C49 — Nightmare Ward
by UntamedS“Hello, dear viewers, and welcome to the Nightmare Horror show!”
In an overgrown field, Zhuo Yu spoke into the microphone clipped to his collar. He wore a bright smile, facing Luo Musheng’s camera while waving to the audience beyond the lens.
“Today, we have arrived at…” Zhuo Yu paused mid-sentence, noticing the lighting technician beside Luo Musheng trembling slightly. The eerie lighting flickered over him, making it difficult for the camera to focus.
“Come on, even if you’re new and haven’t worked on many horror shoots, you shouldn’t be shaking this much!”
Liu Jingyun was completely speechless. She had a sports camera mounted on her head to serve as another angle, and this was already their third rehearsal attempt.
“She’s just scared!” A delicate, teary-eyed girl pouted, her hands trembling as she held the light panel, causing it to shake once again.
A male crew member beside her, seeing how pitiful she looked, shot Liu Jingyun a glare. “Why are you being so harsh? Let her adjust at her own pace.”
Liu Jingyun rolled her eyes.
This preliminary round had a very unique performance format. Nightmare Ward was a horror film shot in a faux-documentary style. The actors had to wear cameras on their heads at all times, presenting everything as raw footage to the live-streaming audience, who could even interact with them through comments.
Initially, Liu Jingyun thought the competition format was pretty interesting—until the system threw her another curveball.
[Current Mission: Follow the production crew into the “Saint Rebecca Psychiatric Hospital.”]
[Notice: Another guild competitors have infiltrated the show. Their objective remains unknown. Additionally, four actors unaffiliated with any guild are also present. Please identify them carefully.]
“No worries, we still have thirty minutes before the official broadcast. We can practice a bit first,” Zhuo Yu said warmly, his easygoing manner making him seem like a breath of fresh air.
The trembling girl quickly nodded. “Exactly! It hasn’t even started yet, why are you in such a rush?”
Liu Jingyun scoffed coldly, raising her chin. “If something goes wrong in the mission, I’ll be coming for you.”
A classic good cop, bad cop routine.
This was Luo Musheng’s strategy.
“Enough arguing, you’re giving me a headache,” Luo Musheng muttered, eyeing the group with irritation. “The camera is heavy. If you have so much energy to argue, you can take turns carrying it.”
He played the role of someone detached, neither good nor bad, resembling a lone wolf.
At this point, aside from their guild teammates, anyone could be a competitor in disguise.
The trembling girl finally calmed down. “Maybe we should start by introducing ourselves?”
Zhuo Yu nodded.
“My name is Ruan Weiwei. This is my third time participating in a horror film.” She set down the light panel and massaged her sore arms. “To show my sincerity, here.”
[Actor: Ruan Weiwei | Role: “Lighting Technician” (E)]
[Lighting Technician: A newcomer to the Nightmare Horror production team, still learning the ropes but full of enthusiasm. Hearing that rising star Zhuo Yu was planning a ghost-hunting segment in a psychiatric hospital, she eagerly signed up. Thanks to having a relative in upper management, she secured this overseas opportunity, beating out many competitors.]
[Traits: High intuition, possesses some spiritual vision, but easily frightened and physically weak.]
Zhuo Yu smiled reassuringly. “In that case, I’ll share mine too.”
[Actor: Zhuo Yu | Role: “Host” (C)]
[Host: The creator of YouTube’s hottest channel, Nightmare Horror Show. After amassing tens of millions of followers, he established a company and a professional team dedicated to exploring the world’s most dangerous locations, striving to bring viewers the most thrilling and immersive experiences. This time, he has decided to take his team to the infamous Saint Rebecca Psychiatric Hospital in the U.S.]
[Traits: Extremely high intuition and spiritual vision, though he himself seems unaware of it. In reality, Nightmare Horror Show’s most popular ghost videos are staged—this time is no exception. His exceptional planning skills allow him to create a horror experience without ever needing to see a real ghost.]
Liu Jingyun clicked her tongue. “I have no interest in sharing my personal details. All you need to know is that I’m part of the exploration team and the host’s right-hand assistant.”
Luo Musheng shrugged. “As you can see, I’m the head cameraman.”
The guy standing next to Ruan Weiwei seemed unimpressed by their secrecy and bluntly shared his own details.
[Actor: Du Zihao | Role: “Squad Member”]
[Squad Member: One of the vanguard explorers responsible for scouting ahead. A seasoned member of Nightmare Horror Show, he’s known for his fearless attitude, often charging headfirst into danger. The host jokingly refers to him as part of the ‘sui-cide squad.’]
[Traits: Brave, physically strong, always willing to take the lead in an expedition. Downside: reckless, sometimes too aggressive.]
“As we’re still in the pre-live phase, I need to clarify something,” Zhuo Yu’s expression grew serious. “The system requires us to produce a thrilling faux-documentary, and my character has already arranged for some actors to hide and create special effects. Nightmare Horror Show built its reputation on staged scares.”
Then he changed his tone. “But since this is a horror film, whether those ‘actors’ are faking it or not, you should all stay alert. Who knows? Maybe there’s a real ghost among them.”
Ruan Weiwei’s face turned pale for a moment.
Luo Musheng silently clicked his tongue. There he went again. Though Zhuo Yu played the role of a kind and responsible leader, he was already applying psychological pressure on the actors. People were more likely to make mistakes under stress, making it easier to identify any infiltrators from the rival guild.
That was why he was the captain.
Du Zihao scoffed. “Ghosts, huh? I specialize in hunting them. Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of spiritual weapons.”
“That’s a relief.”
“What about the rest of the cast?” Ruan Weiwei glanced around nervously. “There are over a dozen actors in this film, right?”
Zhuo Yu replied, “They’re back at the base camp. There’s a dedicated monitoring team that manages the camera feeds and keeps track of where our ‘actors’ are hiding. They’re lucky—their assigned roles don’t require them to enter the asylum. Some of the exploration team members stayed behind to assist. Right now, we’re just doing a rehearsal.”
Ruan Weiwei subtly edged closer to Du Zihao. “Is it always this cold at night in the U.S.?”
“The U.S., huh…”
Zhuo Yu looked up at the sky, thoughts drifting to Florida. He wondered how Springtown Lake Town was doing—whether the golden lake had dried up.
“It’s almost time,” Luo Musheng reminded.
Zhuo Yu picked up his walkie-talkie. “Exploration team, return from camp. We’re about to go live.”
Soon, figures appeared in the distance, all equipped with GoPro cameras on their heads and backpacks strapped tightly, looking fully prepared for action.
Having absorbed his character’s abilities, Zhuo Yu already knew how to organize the team efficiently. After assigning positions, he took a moment to encourage Ruan Weiwei, making sure she held the light panel steady.
As the clock struck midnight, the power switch was flipped at the base camp, and the long-awaited horror livestream finally began.
“Good evening, dear viewers. Welcome to Nightmare Horror Show.”
Zhuo Yu slipped into character instantly, as if he truly were the seasoned host with tens of millions of followers.
“Tonight, we’ve arrived at a very special location. Some of my keen-eyed followers might have already guessed from the teaser I posted on Twitter a few days ago.”
An assistant held up a tablet, showing a rapid stream of live comments from viewers.
【Oh wow, immersive horror experience—let’s go!】
【Zhuo Yu, Zhuo Yu, love of my life, I’m here!】
【Damn, the system really knows how to mess with us. I’m fully in character now. Let’s act along in the chat!】
【Hahaha, hello, host! Where exactly are we?】
【This place looks so deserted… super creepy.】
Viewers in bars, watching from specially set-up booths, were surprised to find that their screens had switched to a YouTube livestream format. Even more excitingly, their comments were appearing in real time for the actors to see.
This feature electrified the audience. Now, they could interact directly with their favorite cast members!
“That’s right, we’re in Washington, D.C.,” Zhuo Yu said with a knowing glance at Luo Musheng, who immediately panned the camera around in a sweeping motion. “But as you can see, there’s nothing but wild grass and abandoned land—pretty hard to tell where we actually are, huh?”
“Let’s introduce everyone first. You all know her well—our very own Xiao Yun.”
Liu Jingyun remained silent as she moved behind Zhuo Yu and started pushing his wheelchair. The main camera angle shifted accordingly, following their movement.
“And next, we have Xiao Du—Du Zihao, our fearless vanguard.” Zhuo Yu gave a thumbs-up. “Then there’s our old friends, Liang Sheng and Ye Zhiping.”
The actors stepped into frame, waving at the camera.
“The five of us will be leading you into what is considered the most evil, most terrifying, number one cursed location in the world—the Saint Rebecca Psychiatric Hospital!”
“This time, our cameraman, Old Luo, will be capturing the main perspective. Once we enter, you’ll be able to switch between our individual head-mounted cameras. I’m confident we’ll catch some… unusual activity tonight.”
Zhuo Yu gave an exaggerated shiver. “No wonder this place is ranked the most haunted. Just standing outside the fence, I can already feel the chill in the air. Gives me goosebumps.”
Luo Musheng zoomed in on Zhuo Yu for a dramatic close-up.
“Alright, no more stalling. Let’s head inside this asylum, abandoned for over two centuries, and see what horrors await us.”
Liu Jingyun pushed the wheelchair forward while Du Zihao used a machete to clear a path through the overgrown brush. Before long, a rusted chain-link fence covered in creeping green vines came into view.
“This place is over a hundred years old and has been abandoned for decades. The main entrance collapsed long ago, so we’ll have to use one of these hidden paths instead. But don’t worry—our expedition is officially approved by the local authorities.”
Zhuo Yu pulled out a pair of bolt cutters and handed them to Du Zihao.
As an actor, Du Zihao knew he had to follow the system’s instructions and work with Zhuo Yu to complete this exploration, so without hesitation, he took the cutters and got to work.
It wasn’t difficult—years of rust had weakened the fence, and in just two minutes, he had cut an opening big enough for two people to pass through at once.
“Alright, dear viewers, we’re going in.” Zhuo Yu put on a slightly nervous expression. “I have to admit, this is giving me the chills.”
His character was, after all, a master at faking it. In reality, he had already arranged for a team to sneak in earlier from another entrance, lying in wait to create “paranormal” activity for the broadcast. Everything was carefully staged to deliver maximum scares.
Liu Jingyun led him through the barbed wire fence. In an instant, a cold wind brushed past his face, sending shivers down the actors’ spines for real this time.
This wind carried the scent of formalin and disinfectant—after two hundred years, the thick, lingering odor still hadn’t dissipated.
The head-mounted camera switched to night mode. Holding a flashlight, Zhuo Yu illuminated the open ground ahead, revealing an area that resembled a playground. The rubber flooring was cracked, shards of glass and broken toys were scattered everywhere, along with fragments of furniture, as if the place had been ransacked.
“This is the playground leading to St. Rebecca Asylum. Since many viewers might not know its history, I’ll explain as we walk,” Zhuo Yu said.
The group moved deeper into the playground. The dense fog that night completely obscured the moon, leaving them in near-total darkness. They could only make out their surroundings by the beams of their searchlights. A massive silhouette loomed several hundred meters away.
“St. Rebecca Psychiatric Hospital was established in 1855, during a time when America was at war. Many retired soldiers suffered from mental illnesses and psychological trauma. In that era, building an institution to house the mentally ill—preventing them from wandering the streets and causing incidents—became a national necessity,” Zhuo Yu explained, waving away the insects drawn to the light. He carefully recalled the information his character had gathered.
“And so, St. Rebecca was born. It was the first public psychiatric hospital in the country.”
“But if it were just an ordinary hospital, it wouldn’t have gained such infamy, nor become the most notorious haunted site in the world,” he continued.
The other actors, whose roles required them to interact with Zhuo Yu, asked, “Did something terrible happen here?”
“No, it was simply pure evil,” Zhuo Yu replied. “Due to poor management, the hospital quickly ran into financial difficulties. Then they discovered that some officers would send street brawlers here, labeling them as mentally ill. Even reported illegal immigrants were brought in. At first, the hospital hesitated to accept them—until a flood of money started pouring in. Soon, they began admitting patients indiscriminately, even those who had been misdiagnosed.”
“In fact, the majority of the people inside weren’t even mentally ill,” he added. “Human nature is easily corrupted. You can probably guess what happened next.”
Liu Jingyun spoke up, “As long as someone paid, they could have a perfectly sane person locked up here.”
“Exactly. Under the corruption of money, the doctors and nurses here turned into demons. When St. Rebecca was investigated years later, authorities found 100,000 brain tissue samples and over 1,000 fully preserved human brains. This place was more terrifying than a prison—it even once held three assassins who had attempted to kill the president. Yet, instead of being shut down, its infamy only made it thrive. More and more politicians and innocent people were locked away here.”
“Normal people were driven insane, and the insane were simply killed.”
“This place became a site of immense suffering, fueling countless ghost stories. Eventually, due to political changes, it was abandoned for good.”
Suddenly, a member of the expedition team, Liang Sheng, stopped in his tracks.
“We’re here,” he said.
Taking the searchlight, he swept it around, instantly illuminating the infamous asylum.
A vast playground stretched before them, with towering buildings standing in rigid formation. Even after a hundred years, St. Rebecca remained imposing. Four castle-like structures stood tightly packed together, clustered around a tall clock tower.
Their searchlights couldn’t even illuminate the entire building, only managing to reveal a small portion of it.
“Everyone, take a look. This place has stood for over a century without collapsing into ruins. That just proves how much money they raked in—it’s practically a bunker at this point.”
The camera focused on the timeworn, abandoned structure.
Luo Musheng felt a chill creep up his spine.
This place was truly unsettling. It wasn’t just the eerie, gray-white walls that seemed to exude danger or the overwhelming stench of mold and disinfectant. The building itself radiated a sinister and ominous aura.
Every single window was covered with iron bars, like a collection of dark, stitched-up eyes, watching the newcomers with malicious intent. The cracked walls extended all the way to the front entrance, which was covered in blood-red graffiti left by past explorers. The warnings scrawled across the surface sent shivers down their backs.
“Looks like plenty of people have already been here before,” Zhuo Yu said boldly as he approached the entrance.
[DANGER! DO NOT ENTER!]
[HELP ME]
[SOS]
Countless messages in thick, red lettering covered the doors—written in both English and Chinese, evidence of the many visitors who had come before them.
Seeing the red warnings, Zhuo Yu chuckled. “Looks like our predecessors had a sense of humor. Good thing we brought our own spray paint.”
Liang Sheng pulled out a few red spray cans from his backpack and handed them out. Since this place was neither a tourist site nor public property anymore, they all felt free to leave their marks.
“How about ‘Nightmare Crew Was Here’?” Zhuo Yu suggested.
Liang Sheng was a young man around Zhuo Yu’s age, but he was far more reserved, his face tense and expressionless. He wasn’t particularly nervous—he just didn’t like group activities and rarely voiced his opinions. Hearing the host’s suggestion, he simply went along with it.
As he finished the last stroke of paint, he suddenly paused, carefully examining the old graffiti.
“What’s wrong? Did you notice something?” someone asked.
“No,” Liang Sheng shook his head. “I’m probably overthinking it.”
Zhuo Yu glanced at him with interest but pushed down his curiosity. Right now, the priority was leading their audience into this long-abandoned asylum—the system was already urging them forward.
“Alright, viewers! The moment you’ve all been waiting for—Nightmare Crew is about to unveil the secrets of St. Rebecca, buried for 200 years! I’m your host, Zhuo Yu, and let’s get started!”
The iron gate was tightly wrapped in thick chains, but the crew had come prepared. Du Zihao grabbed a pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters, gripping the handles with all his strength. However, these chains were far tougher than the barbed wire from earlier. It took multiple people taking turns to finally snap them apart.
Clank.
With a metallic groan, the gates of St. Rebecca were unsealed.
[Guild Channel]
[Liu Jingyun: Captain, this is way too reckless. Are we really going in?]
[Zhuo Yu: No choice. If we don’t take risks, what will the audience watch?]
[Luo Musheng: Stay sharp. Something about this place is seriously off—I’m getting chills.]
The actors swallowed hard.
Their characters were supposed to be fearless explorers. They even had backup waiting in case anything went wrong, and they knew there were alternative entry points besides the front door. But as the ancient asylum finally opened its maw to them, they couldn’t shake off the foreboding sense of unease.
This was a survival instinct honed through countless brushes with danger.
“I don’t want to go in!” Ruan Weiwei was the first to back out. “You guys go ahead—I’ll wait out here!”
The last member of the expedition team, Ye Zhiping, who had remained mostly silent, cast a disapproving glance at her.
He warned, “Be careful of flames.”
If they didn’t follow the system’s instructions and enter the asylum, they would be marked as slacking off—an offense that would get them sent straight into the All Flame Source.
As Ruan Weiwei hesitated, Du Zihao and Liang Sheng had already pushed open the iron doors. A wave of mildew-filled air poured out like a dense fog, making the stench on the playground seem insignificant in comparison.
Everyone else had stepped inside, leaving only Ruan Weiwei lingering outside.
Liu Jingyun, remembering her character’s role, approached with a cold expression and unceremoniously kicked Ruan Weiwei through the doorway.
Ruan Weiwei nearly face-planted but managed to steady herself, swallowing the urge to curse.
Keep it together. Keep it together. If she lost her temper now, the strong male actors wouldn’t find her appealing anymore.
She clenched her fists and swallowed her frustration.
The live broadcast could finally continue.
Now, a total of seven people had entered the asylum:
– The exploration team: Zhuo Yu, Liu Jingyun, Liang Sheng, Du Zihao, and Ye Zhiping.
– The support crew: Chief cameraman Luo Musheng and lighting assistant Ruan Weiwei.
Zhuo Yu quickly memorized their characteristics:
– Liang Sheng, the youngest, fair-skinned, and a bit antisocial.
– Du Zihao, sporting a buzz cut, tall, and impressively muscular.
– Ye Zhiping, plain-looking, with the demeanor of a middle-aged office worker.
– Ruan Weiwei —well, no need to remember her. She was already an oddity, wearing high heels and a white dress in a horror setting.
After ensuring no one had lagged behind, Zhuo Yu turned to the main event of the night.
The team cranked their searchlights to full power, illuminating the asylum’s grand hall as if it were daytime. The cameras captured every detail, dispelling some of the unease.
They pinched their noses and waved away the dust in the air, finding themselves in a vast space. The ceiling alone was twice as high as a typical hospital’s, yet instead of feeling open, the room felt overwhelmingly oppressive.
The reason?
The ceiling was covered in religious oil paintings—angels and celestial figures. But with the paint peeling and their faces distorted, they looked as though they were lunging forward, adding to the suffocating atmosphere.
“This place is definitely old,” Zhuo Yu remarked, scanning the walls.
Every iron fixture was rusted red. The wallpaper had peeled away, revealing bare concrete riddled with black mold. Shattered glass and discarded debris littered the floor.
Scattered among the wreckage were broken IV bottles and needles—evidence of the building’s grim past.
Just as the group was surveying the hall—
BANG.
The iron door, covered in blood-red warnings, slammed shut on its own.
The deafening noise sent dust cascading down from above. A chunk of a ceiling mural even broke free, nearly crushing Liu Jingyun.
“The door just shut by itself?!” Du Zihao strode toward the entrance. “That wasn’t the wind—hell, it would take a typhoon to move a door that heavy!”
Zhuo Yu frowned. “Looks like we’ve got a problem.”
[Guild Channel]
[Liu Jingyun: Captain!!! This is a setup, right?!]
[Zhuo Yu: Hold on, let me check. Luo Musheng, move the camera away from me.]
Luo Musheng immediately adjusted the camera to focus on the iron door, giving Zhuo Yu a chance to step aside.
Taking advantage of the moment, Zhuo Yu discreetly muted his microphone and activated the communicator in his earpiece.
“I told you to wait until we explored the top floor before locking the door! The audience needs to be rattled first—only after enduring multiple scares should they realize the exit is sealed. That’s when fear peaks! What the hell happened?”
But the only response was static.
“Zhuo… out… no one…”
The garbled interference made it impossible to understand the reply.
But at this point, no explanation was needed.
—The asylum itself had trapped them.
Then—
Footsteps echoed from the staircase.
Zhuo Yu whipped around just in time to see a white silhouette flicker past.
For a show built on faking hauntings, this time— they had actually seen a ghost.
TN:
Ruan Weiwei is searching for a husband while others are ghost hunting lol 😂
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