If he wanted to do it, he would.
Jiang Qiao walked to the door and kicked it.
Bang!
With a deafening crash, the wooden door that could block supernatural forces flew open, revealing the crude operating room and the doctor sitting with his back to the entrance.
This was indeed some sort of tangible evil spirit.
The scene before him had not vanished with the sudden change in its surroundings.
The doctor was still hunched over the desk, writing furiously, while the man he had brutally killed still wore the desperate, contorted expression of his final moments.
Since life support was no longer needed, the machines keeping him alive had been switched off.
Crimson blood had also begun flowing from the corpse's unstitched wounds, soaking the floor until it was wet and sticky. It was a gruesome sight.
The sudden commotion behind him alerted the doctor sitting in the chair.
He raised his head slightly and looked at Jiang Qiao as he entered.
Strangely, although he raised his head to look over, his gaze was somewhat blank and vacant, a stark contrast to the sharp gleam in his eyes back at the operating table.
And although he was looking behind him, he had not turned his body, nor had the pen in his hand stopped writing.
As Jiang Qiao drew closer...
Even without supernatural means, he could clearly read what was written in the notebook:
``` [December 30.]
[On the eve of the new year, I am pleased to have performed a test without anesthesia on Experiment Subject No. 8 today. The results indicate that pain can be controlled to a certain extent, but the degree of control falls short of the desired level.]
[It causes the subject's heart rate and blood pressure to rise, triggers the secretion of large