Superman Termination Manual

London time, 6:57 a.m.

The humming, dull roar accompanied the silver-black elevator doors slowly opening to the sides.

From beneath the brim of the Supervisor's cap, Ke Mingye slowly opened his calm eyes. To keep up appearances for the cameras, he reached down to make sure his electric baton was fastened at his waist, then stepped out of the chilly elevator into the fifth level of the C wing of Bedlam Asylum.

A ray of light shooting from the elevator cabin pierced through the silence and darkness like a burst of sunlight into the deep sea.

Immediately, malicious curses broke the dark, briefly illuminating the scenery within each cell as the patients woke, turning their heads to gaze toward the source of light, envisioning the tall Supervisor's shadow elongated by the elevator's light and how they might tear him limb from limb.

In the spacious and dim corridor, Ke Mingye's footsteps were exceptionally clear, like the clapping of wooden blocks.

Pairs of sinister eyes peeked out from the dark recesses along the corridor. Most were vacant, seemingly bottomless vortexes, while others glinted with the brightness of wild beasts grinding their teeth and licking blood, red with vessels, sizing up the Supervisor as their prey, a succulent and sizeable sheep.

However, Ke Mingye himself was undisturbed, standing ramrod straight, focusing straight ahead with an unwavering gaze and an unchanging expression.

In the darkness, he could hear myriad sounds: the snoring of patients, the grinding of teeth, the faint whispers, the scratching of nails against skin, and the sporadic laughter.

With just a glance toward the source of the sounds, panel after panel of Superhumans would pop up in the pitch-black shadows.

To be honest, this was Ke Mingye's first time being in such close contact with so many Superhumans.

But he didn't feel any substantial oppression, just found the pop-up panels to be annoyingly excessive, almost too much to take in.

After all, if one spoke of a sense of oppression, it was nothing compared to coexisting daily at home with eight individuals who could snuff him out with a flick of their fingers—that was what he called oppression. Thus, Ke Mingye now regarded inferior Superhumans with a natural sense of superiority, thinking, "I've lived under the same roof with those kinds of monsters for so long, what are you in comparison?"

What mattered most was that he would be making his escape from this hellhole in less than half a day.

After that, the next time he'd face Bedlam Asylum would most likely be half a year later when the Superhuman extermination war began.

At that time, he and his group would come to London to eliminate all the Superhumans, kicking the asylum to the curb in passing.

Or maybe before the player forces swept through London, the Management Bureau, in a moment of desperation, would activate those S-rank patients from the asylum, using these secret weapons to join the battle in hopes of fending off the players' onslaught with these suicide soldiers. But a year later, Ke Mingye felt that whether they were S-rank or not, it would all end with a kick, treating them without distinction.

Besides, in Ke Mingye's eyes, official ratings like S-rank or A-rank were typically rubbish, only the System Ratings held any objectivity. For example, patients in the C wing classified as C-rank seldom actually measured up to the C danger level.

Ke Mingye shrugged his shoulders, selectively ignoring the mischief of the patients in the adjacent cells, stepping forward closer to room 520.

Just then, a messaging bubble popped up. With a thought, a panel sprang out.

[Good Orange Skin: Are you guys still alive? Can you send more updates? I've just finished checking today's admissions. I'm free now.]

[Fan Quan: Not dead yet, but it's close.]

[Cai Bing: Cool as a cucumber, our Dog-headed Strategist started practicing Qigong right in front of the Black Judge.]

[Fan Quan: This fits the persona of the patient I replaced, who was originally a "Qigong Master."]

[Cai Bing: So, should you also chant some mantra while practicing Qi Refinement?]

[Fan Quan: Let's not, don't want to get slaughtered.]

[Failed Man: Please, my brother looks like a nutjob, but actually... okay, he's actually crazy, but probably won't slaughter you just for reciting some mantra.]

[Fan Quan: You give it a try then, you're the Supervisor, safer than me.]

[Failed Man: I'll pass, I feel like a distinctive patient stands out more in my brother's eyes than a plain Supervisor.]

[Fan Quan: Didn't he say he stuffs shit in patients' mouths?]

[Failed Man: He's just sticking with the persona of the patient he's playing, you took it seriously?]

[Fan Quan: You have the memory and know the Black Judge better, but from my perspective, it's different.]

[Cai Bing: Why do I feel like I have more say as a fake girlfriend?]

[Failed Man: To be honest, I'm curious how you got involved with a nutjob like my brother, truly admirable. Bedlam Asylum should reserve a spot for you, otherwise, I'm not convinced.]

[Fan Quan: By the way, she also got hold of the access key to the Management Bureau.]

[Good Orange Skin: That's the charm of a hacker girl, knowledgeable yet mysterious.]

[Cai Bing: Ah, our Cowherd brother always knows what to say. The other two can just get shot, dying in the asylum is fitting.]

[Failed Man: Cut the crap, you cultured people, I'm coming to escort you and my brother to the canteen, be ready.]

[Fan Quan: Good, I can learn about the asylum's facilities.]

Ke Mingye closed the chat panel and continued walking forward.