Tokyo: The Player Behind the Scenes.

Chapter 315, Section 62: Unexpected Situation

Underground specimen room.

Technicians in full protective suits are carefully walking on the ground covered with broken glass.

With the help of the lights, they carefully examined and collected the organ specimen bottles that had survived the previous riots, and marked and documented any noteworthy traces.

“These specimens are very old, some of the earliest dating back to the 19th century.”

"Many of these are extremely valuable research samples, with the tracking and research spanning decades. However, most of them are actually in reserve. Alas, the college just launched a comprehensive project to digitize the reserve specimens, and this kind of thing happened."

An elderly professor, who had been assigned by the college to cooperate with the investigation, spoke with a complex tone through a protective mask.

He looked at the chaotic scene, his gaze sweeping over the empty shelves and broken containers, his heartache evident, but he still dutifully told everything he knew.

This is not only a requirement from the school, but also a strict order from the British government.

"Back then, I heard that because medical schools had a high demand for corpses and lacked legal sources, it indirectly gave rise to many corpse-stealing groups, forming a distorted industry chain," Ping Shenglong said casually.

"Isn't it still going strong? In third countries like India, the best-selling items seem to be complete human skeletons, right? It's not uncommon for people to be killed for bones," Kurosaki Chimei replied casually.

The old professor's face darkened further. His lips trembled slightly, and he could only manage a weak nod, his voice hoarse: "We...we also have no choice. A surgeon who has never touched a real bone structure is like a mechanic who has never disassembled an engine. Ultimately, it's all for...treating and saving lives. If possible, we would all like to voluntarily donate our remains."

These things cannot be simply judged as right or wrong, and Kurosaki Chimei will not dwell on them.

What's needed now is to prevent the disaster from spreading further and to help players deal with the Ripper, the source of the calamity, as soon as possible.

Because the disasters at several medical schools occurred almost simultaneously, it was difficult to immediately determine which was more serious. The investigation team chose to split up and conduct a thorough search of each specimen repository. Leon had secured the highest level of full access for them in this regard.

“Judging from the scene, these organs didn’t actually wake up at the same time.” Kurosaki is not fluent in English and relies entirely on electronic translation. He is pointing to a sign at the scene, with the translated text on the translator. “Based on the formaldehyde concentration gradient, the difference is about an hour. We arrived too late, otherwise we could have been more precise.”

"But at least we can be sure that the source is in this area."

At this time, Ping Shenglong had carefully surveyed the surrounding area and memorized the approximate concentration distribution.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and all the surrounding noise—footsteps, conversations, the soft clatter of shattering glass—seemed to vanish instantly, leaving him completely encased in glass.

When he opened his eyes again, the world he saw was different.

Time seemed to flow backward before his eyes, and the shards of glass on the ground gathered and pieced together against the force of gravity, transforming back into complete organ bottles.

A large amount of formalin that evaporated into the air flowed back to the ground and then back into the bottle;
One by one, the lights around them went out, until only a solitary beam of light remained, falling on one of the many organ restoration bottles.

He slowly walked past the other specimens on the shelf, step by step, to the illuminated organ bottle, in which a grayish-white brain floated. He stared quietly at the grooves within, as if time had stood still.

suddenly,

Deep within the sulci of that brain tissue, countless tiny eyes suddenly opened. Simultaneously, from the brainstem, slimy tentacles, like bizarre jellyfish, abruptly extended and forcefully slammed against the bottle wall!
Boom boom boom!
After a few muffled thuds and shaking, the glass bottle shattered.

The mind has been freed.

Just then, footsteps and the tense conversation of young people came from the direction of the stairs. Without making a sound, I hid in a dark corner and quietly observed.

Ping Shenglong saw the two students, Adam and Lisa, who were ordered to digitize the data in the documents.

They started working from the first row of shelves near the entrance, scanning and recording as they approached the area until they reached his feet.

Their scanners and the fallen flashlights lay quietly at Ping Shenglong's feet, a testament to the terror and haste they had.

There is no doubt that this is where they discovered something and began their escape.

Finally, they were cornered at the doorway; the remaining bloodstains and discarded organs said it all.

The events are not difficult to reconstruct, and the scanner records can also corroborate the facts.

“Professor,” Ping Shenglong slowly exhaled, the surreal scene before him twisting and rippled like water before finally dissipating and returning to reality. He pointed to the now empty spot, “Could you determine, based on the scan records, approximately how old the specimen that was originally placed here is?”

“Uh, let me see,” the professor carefully picked up the scanner and examined the data. “This specimen should be from World War II. But as for whose it is, there’s no way to verify.”

"World War II," Ping Shenglong silently calculated in his mind, roughly a hundred years ago. "A coincidence?"

Just then, his phone rang; it was Leon calling.

"The examination reports on those corpses and the manipulated individuals are out. More or less, their organs have been replaced. The more organs replaced, the stronger the attack they exhibit."

"The sources of the internal organs used for replacement were compared and confirmed to be from the specimen rooms of various colleges."

After listening patiently, Ping Shenglong asked, "Minister, I'd like to know if every specimen room that has encountered problems contains specimens that are over a hundred years old?"

"Wait a minute," Leon's voice trailed off for a moment, "...You're right, most of the new specimen rooms in the academy weren't affected by this disaster. The problems only occurred in those specimen rooms where old and new were used together or in storage. Do you have a clue?"

"It's still uncertain whether this information is useful."

"I trust you to know what's important. If you think it's important, just call Ms. Muramasa directly."

"I see."

After Heisei Ryu hung up the phone, Kurosaki said, "Interesting. If we can confirm that this ritual will only take effect after a hundred years, then we can refer to this approach for subsequent rituals."

"But there's no information on key moments." Ping Shenglong shook his head. A hundred years ago is too broad a timeframe and not very meaningful.

"We can't possibly figure everything out, can we? If we did, we'd be the players!" Kurosaki said with a hint of dissatisfaction.

It wasn't that he had a problem with the division of labor; he was simply excited to be able to participate in this kind of action.

I just feel a little unfair that I wasn't selected as a player.

Even Hayato can become a gamer, so what's wrong with him? He's clearly played a lot of games before.

He admitted that Hayato was highly skilled in claw machines and arcade games, but if it were a game that required more brainpower than reaction skills, he would definitely be no worse than Hayato.

"There probably aren't many clues left here. Let's ask the survivors and see if we can get anything out of them." Kurosaki put aside his unease and continued to focus on collecting clues.

Ping Shenglong remained noncommittal and followed the professor back to the ground.

The midday sun was somewhat dazzling, but it brought little warmth; the tension and bleakness in the air were almost palpable.

Just across the street, the scenes were completely different. On one side was the medical school, which had been completely sealed off, while on the other side was the modern hospital building to which they belonged. The hospital was not sealed off, after all, the medical operation had to continue, so a checkpoint had to be set up.

Injured students from a nearby medical school, as well as severely traumatized survivors, are currently being housed in wards at this hospital. Ostensibly for treatment and psychological counseling, this is in reality a form of surveillance and house arrest. The roadside is filled with police cars with flashing lights, black riot control vehicles, and even armored vehicles; the density of police patrolling the streets is unprecedented.

Even inside the hospital, the tense atmosphere did not lessen at all.

Armed police officers are stationed in the lobby, corridors, and at all key entrances.

Dressed in full black tactical gear and armed with rifles, they conducted rigorous checks on all people coming and going.

"excuse me."

At the final checkpoint before entering the hospital, even after showing their high-level passes, a stern-faced armed police officer still asked them to turn around and carefully touched and examined the back of their heads and necks.

This is currently the fastest way to identify whether someone is being manipulated by those bizarre internal organs: find that suture line.

The officer in charge of checking Kurosaki gasped and couldn't help but whisper to his colleague, "Come and take a look."

Kurosaki's greasy hair, which looked like it hadn't been washed in ages, had such an unusual texture that the officers couldn't help but suspect there might be something hidden underneath.

The result was awful! tangled hair and dandruff!
Amidst Kurosaki's frustrated grumbling, he was scrutinized again with extra care before finally being allowed to pass.

Looking at Kurosaki, whose hair was even more disheveled and who exuded a strong homeless aura, Ping Shenglong couldn't help but smile faintly: "It seems they don't appreciate your masculinity."

Kurosaki, in a foul mood, haphazardly pressed his hair back down and muttered, "I've memorized their numbers."

This was, of course, a joke; he knew the inspection was necessary and reasonable. It was just that the continuous travel and relentless investigation after landing had left him no time to care about his appearance—of course, this was mostly an excuse. Before arriving in London, he hadn't properly groomed himself for several days.

The three found the person in charge at the scene and quickly began questioning the survivors one by one.

The process was generally conducted in the form of the professor reassuring the students, Heisei Ryu asking questions, and Kurosaki observing and recording.

Before long, it was Jack's turn, huddled in the corner of the ward, still shivering under a blanket. His face was pale, and his eyes were unfocused; he had clearly not yet recovered from the fear he had felt in the autopsy room.

The old professor stepped forward and offered him a few words of comfort. Ping Shenglong also tried to ask a few simple questions, but all he got in return were Jack's incoherent and fearful words, which could not form any useful information.

"It seems we won't get any information out of him for now. Let him wait a bit longer, and we'll come back later," Kurosaki suggested.

Ping Shenglong nodded in agreement, and the two temporarily left Jack's ward, heading towards the elevator at the end of the corridor, intending to first inquire about the other survivors.

Just as they reached the elevator door, the indicator light dinged, and the elevator doors slowly opened—

The scent arrives first.

Ping Shenglong's pupils suddenly contracted, and an instinctive sense of impending death, a premonition of deadly danger, made the hairs on his body stand on end!

"Get out of the way!"

He let out a low growl and shoved the unsuspecting Kurosaki aside. At the same time, he drew a pistol from its holster and instinctively sought cover, shrinking behind the professor who stood frozen in place.

The elevator doors opened, revealing not an empty car, but a horrifying scene of blood, with several corpses dressed in police uniforms lying haphazardly inside.

An armed police officer who should have been on duty stood in a pool of blood, a completely ferocious smile on his face, his rifle already raised, the dark muzzle pointed directly at the door.

Chu Chu Chu!
Without the slightest hesitation or warning, bullets rained down with deafening gunfire!

The sounds of intense gunfire, the crackling of bullets hitting walls and facilities, and the terrified screams of people instantly blended together in the corridor.

Everything happened too fast, and it ended too quickly.

The officer who suddenly went berserk and opened fire fell into a pool of blood, with several bullet holes in his head.

The old professor, however, bore the brunt of the initial and most intense fire. His white coat was instantly soaked in blood, his body riddled with bullet holes, and he collapsed limply to the ground, his eyes wide open, lifeless.

Ping Shenglong stumbled back a few steps, his face pale, and leaned against the wall, which was full of bullet holes and bloodstains, before he could barely steady himself.

Under the influence of adrenaline, he felt a dull, mild pain in his right shoulder and left abdomen, and warm blood was rapidly soaking through his clothes.

He was shot, and not just in one place.

"Pyeongseong Dragon!"

Kurosaki Chimei, still shaken from lying half-prone on the ground, got up, pulled out his sidearm, rushed to the body of the fallen police officer, and tremblingly fired two more shots into the head to ensure the officer was completely dead. He then pressed the button for the first floor of the elevator, gasped for breath, and rushed to Ping Shenglong's side. Seeing the bloodstains on his body, his heart pounded and he was at a loss for what to do.

"Let's go." The pain was becoming more pronounced, and his strength was waning, but Ping Shenglong remained relatively calm. "Since he was able to get here, it means there's definitely more than one contaminated person in the hospital."

Ring ring ring——!
As if to confirm his judgment, the fire alarm suddenly blared, echoing throughout the entire hospital building.

Amid the ringing of the bell, one could vaguely hear even more chaotic commotion, terrified cries, frantic running sounds, and gunshots coming from upstairs and downstairs.

late.

The attack wasn't limited to this one location; the entire hospital was infiltrated.

But what is the purpose of doing this? Or is there no purpose at all, and it's just an extension of retaliation against the medical school? That makes sense.

"Go! Yes! Go!" Kurosaki realized what was happening and hurriedly lifted up one of Taira no Ryu's uninjured arms, put it on his shoulder, and tried to drag him away.

Ping Shenglong frowned, his lips barely moving: "Take me with you. You can't escape."

"Then there's no escaping!" Kurosaki practically roared, though his hand holding the gun was still trembling.

Ping Shenglong's expression shifted slightly, and he said no more, quickly recalling the hospital floor plan he had just memorized in the lobby on the first floor.

"A refuge room," he gasped, "there's one on the east side of this floor. Maybe we can hold out until reinforcements arrive."

"Okay, okay, the shelter! Damn it, where is the shelter again?! I clearly looked at the map, damn the English!" Kurosaki frantically tugged at his already messy hair.

“I’ll give you directions, this way.” Ping Shenglong stretched out his blood-stained hand and pointed in one direction in the corridor.

Just at this time,

boom!
Suddenly, the door to the next ward was violently slammed from the inside, startling Kurosaki so much that he abruptly raised his gun and pointed it at the doorway.

A figure in a hospital gown rushed out of the room, didn't even glance at them, and dashed off to the end of the opposite corridor, disappearing around the corner in the blink of an eye.

Kurosaki didn't have time to investigate further. As long as the other party wasn't infected, he gritted his teeth and rushed towards the direction indicated by Taira no Ryu.

(End of this chapter)