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墨書 Inktalez
Before we set off, Jiang Zhendong called us to wait a moment: "I want to show you something." He opened the office safe and took out a dusty brown paper bag. "This is something your parent left behind sixteen years ago," he said. "If anything happens, I was told to give it to you when you grow up."
I took the bag, my hands trembling slightly. Inside was a stack of yellowed documents, and on top was a letter:
"Xiao Hao: If you are reading this letter, it means that your mother and I may have encountered trouble. But please believe that we were investigating the truth. These files document our findings, and perhaps one day, you will be able to uncover the case."
On the back of the letter were a few more lines: "The key lies in the bronze mask. It is not an ordinary artifact but a type of blood transfusion device. They call it the Vessel of the Gods, used to collect the blood of sacrifices. The most important discovery is..."
The rest of the content had been torn away. I continued to flip through the other documents; most were investigation notes. One particular report caught my attention:
According to the village elders, after the Japanese army established a secret base here in 1942, trucks frequently transported children into the mountains. They claimed they were setting up wartime schools, but in reality, they were conducting some sort of secret experiments. By 1945, before their defeat, over a hundred children had gone missing.
Subsequent investigations revealed that these experiments were related to a plan called "Resurrection of the Ancient Gods." The Japanese believed that through special rituals, they could awaken some ancient power. Each participant was required to wear a specially made bronze mask designed to absorb the divine blood of sacrifices.
The files also contained some old photographs. One taken in 1944 showed the interior of a bunker: walls lined with bronze masks and a massive operating table in the center. On the back of the photo was written: "On March 15th, before retreating, the Japanese burned most facilities, but everything in the basement remained."
"So," Zhou Jing looked at the photo, "they are repeating those evil experiments from back then?"
"Not just repeating." I pointed to another document. "Look at this."
It was a personnel list recording Japanese individuals who remained in the village after 1945. One name stood out: Yama Ichiro, aged 30, responsible for guarding the bunker.
"Wait," Zhou Jing suddenly said, "Zhang Shou's grandmother... her last name is Shan."
We exchanged glances and realized something significant. Jiang Zhendong immediately checked on his computer: "Zhang Shou's records are falsified. He didn’t arrive in the village in 2000; he was born here!"
"So he is..."
"The grandson of Yama Ichiro," Jiang Zhendong said. "He grew up in this village and later somehow acquired a new identity. This has all been premeditated!"
I continued flipping through the files and discovered a hand-drawn map at the end. This map was more detailed than what Second Master Wang had provided; it marked all internal passages of the bunker, including locations of some secret mechanisms.
"My father left me a way out," I murmured.
Just then, Zhou Jing's phone rang. It was from the town hospital, reporting that among the rescued children, numerous injection marks had been found. Tests revealed that it was blood from a rare blood type.
The doctor’s voice was filled with anger: "They are using these children to cultivate blood!"
I glanced at my watch; it was five o'clock in the afternoon. In just a few hours, the moon would rise. And deep within the bunker, who knows how many innocent children were still waiting for rescue?
Time was running out. I gathered my father's map and letter; they would begin transferring hostages at six o'clock and prepare for the ritual at seven—action at midnight.
"I've already mobilized SWAT," Jiang Zhendong said, "but we can't alert them too soon. You go first and find an opportune moment..."
Before he could finish his sentence, the lights in the office suddenly went out. The entire police station was plunged into darkness.
"No!" Zhou Jing rushed to the window. They had cut off the power to the entire town!
In the distance, the sound of sirens echoed, signaling some sort of disturbance. Bathed in the fading light of the sunset, we saw several black cars speeding through the hills.
I grabbed Zhou Jing and pulled her outside; they were trying to destroy the evidence!
Light rain began to fall, and dark clouds gradually obscured the sun. As we got into the car, Zhou Jing suddenly said, "We—"
"Don't say anything," I interrupted her. "This time, we have to catch them all!"
The vehicle wound its way up the mountain road as the rain intensified. I knew this would be a deadly confrontation. In that underground labyrinth, not only was my mother imprisoned, but it also concealed decades of evil crimes.
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