Thriller Trainee

Mental Asylum

Sponsored Content

Number 12, You First

In the infinite loop, S-rank instances were universally acknowledged to have the highest difficulty level.

Almost all the trainees assigned S and A-ranks had successfully been through an S-rank instance, and were among the strongest competing under the cruel ‘survival of the fittest’ law of the jungle environment.

Due to the unwaveringly high mortality rate, S-rank instances only occurred once a year.
It couldn’t be explored by a single team.
Its exploration required the cooperation of at least three top-tier teams.

Even that being the case, it was still exceedingly difficult to survive in an S-rank instance.
It wasn’t a rare sight for three whole teams to be wiped out together.

However, there was no doubt that if anyone survived, they would be transformed and reborn.
If they survived, they would be at the cream of the crop.

The different levels of difficulty of each instance would yield correspondingly special props of that rank.
S-rank props were a special existence only produced in S-rank instances.

But not every S-rank instance had props.
They might manifest in different forms in instances.
For example, the most valuable item in the Dark Abyss was the transformation from a human to a half-vampire, whereas the most valuable item in the Walk Through Hell was the opening of the Yin-Yang Eye.
But all in all, these special forms still possessed the same status as S-rank props.

Not every contender who survived an S-rank instance would receive a miraculous turn of fate.
More often, these godsent gifts would only appear once every three years, and that was still under the basic prerequisite that the team didn’t get wiped out in the instance.

So after getting past hurdle after hurdle of these prerequisites, only nine people possessed S-rank props amidst the thriller trainees today, and of these, a good half of them were S-rankers.
Their ability, therefore, was needless to mention.

Aside from the veterans, all the bullet chats in the live broadcast rooms for the Mental Asylum also exploded.

The trainees selected to enter Thriller Trainee were all famous names with the competence to back it up.
Those who remained were the rookies who hadn’t quite seen the world.
So now that they saw this scene, their reaction was even bigger than the trainees.

[Fuckfuckfuck, what did my eyes see, omg.]

[WTF!!! An S-rank prop, damn!!!!!]

[Seeing an S-rank prop for the first time in my life.
Oh my god, grandpa, grandma, father mother village relatives, this instance is a true treasure!]

[SOBBBSS this is my first time seeing an S-rank prop up close.
I must screenshot this to preserve this memory.]

[My tears are falling.
Thank you system for fulfilling my one and only wish before I die in an instance T__T]

Aside from these on the bullet chat, there were a number of viewers who acutely perceived the oddity of the situation.

[Hang on.
That’s not right.
Isn’t this a normal beyond normal one-man show instance? How can there be an S-rank prop???]

[Holy crap, upstairs woke me right up.
If there is an S-rank prop here, doesn’t that mean… /horrified face.jpg]

[No matter how I look at it, this instance doesn’t give me S-rank vibes? Compared to those instances with hellfire, mass extinctions, and zombie sieges cropping up at the drop of a hat, a mental asylum can only be a tiny bland side-dish at most? I don’t get the slightest sense of anything brutal.]

[Yeah, I don’t feel the horror value of this instance either… The newbies next door have already been wiped out but there’s only one death here, and you’re telling me that this is an S-rank hell mode? I don’t believe it.]

The bullet chat buzzed with discussion.

Of the many thousands of one-man show venues out there, this one was the most interesting.

Not only did this mental asylum instance have a chance task regarding a mole that had never appeared before, there was now even an S-rank prop.
Furthermore, there were actually two powerful S-ranks present in this one instance, outstripping any other noob venue that didn’t even have an A-rank in it.
It was teeming with highlights.

Thinking about it in this way, two powerful trainees bumping heads in this instance indicated that the difficulty of this instance certainly couldn’t be anything low.
It was completely within the realm of possibility for it to be an S-rank instance.

A moment later, the bullet chat went to call their friends over.
As long as they were trainees in the mental asylum, the live broadcast rooms would be flooded by people ready with their melon seeds, here to watch the show.

Outside the bullet chat, the eyes of the trainees in the operating theatre each turned red with anxiety.

They stared with rapturous eyes at the broken iron box that sat on the operating table.

Sponsored Content

That was an S-rank prop, after all! S-rank!

If they could obtain this S-rank prop, not only would they have an additional powerful means of saving their lives, their evaluation in the system would undisputedly be greatly boosted.

And as everyone knew, when the system announced the rules, they made it very clear.
High-ranked trainees would enjoy countless privileges and special treatment.
They could even know the rules and contents of the next round in advance.

Who wouldn’t want that?

Without a word, someone made a move.

A trainee on the command floor stepped forward, and another, unwilling to be outdone, reached out and grabbed it.
Those standing at the back saw that there was no hope, so they simply pounced forward.

Special props in instances could recognise its owner.
It would bind to whoever obtained it first.

But in the next second, a wooden staff suddenly reached out from the side and blocked the top of the iron box with pinpoint accuracy.

The golden-haired Holy Son frowned.
“Wait.”

The crowd stared at the golden glow radiating from the high priest’s staff and stopped, uncertain.

Between offending the Holy Son and obtaining an S-rank prop, ordinary people would choose the latter.
However, what Messiah held just happened to be similarly an S-rank prop, and for a while, no one could break through his defences.
They could only stare at each other with wide eyes.

Zhuge An just entered the operating theatre then, and the first thing he saw was this scene.

His eyebrows raised in interest, but he didn’t look like he intended to intervene.

“Everyone, please settle down for a moment.”

After subduing everyone, Messiah then said helplessly, “Look carefully.
The halo’s white.”

The trainees startled and hurriedly set their eyes on it again.

Sure enough, the halo shrouded behind that tiny ‘S’ was indeed a pale, crystal clear, white.
It was only because of the confusing light cast from above the top of the operating table that they hadn’t noticed it at first.

The crowd froze, then withdrew in embarrassment.

Props were a rare existence.
Instances would also give corresponding hints.
For example, when approaching a certain range of props, it would be displayed on the retina.
If the display was golden, it was the prop itself.
If it was white, then it was a clue, not the real thing.

It was worth a mention that the higher the level of the special prop, the more clues there were, and the more difficult they were to find.

Messiah, “So just calm down.
Don’t disturb the peace between everyone just because of this prop.”

The golden-haired Holy Son moved the staff quietly several inches downwards, pushing the iron box away.

“Since it’s a clue, according to the rules, it’s only right for everyone to share it.”

The rusty lid was pushed aside with a clang, revealing its true contents.

Everyone held their breaths.

Unexpectedly, the box was completely empty.
There was nothing in it at all.

While everyone was trying to get closer to study this clue to the S-rank prop, there was a sudden sound of hasty footsteps from outside the iron door.

Five burly nursing staff walked in, carrying a man in a hospital gown, strapping him to the wooden operating table.

The poor man tied up was ashen.
A towel was balled up and stuffed in his mouth, so he could only helplessly express his pleas with his eyes.

Sponsored Content

“Isn’t this the man who was confined last night?” The trainees whispered.

But because the nurses had yet to leave, no one dared to act rashly.

As the crowd exchanged looks between each other, someone came from outside the iron door again.

Wearing a white coat and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses on his face, he looked at the scene in the operating theatre with amusement.

This should be the ‘Dr.
Chu’ that the nurse had mentioned.

For some reason, even though this doctor clearly looked very ordinary, he gave everyone an illusion of both danger and charm.

Like walking on a tightrope, a sharp, contradictory combination.

Zong Jiu frowned.

He could feel that the other man’s eyes seemed to linger on him for an extraordinarily long time.

The languid manner of Zhuge An, who had been nonchalantly leaning against the door, dispelled.
He looked several measures more serious.

“Ah, it looks like the patients have all arrived.”

An unsettling smile hung from the corners of the doctor’s lips as his gaze absently swept past everyone present, finally settling on the rudimentary operating table in the middle.

Aware of his gaze, the newcomer strapped to the table became more and more frightened, struggling frantically.

“Doctor, do you need for him to be calmed down?” a silent nurse finally spoke up.

“No need.”

Dr.
Chu smiled.
“Sedation takes the vibrancy of life out of him.
Only pain can make a person more awake, and therefore more conducive to the treatment for mental illness, isn’t that right?”

The nurses nodded.

Satisfied, he turned away and casually drew out the white gloves laid on the operating table.
He unhurriedly put them on and walked over to the display case.

“Rapt, rapt, rapt.”

The man flexed his fingers and knocked thrice on the dirty brown glass cabinet.

The dried head moved.

The white eyeballs slowly rolled to the side, moving like a living person, doused in the adrenaline slow motion induced in horror movies.

There was a faint hiss in the silence.

A very thin black snake swam out from the open mouth of the head, spat out a scarlet forked tongue and obediently climbed up the slender hand outside, nuzzling it happily.

The cold reptile coiled around the cyan blood vessels was inexplicably beautiful.

It turned out that the strange movement they saw in the eyeball earlier was because of the venomous snake in it!

This chilling sight made everyone’s hair stand on end.

The doctor touched the triangular head of the black snake and put his hand on the lamp of the operating table.

“I don’t like to be disturbed when in the middle of surgery.
If someone bothers me… you know what to do.”

Sponsored Content

As if the black snake could really understand human speech, it climbed down from his hand.
It hung itself upside down on the lamp, body bent in the air, displaying an aggressive posture.

“Good boy.”

Dr.
Chu smiled and complimented, taking the wooden box handed over by a nurse.

“Our asylum has a great reputation in psychiatric treatment.
We have a long history and rich clinical experience.
This upcoming simple and quick surgery will release the demons in your mind, turning you back to normal…”

[Fuck, although this doctor looks very perverted, his voice actually sounds quite nice??]

[Replying to upstairs: so I’m not the only person who thinks this…]

[Ikr, seriously.
I was just thinking, how can such a nice voice be paired with such ordinary features.]

[Based on the videos I’ve watched of high-ranked instances, I suspect that this is the boss.]

[Am I the only one still thinking about the clue to the S-rank prop just now? It’s an S-rank prop!!]

Perhaps because it was overly quiet in the operating theatre, or perhaps because that golden ice pick was too horrifying, but halfway through the explanation, Dr.
Chu stopped talking, disinterested.

“Nevermind.
All of you gentlemen are patients.
I’m sure you won’t understand what I’m talking about.”

He shrugged.
“But it doesn’t matter.
You don’t need to understand.
You only need to remember this scene.”

The trainee strapped to the operating table began to tremble.
Seeing this, the nurse by the side simply used the largest leather strip, securing his entire body unyieldingly to the table, unable to move another inch.

Messiah subtly shook his head at everyone, gesturing to the lamp and the nurses to the side.

Those large, burly nurses were still standing firmly to one side.
And on the lamp, the black snake, whose single drop of venom was enough to kill everyone in the operating theatre, was staring fixedly in the direction of the trainees.
There was no doubt that if they chose to intervene, it would unleash a fatal blow.

Dr.
Chu didn’t mind the patient’s little motions.
He looked at the newcomer on the operating table as if he were looking at a disobedient child, full of indulgence.

“Soon, the demons inside you will be cast out.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he lifted the patient’s eyelid, and the long, thin ice pick in his hand unhesitantly stabbed into the newcomer’s upper eye socket.

The ice pick emanated an unforgiving chill, staunching the bleed.
Despite piercing the eye socket, only a negligible amount of blood seeped out.

“Hah, hah.”

The newcomer was completely strapped down to the operating table and was unable to move even an inch.
He could only bite on the blood-stained towel in his mouth.

No one had given him anesthesia.
The sweat dripping from his face and the tears fighting their way out of his eyes were sufficient to show the excruciating pain he was in.

The hand that held the ice pick was steady.
Not only did it not stop, it also steadily, slowly, pushed the ice pick deeper.

Past the orbit of the eye, the eye socket, the scalp… finally, at the end of the trip—

The grey and white matter in the frontal lobe of the brain.

When the ice pick was driven halfway in, Dr.
Chu took a measuring tape and measured the distance of penetration before nodding in satisfaction, ceasing his further advance.

“Perfection.” He admired his masterpiece in satisfaction.

The newcomer on the operating table had long since passed out from the excruciating pain.

His eyelids were propped open by the ice pick, which stood firmly in his skull even after the doctor let go, like a budding flower in a vase on a display table.

Sponsored Content

It was deathly silent.

All the trainees were stunned in place by this cruel sight.

“Please don’t look at him like that.
This is a genius invention that has won the Nobel Prize in medicine, my friends.”

Dr.
Chu smiled.
“Once you have undergone treatment, you will be completely cured of your disease without any possibility for relapse.”

He repositioned his hand on the ice pick, and gradually spun it in the air.

The silent chamber resounded with a sound that made their teeth go numb.

Upon recalling that the ice pick had a length long enough to pierce the brain, everyone watched the white-coated doctor’s movements in horror.

The man on the operating table was clearly unconscious, but the sweat running down his face increased.
His muscles reacted instinctively to the incomparably sharp pain that ate away at them.

Zong Jiu stood at one side.
His eyelids twitched imperceptibly.

Ice pick frontal lobotomy.
The operation that won the 1949 Nobel Prize in medicine, likewise the darkest history in the history of the Nobel Prize.

The procedure was simple.
It only required an ice pick and hammer.
The procedure was performed by poking the ice pick through the patient’s upper eye socket, then stirring the ice pick with the bare hands to mash up the grey and white matter of the brain’s prefrontal lobe.

At first, the mental patients subjected to this procedure did calm down and show signs of improvement.

But the aftereffects of this operation were terribly chilling.
Those who had been operated on became dull, like the walking dead, docile and at the mercy of others.
Like their body was still there, but their soul had disappeared.

Because the prefrontal lobe of the brain was directly linked to human intelligence.
By mashing up the prefrontal lobe, humans would only be left with their instinctive reactions.
Or worse.

But in the eyes of normal people, this atrocity was a cure for mental illness.

So not only did it win the Nobel Prize, it was also performed on a staggering tens of thousands of cases worldwide in the early to mid-twentieth century.
It wasn’t until 1970 that it was overturned and abolished.

The operation lasted only ten minutes, yet it felt as if a century had flashed by.

When Dr.
Chu removed the cold metallic ice pick, seeing the blood and yellow-white brain fragments stained on it, the trainees watching from the side couldn’t help but vomit.

“The operation is complete.
This is the ultimate treatment of our asylum.”

The doctor casually tossed the ice pick aside.
“Of course… This is extremely draining for me.
Unless your condition is very severe and you violate too many rules, we generally prefer the electric chair treatment, which is simple and hassle-free.”

“It is still early.
There’s enough time for us to do a brief examination.”

His gaze flickered, and landed with unerring precision on the young man’s straight spine.

“Number 12.
You first.”

Zong Jiu’s footsteps, leaving the operating theatre, paused.

t/n.
about frontal lobotomy, for anyone interested – link, link

Thriller Trainee – Mental Asylum

Translated by luckykoi Edited by snoflakesun

Please don’t repost or re-translate.