I Arrived At Wizard World While Cultivating Immortality Chapter 662: Sub-Space and Treasure Vault

By the time the Spirit Medium Association’s convoy reached the Mist Capital Psychiatric Hospital, the main gate was already ajar.

It was Dirk’s shadow snake threads, having slithered through the narrow door crack, that silently unlatched it.

Emerging from their vehicles, more than a dozen individuals moved with swift, disciplined steps, swiftly organizing into three assault teams before the entrance.

The President positioned himself at the forefront, flanked by the two headquarters reinforcements. Harding and Dirk anchored the rear.

The remaining elites dispersed to their predetermined positions, securing every possible exit from the structure.

However, upon entering the psychiatric hospital's lobby, the entire team experienced a moment of collective astonishment.

No grim or terrifying scene greeted them, as they had anticipated.

The lobby floor, adorned with light-colored, non-slip tiles, was immaculately clean, reflecting the soft, white illumination from the ceiling fluorescent lights.

Warm beige walls showcased several vibrant landscape paintings depicting Mist Capital’s harbor and a distant lighthouse. Behind the reception desk, a cheerful slogan in rounded letters proclaimed, “Care for the Mind, Protect Life,” accompanied by a smiling cartoon heart.

Nurses, escorting patients, occasionally traversed the area, their expressions tinged with surprise at the sudden influx of visitors.

The association elites had expected that, having become a stronghold for cultists, the place would either be a gruesome tableau of carnage and corpses or, at the very least, deserted and dilapidated.

Yet, the reality before them bore no resemblance to an invaded location.

A few elites, exhibiting stress responses, even entertained the notion that it was an illusion conjured by cultists and instinctively prepared to attack. Thankfully, the President, drawing upon his extensive experience, raised a hand, halting their actions.

The nurse on duty at the front desk observed a group clad in dark blue uniforms with severe expressions surging into the lobby. The pen in her hand slipped, clattering onto the desk. Her mouth parted, intending to speak, but then she noticed the badge worn by the elderly man at the front, which was more imposing than any depicted in the association’s promotional materials.

“This… Sir, may I inquire about your identity…” The nurse’s voice wavered, yet she strove to maintain professional decorum.

Without directly answering, the President retrieved a document, stamped with the official seal of the Spirit Medium Association headquarters, from within his uniform. He placed it on the front desk with unhurried movements, as if conducting routine official business.

“Acting under emergency authorization from association headquarters, this building requires immediate evacuation. All personnel—encompassing patients, nurses, doctors, and support staff—must proceed to the designated safe area within fifteen minutes.”

The nurse glanced down at the document, her pupils constricting.

Her hands trembled, but she managed to regain composure within seconds. She then picked up the telephone and activated the hospital-wide broadcast system.

“Attention all personnel, attention all personnel. Please initiate the emergency evacuation protocol without delay. Repeat, please initiate the emergency evacuation protocol without delay. This is not a drill. This is not a drill.”

The announcement resonated throughout the facility, its tone level yet delivered at twice the usual speed.

The moment the broadcast commenced, the elites sprang into action.

Harding, leading one team, moved swiftly through the corridors, meticulously checking rooms for any remaining patients or medical staff. While their sharp eyes scanned for any sign of cultist presence, they guided individuals towards the nearest secure exits.

Dirk, with another team, proceeded directly to the subterranean levels, strategically placing shadow snake threads at every stairwell and doorway to prevent any suspicious individuals from exploiting the ensuing confusion to escape.

The President and the two reinforcements from headquarters remained in the lobby's center, their gazes fixed intently on the staircase directly ahead.

The staircase appeared entirely unremarkable.

Marble steps, brass handrails, and walls finished in the same beige hue as the lobby.

Ascending from the first to the second floor involved twelve steps… No, thirteen.

The President’s eyes momentarily fixed on the thirteenth step before scanning it again.

One, two, three… eleven, twelve, thirteen.

Thirteen steps in total.

His eyes narrowed subtly.

“Prophet,” he stated quietly.

The Prophet stood two steps behind him.

He was a man whose age was difficult to ascertain, gaunt and pale-faced, clad in a simple gray trench coat with its collar turned up, obscuring half his face.

His eyes, a shade of almost transparent gray, held a unfocused gaze, as if observing a dimension invisible to others.

“I’ve found it,” the Prophet’s voice was faint, carrying an ethereal quality, as if originating from a vast distance. “The ingress to that sub-space resides on this particular step. It is the ‘extra step.’ It bears the designation ‘Step,’ a Hazard Grade Strange.”

Dirk retreated hurried-ly from the basement's direction, a faint sheen of perspiration adorning his forehead.

Upon hearing the word “Step,” his hurried footsteps came to an abrupt halt.

“Step? You mean the kind… that possesses an additional riser?”

The President offered a nod in confirmation.

He was indeed aware of this specific category of Oddity—a peculiar anomaly that manifested exclusively on staircases.

Such an Oddity could appear on any given flight of stairs.

Where a set of stairs should conventionally cease at twelve risers, an extra, a thirteenth, would stealthily materialize.

It seamlessly integrated with its surroundings, indistinguishable in material, hue, and the patina of age from the adjacent steps. Even a tactile examination would yield no discernible difference.

The mechanism by which this Oddity was activated was equally unique.

Should an individual meticulously count the steps while descending and, by chance, arrive at an unanticipated extra one.

Upon placing their foot on this surreptitiously added step, they would lose their balance, plummeting not just physically but through dimensions, from the tangible world into a spectral realm, vanishing forever.

In practical terms, actualizing this Oddity wasn't a straightforward affair. The average individual seldom had the idle time to count each step.

Nevertheless, certain children, with their penchant for such games, occasionally became its victims.

Consequently, though the Oddity's immediate lethality was not exceptionally high, its ramifications were undeniably profound.

The President turned, casting a discerning glance upon the skilled individuals assembled behind him.

“The Oracle and Harding’s third contingent shall secure the entry point. All others will form a perimeter outside as per the established protocol. Entry is strictly forbidden without my explicit authorization.”

The President then addressed the two reinforcements dispatched from headquarters.

These two reinforcements—a man and a woman—offered no verbal response, merely a subtle inclination of their heads.

Their collective gaze then returned to the mysterious thirteenth step.

The President initiated the progression, taking the inaugural step.

His pace was neither swift nor languid but deliberately measured.

Then came the second step, followed by the third… He too was engaged in a silent tally within his mind.

He successfully navigated past the twelfth step.

The thirteenth step now lay directly before his foot.

“Thirteen…”

His foot descended.

At that precise moment, the surface of the marble step undulated as if disturbed by unseen currents, much like disturbed water.

The very center of the step appeared to yield under an immense, invisible pressure, forming a depression that deepened progressively, ultimately transforming into a vertical shaft plunging downwards into an abyss of unseen depth.

The two headquarters reinforcements followed closely in the President’s wake. All three advanced in unison, entering the yawning passage.

Their forms dissolved from view the instant they crossed the threshold into the passage. The step’s surface immediately resumed its solid, unremarkable appearance.

Unbeknownst to any observer, a spectral figure had already positioned itself directly behind the President just before his fateful step.

Employing the Great Void Step technique for concealment, Jie Ming’s presence was rendered so ethereal that it cast no shadow. His respiration, the beat of his heart, his body warmth, and even the subtle emanations of his consciousness had been meticulously suppressed to their absolute minimum.

He trailed the President with an unnerving closeness, almost pressed against his back.

Yet, neither the President nor the two Disaster Grade Spirit Mediums detected his ethereal approach.

Jie Ming slipped into the passage, following their entry.

Following a fleeting sensation of descent, a disorienting expanse of gray haze unfolded before Jie Ming’s vision.

The interior of this strange dimension was neither wholly dark nor brightly illuminated, but existed in an ambiguous twilight, suspended between dusk and the pre-dawn.

The ambient luminescence was sufficient to clearly perceive the surrounding environment, yet the origin of this light remained entirely indeterminate.

The ground beneath their feet was a uniform gray, possessing a peculiar consistency that wavered between solidity and fluidity. Each step taken caused a slight indentation, but curiously, left no discernible footprints. Above, no ceiling was visible—only an unending expanse of gray stretching limitlessly into the distance.

An uncountable multitude of steps and chambers permeated the entirety of this strange space.

These elevated pathways floated in isolation, suspended in the void.

Their placement within the space was entirely haphazard—some appeared below, others above, and some were mere phantoms glimpsed in the far reaches. Each step extended outwards in a unique trajectory, their ends lost to sight.

The chambers themselves were equally unconventional.

Their walls possessed a semi-translucent quality, permitting the basic outlines of the chambers to be discerned, though their interior contents remained completely obscured. Some chambers were vast, akin to expansive warehouses, while others were claustrophobically diminutive, resembling coffins. Like the floating steps, these chambers were arranged in a pattern of utter disorder.

The very instant the group materialized within this realm, faint murmuring sounds reached their ears.

The sounds were muted, as if numerous individuals were whispering in unison from a considerable distance.

Their speech was rapid and indistinct, rendering any single word completely unintelligible.

These disembodied voices seemed to emanate from all directions simultaneously, enveloping the intruders.

Jie Ming’s brow furrowed slightly.

He quickly discerned that these murmuring sounds possessed a distinct, potent quality—undeniably the harbinger of an attack from a Strange.

Should one subconsciously endeavor to decipher the content of these whispers, the sounds would instantaneously escalate in volume adjacent to their ears.

From a mere whisper to a deafening roar, and from that roar to piercing screams, until the listener’s mind was left in a state of utter bewilderment, their thoughts in disarray, and their capacity for rational judgment utterly destroyed.

An ordinary individual confronted with such an onslaught would succumb, losing consciousness within mere seconds.

However, the three individuals progressing ahead of Jie Ming were far from ordinary.

The female reinforcement, positioned on the left, reacted almost instantly. A cold, dismissive snort escaped her lips without a moment’s hesitation.

This resonant snort issued directly from her nasal cavity, simultaneously unleashing a palpable wave of power.

It became apparent that her own innate Strange was also of the sonic variety.

As her sound wave swept forth, any sound that dared to stir was instantly quelled, as if an unseen hand had clamped over every mouth. The two sound-based Strange powers met, canceling each other out in a silent clash. The female reinforcement continued her advance without faltering. Seizing the momentary opening, the male reinforcement on the right utilized his Strange’s perception, pinpointing a specific direction. With a slight forward lean, he propelled himself forward like a released arrow. The President followed in their wake, his steps measured and unhurried. He refrained from unleashing his own Strange just yet. Similar to Harding, his Strange was also of the storm variety, making it ill-suited for this confined environment. The rampant wind and rain would undoubtedly shatter the delicate structures within and potentially awaken other unforeseen perils. The trio quickly vanished amidst the intricate play of light and shadow cast by the myriad steps and chambers. Jie Ming remained on the ashen ground behind them, observing their retreating forms. Under the influence of the Great Void Step, his previously indistinct figure gradually solidified, transitioning from near transparency to the opacity of a developing image. Standing upon the gray terrain, the murmuring sounds swirled around Jie Ming, yet they kept their distance, as if intuitively aware of his formidable presence. Jie Ming first took in his surroundings, then activated his All-Purpose Eye. A golden luminescence flared in the depths of his pupils, rendering the gray expanse around him see-through. Within the vision of the All-Purpose Eye, the ethereal Strange structures floating in the air were systematically peeled away. Subsequently, he discerned the murmuring Stranges lurking in every concealed nook of this domain. Devoid of any stable form, they resembled constantly writhing smoke, congregating beneath stairways, within the interstitial spaces between chamber levels, and along the fissures of the gray ground. Based on their power distribution and interconnectedness, these murmuring Stranges were clearly not the architects of this place, but rather unwelcome intruders. In the physical realm, they possess the ability to meld with established laws, rendering them exceptionally elusive. However, within this pocket dimension meticulously crafted by ‘Step,’ the governing laws were incomplete. Unable to assimilate, they were relegated to hiding in this semi-corporeal state. A subtle smirk played upon Jie Ming’s lips. This situation presented an opportunity that required virtually no effort on his part. He extended his right hand, fingers splayed, palm facing downwards. A torrent of spiritual power erupted from within his core, rapidly weaving itself into a colossal sealing array in the gray-white expanse overhead. The array’s circumference spanned over twenty meters, encompassing a significant area directly above Jie Ming. Intricate blue runic lines unfurled through the void, resembling a vast spiderweb. Each line precisely targeted and confined a segment of the murmuring Strange power permeating the area. The murmuring Stranges detected the encroaching menace. They surged from their hiding places, making desperate attempts to escape towards more remote zones. Yet, owing to their inability to merge with the sub-space’s inherent laws, their flight was reduced to that of ordinary creatures, resorting solely to evasion. Suddenly, the sealing array’s luminous boundaries contracted inwards. The blue runes functioned akin to a closing net, ensnaring all the murmuring Strange power within the space in a single sweep. Their semi-translucent, smoke-like forms were relentlessly compressed by the runes, shrinking from wisps dozens of centimeters in length to solid spheres the size of a thumb, then further reducing from spheres to crystals as minuscule as grains of rice. Jie Ming intensified the compression of the array to its utmost limit. The final state of the crystal was a particle smaller than a sesame seed, emanating a faint gray luminescence, hovering just above his palm. Jie Ming retrieved a glass test tube from his inner cave-heaven, carefully placed the pale gray particle within, sealed the tube, and then tucked it into his pocket. Lifting his gaze, Jie Ming surveyed the deeper reaches of the space, where more untouched steps and chambers remained. The President and his two reinforcements had already advanced significantly. Their spiritual signatures continued to move, delving further into the central core of this sub-space. However, Jie Ming harbored no immediate intention of pursuing them. After all, his objective in venturing here had never been to aid the association in combat, but rather… to procure valuable materials. Within this sub-space, apart from the formidable entities currently engaged by the President’s contingent, numerous other Stranges, much like the murmuring ones—relatively low in threat but possessing unique characteristics—were dispersed throughout. They lay hidden in every concealed corner, incapable of escaping this confined dimension. To Jie Ming, this represented nothing less than an open treasure trove. Turning, Jie Ming proceeded in the direction opposite to the President. His gait was relaxed, even unhurried. His All-Purpose Eye remained active, and the Fate Subsystem operated at a minimal power setting. With each area he traversed, the All-Purpose Eye automatically scanned the surrounding environment, meticulously marking every concealed Strange. Subsequently, the sealing array would unfurl, contract, and harvest its bounty. One, two, three. Threat Grade, Threat Grade, Hazard Grade. As his collection grew, so did the width of Jie Ming’s smile.