Who the fuck locked the door?

Collingwood Mental Hospital

Setting foot here again, Li Dan felt that his state of mind had changed considerably.

In the space of a year, he had undergone a complete transformation.

But Li Dan quickly suppressed that fearlessness in the face of death and remained cautious.

Li Dan strode forward as though he answered to no one. His bearing was not quite arrogant, but it carried a certainty that disregarded the surrounding terror.

He was looking for the Red Door.

The Gate of Hell never stayed on a fixed floor. It moved with the building's "will," and Collingwood itself was a maze in every direction, without a single blind spot.

The logic of space here had long since fallen into chaos.

A corridor clearly on the second floor might suddenly lead to a staircase down to the basement after just ten meters.

A left turn should have led to a ward, yet opening the door might bring you face-to-face with the rooftop terrace.

North, south, east, and west had lost all meaning here. Compasses spun wildly, and cell phone signals were completely blocked.

Li Dan entered an empty corridor. Large patches of plaster had peeled off the walls, exposing blackened bricks beneath. Faint markings still lingered on them, resembling either patients' graffiti or some sort of eerie symbols.

Most of the ward doors along either side stood ajar. Some were open just a crack, revealing pitch-black rooms where he could vaguely make out hospital beds, toppled IV stands, and shards of glass scattered across the floor, reflecting the faint light.

He raised a hand and pressed it against a ward door. A bone-piercing chill seeped into his fingertips. Something seemed to be squirming inside, making a faint scraping sound.

But Li Dan acted as though he had heard nothing. He did