Ghost Blows Out the Light Fanfiction Fragments of the Hidden Scriptures - Saving San Francisco

Chapter 31

After I briefly recounted my recent experiences, the fat man was greatly astonished and repeatedly exclaimed that it was impossible.

As soon as we returned to the motel, the voluptuous landlady came out to greet us and said, "Hey, are you all better yet? You patients... I heard that a miraculous celestial phenomenon occurred at the Great Pyramid last night. Several beams of holy light intertwined and descended from the sky. God descended to bless you. Didn't you see it?"

No wonder so many Arabs were making their way to the Great Pyramid early this morning. It seems the locals witnessed the light emanating from the Sun Stone and the Soul-Capturing Pearl last night.

Shirley Yang and I exchanged a smile and shook our heads at the same time.

The proprietress, however, did not believe it. A smile appeared on her pale face as she turned to the fat man and said, "Oh, this patient has recovered, hasn't he?"

I threatened her, saying, "Watch out, he might bite you again."

Upon hearing this, the fat man grinded his teeth mischievously, deliberately making a lecherous face as he greedily stared at the proprietress.

The proprietress was startled and quickly moved away, muttering, "I still need to go on my pilgrimage to ask Allah to bless my whole family." With that, she hurried away.

Shirley Yang, Fatty, and I hurriedly packed our bags and rushed to Cairo, preparing to take the earliest flight back to San Francisco, USA, to rescue Yang's father, Yang Xuanwei.

At 11:00 AM, we boarded a direct flight from Cairo International Airport to Los Angeles, USA. After having some snacks and water in the waiting hall, we prepared to take a nice nap before arriving in Los Angeles.

Before the plane even took off, Shirley Yang and I were already fast asleep. We were so tired last night that even in our dreams, we could still feel pain in our bodies.

I was half asleep when I heard the loud roar of a plane taking off. I had only slept for about half an hour in the air when I was startled awake by a gunshot. Who would fire a gun on an airplane without provocation? That's illegal.

Someone actually dared to admit it, and immediately a white man with a pointed face and monkey-like features ran over from the tail of the plane, pointed the gun at everyone, and shouted loudly in English, "Sit still and don't move, hijacking!"

Hijacking, you son of a bitch, isn't this just setting me up for failure? A surge of anger rose within me, and just as I was about to stand up, I saw the dark muzzle of the gun in the bandit's hand.

Gunshots rang out again, and two flight attendants walked out of the cockpit with their hands raised, followed by a burly black man who was even more menacing, carrying a submachine gun.

"Maybe there's another one in the cockpit," I thought to myself. Sure enough, the plane cleared its throat over the loudspeaker, and a baritone voice began speaking in Arabic.

Shirley Yang, translating for our chubby guy, said over the loudspeaker, "Attention all passengers, please cooperate with our hijacking operation. I demand that you remain seated, do not move around, do not carry weapons, and do not whisper to each other. Our objective is to demand the release of our leader, Yegev, by the Egyptian government. If the Egyptian government agrees to our demands and successfully releases Yegev, I can guarantee your safety."

"Yegoff, what kind of birdman?" the fat man asked.

"I don't know either," Shirley Yang said, shaking her head.

Just then, the short, weasel-faced white man walked over, pointed his pistol at us menacingly, and shouted, "If you want to die, don't whisper to each other!"

The fat man suddenly became aggressive and made a move to stand up, clenching his fist. I quickly grabbed him, pretended to be meek and obedient, and sat quietly without saying a word.

"What's the point of arguing with these thugs? They might just turn you into a sieve on the spot," I whispered to Fatty Wang.

I looked around and saw a scene of panic. The passengers were terrified but remained silent, and most of them were Egyptian Arabs.

Shirley Yang peeked out the window and whispered, "Something's not right. It seems like they've changed course."

We have no idea where the plane has been hijacked. We are now in a state of uncertainty, our lives hanging by a thread.

What's even more infuriating is that the bastard man blaring from the loudspeaker keeps rambling on and on, repeating the same warnings over and over again. It seems he's never been a speaker before and just wanted to indulge his passion for talking all at once.

The fat man suddenly chuckled and whispered, "These thugs aren't following an idiot who can't even speak properly, are they?"

Suddenly, the loudspeaker announced, "We regret to inform you that the Egyptian government has ignored our small request. We will be fleeing this filthy land and will immediately fly with you to neighboring Turkey."

The flight attendants and other aircraft staff were all forced into the cabin lavatory and locked inside, leaving only a cabin full of bewildered ordinary passengers sitting dumbfounded in their seats, controlled by this group of lunatics.

A short white man and a black thug with a submachine gun stood guard in our cabin, pacing back and forth, threatening and monitoring us with their guns.

Time passed by, and about two hours later, I was almost asleep when suddenly the plane roared down and landed at a high-altitude airport.

The airport runway was empty, except for our plane landing. Through the window, I could see what looked like a group of police officers hiding behind some buildings in the distance, but what was flying over the airport was a red flag with a crescent moon and a five-pointed star on it. Damn it, we really did fly into Turkey.

A tall, thin Arab man emerged from the cockpit, brandishing a pistol at a middle-aged man who appeared to be the pilot. He opened the boarding door and shot the wounded pilot dead with a single shot. He then slammed his foot down off the plane and shouted into the distance, "If the Egyptian government doesn't give us a clear response, we will kill one hostage every five minutes."

Seeing his furious and ferocious appearance, the passengers in the cabin screamed and stirred. The short white and black men couldn't stop him. Then, the big black man took out a submachine gun and fired a burst of bullets at the seats in front of him. The leather on the empty seats flew everywhere. The scene was terrifying and immediately silenced everyone.

The fat man curled his lip and muttered, "Damn it, what are you trying to prove? Trying to act like your old man? If I had a gun right now, I'd blow your stinking ass to smithereens."

Unfortunately, due to airport security checks, we had to discard all our weapons and equipment. Even Fatty's eight-foot-long saber was questioned multiple times as if it were an art piece before we bribed the way and had it airlifted to San Francisco, USA, along with a package.

The backpack on the shelf above us now only contains some commonly used items and is not a problem at all.

Soon, a clear response came from the airport, asking the hijackers to remain calm. Cairo was preparing to airlift their leader, Yegev, over, which would take about three hours. They hoped the hijackers would ensure the safety of every passenger during this time.

It seems that Egypt's actions were quite sincere and demonstrated a strong humanitarian spirit. Only after confirming via telephone that Yeghev was indeed en route to Turkey did the hijackers close the plane again and turn their attention to us.

I dozed off for who knows how long, only to be jolted awake by a commotion. It turned out that the damned Yegov had arrived at the Mangol Plateau airport.

Through the plane window, an armed helicopter could be seen slowly landing at the distant airport. A small squad of armed soldiers then escorted a middle-aged Arab man with gray hair off the plane.

The rioters inside the plane became active, and the tall, thin Arab man used the in-flight communication phone to order the other side to release Yegev immediately.

At this point, the airport command center hardened its stance, demanding that the hijackers release half of the hostages first. The Arab man waved helplessly, and the black man with the submachine gun pointed his gun at the passengers in the seats in front of him, ordering them to raise their hands behind their heads and climb down the lowered boarding ladder one by one.

Damn it, they just left me, Shirley Yang, and Fatty on one side of the plane, and now there's a commotion here. A fat Arab man with a big nose, pale-faced, suddenly jumped out of his seat and joined the disembarking passengers, trying to get off the plane early.

As soon as he reached the hatch, a large, black man standing there like a black iron tower struck him hard on the jaw with the butt of a submachine gun. He flew backward and crashed heavily into the row of seats, head down, unconscious. The other passengers were terrified and no one dared to move.

After all the passengers on that side had disembarked, the tall Arab thug impatiently demanded that the military and police release Yagov. After some negotiation, Yagov was unhandcuffed and slowly walked towards the plane. The military and police confiscated another negotiating item, three million US dollars, demanding its release only after all the hostages were released.

Watching Yegov climb into the cabin, damn it, he looked like a typical strategist: weak, pale-faced, with narrow, lewd eyes and a crooked air about him. This guy was probably some kind of spiritual mentor or a leader who incited others through words.

The man climbed onto the plane, smiled, and gave a friendly hug to a few of his cronies. Then, his expression turned cold, and he ordered the airport's armed forces to quickly raise five million dollars through the plane's loudspeaker, or else a hostage would be shot every two or three minutes.

As he spoke, he waved his hand, and the black thug dragged the big-nosed Arab fat man who had been knocked unconscious in his seat to the door. He then swept the man, who was probably a wealthy businessman, around with his fists, making him scream in agony. His body was riddled with holes, and he was kicked under the plane.

The atmosphere became tense again. I almost saw the middle-aged woman in the seat in front of me tremble, scream in terror, faint, and collapse into her husband's arms. I don't know if she wet herself, but there was a puddle of water dripping under the seat.

That scoundrel leader, Yegov, ordered the airport to quickly place the five million dollars they had raised onto the landing platform of the armed helicopter, and all the armed personnel on board to retreat a kilometer. Damn it, even a blind man could see that these bastards wanted to escape in that helicopter. But... that's fine too. The remaining hostages inside should be relatively safe, I thought to myself with relief.

Unexpectedly, once everything was ready, this guy turned his head, scanned the cabin with his pale, thin eyes, and walked straight toward us.

I cursed inwardly. This guy came up to me, brandishing a pistol and pointing it at Shirley Yang, demanding she get out of her seat. I secretly pinched Shirley Yang, jumped up, and stood in front of her.

At the crucial moment, Shirley Yang immediately understood my meaning, let out a soft moan, and pretended to faint from fear. The fat man also immediately stood up menacingly, blocking my way, and I could hear the two thugs in front of me cocking their guns and running towards me.

As Shirley Yang tried to stand up, I secretly stepped on her foot and pretended to faint.

Seeing the tall black man and the short white man pointing loaded guns at me and the fat man, one wrong move could result in us both dying on the spot.

I shoved the fat man aside, pressed him back into his seat, and said calmly, "Keep an eye on Shirley Yang." Straightening my collar, I stepped out of my seat, hands half-raised, facing Yegor's gun.

Volume Two, Chapter Sixty-Three: The Four Kingdoms Campaign - The Tomb Raiders Appear Again

Yev held a pistol to my back and led the way down the rope ladder. Two more hostages were then taken off the plane by them, including the husband of the middle-aged woman in the seat in front of me who had wet himself in fear, and a black girl.

The gang of thugs, holding the three of us hostages, lined up and walked methodically toward the armed helicopter. Yegov forced me to be the first to climb into the helicopter at his pistol. Afterward, the other thugs dropped two hostages and climbed into the helicopter.

As the armed helicopter started its propellers and the wind grew louder, indicating it was about to take off, a small team of airport rescue personnel quickly carried a stretcher towards the helicopter.

I thought they were finally going to let me go. I glanced at the two hostages lying prostrate on the ground, then turned to Yegov at the cabin door, about to speak. But then I saw this pale-faced, sleazy gangster look at the uninvited paramedics in the distance, then step aside, reach out with his gun, and prepare to fire at the two hostages below.

Damn it, I was furious, thinking how vicious you were. In that instant, without thinking, I raised his gun-wielding right arm, and with a snap, the bullet flew out diagonally through the air, firing a blank.

Just then, I was struck hard on the back of the head, knocking me unconscious. I felt myself about to fall through the hatch, but a large hand pulled me back into the helicopter. The attack helicopter began to take off, its massive rotor blades swaying, and the hatch closed. I saw Shirley Yang and Fatty waving their hands and running towards me rapidly from under the helicopter in the distance…

My head was throbbing with pain. I don't know how long I had been unconscious. Suddenly, I woke up with a start, breaking out in a cold sweat.

I dreamt that I fell into a bottomless abyss. When I rubbed my eyes, I found myself slammed into the highland jungle. The armed helicopter had landed in a thicket nearby, and Yegov and his four accomplices (there were four hijackers in total) were jumping out of the helicopter, the rotor still spinning as if trying to stop.

The second problem I discovered was that my hands were handcuffed.

Outside, there was a clear boundary between the plateau and the hilly grasslands, and the helicopter landed right at the edge of a tall, primeval forest. Yegev walked around, instructing his four accomplices to take their bags, guns, and the white box containing five million dollars, and to cut down some bushes and branches from the surrounding area and haphazardly pile them on the helicopter.

I was hoping they would forget me, but that wish turned out to be unrealistic. Before they ran away, Yegev pointed his pistol at me, signaling the black thug with the submachine gun to grab me and shove me along the edge of the primeval forest.

By then, it was getting dark, and all around were shadowy figures, just the indistinct silhouettes of trees and hills. I wondered where these thugs were taking me; perhaps they wanted to use me as a hostage for protection along the way.

After running for more than an hour, Yegev led the way into the hilly area, groping his way forward as he ran. When he came across a stream, he jumped into the water and ran for a while before getting back on the bank and running along the hills. No one made a sound as they sandwiched me in the group, with the big, dark-skinned thugs following closely behind, never letting up for a moment.

Damn it, you didn't have to take me with you on your escape, did you? I was about to start cursing when I suddenly realized that if you didn't take me with you, you might kill me in this desolate wilderness, and I would never see my dear Shirley Yang and Fatty again in this lifetime.

When you're under someone's roof, you have to bow your head. Those damn bastards of Grandma's, sigh, I guess I'll just have to go with them.

This continued for most of the night. We groped our way into a small town in the dark. It was late at night, the lights were sparse, and we didn't see a single resident.

Yegov ordered his men to sneak into a dilapidated shack that was still lit up to find something to eat. The two men then beckoned the others to come in. When I came in, damn it, they had stabbed an elderly couple to death. The poor old couple were curled up on the dirty wooden floor, their faces wrinkled and their hair white. The fatal wounds were all in their necks, a single stab to the neck, and blood was still gushing from the wounds.

It seems this impoverished elderly couple had been cooking corn porridge and steaming cornbread all night, preparing to set up a stall early the next morning to sell their wares and make a living, enduring their meager existence. Unexpectedly, they suffered this terrible fate today, dying a horrible death and ending their lives.

I sighed inwardly, my eyes blazing with anger as I glared fiercely at these ruthless killers.

These roughnecks, however, were already inside the house, shamelessly devouring steaming hot cornbread and slurping down corn porridge.

Yegov looked at me with a sneer, pointed his gun at me, and tossed me a cornbread. A wise man doesn't fight a losing battle, so I swallowed my anger, silently turned around, and swallowed the coarse yet sweet cornbread. Having not eaten all day, I finally felt ravenously hungry.

After a short rest, the gang of thugs led me back towards the hills behind the town. I silently glanced back at the dilapidated hut where the oil lamp was still lit, and I couldn't help but feel sad for my current situation. If I didn't make plans soon, I would end up like that old couple.

In the distance, a massive complex of buildings vaguely came into view, towering high on the hillside, majestic and piercing the night sky, as tall as a twenty or thirty-story skyscraper. Through the sparse moonlight, I noticed that the top of the building resembled a small pyramid. Unfortunately, from the lower half, it looked more like an ancient Babylonian-style Athenian temple or shrine.

The building is entirely milky white, giving it an extremely harmonious and solemn appearance. A row of wide stone steps ascends to waist level, above which appears to be a series of stone pillars forming an archway, and above that is the spire of a small pyramid.

We climbed over a hillside, and Yegov chuckled, saying we'd arrived. He gestured for his men to crawl on the hill to get a closer look at the white temple. They huddled under the bushes, shining a flashlight on their map and carefully comparing it back and forth, as if trying to pinpoint its location.

I remember Shirley Yang saying that people of Chinese descent are found all over the world, dating back thousands of years—that is, those with verifiable historical records. Among them, the Turkish people originated in the Altai Mountains region of Xinjiang, China, and were historically known as the Turks. I believe that when you hear "Turkic," you'll immediately nod in understanding and say, "Yes, I know."

In the 7th century AD, the Eastern and Western Turkic Khaganates, historically considered barbarian border states of China, were frequently harassed by nomadic cavalry and ultimately destroyed by the Tang Dynasty. From the 8th to the 13th centuries, the Turkic nomadic peoples migrated westward to Asia Minor. In the 14th century, the Turks established the Ottoman Empire. During the 15th and 16th centuries, the Turkic dynasties reached their zenith, expanding their territory and achieving great power. By the late 16th century, the Ottoman Empire had entered a period of decline.

The present-day Ottoman Empire was situated between the Mediterranean and the Black Sea, spanning the southeastern Balkan Peninsula of Europe and the Anatolian Peninsula of Asia.

However, the white building in front of us is not in the Chinese style; it is entirely in the style of classical Greek architecture.

But then I saw the bandit leader Yegev carefully study the map for a long time, turn off his flashlight, wave his hand and order his men to escort me and flank the white building from the left side, eventually getting behind it.

This place was a depression, about half a kilometer in circumference. Yegev carefully measured the distance from the building's foundation to the depression, walking back and forth several times. Suddenly, he pointed to a clump of bushes and ordered his companions to dig.

"Could this ruthless bandit gang have buried a large amount of jewelry and gunpowder here before?" I wondered to myself. The short white man was now standing behind me, pointing a pistol at me to prevent me from escaping. I leaned against the mound, my hands cuffed, and remained silent.

But then, under Yegev's guidance, the three thugs quickly dug a slanted hole in the ground. As they continued digging, one of the Arab bandits exclaimed, "This is it!"

Yegev shone his flashlight and saw that the cave descended diagonally for more than ten meters before encountering a massive boulder weighing several tons blocking the way. Excitedly, he whispered an order to dig past the boulder.

After about an hour, the group bypassed the heavy gate and went straight to a long white stone passage behind it.

Jagaff breathed a sigh of relief and murmured, "Robert was right. We'll get the treasure soon, and in return, we'll get tens of millions of dollars and U.S. residency."

Of course, this is a guess based on the objective situation afterward, but at the time, I only understood the pronunciation of a name like "Robert".

I was secretly wondering if this "Robert" was the same "Robert" as before. But then I saw that old devil Jaegerf brandish his pistol, and the short white thug pulled me up, dragged me to the cave entrance, and shoved me inside. We all crawled into the tunnel together.

Actually, the moment I saw the heavy gate, I understood most of it. Damn it, these guys have five million US dollars but come here to rob tombs. They must have nothing better to do. They won't even know how they're going to die.

After climbing into the passageway, my feet touched the damp, white floor, and the group of people shoved and jostled me forward. I knew perfectly well that ancient tombs usually had traps, so although I was secretly on guard, I didn't say anything and dragged myself to the back of the line.

Illuminated by the flashlight beam, the tunnel appeared to be quite long. After several turns, a white marble gate came into view. The first Arab bandit to jump into the tunnel, with a large beard, unhesitatingly used his digging tool to push open the stone gate.

Before Yegev could utter a sound, the bearded Arab bandit had already reached the stone door. Suddenly, his foot slipped, and a row of rake-toothed nail boards appeared from inside the stone wall of the passageway in front of the door. With a single, gleaming sweep, they nailed him alive into the opposite stone wall, turning him into a braised steak, his blood staining the wall.