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墨書 Inktalez
Xu Rong's pupils dilated sharply. He noticed that the second speaker had a plum blossom-shaped scar on the webbing of his right hand, identical to the one on the landlady's hand. This was not an ordinary kidnapping case; it was a complete "production chain."
The engine of the truck roared to life. Xu Rong couldn't wait for backup and dashed forward in a single leap. His sidearm was aimed at the tires, but just then, a dozen figures in school uniforms suddenly poured out of the back door.
In the dim light, their eyes glowed with an eerie green hue, and thick saliva dripped from the corners of their mouths.
"Uncle," the leading boy tilted his head, his voice sickeningly sweet, "want some snacks?" He held up a bag of crispy pork skin, the packaging glistening with grease under the moonlight.
It was then that Xu Rong realized all the children bore that same plum blossom-shaped scar on their hands. The truck's taillights vanished around the corner.
Xu Rong found himself surrounded by the children, their body temperatures unusually high, their breath carrying a sweet, putrid odor. The thermal imaging device emitted a piercing alarm, indicating that these children's temperatures were rapidly rising, surpassing normal human limits.
"Step back!" Xu Rong shouted as he raised his sidearm, but his finger trembled on the trigger. These were innocent children, victims transformed into monsters.
The leading boy suddenly grinned widely, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth. "Uncle, you smell... so good..."
At that moment, blinding searchlights cut through the night sky. The SWAT team's armored vehicle crashed through the school gate, forming a moving wall with their riot shields. The children let out beast-like howls and scattered in all directions.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Xu Rong sprinted toward the guard room; he remembered there was a secret door leading to the basement there. The iron door to the basement was locked, but there were clear signs of wear around the keyhole.
Xu Rong shone his flashlight on the ground and discovered a deep drag mark on the cement floor, extending into the darkness. The air was filled with a mixture of formaldehyde and a sickly sweet scent that reminded him of the "Lychee Eyeball" in the Autopsy Room.
A faint sound of water came from behind the door, as if something was swimming in liquid. Xu Rong took a deep breath, raised his firearm, and kicked open the iron door.
Beyond the door was a metal staircase leading downward, its handrails rusted and every step stained with dark brown grime. Xu Rong's flashlight beam danced across the walls, revealing countless scratch marks and dried bloodstains. The air was thick with the acrid smell of chemical agents, mingled with the stench of decaying flesh.
The sound of water grew louder, accompanied by a mechanical humming. Xu Rong's gas mask filter had become saturated; each breath felt like inhaling a viscous liquid. At the end of the staircase stood an airlock, its observation window fogged over.
Through the blurry glass, Xu Rong saw a massive circular laboratory. In the center was a cylindrical cultivation pod over ten meters in diameter, floating with dozens of human bodies whose skin appeared sickly pale, their bodies filled with tubes. Surrounding the cultivation pod was a ring of workstations cluttered with various instruments and petri dishes.
Suddenly, a figure in a white lab coat stood up from behind one of the workstations. Xu Rong recognized that face—it was Professor Lin, a genetic engineering expert he had met six months ago at a forensic conference, where he had been giving a presentation on modifying the Human Taste Receptor Gene.
“ Forensic Doctor Xu,” Professor Lin's voice echoed through the laboratory's broadcast system with a metallic resonance. “I knew you would find your way here.”
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