“Damn it…”
As his body tumbled out of the Ancient Castle, a strong sense of weightlessness surged forth. Han Su suddenly opened his eyes.
He was still in the apartnt, still sitting on the sofa. The tea in front of him emitted wisps of steam, as if nothing had changed. The second hand on the clock on the opposite wall had only moved a dozen ticks.
“Back…”
He lowered his head and looked at the back of his left hand. The scar was gone. He had once again escaped from the Ancient Castle. But...
There was no joy of survival. He only felt a gnashing hatred.
His mind was filled with that damned, withered, porcelain-cracked face—that damned Withered Butler.
Furiously, he picked up the cup of tea on the table and took a gulp, but then shivered, almost tossing the cup away.
“Damn it, why is the water so hot?”
“……”
Even he found himself a bit ridiculous. Leaning back, he collapsed onto the sofa, covering his face with his palm.
After a while, once he cald down, he sat back up again.
First, follow the procedure…
As countless mory fragnts surfaced in his mind, he confird his current situation and the events he had recently experienced.
Surprisingly, not much had changed compared to last ti?
The only difference was the absence of a scar on his left hand. That hand had beco even more agile.
Perhaps thanks to the record-keeping ability of the Fisherman’s Chant, in this Life Line, he could still use the ability of his left hand. He was still in the Disaster Managent Bureau and had already resolved the Crystal Skull propagation incident.
His ntor, Mr. Strange Bird…
…was still unfortunate.
…
Han Su let out a sigh of relief. Since that door had appeared, his life had not experienced any drastic changes in a long ti.
The appearance of the Fisherman’s Chant had also, imperceptibly, helped fill in so gaps in the details.
It gave his life a sense of firmness and stable progress.
After silently reminiscing for a long ti, he sat up. But suddenly, his head felt slightly dizzy, and a tallic scraping sound echoed in his mind, like a rash and violent beast crashing inside his skull, nearly causing him to fall to the floor.
“Mm?”
Han Su held his head and suddenly recalled more details.
It wasn’t entirely unchanged.
In this Life Line, he seed to have developed a recurring headache, as if sothing strange was crashing around inside his brain.
It wasn’t severe and always passed quickly, but whenever it happened, it was intensely painful.
This was…
…the sound he had heard when leaving the Ancient Castle, coming from the fifth floor?
Suddenly he realized that when he had exited the Ancient Castle, a booming sound had echoed from the fifth floor—like a spoken language resonating and reverberating through narrow spaces and solids—finally catching up with him just before he completely passed through the EXIT Door.
‘That phrase… is still in my head?’
He was montarily stunned, sensing that this “phrase” seed alive, constantly searching for an exit inside his mind?
Puzzled, he sat quietly, straining with all his might but unable to decipher the content of the sound.
Which ant, he couldn’t determine what effect this sound might bring!
After sitting silently for a long while, he forcefully knocked his head twice, like fixing a TV. The headache did improve.
He could only make a ntal note of it for now, then rested for a bit and poured himself a glass of cold water.
After observing it, there were no ripples on the surface.
Only then did he feel reassured and began sorting the information he had gained this ti.
Taking out a sheet of paper, he used symbols and words only he could understand to record the secret entrances and passages in the Ancient Castle, to help him revisit the mories. He rembered them in detail—they could be life-saving.
Only by engraving all those entrances and hidden paths deep in his mory could he ensure absolute success next ti.
‘As long as the Withered Butler doesn’t obstruct , then at the right mont, I can use this route to guarantee Manman’s rescue…’
‘There are many such paths, and suddenly many more opportunities…’
‘And Tuxedo Boy, that guy is so cunning, he could even drag the Boar‑Head Monster to block the Withered Butler…’
‘So then, can I ignite more conflict between them again?’
‘……’
‘……’
As he plotted like this, countless thoughts surged forth. Han Su slowly closed his eyes, simulating every possibility of success in his mind. But the stiff and eerie face of the Withered Butler kept flashing in his head, unsettling his thoughts.
He opened his eyes, tucked the paper close to his body, and rembered another key issue.
He took out his phone and searched for “Lilac Courtyard,” and was a bit surprised:
The map didn’t show that na?
But this place was definitely connected to the Withered Butler—he had to find it and retrieve that chanical Fragnt.
Once his thoughts were clear, he first checked the ssage from Special Assistant Xu, who had sent him a proposed ti and location to et with “ilan” and asked for his opinion. He replied directly: “Okay.”
Just then, the Doctor sent over a “?”
Han Su thought of the Ghost Truck and replied:
“Of course. Where do you want to et?”
“……”
Strictly speaking, the Ghost Truck was the most urgent matter right now.
The awakening deadline for that monster was drawing closer. He had to obtain his Investigator License as soon as possible.
The Doctor provided an address, and Han Su headed over imdiately.
The eting place was a café on a lively comrcial street. Even at twelve-thirty, or late into the night around two or three o’clock, the street remained busy. The café, though open late, was very quiet—perfect for conversation.
The Doctor and Hei Hu sat in a blind corner, even out of view of the surveillance caras. Han Su ordered a glass of water and sat down with them.
“Since you’ve shown interest, I’ve drafted a brief plan for capturing the Ghost Truck. This matter is very important to you. To avoid any mishaps, I could only invite people I trust and who are capable of helping.”
The Doctor spoke as soon as he saw Han Su.
He pointed to Hei Hu beside him, then lightly pushed a small, red-glowing component to the center of the table and said, “This is a device I made myself to prevent eavesdropping. We can speak freely.”
“You’re quite cautious.”
Han Su praised the Doctor, then glanced at the water cup beside him. After confirming there were no ripples in the water, he finally spoke: “If it’s just trustworthy people, what about Miss Crow?”
“That’s up to you.”
The Doctor looked Han Su in the eyes, pushed his glasses back up his nose with his ring finger, and said, “If you want to invite her, give her a call. With her, the plan I’ve prepared would certainly be even better.”
Hearing the Doctor’s sowhat strange tone, Han Su felt a flicker of awareness: this person had also noticed sothing odd about Miss Crow.
After a brief pause, he said, “Let see your plan first.”
The Doctor handed over a tablet with its signal disabled. Han Su scanned it and said, “Then I’ll call her now.”
He had to. This mission was too difficult.
In the Disaster Managent Bureau’s records, the Ghost Truck was only rated C .
In other words, in terms of danger level, it was even a tier below the Crystal Plague mission on Beidi Street.
But that was only because the Ghost Truck posed limited threat to groups.
With threats like the Crystal Plague, whether it kills or not isn’t the point—the key is the transmission.
This kind of spread is hard to detect without expertise, and once leaked, the consequences and fervor it incites could shake real-world belief systems.
But the Ghost Truck was the opposite. It was brutal. It killed. It instinctively collected wandering spirits to grow stronger. But due to its nature, every ti it hunted, it brought along thick fog, and thus often went unnoticed.
The critical issue was that this grotesque being was cunning. It never actually entered the City, which limited Miss Ai’s ability to help.
And it had the trait of appearing and vanishing freely with the fog. Even with massive manpower and resources, the Disaster Managent Bureau still couldn’t deal with it, which led to the current dilemma.
Its threat level might be just C, but capturing it was nearly on the sa level as dealing with Song Chu‑shi.
“No wonder just a C-Level Task could determine whether one gets an Investigator License.”
“Because it’s really not a nice job.”
The Doctor stirred three packets of sugar into his coffee, pushed his glasses with his index finger, and began to explain his plan to Han Su: “From what I know, the Disaster Managent Bureau has been attempting to capture that Ghost Truck for a month.”
“But in that entire month, they only executed one effective operation. And even that failed due to soone’s carelessness.”
“Since then, many etings were held, many Execution mbers were mobilized, but the Ghost Truck never appeared again.”
“……”
Han Su frowned slightly and asked, “Why?”
“Because this truck is sly.”
The Doctor said this and found it odd himself. Shaking his head, he continued, “Actually, the plan I drafted isn’t that different from the Bureau’s.”
“Step one, ensure it appears at a designated location.”
“Step two, once it appears, imdiately launch an interdiction plan to trap it within a specific area.”
“Step three, have a strong Investigator move in to seal or eliminate it.”
“Every step must be carried out with extre precision. Any mishap will lead to the failure of the Ghost Truck capture mission.”
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