Iron Bull taucht wieder auf

Kapitel 159

"What's going on? I'm so confused. Ever since I saw Reese, even in that extremely bizarre environment, I've been wondering, who is she? I have this feeling that she'll be with me—"

She raised her pencil, tapped it on her forehead, and finally shut up.

The room quieted down, with only the occasional soft crackling of charcoal and the swishing of pencils on paper.

I switched the document reading mode to automatic page turning, held the teacup tightly, and concentrated on reading the information.

The first part tells the story of the "Sunrise" plan on the eve of the Japanese surrender.

Every day, people on Earth see the sunrise and feel hope for the future, but all Japanese people know they are ashamed to see the sun on the morning of September 2, 1945. Because on that day, they will sign the surrender document and honestly admit their defeat.

The Imperial Household had already issued a declaration of defeat, but at that time, the Japanese still had an elite force that had not yet been deployed to the battlefield. Or perhaps this force, which was called the "Light of Fusang" by the commander-in-chief of World War II, Hideki Tojo, was not skilled in frontal battles between armies, but rather in carrying out "assassination and sneak attack" missions. Their leader was Furin Kazan, who possessed the "Tennin Alliance" token.

The document doesn't describe Fuurin Kazan in much detail, only quoting a passage from Kenji Doihara, the intelligence chief in charge of the invasion of China: "Fuurin Kazan is just as described in Sun Tzu's Art of War: 'Therefore, war is established by deception, moved by profit, and changed by division and harmony. Thus, it is as swift as the wind, as silent as the forest, as fierce as fire, as immovable as a mountain, as unknowable as darkness, and as powerful as thunder. He embodies the martial prowess, wisdom, loyalty, and resilience of Japan over a thousand years. The lives of the entire nation can be entrusted to him, and if we are not victorious, I am willing to guarantee it with my life.'"

Part 3: Wind, Forest, Fire, and Mountain

— Chapter 9 - Project Sunrise (Part 2) —

Upon reading this, I couldn't help but scoff. Although Kenji Doihara is known as a "China expert," his understanding of the Chinese people is still far too superficial.

He should really understand the Chinese proverb "The lesser hermit lives in the mountains, the greater hermit lives in the city." At least among the seemingly weak and easily bullied people of Beiping around him during World War II, there were more than 300 masters hidden in the most famous gangs, associations, and alliances in Jiangbei at that time.

As the highest-ranking intelligence officer of the Japanese army stationed in China, he should have known how many mid- to high-ranking Japanese officers had been assassinated along the main route from the three northeastern provinces to Nanjing, Jiangsu. These assassinations were carried out by various gangs and factions, significantly hindering the Japanese advance southward. If it weren't for the incredibly basic errors in tactical communication and troop deployment made by the dozen or so anti-Japanese allied forces, the Japanese might have been permanently halted north of the Yellow River and annihilated in the tens of thousands of square kilometers of tall crops on the North China Plain.

The stubborn and self-righteous Japanese always believed that the Yamato people were the most superior race in Asia, just as Hitler stubbornly believed that the Germanic people were the chosen ones.

"It seems that the royal family has entrusted Fenglin Huoshan with a critical mission, hoping to turn the tide with this 'Sunrise' plan?" History is history after all. Looking back now, how many brilliant strategies, brilliant plans, and skilled heroes have all become cannon fodder that has vanished into thin air and is no longer mentioned.

If the Japanese were naive enough to believe that Operation Sunrise could change the outcome of World War II, then Hideki Tojo's strategic vision was as foolish as Hitler's. Just prior to this, in the winter of 1944, Hitler had amassed his last elite forces and launched the famous Battle of the Bulge, attempting a counterattack against the Allied forces on the Western Front, which ended in the loss of 100,000 men, 1,600 aircraft, and 700 tanks.

Sometime later, Guan Baoling fell asleep lying on her side, her pencil and paper slipping to the ground.

I covered her with the blanket, put away the paper and pen, and stared at the tycoon's portrait for a while. His brow bone had sharp and prominent lines, definitely giving him the aura of a leader.

In the dream, Guan Baoling frowned slightly, as if she had a great question hanging in her mind.

From the moment he rose to fame, the tycoon was known for his womanizing ways, leaving his mark on every city he visited and engaging in passionate affairs with local socialites and ladies of high society. It is said that he has more illegitimate children than any other self-proclaimed womanizing oil tycoon in the Middle East.

"Or perhaps those whose wisdom surpasses that of ordinary people also have a pursuit of lust that is proportional to their wisdom?"

The amusing thought only flashed through my mind for a moment. After making the fire burn even brighter, I returned to my computer and continued reading the next part of the "Sunrise" project.

The core of the plan was that Furin Kazan used the power of the "Tennin Alliance" token to gather a large number of ninjas, as many as 700, who were distributed in the Tokyo, Osaka and Nagoya area at the time. Most of them were "Jonin" who had been in seclusion for many years, and they were organized into 41 suicide squads.

Their plan was to carry explosive charges, grenades, and the then-powerful American Azuka rocket launcher, silently swim aboard the USS Missouri, seize the surrender ship, and use it as leverage to negotiate with the Allies.

Undoubtedly, while the Japanese army suffered setbacks on every front in Asia, it still possessed a strong capacity for counterattack. It was only after the Emperor's surrender proclamation that everyone lost their will to fight. At least in their battles against the Soviets in Northeast Asia, they did not suffer any losses; all their Azurka rocket launchers were captured from the Soviets.

The attack was scheduled to begin at 4:00 AM on September 2nd, during the darkest period before dawn. Most ninjas, accustomed to being nocturnal, possessed the special ability to see in the dark; the darker it was, the more freely they could move.

Just like Hitler's meticulously planned "Ardennes Offensive," this "Sunrise" plan also seemed perfect on the surface. At least the arrogant Americans would not have thought that the Japanese generals who had been kneeling for so long would still have the audacity to launch a suicide attack.

On the USS Missouri, from high-ranking officers to soldiers, from the captain to the lower-ranking sailors, everyone was intoxicated and distracted by the sake, seafood, and geisha offered by the Japanese, seemingly having long forgotten the lingering smoke of World War II.

The indomitable spirit of the Yamato people was fully revealed in this meticulously planned operation. The Emperor's surrender proclamation inadvertently became the perfect pretext for their planned attack.

Seeing this, it felt like a plot twist in a detective novel, with the mystery about to be revealed. My interest was completely piqued: "What went wrong with the plan? Why couldn't they disrupt the surrender ceremony the next day? Wasn't an attack by seven hundred ninjas enough to instantly take control of that not-so-elite-armed ship?"

Every time I discuss World War II history with Americans, they always arrogantly point out: "It was our atomic bombs that made the Japanese tremble with fear and submit. The infantry efficiency of the Chinese and Russians was like that of polar bears on the Greenland ice sheet; they didn't know how to take the initiative and just wanted to stay put and wait for an opportunity, haha..."

I even hoped that the Fenglin Huoshan plan would succeed and give the arrogant Americans a wake-up call, but history is already set in stone, and no one can change what has been set.

The tea in my cup had gone cold, so I got up to pour some water, muttering to myself, "No wonder the ancients said, 'Man proposes, God disposes.' Germany and Japan's desperate gamble, with its flawless plans, still couldn't avert defeat. Could it be that some divine being, discerning good from evil, intervened at the last moment, decisively punishing the wicked and shattering Hitler and Tojo Hideki's dreams?"

Suddenly, I felt the hairs on the back of my hand stand on end, as if some powerful pressure had reached the doorway, carrying an overwhelming and unmatched killing intent. With a snap, almost without hesitation, the tactical knife was already in my palm. My eyes remained fixed on the steaming cup of tea, while my ears listened intently to the sounds outside the door and on the roof.

Perhaps I was too focused on looking at the information and didn't realize that there was moonlight outside the door. I don't know what kind of plant's shadow was falling on the door, and the withered branches were swaying back and forth.

The tea gradually cooled down again, and I remained standing still, ready to deliver a fatal blow at any moment.

After more than ten minutes, the murderous aura gradually subsided, and the hair on my body slowly smoothed out, but there were more than a dozen strings of cold sweat beads on my back, armpits, and under my neck.

I opened the door and went outside, leaping onto the roof. Fearing that Xiao Lai had fallen victim to their evil deeds, I called out before my feet even touched the tiles, "Xiao Lai, Xiao Lai—"

Xiao Lai appeared in response, a submachine gun held in front of his chest, his movements extremely swift.

The rooftops all around were silent; the snow had melted, and the cold moonlight spread across the rooftops near and far, high and low, like a thin layer of early frost.

"I sensed that an enemy had been here. Did you find anything?" I kept looking east, and intuitively, I felt that the source of this surging killing intent must be the Meditation Hall.

“No enemies have appeared. I’ve been keeping a close watch—” he replied, but his expression suddenly changed, and he abruptly raised his submachine gun, pointing it to my left.

I heard the sound of wind, followed by Xiao Lai's low exclamation, because a person wearing a monk's robe and with long hair appeared silently on the roof tiles, and immediately struck Xiao Lai's upper body acupoints of numbness, muteness, and deafness, with lightning speed.

Given Xiao Lai's reaction speed, the time difference between raising the gun and pulling the trigger should not exceed 0.3 seconds. However, the opponent sealed five of his acupoints in one go, which seemed to take only 0.1 seconds. The difference in speed was so great that there was no need to ask further.

A strand of gray hair fell, drifting in the wind to my feet, while the moonlight stretched the person's thin shadow long, spreading it across the roof tiles. I quickly stopped the knife that was about to fly out of my hand, because I sensed the constant aura of arrogance emanating from her.

"Miss Tengjia?" I was somewhat surprised. There was no murderous aura about her, only an extremely cold indifference. Her hands were tucked into her sleeves as she looked thoughtfully at the dumbfounded Xiaolai.

“Come with me, I have something to tell you.” Her voice was extremely hoarse, and her dark face was hidden in the shadows of her long, gray hair. Whether the monk’s robe was too big or she had lost weight, the garment fluttered wildly in the night wind, revealing her waist, which was so slender it could be grasped in one hand.

I slowly looked around, making sure there were no lurking dangers in the darkness, before smiling and asking, "Where are we going?"

Guan Baoling is below me, and I don't want to get far away, especially after just feeling that inexplicably powerful killing intent. Although Xiao Lai is young, agile, and brave, martial arts skills aren't something that enthusiasm alone can bridge the gap between him and a true master.

"The Library, to unravel the doubts in your heart—you're unwilling?" She tossed her hair, looked up at the waning moon, and her lips twitched.

Xiao Lai made two "clucking" sounds in his throat, his eyes filled with extreme fear as he looked at Teng Jia.

I gently pressed on his shoulders and ribs a few times to release his pressure points. I heard him hiss loudly inhale, and his mouth opened wide in surprise.

Tenga's face has changed a lot. Her cheekbones are high and prominent, her eye sockets are sunken, and there are countless wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Moreover, the skin on her entire face is dry and brittle, like a lemon that has been left out for too long.

Xiao Lai suddenly shivered, and his finger unconsciously slipped back onto the trigger.

I patted his shoulder and whispered, "Go to the corridor and keep a close eye on Miss Guan."

Xiao Lai withdrew her horrified gaze, rubbed her stiff face vigorously, and nodded in agreement.

Tengjia stared intently at the moon, seemingly oblivious to Xiaolai and my presence. For a fleeting moment, this reminded me of the fox spirits in ancient Chinese mythology. It is said that foxes that have cultivated for over a hundred years can absorb the essence of the full moon to enhance their spiritual power.

"Mr. Feng, how did she become like this?" Xiao Lai finally couldn't contain her curiosity and whispered in my ear.

I glared at him: "Go on, stop nagging—" I paused, then added: "If a strong enemy breaks in, don't rush in blindly. Remember to fire your gun and call the police. I'll be right back."

"Can we go now?" I exhaled hot breath from my mouth. The temperature tonight was at least minus fifteen degrees Celsius, dry and cold.

Tengjia didn't answer, but his body suddenly floated away, and you couldn't see the movement of his toes or knees at all. He flew straight towards the dark and abrupt library in the northwest.

Part 3: Wind, Forest, Fire, and Mountain

— Chapter 10 - The Ambush on the Library Pavilion (Part 1) —

I followed behind, only five steps away, and used my lightness skill to the limit to keep from being left far behind.

Fujika has changed a lot. I could constantly see her hair being blown away by the wind, and a few strands even hit my face. Only someone who is mentally exhausted would show signs of sudden, complete hair loss.

Under the moonlight, Fengge Temple was immersed in a deathly silence, without a single light.

With the passing of several eminent monks, the morale of the monks plummeted, and this renowned Buddhist temple in Hokkaido immediately fell into a deep despair.

When I arrived at the gate of the courtyard where the scripture pavilion was located, I didn't see a single monk on night watch; everything was quiet. It seemed that the monk Xiang had long forgotten my instructions and was leading the other monks to sleep soundly.

The door opened, and Fujika floated in silently.

The blue brick floor reflected the cold moonlight. To the left were four round stone tables, each more than two meters in diameter, with heavy drum-shaped stone stools placed beside them.

The last time I visited Fengge Temple, I toured this place, but it was on a sunny autumn afternoon, and I didn't feel the eerie atmosphere of the old house.

Tengjia stopped in front of the stone pier and sighed hoarsely, "After I was reborn, I rearranged this place according to my master's original preferences, based on the Sutra Repository of Tankong Temple outside Chang'an. The two places are separated by thousands of mountains and rivers, but unfortunately my master's soul was not able to be reincarnated, and I have never been able to wait for him."

I also have an impression of that ancient temple in Chang'an County, Shanxi Province, but unfortunately the buildings are all dilapidated, with only a part of the ancient foundations standing. The former prosperity has become a mere Tang Dynasty site with no real name.

“Back then, my master and his ten disciples built a stove out of stones and drew water from the spring to cook in this very place, studying the contents of the ‘Blue Heaven and Yellow Springs Scripture’ day and night. I am familiar with every blade of grass and every grain of sand here, and I remember the voices and smiles of each of the ten disciples. If they have been reborn in the mortal world, I will recognize them at a glance, without a doubt.”

Twenty paces away, the ancient library was pitch black, with only the occasional north wind blowing through the tattered window paper, making strange rustling sounds.

Every Buddhist temple in Japan has its own scripture repository, which, no matter how large or small, contains at least several hundred books and scriptures for disciples to peruse.

Teng Jia looked up at the third floor of the old building, suddenly flicked her sleeve, and shot out an extremely sharp red light that pierced straight through a broken window. Suddenly, a flickering light appeared inside the building; a torch near the window had been lit. Her skill in lighting a torch from a distance demonstrated her extremely powerful internal strength.

The night was so dark and quiet that the torches that suddenly lit up became the most eye-catching sight within a radius of several hundred meters.

“Let’s go upstairs—” She lightly tapped the table, then suddenly leaped up, as if carried by an invisible cloud, and floated towards the window. The martial arts and agility she displayed tonight were completely beyond my imagination, and the tone of her voice was even more strange.

The window was open, and the spacious hall was empty, without any bookshelves. She took the torch, walked to the east window, and pushed it open with a whoosh.

The strange white house in the meditation hall was clearly visible, with withered vines hanging from the exterior walls like the disheveled hair of a thousand-year-old monster.

“It is an honor that I have waited for you, for the ‘Sea God's Nameplate’, and for fulfilling my master’s last wish.” She sighed softly, casually pulling off the red ribbon from her hair, along with a lock of her gray hair.

At this moment, she seemed worlds apart from the proud Japanese princess in the desert. I always felt that she was like a candle about to burn out, turning into candle tears, and her life would also perish.

"What does it say?" I asked in a low voice.

The night is long, and as long as she is willing to talk, I believe I will have plenty of time to listen and reflect.

“Give me your hand—” She stretched out her right hand and placed it flat on the half-rotten window frame. It was withered and thin, and the skin color was very similar to her gray hair. This was not the hand of the Fujika I used to know. How could a girl in her early twenties have such an aged hand, like a sixty-year-old woman?

Without making a sound, I placed my left hand in hers.

The two of us were only a step apart. I could smell the scent of aging emanating from the other person, and I couldn't help but feel a chill run down my spine.

There have been many examples of premature aging in the martial arts world. The most famous one should be Master Ti Ya, the leader of the Qingcheng School in Sichuan in the early years of the Republic of China. In order to study the hidden weapon skills passed down by previous leaders, he secluded himself for a thousand days. Finally, he broke through the shackles of his mind and understood the true meaning of the martial arts manual. Unfortunately, he exhausted all his energy and died of exhaustion less than three days after he came out of seclusion.

I have seen a painting of Master Tiya after he left the pass. He was so thin that he looked like a skeleton that could barely walk. His hair had fallen out, and the muscle layer covering his skull had withered and shrunk, leaving only a thin layer of skin.

If I had known that studying the "Sea God's Inscription" would cause Tengjia to age to this extent, I would rather not have brought the inscription out of the glass box.

“That’s a painting, do you see it?” Her hoarse voice rang out again.

I felt a surge of boiling heat erupting from her cold palms, instantly penetrating my skin and connecting with my blood.

My mind went completely blank for a dozen seconds, then a vast starry sky appeared. At first glance, I saw nine fiery red stars rushing toward a huge, blurry nebula at an astonishingly fast speed.

If it wasn't a shooting star, what could it be?

The red star penetrated deep into the nebula, its immense power even dispersing the surrounding cosmic dust.

In their path, nine bright stars orbited a large, glowing red star, trembling slightly as the nebula broke apart. More tiny stars twinkled among them, like miniature Christmas lights on a Christmas tree.

Anyone with basic astronomical knowledge will understand that this arrangement is a standard representation of the solar system, with nine planets orbiting the sun, and our Earth among them.

I stopped asking questions, confident that Fujika would tell me everything she wanted to say without me even asking. After the nine red stars entered the planetary rings, they seemed to encounter some kind of obstruction, their speed slowing down instantly. They joined the nine planets in their orbit, forming a spectacular sight of eighteen planets orbiting the sun. However, they were completely crowded next to the Earth, making the already small moon appear even more insignificant.

In that instant, I recalled an ancient myth that best described the spectacular sight before me—Hou Yi shooting down the suns.