Artifact Report

Chapter 294 Fu Tai Lan: The First Hospital
After midnight, the date changed to November 24th.

At 0:34, Fu Tailan, dressed in a thin hospital gown, with a dried bloodstain on the back of her hand, stood at the entrance of the hospital building, staring blankly at the night sky and streetlights.

Where to go? What to do?
A few seconds later, he couldn't help but laugh—because he suddenly realized that if there were a button in front of him right now that could make all of humanity disappear instantly, he would press it without hesitation and with ease.

"...Isn't this the origin story of the evil villain in comics?"

He muttered to himself, not knowing why, but felt that it would be even funnier to put himself in the position of the main villain.

Those who would do that are not villains at all.

If there were someone who could make a human disappear suddenly in the next second, without knowing, feeling, pain, or suffering, that would be the greatest compassion.

When I was in elementary school, the teachers would ask us what we wanted to be when we grew up, and Fu Tailan was no exception and answered this question as well.

But no matter how hard he tries now, he can't remember his answer from back then.

At that time, he still believed that life belonged to him.

My head feels light, as if it's only held together by a sliver of consciousness around my neck. From that sliver of consciousness, I feel a dull ache from the wounds on my body.

Painkillers or cigarettes, either one will do.

Fu Tailan subconsciously patted herself a few times before remembering that when she left the ward, she only had her phone and the hospital gown she was wearing; she hadn't taken anything else with her.

"……director."

He turned around, his back cracking open inch by inch. When he saw Remy, he froze, as if his back had solidified as half a canyon had split open.

"Are you here to spy on me?" Fu Tailan asked after two seconds.

Remi took a breath.

"I'm sorry, I don't know the details. I was just following orders."

She walked across the hall and handed over a backpack and a bag. "I'm just going to work, and I don't want to get involved in this...this kind of hatred."

"Just going to work?" Fu Tailan laughed. "It'll probably be easy."

Remy shrugged, opened his palm, revealing a crumpled cigarette.

She took out a lighter and lit it for Fu Tailan as he lowered his head and smoked a cigarette.

The moment the firelight illuminated his eyes, he almost believed in Remy's kindness.

Fu Tailan took a deep drag on his cigarette, letting the white smoke swirl and spread from his lungs, gradually warming his blood—that enormous, unsettling black shadow that had been churning in the depths of his mind was pushed back down to the bottom of the ocean by the combined effects of the painkiller and the cigarette.

The shadowy figure struggled to sink, and a smile appeared on its face.

"Manager, what's your next step?" Remy asked.

"do not know."

“The Morgan family is very powerful,” Remy said cautiously. “Although I don’t know what he wants you to get… whatever it is, just cooperate for now and let it go. There’s no need to confront them head-on.”

Rather than openly displaying hostility and blatantly monitoring and tracking, a more effective method would be to send a "friend" to Fu Tai Lan.

“As long as you cooperate, I don’t think he’ll hesitate to provide you with support.” Remy observed his expression and said, “Even the best hunter, with the support of a clan, will…”

“You’re right,” Fu Tailan interrupted her, “I’m going to the restroom.”

He slung his backpack over his shoulder, handed the bag containing a change of clothes to Remy, and said, "Hold this for me."

Ruimi stared at it, then stared at Fu Tailan for a few seconds, as if looking at a mentally deranged patient—but she finally took the bag.

“You are badly injured,” she whispered.

Fu Tailan smiled at her, a white mist swirling between her lips and teeth, unable to be held in, and dissipated.

"Don't follow me."

Remi frowned deeply, seemingly wanting to say something but holding back.

Even if she guessed what Fu Tailan was going to do, she couldn't stop him—unless she tied him up and imprisoned him—this was a big part of the reason he was called a "genius hunter".

Fu Tailan walked into the restroom stall and closed the door behind her.

It was pushed away again.

He pulled the door shut again, and it slammed shut with a bang; he pushed the door open a second time, and then closed it a third time.

This time, he paused for a few seconds.

He took one last deep drag of his cigarette, as if trying to inhale a bit of clarity and peace.

Fu Tailan threw it on the ground, stepped on it with his heel, and extinguished the sparks—slowly exhaling a wisp of white smoke, he pushed open the same door for the third time.

...He was lucky.

By opening and closing any door three times in quick succession, with an interval of no more than ten seconds, he can create a passage to enter and exit the lair—a passage that is impossible to guard against, especially since "doors" are not limited to room doors. Refrigerator doors, car doors, wardrobe doors—anything with the word "door" in its name that can accommodate Fu Tailan can become his escape route after being opened and closed three times.

The ability to navigate is a hunter's greatest talent.

He can even choose whether or not to go in after the passage is opened.

It is said that he was only three years old when the passage was first opened; at that time, Fu Tailan just stood behind the door in a daze, still holding candy in one hand.

"dad,"

He looked at the sky and road that had replaced the living room, and at the person standing straight and still across the street, wearing a yellow raincoat. Although confused and bewildered, he didn't yet feel fear. "Dad, come here! Dad! There's someone here!"

What was Fu Han's reaction at that time?

He doesn't remember anymore.

She probably slammed the door shut and carried him away, right?
You must repeatedly warn him not to open and close the door repeatedly, right?

Even a Han Chinese wouldn't allow his three-year-old child to enter the den.

He simply remembered it well, and perhaps pondered it in his mind many times.

He only tentatively made a suggestion to Fu Tailan when they were destitute and struggling to make ends meet, when his son was twelve years old.

Before the age of twelve, the longest place Fu Tai Lan had ever lived was only two years.

No matter what job he did, Fu Han could never stay in one for more than six months. He always felt that he was exceptionally talented, and that doing sales or customer service work was a waste of his abilities. He believed that there was a business blueprint for him to realize his potential in the future.

He moved from one rented room to another with his son, who was already in debt, and whenever he could no longer afford the rent, he had to move hastily. Once, he and his son, Fu Tailan, stayed at a friend's house, and the two of them squeezed onto the sofa and slept together for more than a month.

Every morning, when the lady of the house gets up early and goes into the kitchen to make breakfast, Fu Tailan is gripped by an indescribable sense of shame and unease, unable to make a sound or move, and can only pretend to be fast asleep.

I shouldn't exist here.

He never knew where he belonged in the world.

Upon reflection, it seems that the only place Fu Tailan has known that has remained almost unchanged and is closest to "home" over the past seventeen years is the nest.

Let's go.

He stepped out of the cubicle, and waiting for him outside was still a hospital restroom.

Fu Tailan had no intention of seeking his own death—after all, Fu Han's innocence and life were now tied to him.

The "St. Louis Hospital" in the lair is one of the busiest landing sites; after opening the passage from the Blackmore City area where Fu Tailan is located, the chances of successfully landing in the "St. Louis Hospital" are very high - of course, a little luck is also necessary.

He walked out of the restroom, across the lobby, and toward the nurses' station on the first floor.

The nurses' station was empty, not a soul in sight; however, a resident with a headscarf was sitting in the waiting room, his eyes darting around nervously.

When she was fifteen, Fu Tailan nearly died in her nest.

If someone told him that he had actually died that year, and that the following two years were just a heavy dream from which he could not wake up, Fu Tailan would not be surprised at all—he simply did not understand why he was still alive.

More than two years ago, on that day, he staggered into the lobby of St. Louis Hospital, just like he is now.

My heart pounded in my palm, and with each beat, blood splattered from my back; the blood rained down, forming a small river behind me.

"This place... is a hospital, after all, right?"

Fifteen-year-old Fu Tailan lay sprawled on the nurses' station counter, speaking in a breathy, intermittent voice, "It's a hospital...it's supposed to treat the sick and heal the wounded...right? Help, help me."

Seventeen-year-old Fu Tailan pretended not to hear the faint sound of a resident standing up and quietly walking behind him, and said to the nurses' station, "I need to be admitted to the hospital."

After he finished speaking in a low voice, a faint voice echoed from the empty nurses' station, both then and now.

"Oh dear, you're badly injured."

Fu Tailan hummed in agreement.

"Did you come here two years ago?" the small voice asked.

"Yes."

"It seems you are very satisfied with our treatment? That's why you left the hospital and came to our hospital specifically for treatment?"

"……Yes."

"Do you know what items our hospital charges as inpatient fees?"

"I know."

The faint voice seemed satisfied.

"That's great. Remember, once you're in the hospital, it'll be too late to regret it. How about we let you... um, let you stay until the morning of the 26th?"

(End of this chapter)