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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter Four
Log 1701, Clear Weather
Ten years ago, someone from the Underworld Messenger caused a stir, leading the Underworld to cease their agreement with the Underworld Messenger regarding soul collection. At the same time, rumors began circulating about a List associated with the Underworld Messenger. According to the Ghost Messenger, there is indeed a List, but it only circulates among Ghost Messengers and does not appear in the mortal realm. The Underworld is currently addressing the matter concerning the Underworld Messenger's misconduct, but no details have been leaked, and there are no updates.
Earlier this year, the Zhang Family suddenly made significant moves. First, they frequently ventured out of the city under the guise of expanding their business, then they increased their manpower, and several associates mysteriously died. Reports from other informants suggest that these individuals likely fell victim to the Underworld Messenger.
Half a month ago, the Zhang Family asked Mighty Falcon to locate an item and scheduled a transaction for the fifteenth of this month during daylight. Many speculate that this item is the List related to the Underworld Messenger.
On the day of the transaction, one member of Mighty Falcon was found dead at the transaction site, and a team sent by the Zhang Family went missing in Mang Mountain. Both parties launched investigations; Mighty Falcon dispatched a team to accompany the Zhang Family's actions, but only one person came to request my assistance in examining the corpse.
From our discussions, it appears that those from the local department are unaware of matters concerning the Underworld Messenger and soul collection; they are merely following orders from their superiors to bring me in. As for Mighty Falcon's intentions and who summoned me for what purpose, I have no idea.
The deceased was claimed by soul collection; based on information received in recent days, it seems to be the work of Copper Coin.
Song Bunan lay on his bed, fatigue from two sleepless days washed over him as he almost instantly fell asleep after putting down his pen. From the moment he saw the corpse, he had already identified who was responsible, but to give himself some time to prepare, he deliberately made Mighty Falcon wait for two days. He figured that during this time their people must have entered Mang Mountain alongside the Zhang Family, conveniently serving as his vanguard.
Most of the Underworld Messengers in town had sought other employment over the past decade since the incident; those who were involved back then still remained but were assigned far fewer tasks and had taken on other work to support their families. The most information he received was that they were assisting someone with experiments.
Mang Mountain is said to be one of their bases. The people in that laboratory are like ghosts—never seen nor heard—over all these years only various rumors have circulated without anyone knowing specific details. Several families have gone to great lengths searching for clues but have only managed to piece together fragmented information.
Upon returning to his shop, he immediately contacted a friend living closest to the City God Temple and detailed Old Otter's situation, asking him to check if any souls were left behind there. The result was negative. His friend informed him that since the incident involving the Underworld Messenger, even Wandering Soul had vanished from the City God Temple, let alone any souls that had been taken away.
"Why don’t you communicate with the Ghost Messengers and see what those Underworld Messengers are up to? The few from the Zhang Family who died this year also had their souls missing. I don’t believe that Underworld would just sit back and do nothing about them taking so many souls," his friend suggested.
Song Bunan sighed deeply: "Brother, right now even the Ghost Messengers are in disarray. Those souls taken ten years ago still haven’t descended below; higher-ups have given everyone a chance for self-correction. The Ghost Messengers are busy self-auditing while trying to keep up with their work—it’s all a mess."
Hearing this, his friend laughed heartily, saying that he used to think deities and ghosts were less complicated than human affairs, yet because of these matters they were now flustered—it truly brought some satisfaction. "So-called Ghost Messengers are just errand runners; they’re merely workers in the underworld."
Song Bunan could not refute this and could only nod in agreement.
Xin Yi did not enter Mang Mountain with his team.
Upon reaching the rendezvous point, he received a new task: to stand by at the foot of the mountain.
He did not understand why he was assigned this way. The captain and the others had already entered the mountain, and just as he arrived at the foot, the communication signal was interrupted. The equipment used by Mighty Falcon was top-notch; unless they were venturing into uncharted wilderness, signal loss was unlikely. Given that Mang Mountain was one of the closest mountains to the city and had been equipped with signal long ago, this interruption seemed suspicious.
When he tried to contact the captain, the woman on the other end, busy with something, curtly told him to wait and then fell silent. The other team members were also preoccupied, busy with their own tasks. Occasionally, a report image would pop up in the communication group.
Receiving an aimless standby order made Xin Yi feel uncomfortable. He found it hard to be interested in a tranquil life; hearing about going through the motions of work and daily life made him feel uneasy. He thought that living such a mundane existence was worse than dying and being reborn. His teammates did not comment on his state; after all, there were few normal people in Mighty Falcon.
Planning to take a nap, Xin Yi lay on his bed, his gaze drifting to a corner of the ceiling where dust had fallen due to inadequate cleaning, resembling a long worm clinging to the white wall. This was the only resting place at the foot of Mang Mountain, which was cool and pleasant. The owner had even dug out a fish pond in the backyard and offered barbecue accommodations—a perfect spot for relaxation. On weekends, many people came to enjoy it, and during holidays it was bustling with activity, making it hard to find a room.
Now it was off-season, and Xin Yi had booked five days of accommodation at once. He also learned that his captain's team and the Zhang Family were resting here as well; they hadn't checked out before leaving and asked not to have their rooms cleaned. He took his key and went from room to room checking them but found nothing.
After a long time, he bought a bottle of liquor intending to relax a little. The last time he drank was three years ago after completing a particularly challenging mission when everyone sat around the camp nursing their wounds while drinking. The liquor was corn wine sourced from a village in the mountains; just smelling it was enough to sense its spiciness. The moment it hit his throat was exhilarating—the rough taste of the mash stung his oral mucosa until he swallowed it down, leaving a faint corn flavor in his throat that felt quite satisfying.
He pondered over the dangers his captain might encounter after entering the mountain and considered which route would allow him to reach them fastest if he were called for support. If any unforeseen circumstances arose, how could he handle them to minimize losses?
Lost in thought made time slip away unnoticed; when he looked up for a break, he realized it was nearly evening. The last rays of sunset hung on the horizon, with most of the pale red blocked by mountains, casting a grayish gloom inside due to lack of light.
After turning on the light, he noticed a cat outside the window—black and white fur with a small fish-shaped tag around its neck. It sat on the windowsill, staring at him with round eyes as he drank; its golden pupils were quite captivating. For some reason, Xin Yi saw a shadow of Song Bunan's face in that cat.
That fortune teller also had strikingly attractive eyes.
Perhaps among all those he had encountered before, none possessed Song Bunan's unique aura; Xin Yi remembered him vividly—he could even recall beads of sweat mixed with paper dust on his nose before taking a shower and that earthy aroma of food wafting around him.
He had reviewed Song Bunan's profile: thirty years old, graduated from Rongcheng Military School, even among that batch of students considered an outstanding graduate. His marksmanship, combat skills, and physical fitness ranked among the top three. Yet after graduation, he rejected all job offers and went off to open a shop in a remote village selling paper offerings.
"What a pity," said the captain as he stood nearby smoking, exhaling clouds of smoke while pointing at the photo in the profile. "Among those top three graduates back then, only he didn’t join us. I initially thought it was such a loss until I learned he went into that line of work—then I just found him annoying. But this time around, his performance has indeed been commendable."
The person in the photo was not wearing glasses and had a buzz cut, appearing slightly older than he does now. His eyes, however, were strikingly captivating, different from what one might see in person. In the photo, his eyes sparkled with vitality and determination, giving the impression that he would be a very reliable person.
Accompanying the materials was a storage card containing videos of him training at school back in the day.
Dressed in training gear, Song Bunan smiled at the camera, seemingly familiar with the person filming. He moved around playfully, asking why they decided to record something. The person behind the camera laughed and replied that it was their first practical assessment and they needed to capture a memory.
Song Bunan nodded, raised his fist, and declared that he had to take down Brother Ming Hua today to avenge the fall he took a couple of days ago. Just then, a guy appeared and put him in a headlock with his arm while playfully tickling him, both of them laughing.
A wave of youthful joy belonging to students burst forth from the screen, lifting Xin Yi's spirits unexpectedly. At that time, Song Bunan truly resembled a child; his words and actions were filled with innocence, and his voice was much clearer than it is now.
The video had been edited and jumped straight to the assessment scene. Standing in the ring, Song Bunan made faces at his opponent across from him, saying that whoever lost today would have to treat the other, with him choosing what to eat. The opponent sighed in resignation and laughed, saying, "Fine, but if you lose, you have to cover breakfast for our dorm for a month."
"I can't possibly lose! Bring it on!" In an instant as he leaped forward, Song Bunan's demeanor completely changed. The carefree attitude vanished; he moved with agility and lightness, landing precise yet powerful strikes that quickly gave him the upper hand. His opponent was no pushover either; he countered skillfully but adopted a conservative strategy focused on defense.
The match lasted over five minutes and ended in a draw. The two were locked together on the ground like twisted pretzels when the coach came over to declare it finished without separating them. Song Bunan shouted for his opponent to concede but received no satisfactory answer. With lightning speed, he rolled up the guy's pant leg and playfully bit into his calf.
The onlookers and coach laughed uncontrollably on the ground while the bitten guy angrily tugged at Song Bunan's collar, cursing that he conceded.
"You dog! You bit me! This is an assessment; you can't bite!" After being released, Song Bunan found himself once again caught in a headlock by the man, his face contorted as he mumbled that he only bit after they finished fighting. The coach agreed.
The video ended with Song Bunan shouting about wanting hot pot. Xin Yi looked at the darkened screen and couldn't help but compare the person in the video with the one she saw now. The current Song Bunan seemed more worldly; at first glance, he appeared deep and inscrutable. Back then, however, he was like an ice-cold lemon soda in midsummer—refreshing and invigorating.
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