Histoires de fantômes

Chapitre 118

Wang Jiangnan bowed to Helen, then bowed to the closed cabin door. When he was fawning over Guan Baoling back then, he probably never imagined he would face such a humiliating situation today.

Helen took off her glasses, revealing her carefully made-up big eyes. Her long, curly eyelashes were more elastic than those of a Barbie doll, trembling gently in the wind.

Wang Jiangnan gave a bitter smile: "Is Mr. Ye on the plane? There's been some misunderstanding, and I'd like to explain it to him in person. Could Miss Helen please inform him?"

Helen chuckled, playfully twirling her glasses on her fingers, and gave a flirtatious wink: "Mr. Ye isn't too happy and doesn't want to see you, but he's spoken to Mr. Sun Long of your association, asking to borrow Mr. Wang's arm as a small punishment for not taking good care of Miss Guan Baoling. What do you think?"

Xiao Lai breathed a sigh of relief: "An arm? Thank goodness, at least Thirteenth Brother's life is saved!"

Such conditions are too cruel for Wang Jiangnan. After all, he only has one arm left. Once he loses it, both his hands will be replaced with iron hands. What girl would be willing to accept the touch of such hands?

Wang Jiangnan then laughed loudly, "A very good punishment, but I need to see Mr. Ye. Once this misunderstanding is cleared up, not only an arm, but anything on my body can be cut off at will..."

With two sharp "slaps," Wang Jiangnan was suddenly slapped twice across the face. It was the middle-aged man in the black leather jacket who moved in and out like a ghost, hitting Wang Jiangnan before returning to Helen's back, standing there expressionless.

“Mr. Ye doesn’t like negotiating. You can choose to do it yourself or let us do it. As for the explanation, Mr. Sun Long will naturally talk to Mr. Ye. It’s not your place to speak.” Helen impatiently shook her glasses and urged.

Wang Jiangnan's cheeks were visibly swollen. He suddenly shouted, "Mr. Ye, I will give you an explanation regarding Miss Guan's disappearance. Please listen to me—"

The middle-aged man charged again. Although Wang Jiangnan was prepared, he was still kicked in the chest, coughing up a mouthful of blood. The middle-aged man's martial arts skills were extremely high; even I might not be able to handle him. How could Wang Jiangnan possibly be a match for him?

The cabin was quiet, and the black velvet completely covered the passenger seats, so nothing could be seen from the outside.

"Mr. Wang, I have to repeat myself. There's an old Chinese saying: 'Eat one bite at a time, do one thing at a time.' You've cut off your own arm; now it's time for your explanation!"

“Mr. Feng, what do you think we should do? Could you please step in? Mr. Scalpel and the tycoon are close friends…” Xiao Ke looked at me with pleading eyes.

I forced a bitter smile: "I can step in, but look, Miss Helen doesn't give anyone any face. If I rush out, I'm afraid I still won't even see the tycoon's face! Let's wait and see if there are any new developments..." In this situation, if the Sharpshooter Society doesn't have a powerful figure to keep things under control, Wang Jiangnan's arm is definitely gone. Losing a precious arm for Guan Baoling, whom he hasn't even gotten close to yet, is the most outrageous joke fate has played on Wang Jiangnan.

"Feng, what's going on outside? Has the tycoon arrived yet?" Tengjia's voice rang out, carrying the strong scent of sandalwood, filling my nostrils. Sweat was already beading on her face, glistening beads of sweat clinging to her brow and forehead. The ceremony celebrating her resurrection had lasted for more than half an hour, a testament to the reverence the monks of Fengge Temple held for her.

Xiao Keleng and Teng Jia exchanged glances, secretly sizing each other up with the innate wariness and jealousy of girls.

I nodded, took a few steps back, and whispered to Teng Jia, "Are you absolutely certain that Guan Baoling is at the bottom of the 'Tower of the Dead'? Wouldn't rescuing her be very complicated and difficult?"

Fujika nodded in affirmation, then shook his head in denial, and whispered to me, "'The Tide of God' comes at any time, and the entrance to the secret chamber under the tower is open only occasionally. So even if we know she's there, we can only rescue her by chance. I can't be sure whether we'll see a living person or a dead one, that's all."

My mind raced: "Guan Baoling is only missing for now, but that's already provoked the tycoon to the gates, ready to massacre the Divine Gun Society. If he were to return a dead Guan Baoling to her, he might uproot Fengge Temple and reduce it to ruins, and I, Tengjia, and all the monks would be dragged into it. Forget it, let Wang Jiangnan handle it alone for now, and we absolutely mustn't drag the innocent monks in the temple into this!"

Now, my life doesn't belong to myself, and I can't say with the same heroic spirit as Xiao Lai, "I'll be a hero again in eighteen years." In my lifetime, finding my elder brother Yang Tiancai is my most important goal, and it seems unnecessary to make a powerful enemy for the sake of the Divine Gun Society.

Teng Jia looked at me with a faint smile. I guessed she could read my mind, and I suddenly blushed at my selfishness. But then I quickly justified myself in my mind: "There's nothing to be ashamed of. I didn't do anything wrong! Wang Jiangnan lost Guan Baoling. Every adult should face reality and the mistakes they've made..."

I turned back to look at the shimmering "Well of Spirits," wishing that all the fighting outside would end immediately. Even if Wang Jiangnan lost an arm to defuse the tense situation, it would have nothing to do with me.

Fujika suddenly asked, "Mr. Feng, I think we should go to the 'Tower of the Dead' right away. You are a destined person, and you might be able to change the frequency of the 'Tides of God' anomaly and rescue people sooner. Nobody likes to see bloodshed and sacrifice. Chinese people don't like it, and neither do Japanese people."

This remark earned Xiao Keleng a smile—while we were talking in hushed tones, Hawke and Zhang Baisen had already come over on either side of Wang Jiangnan and were supporting his arms.

"Handcuffs, we meet again!" Zhang Baisen waved to the middle-aged man in the black leather jacket.

After Xiao Keleng hummed in agreement, he accurately recited the historical information of "Handcuffs": "Thirty-nine years old, former bodyguard of the British royal family, and before that, an executive captain of a certain unit of the U.S. Marine Corps. He is proficient in any firearms manufactured before 2004, possesses traditional martial arts skills from multiple Asian countries, and has an IQ exceeding any test standard."

Before 2004, the name "Handcuffs" frequently appeared in military magazines around the world, becoming a model for military elites. But now, he seems overly silent, as if all the bright lights on the stage have been stolen by the elegant and noble Helen, and he is just a supporting character in the darkness.

The handcuffs chuckled silently, revealing sharp, snow-white teeth like those of a wild beast.

"Master Zhang is here too? Could he be a lobbyist from the Divine Shot Society? This is a matter of the underworld, and given Master Zhang's semi-official status, it seems unnecessary for him to stand against the tycoon, right?" Helen's two casual words choked Zhang Baisen back into his throat.

His identity is indeed semi-official. If he openly intervenes in mediating conflicts between the underworld, he will be unable to explain himself if caught by a sharp-tongued journalist.

“Miss Helen’s words are too sharp—I just haven’t seen my old friend’s charm for a long time and wanted to take this opportunity to get closer to him. Didn’t the tycoon come in person?” Everyone was cautious around the tycoon, including Zhang Baisen, who was a “national treasure-level expert and professor.”

Helen laughed heartily, put her glasses back on, and answered evasively, "The tycoon also wants to see his old friends, but there are many things that are inconvenient to handle in front of them. And as Master Zhang knows, there are many friends in this world who outwardly call each other brothers, but secretly always undermine the tycoon, making him very unhappy. For example—" She pointed her slender little finger toward Fengge Temple.

Zhang Baisen gave an awkward laugh, glanced twice at the dark gun barrel on the Buick, and then shut his mouth in resignation.

Hawke was smart enough to know that he had no chance to speak in this situation, so he simply kept quiet.

Xiao Lai poked his head out, his lips moving as he counted, then pulled back down, looking at me with a complicated expression: "Mr. Feng, there are seventeen of us in total, seventeen against one hundred and twenty-two. Shall we try to put up a fight?"

He calculated things very clearly, directly classifying me and Tengjia into the Divine Gun Society's camp.

Fujika sneered, turned around and walked to the "Well of Spirits". With a flick of his sleeve, he gracefully sat down.

Xiao Ke snorted and angrily scolded in a low voice, "Xiao Lai, what nonsense are you talking about? One hundred and twenty-two people? Didn't you consider the weight of that helicopter? If there were fewer than twelve people on board, would it have such a heavy wind force?"

Indeed, Hokkaido has strong winter winds. The helicopter crashed very smoothly, indicating that it carried at least a ton of cargo, roughly the weight of ten burly men. The tycoon's abilities are like a cluster of icebergs in the Arctic Ocean; what's visible is only a tiny fraction.

Someone as impulsive as Xiao Lai would only be heading for certain death if he rushed out.

“Mr. Wang, time is precious. We still need to go into the temple to search for Miss Guan. Please act quickly! If you’re a true hero, don’t implicate your brothers—” Helen stretched out her left arm and waved it intentionally or unintentionally at the ten gunmen of the Divine Gun Society behind Wang Jiangnan. Her smile was half-smile, which suddenly sent chills down everyone’s spine.

"Ring ring—" Hawke's phone rang. He answered the call, and after hearing only one sentence, his shoulders trembled and his face turned extremely gloomy.

Xiao Keleng gasped, "Damn it! Something must have happened to the people we urgently dispatched!"

I keenly realized a crucial issue: the Japanese underworld is currently mainly divided into two major factions, the Yamaguchi-gumi and the Shinsho-kai, encompassing almost all of the more than one hundred weaker organizations within the underworld. If the tycoon wanted to bring his men, he couldn't choose from these individuals; he could only—select from the American troops stationed in Japan.

Prior to this, the Asahi Shimbun had published an article alluding to the illegal supply of weapons by soldiers at the U.S. Naha Air Base on Okinawa to yakuza groups. This time, if the tycoon has authorization from the Pentagon via telephone, he could absolutely manage to divert personnel to yakuza affairs.

When I analyzed the posture and gestures of those 120 people again, I was almost certain that they clearly had the characteristics of the U.S. Navy SEALs.

Using elite troops to suppress gangsters is a game of "throwing eggs with stones." Even if the Sharpshooter Society gathers all its members from across Asia in Hokkaido, it will likely prove the old adage "like throwing an egg against a rock." Meanwhile, the American troops stationed in Japan, bored and with their bullets rusting, finally have a chance to demonstrate their power.

I wonder if Xiao Keleng could have thought of this. Once the tycoon's power is revealed, he will not give his opponents any chance to fight back. Even if Sun Long were standing here right now, he probably wouldn't be able to stop Wang Jiangnan from losing his arm.

"It seems the only option is to sacrifice Thirteenth Brother's arm!" Xiao Ke concluded, his lips turning pale instantly, his expression sorrowful.

Helen looked at Hawke, whose expression had turned somber, and sneered, "Give up now? But please rest assured, your people have only temporarily lost their ability to resist. If Mr. Wang is willing to cooperate, I can guarantee that everyone will be able to go home unharmed."

Throughout the series of confrontations and changes, absolute silence remained in the cabin. It was unclear whether the tycoon hadn't attended in person, or if he had arrived but maintained his identity by not easily revealing himself.

Fujika suddenly spoke up: "Feng, this calamity has even included Fengge Temple. It's truly... an unexpected disaster..." Her hand hung in the well water, and her eyes were fixed on the surface of the water, staring without blinking.

A thought struck me, and I quickly walked to her side, gazing at the deep well water. For some reason, the well water had become somewhat murky. Although the sunlight was still shining obliquely, the churning water clearly showed a strange light gray hue, as if it had been mixed with countless tiny gray dust particles.

The water must have been very cold. Tengjia's right hand, which she had put into the water, was red from the cold, but she didn't care. She just kept twisting her fingers, as if she was trying to fish something out of the water.

Tiny bubbles, like grains of rice, would rise from the bottom of the water from time to time. Sometimes there were a few, sometimes a long string, and sometimes a dozen strings. Many bubbles clung to the back of Tengjia's hand, but then they burst one after another.

“We must…find the missing person…she is important…important to everyone, especially to you. I still don’t understand. She is a huge variable, never appearing in the ‘Blue Heaven and Yellow Springs Scripture’ before, and her trajectory overlaps with yours by more than 90%…Does her ability to enter the secret chamber beneath the tower mean she can also enter the ‘Underwater Divine Tomb’? Can anyone tell me? Can anyone tell me?”

Fujika kept muttering to himself, his fingers stirring the water faster and faster.

The well water grew increasingly murky, and gradually, sunlight could no longer penetrate its surface. As far as the eye could see, the water turned a grayish, rice-water-like color. Suddenly, something seemed to sting my eyes. I blinked sharply, and when I opened them again, I saw a huge seven-pointed star on the water's surface—no, not just one, but "two halves." In the middle of this star, about the size of a washbasin, was a five-centimeter-wide straight crack, like a sharp knife cleaving the star in two.

The stars were gray, like a strange, three-dimensional black and white painting, spread out flat on the water's surface.

I held my breath, feeling an urge to rush up and grab the stars, but as soon as I moved my feet slightly, Tengjia spoke up urgently: "Don't move! Don't move, it's just an illusion—ten thousand years of withered bones, turned to dust, all the karmic debts and murders are just bubbles."

I suddenly realized that the stars were indeed just an illusion on the water's surface. If I rushed over, I wouldn't be able to catch them, and I would become a ghost at the bottom of the water.

"This is the power of water, the mother of all things, the carrier of all things. Is there any substance in the universe greater than it?" Tengjia withdrew his hand, and the surface of the water gradually returned to its calm and clear state, just like a pot of boiling water that will slowly cool down after the fuel is removed.

I took a big step back and gazed once more at this mysterious "well of spirits," gaining a new understanding of the many wondrous legends surrounding it.

Outside the temple, all was silent, as if all the conflicts and fights had been frozen in time, including the ever-flowing passage of time. Helen's laughter could not be heard, nor could Wang Jiangnan's bitter explanation.

"Many people... tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands, millions of people, are bound by illusions, recklessly throwing themselves into the well to their deaths. The well has no bottom, so even if hundreds of thousands, millions more jump in, it remains a cold, indifferent well, neither rising nor falling. Only, with each additional soul that dies, its temperature drops a little, until one day it freezes into ice..."

Tengjia's expression suddenly became indescribably strange, as if she had accumulated great wisdom and composure after experiencing all the suffering and pain of the world. Usually, this kind of expression can only be seen on the face of a Buddhist monk who has compassion for the common people, but she was just a girl around twenty years old. How could she possibly understand such profound suffering?

She untied the red ribbon, letting her black hair cascade down to her chest, the ends almost touching the water.

I took three deep breaths to suppress my restless and frightened heart, and crossed my fists to ask, "According to you, millions of people have died in this well. If the temperature dropped by one-thousandth of a degree Celsius for every person who died, the water should have frozen into ice by now. But look at this, it is clearly liquid water, not solid ice."

Fujika raised his head: "In Earthlings' knowledge, water only exists in three states: gas, liquid, and solid. But have you ever considered that liquid ice, solid vapor, and even more unimaginable forms exist in the universe? What's the difference between a water molecule under a 200x microscope and a water molecule under a 20,000x microscope? And what about under a 200 millionx microscope...?"

At this moment, it's really not appropriate to discuss these illusory scientific questions. I just want to understand the truth behind her talk of underwater ghosts. People are often deluded by illusions and do many inexplicable things, such as drowning, falling off cliffs, or getting into car accidents. These are then compiled and circulated in folklore as "water ghosts, mountain spirits, tree monsters, road demons, or being trapped in a maze." For example, if I had really drowned just now, it would definitely have become another cliché version of "water ghosts killing people."

"You mean the water in the 'Well of Spirits' is completely different from other water on Earth? Tengjia, tell me, how can we find the missing person—Miss Guan Baoling? She is the key to resolving this calamity!" To be honest, besides resolving the calamity, don't I have any selfish motives at all?

Outside, there was a deathly silence, a stillness that seemed to hold the imminent threat of war. If Wang Jiangnan refused Helen's demand to have her arm severed, a bloody massacre would begin instantly. It would be an American massacre of the Gunners, with no possibility of retaliation, only unconditional killing.

I could almost see the streaks of flame from the rapid-fire machine gun, the clanging of the fallen brass cartridge cases… Xiao Keleng finally drew her gun and, with a click, secured a short-barreled crosshair above the barrel. To shoot a man, shoot his horse first; to capture a thief, capture his king first. Her intention was clear: when the battle truly began, her first bullet would be to take Helen's life.

She wasn't a member of the Sharpshooter Society, but based on the code of honor among江湖 (jianghu, the martial arts world), she had an inextricable connection with them, so she was forced to draw her gun and join the battle.

“You care about her a lot? Feng, you have too many people on your mind, which is why your understanding is clouded. You should know that to do anything, you have to give up everything, just like a monk practicing Zen, who cuts off the three thousand strands of afflictions in order to see the sun through the clouds and attain Buddhahood.”

I took a deep breath, not having time to savor the meaning of those words, but simply weighing whether I should get involved in this battle.

“Feng, you are a very strange person. I hope to have a deep and long talk with you. Your name is clearly written in that scripture, as well as the whole story… When Master crossed the sea to the east, he had already foreseen the entire future, but unfortunately he was powerless to reverse the situation… His hopes were all placed on you…” Her voice gradually became low and indistinct. I heard the phrase “crossed the sea to the east”, but I had no time to think about it.

"Tengjia, answer me one more time definitively: will Guan Baoling die? Will she survive until we come to rescue her?"

Since the "Well of Spirits" has just undergone an anomaly, I seriously suspect that the mysterious waters surrounding the "Tower of the Dead" could also spread up at any time. Although I don't understand what kind of place "below the tower" that Tengjia mentioned is, I keep replaying in my mind the illusion that Guan Baoling mentioned last time—the place she went to was a "water-like world" where you could breathe freely and feel the presence of waves... "I don't know... I really don't know..." Tengjia ran her hands into her black hair.

I remember when I first saw her at "Xi Sui Tang", her hair had been cut a little shorter, but it still looks incredibly flowing now.

“There is no record of Guan Baoling in the scriptures. I don’t understand whether the variables in the real world will affect the accuracy of the prophecy… I don’t know…” The two small moles, one red and one black, between her eyebrows were throbbing rapidly, clearly indicating that she was gathering all her thoughts and pondering deeply.

"So, the crux of all the problems lies in that 'Blue Heaven and Yellow Springs Sutra'?" I don't know why I insisted on asking about the sutra at this critical juncture. Perhaps I sensed that the opportunity would be quickly missed? Teng Jia woke up, and although I could immediately resolve all my doubts, my heart was still heavy, as if the final answer would not be so easily revealed.

After experiencing so many changes, I've become extremely unfamiliar with the thrill of victory.

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The fifth film, Sea Horror

— Chapter 5 - The Tycoon —

If I can't be sure that Guan Baoling can be "rescued" or "survived," I dare not rashly jump out to take on the challenge. After all, one wrong step could implicate the entire innocent Fengge Temple. Of course, if Wang Jiangnan is a true hero, he should take full responsibility for Guan Baoling's disappearance to avoid dragging down the Shenqiang Society brothers. But the question is—can he take it? Can his life be worth Guan Baoling's life?

“Mr. Wang, our patience and time are limited, so I can only give you a ten-second countdown. After ten seconds, I'm sorry, Mr. Ye will have to carry out the family discipline of the Divine Sniper Society—ten, nine…”

No one dared to object to Helen's words, because in 99% of cases, her words directly represented the tycoon's intentions.

At this moment, every member of the Sharpshooter Society must be sweating profusely, including Xiao Keleng, who had already raised his gun and aimed it at Helen.

"Six, five..." Helen counted slowly and deliberately. The air seemed to freeze in a cold indifference. In the next second, whichever side attacked first, it would be a bloodbath.

One last time, Xiao Ke looked at me with pleading and expectation in her eyes, without saying a word. All the words she wanted to say were conveyed in her imploring gaze.

Perhaps in my autobiography, writers have already portrayed the character "Wind" as an invincible hero who moves heaven and earth, like Superman, Ultraman, and Batman, coming and going like the wind, saving people from dire straits. That's why so many people place such high expectations on "Wind".

"Three, two..." The well-trained men in black retreated in unison. One person from each group jumped onto the vehicle and crouched behind the rapid-fire machine gun, while the others reached their right hands to their lower backs and gripped the dark gun handles. With so many experts killing Wang Jiangnan, it was like a tiger hunting a rabbit with all its might; his chances of survival were now zero.

"one……"

Helen uttered the word, which took only a third of a second, before the handcuffs suddenly activated, and a circle of silver light flashed from her left elbow. It must have been an extremely short and sharp scimitar, which lunged straight at Wang Jiangnan.

The clicking of bullets being chambered and the snapping of pistol safety catches mingled in the mountain wind. The tycoon's men were well-prepared; even if the Sharpshooters came ten times more, they would still be under his control.