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墨書 Inktalez
We leaned against the wall of the sewer, listening to the gradually clearer sound. Although it was intermittent, we both knew it was coming toward us. We dared not speak, even our breathing had become much lighter. I could even feel Zhao Mingkun's breath and the warmth radiating from her body.
What kind of person is the Murderer? Why does he have a voice like a child? And why is the Murderer able to adapt to this dark, cold sewer? He seemed like a ghost hidden in the darkness, ever-changing, as if he possessed various transformations that made it impossible to grasp his true nature.
“Giggle.”
The girl's laughter echoed through the sewer, sharp and piercing as if it were coming from all directions. It felt like someone was gently scratching at my heart, creating an unbearable discomfort.
“Rustle, rustle…”
This was the sound of tattered cloth scraping against the rough ground. I quickly realized it was how the Murderer walked, dragging his feet as if he couldn't lift them. The rustling and giggling sounds slowly drew closer, inching nearer until I could almost predict that in the next moment, the Murderer would step right in front of us.
I struggled to suppress my urge to rush out, my fists clenched tightly. I could feel my muscles slowly tightening. In the pitch-black environment, I sensed Zhao Mingkun's body rising and falling gently, yet I couldn't see her expression.
Though some time had passed and my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I still couldn't see anything beyond a meter away. The faint sunlight filtering in only accentuated the darkness within the sewer.
It was eerily quiet around us; occasionally, water droplets fell from the walls into the sewer with a soft plop, like little bombs going off, causing our heartbeats to resonate with each drop.
In the silent and dark sewer, there was a fork in the path.
We were on one side of the wall; the Murderer was on the other.
Separated by less than a meter, yet it felt like the farthest distance in the world.
Silence enveloped us; the girl's laughter and rustling sounds had vanished as if everything that had just happened was merely an auditory hallucination. Those sounds had never existed. But we both understood that just on the other side of this wall, the Murderer was waiting for us as we were for him, pressed against the wall, anticipating each other's movements.
No one dared to move first. In this environment, both Zhao Mingkun and I were hesitant, unsure if the Murderer had any weapons that could kill us. Time passed slowly, and we felt like forgotten statues trapped in time; sweat even began to bead on my forehead.
But staying like this wasn't a solution; we couldn't just waste time here. The Murderer was accustomed to operating in the dark, and the longer we waited, the more disadvantageous it became for us. I was about to share this thought with Zhao Mingkun when he suddenly grasped my hand.
Zhao Mingkun wrote a "g" in my palm and then opened three of my fingers, letting them fall one by one. I understood his message: we would act in three seconds. Although the Murderer seemed capable of seeing in the dark, dealing with both of us wouldn't be an easy task.
At that moment, Zhao Mingkun extended three fingers in front of me, allowing me to clearly see his movements. Slowly, his fingers began to lower.
Three.
I perked up my ears but still heard no sounds from across the way. The Murderer appeared to be even more patient than we were. Given that he had been able to stalk the Victim for an extended period and craft stories based on the Victim's character, it was clear that he was a very patient individual—perhaps he could remain hidden for days without moving an inch.
Two.
I took a deep breath, preparing to rush out at the next moment and coordinate with Zhao Mingkun to capture this Murderer. The Murderer was about 1.7 meters tall and quite slender; he always struck when the Victim was completely unguarded. This indicated that he lacked the strength to confront the Victim directly, giving us a significant advantage.
One.
I leaned forward, clearing my mind of all thoughts except how to apprehend the Murderer in one second. My eyes were fixed on that one finger, waiting for it to drop.
But before it could fall, a rough male voice broke through: "What are you doing here? Run!"
The voice was gruff, likely belonging to a man in his thirties.
It struck me like thunder, making me shiver all over.
Before the words had even settled, a girl's cries echoed through the air, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. I was taken aback; it turned out there really was a girl behind us, and it seemed there were others in the sewer as well. Could it be that the Murderer was not just one person, but part of a team?
Zhao Mingkun had already dashed out, and I followed closely behind him. As we turned the corner, we could only hear sounds in the distance, but we couldn't see the Murderer moving at all. Dressed entirely in black, the Murderer blended seamlessly into the darkness.
Zhao Mingkun was fast, but I struggled to keep up in the muddy conditions of the sewer, occasionally feeling something brush against my feet. Although Zhao Mingkun was quick, he was not someone who lived in sewers year-round; during our pursuit, the sounds seemed to grow fainter.
We could hear a girl continuously crying. Although we couldn't see where the Murderer was, we could estimate their location. In my mind, a picture formed: the Murderer running through the pitch-black environment with a crying girl in their arms, showing no signs of discomfort.
As long as the girl kept crying, we could follow the Murderer without fear of losing them.
At that moment, I heard a man's voice: "Take care of your sister; don't let her cry."
I furrowed my brow at the Murderer's words; it seemed there were quite a few people involved here. Was Liu's speculation correct? How could one person alternate between being frantic and calm, sometimes male and sometimes female? This was a team; regardless of whether they were male or female, young or old, they all stood around 1.7 meters tall and wore identical black clothing.
What kind of organization would gather individuals with such similar heights and builds and employ such perverse methods to kill? What was their purpose for coming together—was it merely a murder club?
If it were just a murder club, why did each member possess such excellent counter-surveillance skills? Why did they leave no traces behind? Each person seemed so professional and disciplined; they never took any of the Victim's belongings. And what did those English letters left behind mean?
Moreover, where exactly had the Murderer left these English letters in this story? They weren't on the child or on the widow and her lover; certainly not on Old Wang, who had been instantly reduced to Blood Mist. So were there other victims?
As I ran through the dark environment, I pondered these questions while the girl's voice continued intermittently.
Suddenly, a woman's voice broke through: "I've taken my sister and hidden away. If things go wrong, just let Yan Wang come out; he can deal with them."
Another man's voice responded: "Understood. You two stay hidden and don't speak; they won't find you."
In that moment, the girl's crying suddenly ceased. It seemed that the woman had taken the girl and hidden away, leaving me disoriented as I ran forward through the sewer. Up ahead, I could vaguely see the shadow of Zhao Mingkun.
I didn't think about anything else; I just kept running. But suddenly, I stumbled, losing my balance and crashing to the ground, landing hard. When I lifted my head again, the person ahead was already out of sight.
I felt a twinge in my ankle; after taking a few steps, the pain intensified, forcing me to limp along.
Looking down at what had tripped me, I saw a stuffed bear over a meter long, left behind by someone.
As I moved forward, I pondered what had just happened. After the man's shout, the girl must have turned and run away. The man then picked her up and ran back, while several others were still in the sewer. They had allowed the girl to move freely in this dark place, which she likely called home for some time.
From what the man said, we knew there were at least four people in the sewer: a rough-voiced man, the girl, her sister, and an unseen figure referred to as the King of Hell. It seemed this King of Hell was someone who could deal with us.
Limping further inside, I found myself surrounded by silence and darkness; this environment felt stifling. After walking for a while, I came across several forks in the path. At that moment, there wasn't a soul in sight—no sign of where Zhao Mingkun had gone.
I looked closely and noticed a work uniform discarded at one of the junctions. It appeared that Zhao Mingkun had followed someone into this entrance. Back in Linfen City, Zhao Mingkun had realized my physical limitations; he knew I couldn't run far due to my frail health. In that regard, he was quite "thoughtful."
I picked up the uniform and continued deeper into the sewer. After about ten minutes of walking, I spotted someone leaning against the wall—it was none other than Zhao Mingkun. I glanced around; there was no one else nearby.
"What happened?" I asked quickly.
"I got injured," Zhao Mingkun replied as he looked up at me.
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