In this situation, Charles Gray couldn't help but cast his gaze toward William Sherman. Instinctively, he was about to rush over, grab onto William Sherman's leg, and cry out, "Help!"

Charles Gray was never the type to face conflict head-on. For him, avoidance was as natural as cats eating fish or dogs eating meat—it was practically ingrained in his genes.

Right now, his genes were telling him that the safest spot was between William Sherman and black cat. Being at the rear might sound heroic, but he was already scared out of his wits.

Just then, William Sherman suddenly stopped walking. Quinn Barnes seemed to be vaguely conscious but not fully awake, and she kept sliding down his shoulder. William Sherman had no choice but to stop and adjust the girl's position on his back.

For some reason, Charles Gray also stopped, as if compelled by some unseen force. Not only did he fail to move to the front, he actually maintained his forward-facing stance, turning his body sideways without turning his head, stiffly glancing back while leaning against the corridor wall.

It was a kind of protective, vigilant posture for those ahead.

"I'm a police officer." Charles Gray suddenly remembered this long-forgotten fact.

"I'm a police officer, I'm a police officer, I'm a police officer..." After that, Charles Gray kept repeating this phrase in his mind like a broken record, as if by chanting it, he could gain some sense of honor and courage.

Unfortunately, the words "I'm a police officer" clearly didn't work like a magic spell. Other than wasting his breath, it was useless—he was still on the verge of a breakdown.

As he kept chanting, Charles Gray felt his vision start to blur. Only then did he belatedly raise his hand to his face, meeting William Sherman's astonished gaze.

It was only then that Charles Gray realized he was actually crying.

Charles Gray felt he understood William Sherman's shock. Just an hour ago, Professor Sherman was still a normal university professor, and now, an hour later, he had already experienced so many bizarre events—never mind the shadow that could wield a knife, there was even a talking cat on the scene, and a police officer who had been scared to tears!

In fact, Charles Gray himself didn't know why he was crying, but he was surprised to find that crying was actually more effective at venting his emotions and reducing his fear than any other expression—certainly more useful than repeating "I'm a police officer." So he took a deep breath and began to sob even more unabashedly, wailing as he choked out, "Go, go! I'll—I'll cover the rear! I—I’ll protect you all..."

William Sherman: "..."

He had witnessed so many bizarre situations tonight that he was probably numb by now.

Maintaining this strange formation, in the blink of an eye, black cat darted to the stairwell and dashed down to the first floor. The two men, carrying an unconscious girl, quickly followed. William Sherman kept using Charles Gray's phone as a flashlight, and as they ran, the screen's light accidentally swept across a corner of the wall. Before he could see clearly, Charles Gray let out an inhuman scream.

Even while crying, he didn't miss a beat when it came to screaming. It was clear that, although Officer Gregory was a total homebody, his lung capacity was actually pretty good.

William Sherman looked closely and saw a child crouched in the corner... No, perhaps it was more accurate to say a fetus—very thin and small, much smaller than a normal newborn, probably premature. It had sparse fetal hair, and its head looked like a deflated ball, as if something had crushed it, exposing a twisted, shattered skull and brain. Its features were askew, its mouth open, and not a single tooth inside.

It crouched quietly in the corner like a specimen in a medical school, staring at them with hollow, deformed eyes.

"What are you screaming for!" Darrin Grant scolded loudly, "This is a hospital, full of yin energy. There are as many of these things as you can imagine. Don't act like some country bumpkin who's never seen the world, you foolish human."

William Sherman asked in a slightly hoarse voice, "What is that?"

"An aborted ghost that was never born." Darrin Grant swiped a paw at the little ghost in the corner. The baby let out a cat-like wail and then vanished in an instant. "Don't dawdle, the starving ghosts are catching up!"

In a previous life, Darrin Grant was probably not a cat, but a crow. As soon as it finished speaking, Charles Gray and William Sherman both caught a whiff of that rotten, putrid stench, and immediately picked up their pace.

As they spoke, they had already left the second-floor inpatient ward and reached the first floor. At that moment, footsteps began to sound behind them, one after another.

"What is that now!" Charles Gray asked, his voice trembling with tears. It was impressive that his mind was still so clear at a time like this. "Aren't starving ghosts supposed to be like shadows? How can they have such heavy footsteps?!"

"I already told you, this is a hospital! Life and death cycle here, filth accumulates—there's all kinds of things!" Darrin Grant shouted at him, "And what's wrong with being overweight? Are you discriminating against fat people? So what if they're heavy! We fat folks don't steal, don't rob, don't act like hooligans—being overweight is great!"

William Sherman had lost count of how many times tonight he'd been left speechless. He simply couldn't imagine what kind of atmosphere Logan Sullivan worked in with these employees when doing "serious business."

Even while carrying someone, William Sherman didn't show any sign of fatigue, not even out of breath. Seeing black cat about to bristle again, he could only speak up, like a patient teacher dealing with problem children, "Alright, you two, stop arguing. Mimi, where's the exit?"

"Don't call me that stupid name, mortal!" Darrin Grant continued to bristle.

"...Spirit Cat," William Sherman smoothly corrected himself, "It seems we've already run a full circle around the corridor. Do you have any brilliant ideas?"

Darrin Grant screeched to a halt, and William Sherman almost stepped right on it, stumbling to the side and barely stopping in time.

Charles Gray slumped against the wall like a dead dog, gasping for air and occasionally hiccuping from crying.

Darrin Grant perked up its ears, turning its flat face. In the faint glow of the phone, its cat eyes glowed eerily.

After a while, it calmly turned its head and said, "We've run into a looping corridor."

This time, the heavy footsteps came from ahead of them. Vague shadows flickered on the wall, and something seemed to be writhing within them. Looking closely, there were dozens of human-shaped shadows, struggling, twisting, letting out silent screams, tearing at each other, sticking together...

Every day, lives ended here unwillingly. They lingered, unable to leave, filled with jealousy toward the living, greedily coveting the breath of the living, yet unable to get close.

After all, the paths of the living and the dead are different.

Such resentment, such despair...

"Run!" Darrin Grant felt this was the phrase it had shouted the most all night. Give it a starter pistol and it could practically host a sports meet.

The three men and one cat tumbled into a small storage room. Charles Gray, the last one in, slammed the door shut with all his might, pressing himself against the rusty metal door, using his body to hold it closed. Only after locking it did he have time to sniffle back his snot, hardly able to believe he was still alive.

A hand had just grabbed his neck—the cold, clammy sensation still lingered.

William Sherman set Quinn Barnes down and immediately rushed over to help Charles Gray pile up all sorts of things to block the storage room door.

Before they could catch their breath, something slammed into the door from outside. The loud bang scared Charles Gray so much he dropped to his knees.

The banging only lasted two or three times, then there was a brief silence, followed by the sharp sound of claws scratching at the metal door.

Leaning against the door, Charles Gray slid to the floor, then suddenly jolted upright as if shocked, goosebumps rising all over. He turned to William Sherman with a tear-streaked face, "I haven't even gotten my first month's salary yet. Can I at least see the money I can't spend before I die?"

William Sherman felt it was probably inappropriate to laugh in this situation, but he honestly didn't know what expression to use when facing Charles Gray anymore.

Charles Gray hiccuped and asked, "Professor Sherman, do you have any unfulfilled wishes?"

William Sherman, though he didn't look the least bit flustered, actually thought seriously about Charles Gray's question, then nodded. "Yes."

"There's someone I met by chance, no real connection between us. In his eyes, I'm just a stranger he's exchanged a few words with." William Sherman said softly, with the sound of claws scratching the door in the background, "But I still want to see him one more time."

Chapter 15: The Dial of Reincarnation Fourteen...

This man was probably in his thirties, of average build, wearing a pair of wide-rimmed glasses and a string of sandalwood prayer beads on his wrist. At first glance, he looked like a perfectly normal human being.