Chapter 26: The Corpse

The key refused to remain in Shi Rang’s hand, persistently pulling its way upward. Its strength was unnaturally immense, powerful enough to displace all the soil in its path and drag Shi Rang out of the loose earth by sheer force. To Shi Rang, it flickered between looking like a key and looking like a leg. By the time his grip slipped, he had already been dragged into the loose soil. He sensed a passage forming above him, and fresh air surged down from the surface. In this near-death, hallucinatory state, Shi Rang choked on the sand, yet the life-saving air forced its way into his lungs. He snapped into sudden consciousness.

The soil began to collapse back into place. Pushing with strength he had never possessed before, he clawed and climbed, following the trail upward toward the surface. After several seconds—or perhaps tens of seconds—he burst out of the ground. Rain fell upon his head, mixing with the dirt smeared across his face. He struggled out of that grave, crawled a few paces, and collapsed, lying flat on his back. He gasped for air, letting the rain and grit drip into his mouth. He was alive! He was alive!

This struggle for survival had drained his every ounce of strength. He felt as though his body had been dismantled, leaving him unable to rise again. He lay there, tasting metal and the scent of damp earth, resting in the darkness like a corpse that had miraculously revived only to suffer an immediate, sudden death. The face of Ying Shang seemed to drift further away from him; Shi Rang tried in vain to reach out, his hand grasping only at the source of the rain. She was gone. He choked on the mud in his throat, the coughing turning into a sob. If Ying Shang had been targeted by criminals because of that wretched subsidy, he would never forgive himself.

Right, the criminals...

Shi Rang rolled over and rubbed his eyes, which were nearly crusted shut. He caught a glimpse of light from a factory building not far away. As the light flickered out from a window, his dark-adjusted eyes captured a deep line of footprints on the ground, extending toward the factory as if guiding him. What exactly had he grabbed in that pit...? Hallucinations couldn't have brought him to the surface; could there have been someone else in the pile of corpses feigning death? Was this some arrangement of fate, some miracle? Shi Rang had never cared for matters of faith, but at this moment, he wavered.

He fumbled in his pockets and found that his phone had been crushed, rendering it useless for communication. He kept looking back at the pit; the hole he had left remained in place. It turned out to be a massive pit used for burying raw material vats, completely filled with soil and rock. Who knew how many冤魂 (wronged souls) were buried nearby. He suddenly felt a desperate urge to dig up all the surrounding earth to search for the light of his life.

For two years, he had run to the police station countless times, interviewed neighbors, and scoured the internet, searching for any trace of her existence. But slowly, everyone began repeating the same answer to him, lying to his face, telling him she had left on her own. He wouldn't accept it. He had even begun to grasp the reality that she might no longer be in this world, hoping for a message that would bring an end to everything, to end this aimless, painful search.

Yet, he still hoped Ying Shang was alive, living in some corner of the world, perhaps having realized they had no future, or forced to leave him for some reason, or perhaps she had impulsively gone on a long journey, heading toward a brighter future without him... Now, he only prayed she wasn't buried five meters deep, lying in the darkness where no one knew, alongside other victims. Anyone else would do—it didn't matter how many unrelated, unfortunate souls were buried there, as long as she wasn't among them. Let it not be her...

Shi Rang crawled forward, then limped along the tracks of the excavator until he finally found his camera. Rain washed over its waterproof casing, rinsing away the muddy handprints he had left behind. He raised the camera, returned to the scene, and pressed the shutter, capturing the pit and the surrounding terrain. These actions brought him a sense of calm. Yes, he had found evidence. He could have Greyhound thrown into prison. He had the right to investigate, the evidence was ironclad, and those criminals would surely die.

Bang!

A loud noise startled Shi Rang into raising his head. Bang, bang, bang! Thud! The sound came from the factory where there was activity. Human screams drifted faintly through the rain. What was happening? He clutched his camera tightly, scanning his surroundings in panic, terrified that someone might rush out and bury him back in the hole. The sounds were continuous, echoing far into the night. Shi Rang distinguished a string of gunshots, dense enough to sound like a firefight... or firecrackers.

Could another criminal syndicate be attacking? The criminal gangs active in Pingyuan City were not limited to "Blue Signal." This was one of the "lively" border port cities, where various criminals crowded in, carving out territories of all sizes. But why here? Shi Rang looked around at this graveyard of rusted metal and considered a possibility. These criminals hadn't left after disposing of the bodies; could this industrial zone be one of Blue Signal's criminal bases? Perhaps it was their warehouse, or a safe house. Regardless, it didn't sound like they were just test-firing guns for fun!

He had intended to flee and let the police handle it, but what if Greyhound died...? Shi Rang looked left and right, then hid the camera in a corner of some building wreckage that provided shelter from the rain, noting the triangular iron frame nearby. Fear, mixed with rage, scraped a bit more strength from his body, and he limped toward the source of the noise, toward the factory. That scum couldn't die yet. He could absolutely not die before revealing Ying Shang’s whereabouts!

-----------------

Minutes earlier.

Inside the room, an iron barrel burned, and in the firelight, five members of Blue Signal gathered to enjoy their midnight party. Brother Qiang enthusiastically handed beer to his subordinates, using the opportunity to win their favor. Several underlings, having no appetite, feigned drinking while smiling or finding ways to decline. Greyhound, who should have been participating, sat to the side, silent. His neck had been itching increasingly, and even after a careful inspection in the mirror, there was nothing to be seen but the red marks from his scratching.

Suddenly, a harsh sound rang out. Bang! That was the sound of the iron door the organization had installed at the chemical plant being smashed open. Because they were in a rush to burn their clothes, they hadn't locked the door. Brother Qiang’s brows knit together, and he drew his gun with lightning speed.

"Someone’s here to make trouble."
"The cops wouldn't come here. It must be another gang!"
"Which blind fool wants to taste lead..."

Greyhound joined the others in drawing his gun, watching his three subordinates head toward the slightly ajar main door of the factory management office. An ominous premonition reached a fever pitch in his heart, and a sense of constriction rose in his throat, making it difficult to breathe. He knew he should lead the charge to set an example, or fight side-by-side with Brother Qiang. That was what he intended to do.

However, the foot Greyhound had taken forward involuntarily pulled back. He stared at the backs of the others and shuffled toward the back door of the management office...

The intruder kicked open the main gate and sprinted along the metal stairs, the sound of footsteps drumming like a heartbeat, each thud striking Greyhound’s chest. Thud! Thud! Thud! The image of that gruesome, bizarre corpse flashed before Greyhound’s eyes again—that face, identical to his own, staring out from the darkness to declare his fate. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his mouth went dry, and his fear spiked to its limit. No longer caring about organizational rules or underworld loyalties, he yanked open the back door and bolted.

The sound of climbing the stairs grew louder, moving with terrifying speed. One underling was hiding near the main door of the management office, carefully peeking through a gap toward the long staircase outside. Seeing a dark shadow approach, he pushed the door open and aimed his gun, but the shadow, which had been several meters away, suddenly appeared right in front of him.

Like a locomotive at maximum speed crashing through the door, the underling was swatted away instantly, his body flying through the air to smash against the wall on the other side of the room. As he fell, he left a red streak, his chest caved in. Another underling standing two paces away was even unluckier; he was struck squarely by the figure as it entered, shattering like a plastic toy. He didn't even have time to scream before he was reduced to fragments.

The last remaining underling reflexively pulled the trigger on the intruder. Bullets left the chamber, striking the uninvited guest. The underling didn't care that the target had stopped in the center of the room without warning; he emptied his entire magazine. The man still stood there. Before braking, the intruder had kicked over the iron barrel in the center of the room. Unburnt fuel spilled onto the floor, and tongues of flame licked at his clothes, spreading upward.

The man remained motionless. At this moment, the underling finally saw that face and his eyes widened immediately.

"Dog brother? No, this is..."

He turned to look for his superior but didn't see Greyhound in the room. Looking toward the other side of the room, he saw the corner of Brother Qiang’s clothes flash out the back door, which then slammed shut.

"Brother Qiang—"

The underling took a step in that direction, suddenly overcome by an inexplicable heart palpitations. Only then did he realize that one of his companions was dead and the other critically wounded. He finally realized that something beyond reason was happening. But when he looked back at the source of his terror, he saw that in the center of the room, the blue-clad figure, its body embedded with bullets, had a distorted face.

The next moment, the intruder grew his face, and there were ten deep, tiny indentations on its neck. It looked as though it had been strangled to death. Then, it raised its hands high and charged.