths of the thick fog. He was still wearing his top hat and walked forward at a leisurely pace, as if he were taking a leisurely stroll.

Tap tap, tap tap.

The heels landed on the ground with a rhythmic, crisp sound.

The sound of footsteps gradually overlapped with Xiao Cheng's heartbeat, and she heard the gardener's voice close to her ear: "Disobedient patient, you've angered my pet."

pet?

As Xiao Cheng quickened her pace, she was still wondering what kind of thing the gardener's pet would be.

The gardener's dog tag flashed through her mind, and she instantly understood. She couldn't help but gasp; this guy had really heavy tastes.

Seeing the gardener getting closer and closer, almost reaching out to grab her, Xiao Cheng pulled out her flashlight and swung it backward with all her might, relying entirely on instinct.

There was a loud thud.

The footsteps and the flapping of insects' wings came to an abrupt halt at the same time. The gardener let out a suppressed groan, then began to curse angrily.

This... hit me?

Xiao Cheng was surprised by her own accuracy and didn't dare to waste a minute, continuing to run forward with her head down.

We're almost there. The first wooden door is just ahead. The entrance won't just disappear for no reason. Since I came from there, I can definitely go back from there.

However, just a second before her fingers touched the door, countless black beetles suddenly surged up, engulfing her entirely in a flash. The swarm, with their rudimentary human-face-like growths, bared their pincers and stared at her menacingly.

The gardener waved his hand to clear a small crack in the insect fog, then, clutching his bleeding forehead, walked up to her with a grim expression.

His top hat was gone, probably smashed off; crimson blood soaked through his white gloves, trickling down his brow bone and landing on the two black beads that served as his eyes.

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