Iron Bull taucht wieder auf

Kapitel 89

Guan Baoling couldn't hold on any longer, so she readily accepted Xiao Keleng's suggestion, collapsed onto the sofa, covered herself with the blanket, and fell asleep in less than three minutes.

She wasn't a member of the martial arts world, so of course she couldn't understand the jargon, anecdotes, and stories about the martial arts world that Xiao Keleng and I were spouting.

Seeing that Guan Baoling was fast asleep, Xiao Keleng's expression suddenly changed, and he lowered his voice: "Mr. Feng, do you believe everything about Miss Guan's strange encounter?"

All the conversations were recorded in a notebook; believe it or not, they were there, in black and white.

I turned to that page, and the more I read, the more unbelievable the plot became: "Humans aren't fish, so they can't breathe smoothly underwater, unless... unless they become mermaids in Japanese mythology, what Chinese fishermen often call 'mermaids.' So, what is that pillar in the center of the portal? Is it a mysterious weapon from some country? Or perhaps a newly developed space travel device?"

Xiao Ke's face was cold and stern as he stared at Guan Baoling, who was fast asleep under the blanket. He frowned and said, "Upstairs in the study, on the third shelf from the north, in the third row, the sixth book is a Japanese edition titled *Minghaizhi*. It's a collection of anecdotes and stories about the adventures of Japanese fishermen at sea, similar to the Chinese classic *Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio*. On page 44, it recounts how a fisherman, while sailing at sea, accidentally landed on a remote island surrounded by reefs. What he saw was very similar to what Miss Guan described, except that the fisherman was washed ashore by real waves, while Miss Guan was pushed back by imaginary waves in the air..."

“Mr. Feng, what do you think this means?” She turned her head and looked at me with a cold smile. Her short hair was shiny, and she kept cracking her knuckles, making a soft “crackling” sound.

I chuckled silently: "What do you mean? You suspect Miss Guan is lying?"

Xiao Keleng nodded without hesitation: "Yes, she's lying, and she's lying with a purpose—her purpose is to gain your trust, touch your heart, and then transfer the villa to her so that she can save the tycoon. Of course, such a complicated plan couldn't have been created out of thin air by an outsider like her. There must be someone behind it strongly supporting the mastermind. Could it be... could it be someone from Fengge Temple? Or the forces from 'Shentou Town'?"

This is the second time I've heard the name "Godhead Town"; the first time was in Nine-Tailed Fox's narration.

According to the Hokkaido Tourism Guide, "Kamito Town" refers to a holiday hotel located on the main road leading to Fuuki-ji Temple.

The name has two meanings—first, the hotel owns waters inhabited by the unique Mica turtles found only in Japan, and has obtained government permission to freely catch and kill them within its premises without any conflict with animal protection organizations. Second, in Japanese Buddhist culture, the Mica turtle is traditionally considered to be under the feet of deities who govern the heavens, earth, and humanity, thus possessing a certain divine aura, hence the name.

The second meaning is that the hotel is built next to the highway, extending randomly along the direction of the coastal reefs. When viewed from the air, it almost looks like it is breaking away from Hokkaido and standing independently in the middle of the sea. A Honinbo master in the Japanese Go world likened this situation to the Go technique of "suppressing the god's head," which has been transformed into "suppressing the god's head."

Apart from this one, all the villas surrounding Muwanzhoushan have been taken over by Scalpel. He had approached the owner of "Shentou Town" several times to discuss a commercial acquisition, but the owner remained obstinate, refusing all offers no matter how high they were offered, and even proposed a "counter-acquisition" business plan, shamelessly declaring his intention to buy the vast villa complex of Xunfuyuan.

Over time, "Shentou Town" and "Xunfuyuan" became mortal enemies in business, and could never reconcile.

Guan Baoling's plan to acquire Xunfuyuan might be the result of manipulation and instigation by some force behind the scenes, a point we must carefully consider. If the enemy advances again and becomes aggressive, we will have no choice but to retaliate. The marketplace is a battlefield, and as Chinese people, we will never bow to the Japanese in any way, even at the cost of our own lives.

After Xiao Keleng got up to pour water for the second time, she picked up the notes I had made and pointed to the things the plague had said: "Records about Martians have appeared sporadically in documents since the Tokugawa Shogunate era. They are basically the same as what the plague said. They all say that on a certain day of a certain month of a certain year, a mysterious fireball fell from the sky, hit the mountaintop, and sank into an infinite depth underground. That was the Martian spaceship. The reason they went deep underground is that their physiological structure cannot withstand the wind, rain, snow, thunder, and all kinds of plagues, infectious bacteria, and garbage pollution on the Earth's surface. When they change their genes and become creatures suitable for survival on Earth, they will all come out and conquer the Earth."

I laughed again: "Earthlings always think that aliens would covet this blue planet, but little do they know that this is just Earthlings' wishful thinking. The aliens might not even want Earth!"

First there were the Saturnians with their pyramids, and now a group of Martians have appeared in Japan. Earth is certainly quite lively.

Xiao Keleng also smiled: "The only point of contention in the legend is that some experts say the Martian spaceship crashed into Mount Fuji, while another group of experts strongly argued that the spaceship landed on Mount Kiwanfune in Hokkaido. The academic community conducted a six-month-long study, investigation and debate on this matter, but in the end, nothing came of it."

I burst out laughing: "These little Japanese are really just bored and have nothing better to do."

Immediately, I understood Xiao Keleng's meaning—even the dying words of someone with the plague might not be entirely credible. However, one point is certain: many Japanese speculate that the abundance of volcanic hot springs in Japan is related to Martians cultivating and performing magic underground—a very insightful prediction. Consequently, Japanese animation companies, based on these absurd myths and legends, created the globally popular "Ultraman" series, earning the Japanese animation industry a considerable amount of US dollars, euros, and even Chinese yuan.

I suddenly sighed, "It seems I should go upstairs and study tomorrow, otherwise I'll be so engrossed in Japanese mythology that I won't be able to distinguish between reality and fantasy..."

I'm telling the truth. If there's a deeper meaning behind my brother's collection of those books, I should try my best to look through them and accumulate some knowledge.

Xiao Keleng found another blanket, and the three of us curled up on the sofa, covered ourselves with the blankets, and gradually drifted off to sleep. Actually, Xiao Keleng still had a lot to say, but Guan Baoling next to us was snoring sweetly and softly, and we were infected by her sweetness and fell asleep involuntarily.

At dawn, I was awakened by the early birds outside the door. I got up and saw Guan Baoling's long hair peeking out from under the blanket, cascading down the side of the sofa to the floor, gleaming with an incredibly smooth, jet-black sheen. Her head was resting on her bent right arm, and a serene smile graced her face.

Xiao Keleng sleeps in a standard military posture, her body ramrod straight with her arms hanging naturally. Occasionally, after turning over, she immediately returns to this posture, which makes people laugh.

I got up and went upstairs to the second floor, then slowly strolled into the study.

From now on, I will begin reading these nearly ten thousand books. On the bookshelf closest to the door, I randomly picked up a book on the topic of whether "Eastern Asia and the Western United States were originally connected landmasses," went back to the living room, sat on the sofa, and started reading.

The "plate drift theory" of Earth has always been a very popular topic in geography, with countless papers debating this topic, readily available in many academic journals and websites.

In my modern history class, I once frantically searched library materials for such questions, hoping to come up with a convincing new argument. Although I didn't succeed in the end, I did read "History of the Russian Empress" in detail. On the map of the country during her reign, I watched the Russian army march eastward, cross the Bering Strait, set foot on American and Canadian soil, and defeat the Americans until they knelt down and begged for mercy.

I'd like to verify the following question: "Why didn't Russia use land routes to attack the vast plains of Asia at that time? In other words, why didn't it directly annex Outer Mongolia and then invade Inner Mongolia, Xinjiang, the three northeastern provinces, and even Beijing, Hebei, and Shandong in China? This method of territorial expansion would definitely have been less strenuous than crossing the ocean, right?"

A history professor once supported my argument, suggesting that the Empress's command of the army eastward stemmed from her unwavering belief that North America was also part of Tsarist Russia. This led to the erroneous conclusion that, in the minds of the Tsarist Russian people, the United States, across the sea, was always considered part of themselves, their legitimate territory…

The book I have here lists at least several hundred gaps in the continental shelf extending eastward from Asia and westward from the United States, showing that they can be matched. Furthermore, there are obvious similarities in the lifestyles, language habits, and tool usage habits of the indigenous peoples of both regions. In fact, the physical structure of Native Americans in the United States is practically a carbon copy of that of Asians.

I read very quickly, finishing the several hundred pages in just one hour. A novel perspective presented at the end of the book caught my attention—

"When tectonic plate drift occurred, the continental shelf connecting Asia and North America began to break apart. Some small pieces of land that escaped were carried south by the warm Arctic Ocean currents and formed the present-day Japanese archipelago. After creating a sufficiently accurate and complete model, filling the space between Asia and America with the Japanese islands would perfectly connect the two continents."

The American author of this book once presented these research findings to then-President Clinton and applied for the American "Science and Literature Prize" that year. Of course, the result was fruitless, and the American government regarded it as "heretical" and kicked him out.

I put down the book, stretched, and the fresh sunlight streamed in through the window, signaling the start of a new day.

I opened the clock face, held the lotus key in my hand, and examined it closely. If the tattoo on the plague-stricken wrist really was related to the lotus key, then the blue lotus might represent that key. But where is the pink one? Or was there originally only one key, which simply changes color over time…

When I tried to pull out the bronze sword again, it was firmly locked and wouldn't budge. I remembered that when I took the parchment map, the scabbard was already empty, so even if I couldn't draw the sword again, there was nothing to regret.

I took out the map and spread it out on the coffee table. Suddenly, I noticed that the parchment seemed to have layers. When I looked closely at it from the side in the sunlight, I could see that the parchment was divided into more than a dozen even layers, all of which were pressed together to form the map we see now.

This discovery filled me with elation: "Ancient treasure maps almost always exhibit subtle variations. For example, they change when exposed to fire, water, acid, or milk, and have even evolved to show subtle changes under infrared and ultraviolet light. So, could we discover something else if we peel this map open individually?"

The things drawn on the map surface are too simple, so simple that it's impossible to even begin to guess what they are.

To this day, I still don't understand what the cheat code found on this map, nor do I covet it or want to possess it. The cheat code's disdainful attitude once made me think that "maps are useless." Now, it seems the real secret is hidden in the hidden compartment.

There are more than a dozen ways to uncover the map, but I need to discuss it with Xiao Keleng to see what the most appropriate method is.

The sudden change before my eyes caught me completely off guard—a series of eight screens, each about one and a half meters tall, suddenly appeared in front of me. Each screen was painted with images of ladies, landscapes, kabuki performers, and samurai, completely surrounding me. At the same time, a series of stirring and powerful Japanese court drumbeats resounded in my ears, booming and pounding throughout the living room.

The furniture arrangement on the second floor was very simple and easy to understand at a glance, but I never noticed this screen before. This is a Chinese villa, so there certainly wouldn't be a screen with such a strong Japanese cultural influence.

The sunlight and bronze statues outside the window were gone. In their place, another string of screens suddenly appeared, making a rustling sound. Then, screens appeared behind me and in front of me, surrounding me from all sides.

"Who are you, friend, causing trouble? State your name!" I shouted this in accordance with the rules of the Chinese martial arts world. At least by letting out this loud shout, I could concentrate my mind, which had been distracted by books and maps.

The drumbeats grew more intense. Just as I moved to break through between the two screens, a bolt of lightning suddenly struck from mid-air, and a gleaming samurai sword, radiating brilliant light, slashed down, almost splitting me in two.

I sidestepped to avoid the blade, but before I could use my "empty-handed grappling" skill to disarm it, three other identical blades came crashing down with the same sharp whistling sound.

It was a beautiful and refreshing morning. I was initially overjoyed at discovering the map's secret, but unexpectedly, the situation took a sharp turn for the worse when someone brazenly stormed into the villa and attacked me. Unfortunately, there were no swords or knives available on the second floor; otherwise, I could have easily taken on four of them and slaughtered them all.

I successfully dodged the first wave of attacks from the four swords, and someone shouted in Japanese: "Heavenly Whirlwind Slash!"

Four swirling blades flashed simultaneously above and below my head, aiming for my neck, shoulders, knees, and ankles. The various figures on the screen seemed to come alive, winking and making all sorts of bizarre expressions. Before I could dodge, all four screens collapsed, revealing twelve enemies dressed entirely in gray, only their eyes visible. Each held a katana high, glaring menacingly at me. Including the four from before, there were sixteen samurai in total, surrounding me completely.

The voice was the same as before, but now it spoke broken, halting Chinese: "Leave...the map...you go...otherwise...we'll kill you without mercy..."

The sound wasn't coming from the people in front of them, but from outside the glass window.

"Who are you? Who sent you?" I slowly channeled my energy into my right palm, clutching the map tightly. Once I discovered its true value, I wouldn't be so generous as to borrow it from anyone anymore. I knew these people were Japanese ninjas, but there are nearly three hundred ninja sects on the Japanese islands, and their attire and weapons are very similar. Who could tell which sect they belonged to?

I will not offend others unless they offend me.

If it were truly a ruthless shootout, I wouldn't even consider these sixteen people a threat! It's just that without weapons, the fight wasn't quite as exciting.

After the screen fell, smoke rose everywhere, and everything in the room could no longer be seen; only the ghostly figures of the assassins were visible.

The assassins' katanas flashed with dazzling white light, demonstrating their extreme sharpness. Their gray clothes were also almost grayish-white, as if they could quickly disappear into the mist at any moment. Only their cold, sinister eyes could not be concealed; each pair of eyes carried a deathly murderous aura, as if I were an innocent prey trapped in a net of blades.

The assassin closest to me was only four steps away, meaning that if his knife came down in my face, he would likely be the first to achieve a great victory. So, when the person outside the window shouted the command "Attack," he became the first guinea pig to be tested. Before the blade had even fully flashed, I had already moved in close and struck him on the Adam's apple with a palm strike.

With a soft thud, his body went limp and was about to collapse, but I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him aside, deflecting the second ninja's blade. Then, the second ninja also fell silently, because my elbow strike had accurately struck his heart, his ribs broken and embedded in his ventricle; he was certainly not going to survive.

I dealt with this group of people using only one hand. One hand was enough. I easily took down four more people, all of them with a single, fatal blow.

"Set up the formation—the Yin-Yang Water Dividing Formation and the Demon-Slaying Iron Mirror Formation." The person outside the window did not feel any shock or anger, as if killing four people was as insignificant as stepping on four ants.

At his shout, the remaining twelve men suddenly retreated and formed two parallel lines.

From the name of the formation, I deduced the origin of this group and blurted out, "You're Koga ninjas? Hey, we have no grudges against each other, why do we have to fight to the death?"

The Koga school was the largest ninja gang in Japanese history. Especially after the Meiji Restoration, with the support of the Imperial Family, the Koga school had become the leader of the local martial arts world, and all other ninjas had to submit to it.

The Koga faction held a very high political status and was always favored by the Japanese Imperial Family, but I never had any conflicts with them.

With a flick of my toe, I caught the longsword left behind by the dead samurai. With a sword in hand, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to slaughter them until a river of blood flowed. After all, they attacked first, as evidenced by the shattered screens scattered on the ground.

Part 2: Tower of the Dead

— Chapter 5 - Subject to Control —

Tracing back to their origins, the main schools of Japanese ninja can be broadly divided into seven major schools: Musashi, Kai, Echigo, Shinano, Iga, Koga, and Kii. After the Tokugawa Shogunate era, although countless ninjutsu schools existed throughout Japan, the most outstanding and numerous schools were the Iga school in northwestern Mie Prefecture and the Koga school in southern Shiga Prefecture.

In post-World War II Japan, with the rise of the Yamaguchi-gumi, many descendants of ninjas, seeking financial and fame benefits, openly or secretly joined the organization, using the "ninjutsu" passed down for hundreds of years to serve the underworld and becoming a powerful force within the Yamaguchi-gumi.

Interpol's annual report once revealed that at least 44 percent of the heinous murders that occurred in the United States in 2004 were directly or indirectly related to Japanese ninjas.

Therefore, Japanese ninjas are increasingly becoming a new flashpoint for global terrorist activities and are under close surveillance by Interpol.

The swordsmanship I learned was based on Chinese swordsmanship and supplemented by Western swordsmanship, so it was naturally very comfortable for me to hold a samurai sword.

The fog continued to rise, while the two teams of ninjas in front of them remained motionless, seemingly waiting for the person outside the window to issue new instructions.

Suddenly, I heard a soft snap between my legs, and a gleaming samurai sword thrust straight up from the ground. I rolled away to avoid the blade, and before the hand holding the sword could retract, the blade slashed horizontally—swoosh—severing the hand at the wrist. It flew up with a thud, but not a drop of blood splattered, like a prosthetic arm from a movie.

"Heavens, demons—" The person outside the window suddenly shouted, and the two teams of ninjas changed formation, flanking me from the left and right. This was exactly the change I was waiting for. I rolled close to the ground, using the "Ground-lying Blade" technique combined with the "Chaotic Cloak Slash" from Western swordsmanship, and swept straight into the enemy's camp.

Actually, I could have treated this fight as a regular sword training session, and these aggressive ninjas would have been my training partners. As long as I maintained a calm and indifferent mindset, I would be invincible.

The clanging of blades continued incessantly. Each time I swung my knife, I could hear the sharp sound of the blade slicing through flesh and severing tendons and bones, but no one cried out in pain. The air was thick with the stench of blood, and my hands and face were increasingly splattered with sticky liquid.

"Demon, Heaven—" The person outside the window shouted "Ninja Cross" again to encourage the courage of his men, but his voice came too late; all twelve men had already collapsed to the ground, clutching their wounds.

I didn't kill them, but I made these twelve people permanently lose the ability to kill.

"It's your turn!" I shouted out the window.

The fog thickened, and a figure flashed through the dense mist. Before me stood a tall, bronze-armored warrior, his hands resting on his hips, supporting the mysterious clock. It was the statue from the living room, but how could it move? It was merely a trick by the Koga ninja.

I've already switched to my fourth katana; the first three all broke in the middle during the fierce fighting.

"Map...map...give me a map..." The samurai moved forward, calling out in a low voice, the pendulum of the clock in his hand still swinging eerily.

I took a few steps back, stepping on the haphazardly scattered bodies of ninjas.

"Pfft—" The clock on the statue's chest suddenly shattered, and two samurai swords collided, sparking brilliant sparks, like a strange pair of scissors slashing towards my neck.

The illusions created by ninjutsu were endless and unbelievable, but my eyes, capable of seeing the rapidly spinning images on a slot machine, instantly discerned fourteen spinning ninja star shuriken behind the clashing swords. They were entirely black, without the slightest glint of light. Only shuriken tempered with potent poison could conceal the gleam of steel blades.

The twin swords were merely a distraction, a way to draw attention; the seven-star darts were the real killer. Sure enough, the sword light shot midway through its trajectory, then suddenly soared into the sky, revealing the seven-star darts flying towards it from behind. As the opponent spun upwards, I followed suit, and with a flash of my blade, I mercilessly swept it across the black-clad man's neck.

With the fog beneath our feet, we both simultaneously reached out and grabbed the crystal chandelier on the roof. However, before he could raise his knife, his neck was already restrained, and purplish-black blood slowly trickled down the gleaming blade in my hand.

“You’ve lost. The ‘Wanchuanshuhai’ says that there are no defeated ninjas, only ninjas who die for their lord, right?” My blade was already a centimeter deep into the left side of his neck. With just a little force, I could easily slice off his head.

The "Mansenshukai" is the ultimate training manual for all Japanese ninjas. Many of its strange laws and precepts are revered by the seven major ninja sects as inviolable life principles.

During the Edo period, ninjas sent out on missions were always instructed to "only win, never lose." They considered themselves the pride of their daimyo masters, especially after being entrusted with important responsibilities. They valued completing the mission more than their own lives and were incapable of facing failure. If they failed, they would immediately commit suicide to repay their master's trust.

The man in black stared at me with deep, cold brown eyes, slowly shaking his head: "No...we...didn't lose..." He raised his katana, pushed away my blade, and then let go, letting the blade fall to the ground.

As the fog dissipated, he stood amidst his fallen subordinates, as indifferent as a statue.

Of course, the bronze statue remained in its original position, untouched. The ninja's illusion magic was comparable to David Copperfield's super magic tricks; what I just saw was merely a clever sleight of hand.

It's highly unusual that there wasn't any sound from Xiao Keleng and Guan Baoling downstairs after such a long battle upstairs.