The clamor of voices and the heavy thud of boots grew louder, immediately followed by the sound of the door being assaulted. The crash of the iron gate falling echoed relentlessly. Could it be that even after the Faceless one, we’d run into terrorists?

There was no time to ponder; the battering was about to reach our room. I rolled to my feet, drew my pistol, released the safety, and leveled it at the edge of the doorframe. In the span of mere seconds, before I could even signal the others to brace themselves, a heavy thud—the door splintered and fell inward, kicking up a cloud of dust that instantly filled the room.

A blinding sweep of light forced my eyes shut, and then a throng of figures surged inside. “Who goes there! Don’t move, or I’ll shoot!” Fear and shock warring within me, my hand trembled violently as I aimed the muzzle at the intruders.

The moment they saw the gun, they froze instantly. My whole body shook; my hand was quivering so badly that a stray discharge felt imminent. “…” The man in the lead gesticulated wildly, shouting something at me, but unfortunately, I couldn't decipher a single word beyond his tone.

He must be the leader. I brought the gun back to bear on him, forcing my voice to sound as calm and collected as possible, though anyone could see how badly my hand shook: “Get out! Get out of here!” The man showed no sign of retreating.

Perhaps wary of provoking me further, his voice dropped slightly as he muttered another lengthy string of words I couldn't begin to understand. Moreover, while I hadn't intended to fire initially, after his lengthy drone, my patience had worn thin; the Faceless one had already consumed most of my rationality. “Go!” I began to sight down on the man who wouldn’t stop babbling.

Seeing that I was serious about firing, the man instantly shouted, “Don’t… don’t! Friend… friend…” As he spoke, he backed away. This time, I caught two words and understood the gist: stop shooting, we are on the same side, friends.

“Get out,” I responded coldly, still using only that single word, as I used the pistol to herd them toward the exit. Friends? A group downstairs using explosives, then smashing the door down indiscriminately, only to burst in here and claim to be my friends?

Only a fool would believe that. As the men slowly backed away, they exchanged glances, clearly plotting to disarm me and neutralize the threat. Though tense and afraid, I wasn't an idiot; I watched their every move with scrutiny.

The instant they made a move, I would fire without hesitation. Just as the standoff reached an impasse, a woman suddenly pushed through the group and rushed inside, frantically calling out to me in what sounded like Tibetan—a language I still couldn't comprehend. “Don’t shoot, they are friends.” Seeing I hadn't reacted, she switched to standard Mandarin.

Covered in dust and sporting a look of sheer anxiety, she seemed terrified I might accidentally graze a firing pin. “They are the Japanese medical research team,” she added. Using the time bought by the standoff, I tried my best to steady my nerves.

Yet, I didn't believe her. What ordinary medical research team would possess demolition charges? And by the sound of it, those were definitely military-grade.

“Hmph!” I let out a cold laugh, making it clear I didn’t believe her. “I am Chinese, Tibetan. Trust me,” the woman quickly explained.

Hearing she was Tibetan, I relaxed slightly, taking a measured look at her. Though her face was grimy, I could still make out the faint traces of thick eyebrows, deep-set eyes, and high cheekbones—the typical features of a Tibetan. I maintained my cold demeanor and pressed: “Then why smash the door without a word?

And what was that explosion downstairs?” Seeing that questioning meant there was a chance for resolution, the woman hastily replied, “It’s like this… they didn’t mean to… Please put your gun down first, let them come in…” “No. Absolutely not. Who knows who you people are.” As she spoke, Xiaozhou walked up and stood beside me, and I could feel him trembling all over.

The tension mounted again. I waited impatiently for the woman to finish her explanation. “Zhuoma Yangjin.

My name is Zhuoma Yangjin.” The woman glanced at me, then at Xiaozhou. “You can call me Yangjin. I am their—” She gestured to the Japanese behind her, “—I am their lead translator.” “They are members of a Japanese medical research team.

They got lost at night and stumbled into this building by accident… Downstairs…” As she mentioned downstairs, a tremor of fear entered her voice, “Downstairs, there are many monstrous bugs, crawling densely over the entire floor. They became curious about this room, used a flamethrower to burn away the insects, and were preparing to ascend to the second floor. Unfortunately, the corridor leading up was completely blocked, so they resorted to explosives out of desperation.” “What about the door smashing?

How do you explain that?” I leveled my gun again at the man who had shouted at me earlier. “…They didn't know you were inside the building; they thought every room was full of those strange bugs.” Having said that, Zhuoma Yangjin watched me nervously, awaiting my response. I weighed her words.

There didn’t seem to be any holes in her story; it didn’t sound fabricated. I lowered my pistol, turned around, found a place to sit, signaling tacit agreement for them to enter. The group immediately flooded the room.

Zhuoma Yangjin said something in Japanese, and then the figures dispersed, sitting down casually around the room. To my morbid amusement, the clumsy one who had gesticulated at me and spoken English and Mandarin actually walked toward the corner where the Faceless one’s body lay, preparing to sit down. I watched with schadenfreude, waiting for him to be scared witless… As expected, the moment he approached, he let out a piercing yell.

However, he didn't flee in panic; instead, he squatted down, continuing to shriek, and reached out to examine the corpse of the Faceless one. While examining it, he beat his chest and wailed mournfully. That was strange.

What was he doing? Before I could process it, the remaining four Japanese and Zhuoma Yangjin quickly gathered around, and the others began beating their chests and wailing too. Could they have known Wang Weicheng?

“Yangjin,” I called out, raising my voice, “What is all this commotion? They sound like they’ve lost their parents. We have a patient here who needs rest!” Zhuoma Yangjin glanced at me but said nothing, instead continuing to bend over the corpse of the Faceless one.

A woman showing such interest in a dead body made me wrinkle my nose in disgust. I turned my face away, refusing to pay them any more attention. After a while, when the wailing died down, I turned to look at them again.

They were huddled together, murmuring amongst themselves in Japanese, which I couldn't understand at all. After a lengthy discussion, Zhuoma Yangjin and the Japanese man who had asked me not to shoot approached me. I remained seated on the floor, motionless, ignoring them.

The Japanese man struggled to speak to me in halting Chinese: “Sir… may I ask your surname?” I glanced up at him lazily: “Luo.” “Mr. Luo.” A forced, strained smile appeared on the little Japanese man’s face as he extended his hand for a handshake. I pretended not to see it and turned to ask Zhuoma Yangjin: “What does the little devil want?” I never concealed my contempt for the Japanese.

Perhaps the term "little devil" was a bit harsh. Zhuoma Yangjin managed an awkward laugh before translating my question to the Japanese man. The Japanese man muttered a few words.

Zhuoma Yangjin informed me that this person was Yamamoto Moku, the captain of the research team. They had found a Crystal Black Scorpion among the body of the Faceless one and hoped I could assist them. “Crystal Black Scorpion?” I frowned.

“I don't understand what you’re talking about.” As I spoke, my mind raced. Could the black, insect-like appendages on Director Wang’s back, and inside the Faceless one’s head, be what they called the legs of a Crystal Black Scorpion? If so, they truly did resemble a scorpion’s legs.

Thinking about Director Wang and the state of the Faceless one, I instinctively drew a sharp breath. Yamamoto muttered to Zhuoma Yangjin again for a while, then Zhuoma Yangjin approached me with a smile even brighter than before. “Mr.

Luo, Mr. Yamamoto says the thing inside that corpse’s head is indeed the Crystal Black Scorpion. He now wants to know if you have ever encountered a living host of the Crystal Black Scorpion, or if you have seen any living Crystal Black Scorpion specimens nearby.” I had no desire to deal with them.

Not a single Japanese man was without ulterior motives. Although I was intensely curious about this so-called Crystal Black Scorpion, I certainly didn't need to consult little Japanese men about it, much less negotiate politely. “I don’t know,” I replied curtly in three words.

The two exchanged another private conversation, after which Zhuoma Yangjin turned to me with a smile even warmer than before: “Mr. Luo, Mr. Yamamoto says that if you know where a living Crystal Black Scorpion is and are willing to tell him, he is willing to make a deal with you: he will tell you the secrets of the Crystal Black Scorpion.”