Pretty Fool's Battlefield - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“Time for your injection.”

At midnight, I pushed my small medical cart into Room 401.

The ward was occupied by an elderly man and a young girl who looked to be about twenty.

The old man’s face was vacant, his appearance gaunt and withered. I pricked his skin with the needle and fed him his medication; he remained unresponsive throughout the process.

After finishing with the old man, it was the girl’s turn.

At the sight of the cold syringe in my hand, the girl turned deathly pale. Cold sweat poured down her face as she pulled a knife from her coat with a trembling hand, her voice shaking as she cursed, “Get lost! I’m not taking it!”

I stared at her in silence for a moment before pushing my cart out of the room.

Suit yourself. It’s not my life on the line anyway.

This batch of new Players is incredibly stupid. I doubt they’ll even last three days.

Every ward has the same setup: one NPC and one Player.

The Players in 402 and 403 were very obedient. Even though they were terrified, they cooperated and let me give them their injections.

In a much better mood, I hummed a tune as I kicked open the door to Room 404.

But the moment I saw the state of the room, the smile froze on my face.

The NPC in Room 404…

He was sprawled on the floor like a pile of mangled meat. His limbs had been twisted and snapped, and his corpse had clearly been cold for quite some time.

As for the culprit, the male Player staying in 404…

He was currently sitting leisurely on the hospital bed. His narrow, wicked dark eyes were fixed on me, a meaningful smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Miss Nurse, is it time for my injection?”

The man’s voice was low, magnetic, and laced with amusement.

A shiver ran down my spine, and my vision blurred for a second.

Now, this is a real powerhouse. To be this brutal and kill the NPC in his own room on the very first day of the game…

He wouldn’t kill me on an impulse, would he?

My hand holding the syringe shook uncontrollably. With trembling legs, I approached the man on the bed one step at a time, catching a glimpse of his patient file out of the corner of my eye.

Wei Zhi-Severe Mania, Extremely Dangerous.

“Please roll up your sleeve,” I said, trying my best to sound calm.

Wei Zhi raised an eyebrow and watched me for a moment before obediently rolling up the sleeve of his striped hospital gown.

The muscles of his exposed forearm were well-defined, with veins faintly visible beneath the skin.

My legs went weak again. This man could probably strangle me with one hand.

But what choice did I have? I’m a nurse in this mental asylum. If I refuse to give a patient their injection, I’ll be wiped out by the system.

Steeling myself, I took out the syringe and pressed one hand against Wei Zhi’s forearm.

He was burning hot.

Is a normal person’s body temperature supposed to be this high? Could Wei Zhi have merged with some kind of mutated monster in this dungeon?

“Is something wrong, Miss Nurse?”

The man’s teasing question drifted down from above.

I struggled to ignore his body heat, which felt like it was melting me, and swallowed hard. “It’s nothing.”

I tried to pierce Wei Zhi’s skin with the needle.

However, I found that his arm was as hard as stone. The needle actually started to bend, yet it wouldn’t go in! What kind of stone monster did he merge with?!

My head spun. “Mr. Wei, could you please relax your arm? It’s too hard, I can’t get the needle in!”

Wei Zhi arched an eyebrow, his tone sounding like he was intentionally toyng with me. “It’s hard?”

I nodded. “Yes!”

Hearing this, Wei Zhi relaxed his arm slightly.

The needle finally punctured the skin, allowing me to successfully complete the injection task.

I breathed a sudden sigh of relief, nearly collapsing on the spot.