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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter Fourteen
Earlier, Xin Yi was not in the same team as the leader. At that time, he belonged to a secret unit of the Earth Department, responsible for tasks that could not see the light of day. They moved between various cities, directly contacting city administrators to handle crises that threatened everyone.
To put it bluntly, they were a group of assassins, merely doing jobs for money.
Later, as laboratory experiments surged, they received intelligence indicating that an entire lab needed to be taken down discreetly, ideally making it disappear overnight.
They followed through on this during a cool summer night.
Xin Yi was the team leader. They stealthily entered the target building, a secret base transformed from an old scientific laboratory. The barbed wire was electrified; insects that touched it fizzled into white smoke. They successfully connected with an insider inside and entered through a pre-prepared breach, reaching the back door where they split into two teams.
He was responsible for the ground operation, waiting for the aerial team to gain control of the electrical surveillance before proceeding to clean up. He and his teammates stealthily made their way in from the first floor, holding their breath as they awaited attack signals through their earpieces.
The moonlight that night was bright; its pale glow illuminated their path through the broken windows, and the wind whispered through the hallways like a mournful song. The teammates in front and behind him seemed shrouded in white gauze, their figures indistinct and ghostly, making him feel as though this wasn’t real.
The most torturous part of waiting was the silence; the entire building felt like a graveyard, its doors and windows serving as unmarked tombstones. The wind's whispers echoed like nature singing a sorrowful tune.
The child standing guard in front turned around and gestured playfully at them, claiming that this place felt like an incinerator where they awaited to be burned like corpses. This remark was abruptly silenced by someone behind him who kicked the child, causing him to rub his backside in protest.
“Uncle, you guys really lack a sense of humor,” the child complained.
Almost instantly, they heard their teammate screaming through the earpiece, urging them to retreat.
That place was more deadly than a graveyard; the entire building had transformed into a hellish demon, devouring all life. He and the child were among the last survivors as they rushed through the breach toward safety. But when he turned back to reach for the child’s hand, blood splattered across his face.
The child was seized by a demon that emerged from hell, its claws piercing his heart and lifting his still-beating flesh into the moonlight, waiting for hellfire to consume them both.
Run!
That moment became part of his nightmares—fire and flesh consuming him in darkness while betrayal's hatred gnawed at his bones, leaving him unable to sleep.
He wanted revenge, but everything had been sealed away. They even sent someone specifically to provide psychological counseling, telling him it was just the past and should not affect his future. The counseling was effective; he joined his leader's team and settled in Rongcheng, merely executing routine tasks without difficulty—even helping an old lady rescue her cat by the roadside.
Now, that nightmare lay before him, separated by a thin layer of parchment paper. If he opened it, he could return to that night and replay everyone’s deaths once more.
"Don't carry unnecessary burdens." The leader was very concerned about this matter and had argued with the captain during the allocation. However, he couldn't outmaneuver the leader of the department, who simply stated that only Xin Yi was qualified to defeat him. How could he not know? The person who woke up with red eyes from nightmares in the hospital had torn his palm with hatred, ultimately having to accept the demand to forget like a walking corpse.
Under his watchful eyes, Xin Yi had lived a stable life for fourteen years. Now that old matters were resurfacing, it was as if his wounds were being torn open once more, and a bullet was added for good measure.
The person who had become even more composed than before smiled back at him, speaking in a tone that revealed no emotion. "It's fine; this is what I should be doing."
They were currently in the process of re-investigation, and there was still some time before they would go out on a field mission. The leader secretly resolved to ensure that Xin Yi would be removed from this team before he undertook any missions on his own.
After eating and drinking to their fill, the older brother pulled Song Bunan into the bedroom under the pretext of friendly communication between brothers. Without saying a word, he pinned him onto the bed and raised the alcohol, ready to pour it onto the wound. The helpless person widened his eyes in panic, unable to utter a coherent word; all that could be heard was him calling for his brother.
"If you don't explain where you went, it won't help even if you call Dad." The smell of alcohol made his head throb as he watched the clear, irritating liquid about to drip from the bottle onto the gauze. Song Bunan relented, nodding repeatedly to indicate that he would speak freely.
"First of all, where did you go?" He wasn't released.
"Mang Mountain, invited by Mighty Falcon to investigate an accidental death case involving their team members, along with Mighty Falcon's Xin Yi." The older brother's eyes locked onto his, a scrutinizing gaze sending chills from his spine to the top of his head.
"What did you find out?" The grip of the older brother loosened slightly.
"There are structures resembling tunnels behind the mountain, which look like abandoned wards. Inside, there are strange modified individuals who lack pain perception and most have no self-awareness. I got injured while trying to protect my teammates."
Through years of brotherly understanding, he saw trust in his brother's eyes, which quickly transformed into freedom. Curled up on the bed, he wondered why his brother was suddenly interested in this matter. "Is your company going under? Why are you suddenly so concerned about my situation?"
The older brother, always referred to as "the other family's child" by neighbors, straightened up seriously and placed the necessary supplies for changing dressings beside him. With a dismissive glance at him, he coldly said, "I have no interest in your matters at all; however, I have thoughts about what’s in Mang Mountain. Have you heard of 'Survival Stealing'? That experiment that was banned over ten years ago."
Song Bunan, honestly exposing his belly to scrutiny, searched his memory and casually remarked that since that experiment had been banned for over a decade, why bring it up again? Was someone trying to continue it? The iodine felt cold against his skin, making him shiver.
"Someone in the company said they saw a batch of old equipment on the market with markings from that laboratory. The signs of use are very new and align with your earlier mention of that place being abandoned. I analyze that while the experiment has been officially banned, actions have not ceased privately over these past ten years. Do you have any usable intelligence on your side?"
"No." Song Bunan readily admitted. "I don’t have any information regarding that type of content but feel like I could gather some useful insights. What do you need?"
"Anything related would be useful; details would be best. How is your relationship with Mighty Falcon?" Song Bunan looked up at his brother, trying to glean some useful information from his gaze. Unfortunately, he lacked the skill and could only see his brother's sharp eyes.
He nodded openly. "It's just a relationship where I've been compensated before; I added one of them as a friend." With layers of bandages wrapped around him, he sat up and rummaged through his drawer for some hidden candy. "If you're looking to collaborate with Mighty Falcon, you just need to reach out; my relationship with them doesn't really matter."
The sugar hidden in the corner had melted, stretching like threads on his fingers. Song Bunan was hit on the head by his brother and grimaced as he began to clean up. A voice came from above him, “Do you remember why you left that team back then?”
Suddenly, a wave of anxiety washed over Song Bunan. He turned to look at his brother, who gave him an affirming nod. “That mission couldn’t possibly be related to this laboratory, could it? We were just there to capture someone!”
“A special task force formed at a high price by Multi-City, and the target was likely A Cat and A Dog. Your combat capabilities were at the top back then, and now you’re the only one left alive. You can’t say you were a coward, can you?” These were thoughts Song Bunan had entertained before, but so much time had passed that discussing it now seemed pointless. The organization had long since disbanded, and he held his own file.
He waved his dirty hand to indicate a moment’s pause, sat down on the ground, and said, “Let’s clarify things. The current situation is: the place at Mang Mountain is one of the secret bases of the laboratory. It was abandoned before we arrived, the equipment was sold off, but a few thugs were left inside waiting for us. As the seller of that mechanical equipment, you discovered that batch flowing into the market and wanted to get some clues about the laboratory from me. And this laboratory is directly linked to the failed mission of my team ten years ago—it’s the root cause of our members' deaths. It’s all so complicated.”
The sudden influx of information hit Song Bunan like a meteor crashing into his head, nearly overwhelming him.
“I know very few people from your squad. Judging by the fact that you haven’t heard anything about that failed mission yet, it seems that the information circulating in the market is fragmented. We need more details to piece together the whole picture.” Song Buxian opened a window and stood by it to light a cigarette, his cold expression summarizing their situation.
“That team is a thing of the past; whether it’s related to the laboratory doesn’t matter much for my current life. As for Mighty Falcon, they probably have grievances with the laboratory since there was an incident back then. And you, my dear brother, if you really want me to investigate this, such information can’t be summarized with just ‘brother.’ As your big boss, if you want me to do this investigation, it’ll cost extra.” Upholding the tradition of clear accounting among brothers, Song Bunan confidently extended his dirty hand and added a threat, “If you don’t agree, I’ll call our parents in and tell them you’re smoking.”
In response, a lighter came flying toward him and hit him squarely on the forehead. Instinctively touching his face, he found sticky syrup clinging to it; before he could think clearly, his brother had already tossed away his cigarette butt and sprayed himself with cologne in one swift motion before opening the door and shouting that his brother had ruined the candy by hiding it in a drawer.
A damp towel scrubbed hard against his face as Song Bunan squirmed away but found himself overpowered by his father’s strength. His mother’s worried voice filled his ears as she scolded him for being old enough to hide snacks yet still being foolish enough to smear himself with sugar. “You might as well move back in with us! Living alone outside means you don’t even eat properly and keep getting into trouble.” His mother grew increasingly agitated as she twisted his ear and scrubbed harder.
“But brother lives outside too…” he protested loudly. The response was another sharp knock on his head that echoed loudly; this time their father chimed in, “Your brother reports every meal he has and works out swimming; he has six-pack abs now! Look at you—you’re as thin as a dried flower! If tomorrow’s wind picks up even a little bit, you’ll be blown away! Hurry up and move back home; I don’t want your mother and me having to hire movers to carry you back.”
Song Bunan felt guilty; he felt wronged; he glared at his brother while receiving a triple dose of criticism.
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