Mist City Psychiatric Hospital's gates had already been opened before the Psychic Association's convoy arrived.
Dirk's Shadow Snake threads had slipped through the crack in the gates and silently lifted the latch.
More than a dozen people jumped from the vehicles, their steps hurried but unflustered, swiftly forming three assault teams before the entrance.
The President stood at the forefront, with the two headquarters reinforcements positioned to either side, while Harding and Dirk covered the rear flanks.
The other elites spread out according to their assigned positions, bringing every exit of the building under surveillance.
Yet when the team truly entered the psychiatric hospital's lobby, everyone paused in surprise.
There was none of the gloomy, terrifying scene they had imagined.
The lobby floor was covered in light-colored non-slip tiles, scrubbed spotless and reflecting the soft white glow of the fluorescent lights overhead.
The walls were a warm beige, hung with several brightly colored landscape paintings depicting Mist City's harbor and the distant lighthouse.
Behind the reception desk was a poster reading, "Care for the mind, protect life," written in rounded, cheerful lettering beside a smiling cartoon heart.
Nurses occasionally passed through with patients, and all of them showed surprise upon seeing the group.
In the Psychic Association elites' minds, since this place had become a cult's nest, then even if it was not a gruesome landscape strewn with wreckage, it should at least have been an abandoned shell, empty of people.
But what lay before them—looked nothing like a place that had been infiltrated.
Some Association elites even reacted to the sight with stress, suspecting it was an illusion crafted by cultists, and instinctively wanted to attack.
Fortunately, The President was seasoned and well-traveled. He waved a hand, stopping them from taking further action.
When the nurse on duty at