King of Tomb Raiders

Chapter 83

With a crack, his left kneecap was slightly fractured. He screamed and continued to roll around, grabbing at the sofa, trying to use it to jump up, but the shotgun in my hand was already pressed against the back of his neck.

His martial arts skills are clearly inferior to mine, but his agility is about the same, not even close.

"Don't move! Behave yourself if you want to live!" I still used English and treated him as a thug sent by Watanabe Castle.

He was dressed in a tight-fitting black tracksuit and boots with soft leather soles. His face was covered with four or five streaks of black paint, making him look quite eerie. However, his hair wasn't black enough; nearly half of it was dry and white. His face was obscured, but on his left shoulder, a pattern was embroidered with white thread, starkly contrasting with the surrounding black and white, making it very jarring.

"Friend, spare me, I meant no harm..." he said, surprisingly in fluent Chinese.

I pulled the gun back, and he slowly turned around, revealing the dark, sallow, and somewhat dull face typical of Koreans. His eyes were small, what's commonly called "mouse-bean eyes," but they gleamed with a sharp, piercing light.

Now I see the pattern on his shoulder: an angel with outstretched wings and a bow and arrow, very similar to Cupid from Western mythology.

I slowly lowered the muzzle of my gun, forcing a wry smile: "You're from 'Dark Angels'? What are you doing here at this villa?"

The Night Angels were a transnational thief organization that operated across South Korea, North Korea, and Japan. They always treated theft as a noble art, and like the Beggars' Sect of old China, they opened many shrines and recruited many disciples. At its peak, the organization had nearly 1.5 million members in East Asia.

The most powerful figure in this gang is its leader, Golden Fox, a Korean-American. Below the leader are three halls and six branches, totaling nine leaders. Under the halls and branches are several action teams, each led and managed by a strictly hierarchical group of leaders. They enjoy stealing and consider it a great honor to join "Dark Angels."

As a gang, when their power grows too large and threatens the national regime, they will inevitably be banned and expelled. Especially in Busan, South Korea, the birthplace of the Night Angels, the police have issued extremely strict bans, clearly stipulating that members of the Night Angels are not allowed to hold gatherings or enter the city's bustling areas, so as to prevent them from threatening the safety of citizens' property.

Members with such high martial arts skills are rare, so I guessed he must be a big boss in the gang. Not wanting to cause trouble, he slowly put away his hunting rifle.

He stood up, leaning on the sofa, and sighed with a bitter smile: "You Chinese kung fu is indeed very skillful! Just now, your two kicks seemed to have no rules, but alas, I couldn't dodge them. I'm ashamed, ashamed!" Then he looked down at his legs, his face turning yellow from the pain, and he dared not put his legs on the ground.

"I'm sorry, my knee is shattered and I need to go to the hospital for surgery. When you reached for the gun, I had no other choice but to use force..." I hurriedly explained.

He squinted at me with his small eyes, his pupils darting around a few times. He raised a hand to scratch his unkempt, mottled hair and suddenly asked, "Little friend, is your kung fu... related to Master Chihu from Hubei, China, or Old Ding, the 'Fire Yama' from Los Angeles' Chinatown? Are you their disciple or grand-disciple?" As he asked, his eyelids twitched rapidly, and his facial expressions were very rich.

I shook my head with a wry smile: "My master has a strange temper and never allows me to mention his name. I'm sorry."

He called me "little kid," which of course meant he was referring to himself as a "senior."

I politely clasped my hands in a fist and palm salute, performing the etiquette of a martial arts figure, and humbly asked, "What treasures are hidden in this villa that could alarm your esteemed gang?"

South Korea and North Korea are geographically close to China, so the characters, rules, and slang of the martial arts world in these three countries have many things in common. In fact, people who frequently travel between these three places are often fluent in Chinese, Korean, and English.

My statement already gave "Angel of the Night" plenty of face, but I didn't expect him to shake his hand so rudely and reply without any politeness: "Is this villa yours? I've never felt like this is someone else's home. Every time I go to 'Well of Spirits' for tea, I always stop by here to take a nap, refresh myself, and rest. In fact, I've always felt like it's my home!"

He glanced at the dishes on the coffee table, reached out and grabbed a chicken leg, then began to devour it.

Judging from the boneless appearance of his hands, it's clear that this person has been practicing bone-shrinking kung fu for at least ten years. The most difficult parts to master in bone-shrinking kung fu are the hands and feet. These two areas are entirely composed of countless tiny bones connected together, and the degree to which they can be "shrunken" is very small. If one can train to the point where they can shrink to one-third of their original size, that's already reaching the limit of bone-shrinking kung fu.

This person was about 1.7 meters tall, but his hands were only the size of an average girl's hand, roughly half the size. Based on that alone, calling him "senior" wouldn't be an exaggeration.

He finished the chicken leg in a few bites, then moved his injured leg onto the sofa, pulled up his trouser leg, and exposed his knee.

I felt increasingly apologetic because the spot where I kicked had already developed a five-centimeter-square bruise.

He sighed, took a one-inch-tall spray bottle from his pocket, and hissed a few times on his knees. After doing this, he looked up at me with a malicious smile: "Little friend, I can solve the mystery in your heart—" His small green eyes darted around again, and this time, he revealed two rows of yellowed teeth, clearly a hardcore smoker who was never without a cigarette in his hand.

"You can? Really?"

He nodded firmly, a hint of confusion flashing across his beady eyes.

I dare not easily trust others anymore. This is a money-driven society where every penny counts, and no one will voluntarily help others unless driven by self-interest.

He looked at his knees with heartache, constantly frowning and hissing as if the spray was strongly irritating his muscles and he had to grit his teeth and bear it.

I searched my memory for information about "Angels of the Night" that I had seen before. The most obvious characteristic of the core members below the leader was that they were "young". I didn't remember any leaders who were over thirty years old - where did this old guy with half-white hair come from?

He just mentioned that he used to break into the villa at night, and it seems that he wasn't lying. According to the instructions of the scalpel, everyone would evacuate at dusk, leaving only an empty house, which would allow skilled thieves to come and go freely.

“I want a million. Give me that money, and I can tell you the most unbelievable thing. If this scoop were sent to the Asahi Shimbun, hehe, I’m afraid the sales would skyrocket that day… How about it?” He greedily stuck out his soft tongue and licked his dry lips, like a cunning snake about to succeed.

One million is not a large sum, but I suspect that his words are just a bluff and an attempt to scare people.

Anyone who joins the thieving profession and aspires to become a top master invariably yearns for guidance from experienced practitioners and to master the art of bone shrinking. However, this skill, when practiced to its extreme, can potentially cause the testicles to retract into the body, resulting in physical characteristics indistinguishable from those of an intersex person. With these bizarre physical changes, a person's personality can also mutate, potentially leading to devastating personality disorder.

I will not make any promises until I have ascertained his identity.

“Hehe, I saw how that little girl disappeared—” He held up his right index finger and waved it triumphantly at me: “One million US dollars. And then, this secret is yours…”

My blood rushed to my head, and I took a sudden step forward: "Disappeared? She really disappeared? Where did she go? Tell me quickly..."

He stubbornly waved his finger in front of my face, a smug grin spreading across his face: "Kid, don't get excited. Give me the money, and I'll find out where your girlfriend is. I promise!"

I forced myself to calm down, took out my checkbook from my pocket, quickly wrote down the amount he wanted, and tore it off with a ripping sound. Seeing the check, his beady eyes widened instantly, becoming round and bulging, as if their pupils were about to pop out. At the same time, he stuck out his soft tongue and kept licking his lips, looking like he was itching with desire.

“The money is here. If you say so, it’s yours.” I held the check in mid-air.

He gritted his teeth, roaring angrily, "Would I lie to you? Do you know who I am? I'm South Korea's number one master thief—give it to me! Give me that check now!" Judging from his appearance, if it weren't for his serious knee injury, he might have jumped up and tried to snatch it from me.

"You? Plague?" I stared at his face suspiciously.

The name "Plague" has become a legendary figure in East and Southeast Asia. His real name has been replaced by his increasingly famous nickname. Of course, the old hands will always remember that Plague is also a member of the Jin family. In terms of seniority, he should be Jin Yaohu's distant uncle.

Ten years ago, an incident brought the plague to its peak of infamy: the theft of the Japanese Military Commission's "West Wind Operation Plan" and its leak to the South Korean government. The plan was said to have been developed by extreme Japanese militarists who intended to test their newly invented underwater attack weapons by targeting three important cities in southern Korea.

The theft of the plan immediately caused a huge international uproar. The United Nations promptly dispatched war observer teams to Tokyo, Japan, and Seoul, South Korea, thus nipping the impending "mini-world war" in the bud.

"Of course it's me, of course it's me!" He brushed aside his messy hair, revealing a two-inch-long golden rat tattooed on his parted hairline. It was the unique mark of the "Plague," and no one had ever been able to imitate it.

I handed him the check; whatever tricks he might try, my shotgun doesn't discriminate.

Plague, having accepted the check, immediately became amiable: "Little friend, it's a bit cold tonight. Could you please add a few more pieces of firewood so we can chat?"

Indeed, the fire in the fireplace was about to go out. The night grew deeper, and the hall gradually grew chilly.

I picked up two pieces of firewood, carefully placed them on the fire, and watched them catch fire before turning to ask, "Senior, could it be that my—"

The plague was gone, and all that remained on the table were the clean, gnawed chicken bones he had left behind.

Where could someone with a severe knee injury go? As far as the eye could see, there were only two paths: the restroom or the stairs. After a moment's thought, I immediately dashed towards the stairs, not even having time to grab my hunting rifle. Losing a million dollars didn't matter; the real question was, did the plague truly witness Guan Baoling's disappearance?

"What does 'disappear' mean? Does it mean disappearing into thin air? Becoming invisible? Entering another unknown space..."

A barrage of questions was giving me a headache, and being deceived by the plague only fueled my extreme anger. Chinese physiognomy classics had long ago noted…

The age-old truth that "a crooked eye indicates a crooked heart" applies here. Someone with beady eyes like the plague rat is definitely a cunning character. How could I obediently listen to him and confidently turn away to add firewood?

As I reached the corner of the stairs, I suddenly felt the lights behind me sway violently, as if the crystal chandelier had been hit by something.

"Hahaha, little kid, you've been tricked, haven't you? Hahahaha..." Plague laughed triumphantly as he floated down from the chandelier, landing perfectly in the armchair. He casually picked up the hunting rifle and pointed it at me. His other hand was excitedly scratching his head, his laughter jubilant and extremely smug.

I slowly walked down the stairs, looked up at the still swaying crystal bead chain, then looked down at him through gritted teeth: "Are you really the legendary Plague? Is this the code of conduct for the 'Angels of the Night'?"

Plague laughed loudly, pointing the gun at me repeatedly, his small eyes narrowed into almost invisible slits: "Little friend, the 'Angels of the Night' never follow the rules of the underworld, unlike you Chinese, who, whether you're a robber, bandit, or thief, always pretend to have some kind of 'honor among thieves'—a thief is a thief, breaking the law and causing chaos, running rampant without any rules, whoever has the gun calls the shots..."

His sallow skin was flushed with two large patches of red from excessive excitement, making him look radiant.

"Senior, I've given you the money. Now you should tell me how that girl disappeared, right?" Consider this million as money wasted. I only want to know Guan Baoling's whereabouts.

Plague frowned, feigning difficulty: "One million? That's barely enough for my knee injury medical bills. If you're really sincere, please write me a check for another five million, and maybe I'll tell you where your girlfriend is. But don't keep me waiting too long, okay? She disappeared so strangely, who knows what will happen next?"

When he said these words, his tone inadvertently revealed extreme confusion, so I am more convinced that Guan Baoling disappeared under extremely strange circumstances.

I kept walking towards the plague, completely ignoring his raised gun.

"Hey, don't move!" the plague cried out.

I continued walking forward, ignoring him. Until he pulled the trigger with a "snap," the firing pin made a hollow sound—in fact, the gun was empty; all the bullets were in my outstretched palm.

Plague dropped his hunting rifle, braced his elbows on the armchair's armrests, and flipped himself backward, leaping into the air to the corner leading to the bathroom in a bizarre, headfirst motion. He lightly touched the ground with his hands, as if springs were embedded in his palms, and bounced up, leaping sideways toward the bathroom door.

His lightness skill is indeed superb, especially his flexibility, which may impress even the world's best contortionists. His movements are as fluid as flowing water, with no hindrance whatsoever.

My right hand lashed out, five bullets like five sharp, deadly projectiles—seen, hand, and fired in a flash. As soon as his body disappeared through the bathroom doorway, a series of screams erupted, followed by a thud—the sound of him collapsing heavily to the ground. I wouldn't give him another chance—

When he reached the bathroom door, he was still lying on the ground, with a bullet lodged in his forehead, left cheek, chin, Adam's apple, and chest. This method of firing bullets is more effective than pulling the trigger in close combat.

The plague patient lay with his eyes closed, his face turning from sallow to pale, right in front of the sink.

"Little friend...little friend...can we...go to the living room to talk? This house is a bit strange, don't disappear like that girl...sigh, I give up, I really won't try anything funny again..."

I crouched down, stared into his small eyes, and asked with a cold smile, "You really won't run away again?"

He shook his head repeatedly, panting and grimacing, "I wouldn't dare, little brother, please help me spray some medicine. Your hidden weapon is probably poisonous and rusty. Spraying that medicine will at least... put my mind at ease..." With the fall, his arms seemed to have been injured as well, hanging limply at his waist, motionless.

I ignored his advice, looked around the bathroom again, and asked in a low voice, "How did my friend disappear?"

The layout here hasn't changed at all, and I'm still a bit confused, unable to figure out what "disappeared" meant.

The plague-ridden man opened his eyes, gritted his teeth, rolled away from the sink, and cried out in terror, "Right there! Right there he disappeared, right in front of the sink. When the water in the faucet stopped flowing, he suddenly vanished!" He struggled to raise his right hand and pointed fiercely at the stainless steel faucet.

"What? Right here?"

I took a big step forward, reached out without hesitation, pressed the faucet, and twisted it to turn it on full blast.

The rushing cold water slammed against the sink wall, splashing out sparkling droplets in all directions. A few drops landed on my face, carrying a chilling sensation.

Volume Two: The Tower of the Dead

The first book, The Mysterious Villa

— Chapter 10 - The Secret of Water Flowing Backwards —

The room was filled with the rapid, labored breathing of the plague. I stared at the surging water swirling out of the drain in the pool, but part of my gaze was also fixed on the plague reflected in the mirror. Faced with such an insidious and pervasive threat, one had to be cautious to avoid suffering.

It's unimaginable how Guan Baoling disappeared, but this plague doesn't seem to be deliberately lying.

"Right here? Vanished from the tap?" I asked with a sneer.

"Yes, this is it," the Plague replied confidently, though his tone was as confused as mine, as he turned to look out the window.

My wrist slumped, and with a snap, the knife, sheathed in my forearm, revealed itself, the blade protruding only an inch or so between my index and middle fingers. I slowly turned, staring at Plague's face: "I don't care if you really are Plague, but tonight, it's just the two of us in this villa. If I don't tell the truth, I'll have to apologize—"

The blade flashed in the light, reflected on the tip of his nose.

The Plague, leaning against the doorframe, gave a bitter smile: "Really, I'm telling the truth."

The knife tip scraped against the white marble slab with a sharp, screeching sound. My patience was wearing thin. After two hours of fruitless searching, plus this chase and struggle with the plague, I had almost no energy left.

"You'd better tell us the truth that we can both accept, otherwise—"

I looked out the window at the endless, barren hillsides. It's said that in Hokkaido, there's a type of snow wolf that can't withstand the harsh winter and, when desperate for food, will attack human settlements. In this environment, if you kill one or two people and throw them out, they'll be carried off by wolves within hours, leaving no trace.

After being shot by a bullet, the plague was covered in blood and looked miserable. But I still admired him for being able to leap onto the chandelier and escape in mid-air despite his serious knee injury. Any legendary figure in the martial arts world must have extraordinary abilities to be respected and remembered.

"What I'm saying, what I've witnessed, is actually hard for even myself to accept. So... I'll just narrate, and you just listen, please don't interrupt, wait until I'm finished..."

He raised his sleeve to wipe away the dripping blood from his brow bone, then began to recount with a wry smile—

“I live in a villa complex, the kind of villa complex that belongs to you Chinese people, nestled in the mountains. But my sleeping place isn’t fixed every night. Don’t ask me why I came to this godforsaken place; that’s my private matter. Every evening, I need to go to the ‘Well of Spirits’ on the mountain to fetch water… Before you move in, I’ll drink the water and then spend the night in the bedroom upstairs…”

He pointed to the ceiling, very naturally, as if the villa were his private property.

"Since you're here, I was too embarrassed to bother you, so I went somewhere else last night. But today, I saw that girl climb over the big gate, and I got curious, thinking I could catch a glimpse of something interesting, so I just lay down on the roof..."