I, a Mental Patient, Was Chosen to Participate in AnalogHorror
Chapter 395 - 361: Returning to the Funeral Parlor

Chapter 395: Chapter 361: Returning to the Funeral Parlor

Shit!

So fucking unlucky!

Martin looked around; the wilderness was desolate. Apart from the howling wind and rain, everything was eerily quiet.

Clearly, this was no prank.

"No, I can’t keep this thing."

He muttered to himself, a determined look flashing in his eyes.

He decided to take this ominous urn to the funeral home.

In his view, the people there should know how to deal with this kind of thing...

"The main thing is, I don’t dare to just throw this fucking thing away."

It had become obvious now.

He was probably haunted by something filthy, and it demanded to be "sent back to its hometown."

He probably had to deliver this urn to its place of origin.

How was Martin supposed to send it?

Since he couldn’t get rid of it, he would have to pass it on to someone else.

"Big brother, or perhaps big sister, I know you’re there. Little brother here really doesn’t know how to send you home."

As soon as he finished speaking,

it seemed as if the wind and rain suddenly doubled in intensity.

Martin quickly added,

"But please rest assured, although I am an amateur, I can entrust your precious remains to a professional institution. How does that sound?"

The wind and rain gradually lessened...

After Martin finished eating his roasted bun, the storm outside finally turned into a light drizzle.

Worried that the strange rain might get heavy again, Martin decided to set off immediately.

He forcefully closed the box as if afraid the ashes inside might scatter again and carefully packed the box into a cloth bag, tightly securing it.

He then looked up at the road he had come by...

According to his intuition, it should be about half-past three in the afternoon.

He had left in the morning and was returning in the afternoon.

Thinking about how resolutely he had spoken about leaving, yet less than a day later, he was rolling back like a street dog with its tail between its legs.

To be honest, it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Speed is of the essence in war!

He grabbed the cloth bag and started moving quickly along the path.

The light rain drifted past his ears, but Martin’s mood couldn’t calm down.

First, the eerie little girl, and then this abrupt urn.

The two seemed unrelated, yet their intentions both seemed to be to force him back to the funeral home.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

A chill wind blew by.

Under the willow tree ahead, there stood a little girl with bare feet.

She just stood there, her wet long hair sticking to her pale face, with droplets falling down her cheeks.

The scene was tranquil... and unsettling.

"You really did come back," the little girl’s voice was faint.

Martin instantly felt a chill. He gripped the cloth bag tightly, a sense of foreboding rising in his heart.

Indeed, was this what they called destiny in Dragon Country?

Did she already know he would return?

So that was why she didn’t take forceful measures when she met him earlier in the morning?

"Why are you here?" Martin tried to make his voice sound firm.

The little girl did not answer but repeated the same phrase.

"There are bad people in the funeral home, there are bad people inside..."

Martin furrowed his brows, feeling even more uneasy. He knew this little girl was not ordinary; her appearance had to have a reason.

But even if he knew there were bad people in the funeral home, what could he do about it?

Hit him?

I’m not Jiang Xiao, if I had half the skills of Jiang Xiao, Martin would have gone mad killing already.

Why else would I have been drenched for so long?

"What exactly do you want to warn me about?"

Martin asked. He wanted to know more details, like who the bad guy really was.

If it was just the curator, maybe he could try persuading the Night Watchman to see if they could cooperate...

The little girl lifted her head, her eyes locking with Martin’s, as if they could pierce through all appearances and reach straight into the depths of his heart.

Her voice suddenly became firm, in stark contrast to her youthful appearance.

"You shouldn’t have come here."

Martin took a deep breath, his heart pounding like a stampede...

God damn it, I shouldn’t have come? As if I wanted to come, Kaidan chose this, did I have any room for struggle?

He was about to ask more questions.

But the girl’s features began to bleed profusely.

The terrifying scene froze Martin in place, and for a moment, he didn’t dare make a single move.

Seeing that she seemed to harbor no ill will, Martin took a deep breath and stepped away, taking a detour around the willow tree to continue toward the funeral home.

...

Before the sky was completely dark, Martin, rushing as fast as he could, finally returned to where the dream began.

The hall was empty, with only a chandelier flickering faintly.

Martin looked around, trying to find the duty staff, but the silence made him uneasy.

He walked towards the hallway, ready to look for the least harmful Bao Lebin.

But at that moment, a low conversation came from a door behind him.

"Hmm?"

Martin held his breath and quietly approached; his instincts told him that the little girl’s words were not unfounded.

There must be a bad person among the crowd.

He pressed close to the door crack and, through the slightly open door, saw two figures confronting each other in the dim room, though he couldn’t make out who they were.

However, the content of the conversation plunged Martin’s heart into an abyss.

"The deal’s set then, I’ll deliver the merchandise first thing tomorrow."

"What about the body? Are you sure you can dispose of it? It hasn’t decomposed, has it?"

"Don’t worry, there are plenty of places out there, it’s not troublesome to deal with."

Martin’s heart skipped a beat.

Fuck!

There are fucking two bad guys among the crowd?!

Although he couldn’t see their faces, by their voices, it wasn’t hard to tell, these two were the curator and the Night Watchman!

Deals?

Bodies?

With these two keywords, Martin instantly thought of two possibilities.

Organ trafficking, or selling to some kind of freak cannibal or something.

But what decent person likes to eat something rotting?

All in all, the funeral home was most likely engaged in some illegal trade like trafficking human organs.

This wasn’t just Martin’s speculation; the people in the live stream had also guessed it.

But there were also doubts.

[Just asking, if I’m not mistaken, after death, a person’s organs lack oxygen, and they usually lose activity within a few minutes to several hours, right?]

[Hey, that’s right, but what you don’t know is that injecting certain solutions or keeping the body in a refrigerated environment can indeed prolong the activity of the organs...]

If that’s the case...

[I finally understand why the female corpse carried by Okumon Hirotsuka still stinks after two or three days, with even the livor mortis scarcely appearing. It turns out they had dosed it~]

[No wonder, I always felt the curator was both good and bad, now it makes sense...]

[He’s good because the curator is also afraid of some things that can’t be seen, which aligns with the Chosen’s stance.]

[He’s bad because what the curator does is shady, to put it boldly, maybe these Kaidan appeared only after the curator started trafficking organs.]

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