I Forged the Myth of the Ancient Overlords
Chapter 163 - 163 162. Handheld Lens_1

Chapter 163: 162. Handheld Lens_1 Chapter 163: 162. Handheld Lens_1 Most of the footage was provided by the portable camera mounted on Lu Ban’s chest. Though the image quality of this type of camera wasn’t very good, usually used for selfies during extreme sports, Jia Wenbin knew very well that it was definitely shot with professional photography equipment pretending to be handheld.

The footage, while having the shakiness and authenticity of a handheld camera, didn’t actually make the viewers feel dizzy or overwhelmed. Everything that needed to be seen was perfectly clear.

Before entering the hospital, the camera tilted up slightly, allowing Jia Wenbin to get a good look at the entire hospital—desolate, bleak, ruined, and decaying. All sorts of negative descriptors suited this place. As night fell, the hospital was shrouded in dimness, deep and secluded.

However, as the camera moved down, Jia Wenbin distinctly saw a little girl standing at the window sill of the hospital corridor!

The image flashed by, but it left a deep impression on Jia Wenbin’s retina.

He knew that a special filming technique had been used here. It seemed like a brief, inadvertent sweep, but in fact, as the camera moved, the focus lingered a bit longer on the little girl, creating an effect that seemed casual but was enough to draw the viewers’ attention.

But, clear as he was about the trick, Jia Wenbin, looking at the little girl with her pale, shadowy face, still felt a bit breathless and instinctively resisted entering the hospital.

But the movie didn’t care about the viewer’s feelings.

Lu Ban walked into the hospital, beginning his exploration.

In the dim environment, this first-person perspective exploration truly tested the viewer’s endurance because the only visible area was the tiny patch illuminated by the flashlight. What lay beyond was not completely dark but murky, as if there might be something there, or maybe not.

Thus, the sudden appearance of anything like a face from a poster, or a shattered medicine bottle, could stir the viewer’s emotions.

“Something’s bound to happen next…”

Jia Wenbin knew the cliches of horror films. In such silence, the protagonist was bound to encounter something.

At this moment, Lu Ban in the film seemed to have discovered something. The flashlight shone, revealing the doors of an elevator.

“The elevator, is that the one where the accident happened?”

Jia Wenbin speculated as the elevator had been mentioned in many places in the tape and seemed to hold some eeriness.

He watched as Lu Ban pried open the elevator doors and the flashlight’s beam pierced the dimness of the cabin. Then, a figure appeared before Jia Wenbin. He was startled, his heart skipped a beat before he realized it was Lu Ban.

Lu Ban appeared in the mirror, unmoving.

Just as Jia Wenbin breathed a sigh of relief, he saw something flash by Lu Ban’s feet.

He was certain that it looked like a little girl!

Creak—

The elevator doors started to close slowly amidst the grating metallic sound that set one’s teeth on edge. As they closed, Lu Ban ran out of the elevator and took one last look at the mirror inside.

The reflection of Lu Ban in the mirror seemed to be smiling.

Jia Wenbin felt a chill; his scalp tingled, his hand clenched and then released, now sweaty in the palm.

Lu Ban continued his exploration, arriving at the nurse’s station.

There, he found a notebook, which contained some jumbled, hastily written entries about the nurses’ night rounds. Jia Wenbin could only make out a bit of it.

Suddenly, Lu Ban’s flipping through the notebook halted, and the camera trembled slightly, lifting upwards to reveal a face appearing in the center.

“Hiss—”

Jia Wenbin inhaled sharply, but he quickly recognized it was just a promotional poster on the wall. The camera zoomed in, showing that the face belonged to the former director of the hospital.

The camera moved again, closed the notebook, and headed towards the stairs. It shone the light occasionally on the departments and wards alongside, but they were all empty, with nothing but trash.

At that moment, the camera angle shifted, and under the illumination of the flashlight, the appearance of one of the patient rooms was revealed.

The room was not empty, but rather contained a hospital bed and an operating table.

The camera moved forward, entering the room.

One could see that the walls of the room were mottled, with traces of grime, and those hospital beds and operating table were dilapidated, giving off a sinister vibe.

The camera entered the room, scanned around, and then, it seemed to lie down on the bed.

This perspective made Jia Wenbin feel uncomfortable, giving him a sense of instability.

In cinematography, such tilted angles are often used to create a sense of unease, particularly now, as the first-person point of view was adopted in the film, which made Jia Wenbin even more anxious. Additionally, this angle did not capture the doorway, making him worry whether something might run in at any moment.

Before Jia Wenbin’s worries for Lu Ban in the movie could escalate, a faint sound of metal clashing rang out, his heart skipped a beat, and the camera turned toward the doorway as expected. It then saw a doctor in a white coat slowly walking in, holding a surgeon’s knife in his hand.

The camera shook, making it hard to see the doctor’s face clearly, but in the brief pauses, Jia Wenbin could tell that this doctor was not among the living; those eyes were colder than a dead person’s.

Jia Wenbin saw Lu Ban pick up a crowbar, dodging the doctor’s knife, while striking fiercely at the doctor’s head. In the chaos of the fight, the doctor seemed to lose and was kicked twice by Lu Ban, knocked unconscious.

Lu Ban extended his hand and lifted the mask off the doctor’s face.

Jia Wenbin’s eyes widened as he saw the stitched scars on the doctor’s face. The scars were too real, beyond what even the best special effects makeup artist could achieve, and such realism induced a feeling of shared horror. Jia Wenbin even felt a tickling sensation on his own face, as if the scars were his own.

At that moment, metal scraping noises came from the hallway, and the previously dim and silent hospital seemed to come to life all at once.

Only, the doctor walking outside was holding a saw, equally ferocious and terrifying.

The camera immediately turned to face the wall, suppressed its breathing, and quieted down.

Jia Wenbin also held his breath at the same time, fearing that his own breathing might attract attention.

He could even hear his heartbeats slowing down.

Then, as the camera turned toward the doorway, Jia Wenbin saw an ugly, stitched-up head peeking in through the door.

Even though reason told him it was all fake, Jia Wenbin’s body reacted truthfully, shaking violently. His heartbeat raced in an instant, his blood rushing to his ears, like the feeling of one’s deepest secrets being exposed in broad daylight.

“Going to die, going to die, going to die…”

Jia Wenbin muttered to himself, his heart in turmoil. Unbeknownst to him, he had placed himself in Lu Ban’s shoes, imagining he was in the abandoned hospital, facing a sudden monster, feeling more panic than fright.

He watched the creature scan the room before finally leaving, and only then did Jia Wenbin breathe a sigh of relief.

Having confirmed the situation outside, Lu Ban decided to keep moving forward, but Jia Wenbin felt he needed a moment to recover.

For the first time, he paused the playback in his small home theater, stepped out of the study, looking for a drink to steady his nerves.

Casually entering the kitchen, Jia Wenbin had just taken out a bottle of alcohol and poured himself a glass when he heard a voice.

“What made you think of drinking?”

“Shit!”

Jia Wenbin almost threw the bottle in his hand. Following the sound, he then saw it was his wife lying on the couch, in the dark, playing on her phone.

“You scared me to death…”

He said, still frightened.