Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

It wasn't waves, it wasn't a ship, but a vast outline, darker than night, slowly rising from the sea fog and torrential rain.

The crane booms, the racks, the bridge towers—all seemed short next to that thing. It was like a curtain of rain draped over it, its outline unnaturally blurred, yet for a moment, Lund still saw it—

Looking at that thing high up, it resembled a pale human face.

It has no facial features, only two deep, hollow holes, looking this way.

Lund felt his blood run cold.

The man saw it too.

His hands were trembling so much that the hilt of the knife made a soft creaking sound, but then he suddenly grinned and laughed.

"Damn it," he cursed, "they really are after me."

Lund grabbed his arm suddenly: "Don't go!"

The man looked down at the hand that was holding him, and his eyes softened considerably.

"You always ask me what I'm afraid of," he said. "Now I'll tell you—I'm afraid of death, afraid of pain, afraid of it, so afraid my legs are almost weak. But I'm even more afraid that you'll die before me."

Lund's throat felt blocked, and he couldn't squeeze out a single word.

The man pushed him into the patrol car, pulled the latch behind him, and did so quickly that he didn't have a chance to struggle.

"Go find Sarah!" he yelled through the glass. "She'll take you away!"

"Come back here!" Lund slammed his fist on the car door. "You come back here!"

The man shoved the start lever hard, and the inspection vehicle lurched and slid off the rails.

"Didn't you want to be a different person?" The man's voice chased after us from afar in the rain, broken and intermittent, carried by the wind. "Then... don't try to hide like I do..."

The inspection vehicle slid faster and faster.

Lund pressed himself against the glass, desperately trying to turn his head back.

He saw the man who always had a hunched back, spoke softly, and was like a shadow at home, standing in the pouring rain, holding that old knife in his hand. He was clearly trembling with fear, but he still walked forward little by little.

After walking a few steps, he raised his hand and wiped his face, as if the rain was in his way.

Then, he actually laughed again.

It's ugly, and it's crazy.

The next moment, the man gripped the knife with both hands and charged forward to meet the mountain-like black shadow that was pressing down on him!

The blade flashed briefly in the rain, its pale whiteness blindingly bright.

Lund shouted until his voice was hoarse: "Dad—!"

boom!!!

Lightning exploded, and the entire approach bridge seemed to have been hit hard by something. The tide surged into the sky, and black and white blended together in the rainy night.

The inspection vehicle was shaken violently, and the windows were covered in water, making it impossible to see anything.

In his last glance, he saw only the man's back as he leaped up with a knife.

Very small.

But they didn't back down.

"...Lund!"

A voice abruptly pulled him back from the sound of the rain.

Lund opened his eyes abruptly and found himself still standing deep inside Cold Storage No. 3, his hand gripping the old rail, his palms covered in cold sweat.

Sarah was right next to him, one hand on his shoulder, her brow furrowed.

"What are you standing there staring at?" she asked in a low voice, "Your face is so pale."

Lund took a couple of breaths, his voice a little hoarse: "It's nothing."

"Nothing my foot!" Sarah stared at him. "You looked like you were about to fall flat on your face."

The elderly guard, carrying a lantern, looked tense: "It's ringing again... Did you hear it?"

It was very quiet inside the cold storage.

Immediately afterwards, a very faint metallic clang came from the depths of the ditch in the distance.

Ding!

It was as if someone had flicked a rusty bell with their fingernail.

Lund's gaze gradually turned cold.

Sarah heard it too. She raised the lantern forward and whispered, "There's something moving down there."

"Ten years ago, how was this place cleaned up?" Lund suddenly asked.

Sarah glanced at him: "You're only asking this now?"

Answer me.

Sarah was silent for a moment before saying, "It wasn't a cleanup, it was a complete seal. Your father blocked that thing for a while, and we took the opportunity to pull the plug, blasting down the maintenance well at the bottom of the approach bridge and the cold storage ditch. Later, people from the parish and the port authority came, the files were sealed, the bodies weren't all found, and there weren't many survivors who could still give a clear account."

"Where is my father's body?"

"no."

The old guard chimed in from behind, "They found half the knife, but not the person."

Lund slowly turned his head.

"Where's the broken knife?"

The old man hesitated for a moment and looked at Sarah.

Sarah pulled a long strip of cloth wrapped in oilcloth from her briefcase and handed it to Lund: "I wasn't planning on giving it to you this sooner."

Lund took it and untied the oilcloth.

Sure enough, there was a broken knife inside.

The blade was only half a foot long, the edge was curled, and it was so black that it looked like it had been repeatedly corroded by some kind of high temperature and seawater.

The handle was still intact, wrapped with old leather straps. The moment Lund gripped it, his fingers involuntarily tightened.

"This was pried out from under the iron beam of the bridge," Sarah said. "The knife was stuck in there back then, and the surrounding area was full of that black liquid."

Lund stared at the broken sword without saying a word.

Sarah took out a small, folded piece of paper from her bag and handed it over: "And this, it's tucked inside the leather wrapping of the knife handle. It's been there for so long, I was afraid it would break if I touched it, so I haven't dared to open it."

Lund took the paper with such care that it was almost like he was handling a piece of thin ice.

When the paper was unfolded, only half a page of text remained.

"...Don't let him learn from me, the marksmanship class will continue as usual."

He has a stubborn temper and a tight tongue; he won't say anything when he's in pain.

If I can't go back—"

That's all.

Just three lines.

Lund stared at those lines of text, remaining motionless for a long time.

The biting dampness from deep within the cold storage seemed to seep into my chest little by little along my collar.

"Look," Sarah whispered, "he can't even write a message, he's still the same stupid guy."

Lund twitched the corner of his mouth, but didn't actually smile.

"I used to think that he deserved to be looked down upon."

He stared at the broken knife, his voice low, "He doesn't say a word when we argue at home, he just cleans up the mess when I cause trouble, and he even nods when someone steps on his face... I hate people like that the most."

Sarah didn't respond.

"Then he died," Lund said slowly. "And I hated him even more. I hated that he didn't tell me anything, hated that he pushed me out, hated that last thing he did... it was like he made the decision for me."

"And now?" Sarah asked.

Lund was silent for a few seconds, then gripped the knife handle tightly.

"Now I realize that I don't hate him," he said. "I hate myself."

For the past ten years, every time it rains heavily, every time I pass by the sea, every time I hear the iron bell ringing, I think of that night...

Then I took a detour. I said I looked down on him, but deep down I was just like him; my first reaction was to avoid him.

Sarah looked at him, her eyes filled with complex emotions: "You've finally admitted it."

"I knew it all along." Lund raised his head, his eyes dark and gloomy. "I just couldn't be bothered to admit it."

"Every rainy night, I seem to see that blurry figure in my dream."

"Each time, I try to escape that never-ending rainy night!"

Ding--

The bell rang again.

Closer than before.

The cold storage floor trembled slightly, and water slowly seeped out of the dark ditch in front of them.

It wasn't ordinary puddles; the water was so black it was opaque, but a layer of grayish-white foam floated on the surface, like some kind of rotting membrane.

The veteran security guard gasped, "Here we go again..."

Sarah's face darkened: "Step back!"

As soon as she finished speaking, a string of bubbles suddenly rose from the black water.

Glug, glug.

It looked like something huge was breathing down there.

The next moment, the iron chains around the cold storage swayed without wind, and the sealed ventilation iron plates in the corners simultaneously made creaking and grinding noises.

In the darkest part of the cold storage, there was a very soft and slow whisper, as if it were rising from the water and seeping into your eardrums.

"return……"

Lund tensed up.

The sound, like the chimes on the bridge ten years ago, carried an indescribable, strange weight, as if it weren't meant for the ears, but rather fell directly into the mind.

"The door... isn't fully open yet..."

The elderly guard's legs went weak, and he almost collapsed to the ground, muttering repeatedly, "Holy Spirit above, Holy Spirit above..."

Sarah abruptly drew her pistol from her waist and aimed it at Blackwater: "Shut up, old Pete! Back off!"

The black water suddenly surged upwards.

First, there was a hand.

Pale white, thin, with a film of water clinging between the five fingers, like the hands of a corpse that had been soaked for many days after drowning.

Then came the second, the third... those hands stretched out of the black water one by one, pressing down on the ground, as if something was using them to try to push itself out of the water.

Sarah's face turned pale, and she muttered under her breath, "No, this isn't the same as it was ten years ago..."

"Of course they're different."

A sound drifted lightly through the cold storage.

It wasn't Sarah, and it wasn't the old security guard.

The voice was like a man's voice, like an old man's voice, like a child's voice, all mixed together, wet and laughing.

"Ten years ago, he cut down the wrong place."

In the middle of the black water, a face slowly rose.

That face looked like a collection of many faces pieced together, its features constantly changing, sometimes resembling a middle-aged worker, sometimes a young woman, and sometimes a child who hadn't fully grown up.

The strangest thing was its forehead, where there was a long, thin crack, and inside there was no flesh or blood, only a pale eyeball that slowly turned.

It stared at Lund.

"You're back," it whispered. "The man with the knife... hasn't come back."

Without a second thought, Sarah fired a shot!

The bullet pierced that face, exploding into a pool of black water, but the next second, the water automatically gathered back, as if it had hit not a physical object, but a sentient tide.

"Go!" Sarah snapped. "This isn't something you can touch right now. Take the knife and leave!"

Lund didn't move.

The thing in the black water was still watching him. The white eye on his forehead rolled, and the surrounding temperature dropped a few degrees.

"You're a lot like him," it said. "Equally afraid, equally stubborn, equally—"

"Shut up."

Lund interrupted it.

He wrapped the broken knife back up and put it back in his pocket, then raised his hand and unfastened the clasp of the long black box on his back.

哢.

The box was opened, revealing a folding black steel spear.

The gun barrel joints springed open inch by inch, the mechanism meshed, and made a crisp metallic sound.

The spearhead was slender, with a cold white blade that, when illuminated by the lantern, resembled a sliver of electricity suddenly appearing in the rainy night.

Sarah looked at him, her face grim: "Are you crazy?!"

"Ten years ago, I was sent away once." Lund gripped his spear, his voice unusually calm. "Enough."

"Your father risked his life to send you away, not so you would come back today to die!"

"I know."

"Then why did you go?"

As Lund watched the rising mass of black water ahead, a ruthless glint slowly appeared in his eyes.

"Because now I finally understand why he laughed back then."

Sarah was taken aback.

Lund let out a long breath, as if expelling all the pent-up frustration, hatred, and the sound of rain that had been weighing on his chest for the past ten years.

"It's not because he's not afraid," he said. "It's because when fear reaches its limit, there's nowhere left to retreat, so he can only move forward."

Suddenly, the thing in the black water let out a faint laugh.

"Humans," it said, "are really interesting."

The chains around them exploded simultaneously!

A dozen or so wet, black water ropes suddenly shot up from the ditch, heading straight for Lund's face.

Sarah fired again, cutting off the approaching shadowy figure with two shots, and shouted sharply, "Old Pete, sound the alarm! Notify the area to be sealed off!"

The elderly security guard hurriedly ran backward.

Lund, however, did not back down.

He stepped forward, gun raised, his foot shattering a pool of black water. With a flick of his wrist, he cleanly and deftly severed the first waterline. The gun barrel swept across, slamming into the second one with a bang. Black water splashed everywhere, and the entire cold storage room seemed to echo with a muffled thunderclap.

"Don't you hate cowardice?" The face in the black water stared at him eerily. "Your father was the most cowardly, so why do you try to be like him?"

Lund's eyes suddenly turned cold.

"I hate his cowardice," he said, "and I hate my own cowardice too."

Another water rope attacked from the side and behind. Lund didn't turn his head. He dragged his spear backward, touched the ground heavily with the butt of the spear, twisted his waist with the force, and the spear tip, like a black and white flashing line, pierced directly through the surging black tide with a "poof" sound!

"But today—"

He stepped into the spreading black water, his trouser legs instantly soaked through, chilled to the bone. His forehead was damp with cold sweat and moisture, but his eyes grew brighter and brighter, as if burned by something.

"—I'm not leaving!"

The spliced ​​face suddenly twisted, its forehead and whites wide open, as if it had been completely enraged by the shot.

The old iron hooks, chains, and air ducts hanging from the top of the cold storage trembled violently at the same time, as if the entire abandoned cold storage was being slowly lifted up from below by something.

Sarah's expression changed drastically: "Lund! There's something else underneath it—!"

Before she finished speaking, a huge, pale outline slowly emerged from the deepest part of the black water.

It doesn't resemble human bones, nor the spine of a fish, but rather a corner of the face of some colossal creature. Buried beneath the black water and the passage of time for far too long, now only a small part of it is exposed, yet it already makes one instinctively want to kneel down.

Sarah's breath caught in her throat for a moment.

"God..." Old Pete murmured in a distance.

As Lund stared at the pale expanse rising from the bridge, he felt as if something had struck his chest hard. The blurry, gigantic shadow that had been obscured by the torrential rain on the bridge ten years ago seemed to overlap with what lay before him at this moment.

It turns out that his father really was drawing his sword against something like that back then.

Lund's grip on the gun tightened even more.

He suddenly felt like laughing.

They laughed at the man for always being hunched over, for being silent, weak, and unable to say nice things, and for being terrified yet still charging forward with a knife in the end.

In the end, Lund's eyes lost all their laughter, leaving only a sharp, cold glint.

"You're not completely dead yet, are you?"

He stared at the pale, godlike outline, his voice low, as if grinding out from between his teeth.

"That's perfect."

The next moment, Lund gripped the gun barrel with both hands, suddenly exerted force with his feet, and his whole body was like a black arrow released from a bow, thrusting straight at the "god" rising from the black water!