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墨書 Inktalez
The corridor of the laboratory was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the faint red glow of emergency lights. We hurried along the wall, the chaotic sounds of footsteps and shouts echoing behind us.
"This way!" Doctor Zhao pointed to a metal door. "This is my office; there are some important documents inside."
Pushing the door open revealed rows of filing cabinets. Doctor Zhao quickly rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a laptop and several file folders.
"These are the experimental records from the past five years," she said rapidly, "and their trading network."
Suddenly, I noticed a document on the desk written in Japanese, its seal looking aged. Although I couldn't understand the content, the title and several numbers stood out prominently.
"Let's go!" My father nudged me. "They're coming!"
The sound of hurried footsteps approached from outside. We quickly hid in a storage room, just in time to hear several people burst into the office.
"Search everywhere; see if there's anything suspicious!" a deep male voice commanded. The tone struck me as odd—it was Chinese, yet there was an inexplicable dissonance in his accent.
"Yamamoto-kun, check over there!" another voice said in Japanese.
I felt my father's body tense up suddenly.
The rummaging continued for a few minutes, followed by low murmurs that I couldn't quite make out. I only caught snippets about blood types and samples.
Once they left, we finally breathed a sigh of relief, but Doctor Zhao's face had turned pale.
"They took a list," she said through clenched teeth. "It recorded all the data on children with special blood types."
"What do they want with that information?" I asked.
Doctor Zhao glanced at my father, hesitating to speak. He gently shook his head. "Now is not the time for that. We need to rescue the other children first."
Without further thought, we slipped out of the office and continued down the corridor. Passing by a laboratory, I caught sight of various precision instruments through the glass window. One machine stood out; it looked old and worn, with its nameplate almost completely faded, but I could still make out "Tokyo Imperial University."
"Don't look at it," my mother urged as she pulled me along briskly. "Knowing too much too soon can be dangerous."
At the end of the corridor was a massive warehouse filled with wooden crates. In the dim light of the emergency lamps, I noticed that each box had labels on it—some in Chinese and others in Japanese. Most striking was a metal box in the corner; its markings were rusted, but the sun emblem on it remained clear.
"That's—" Zhou Jing began to speak but was abruptly silenced by my mother covering her mouth.
Voices came from the other end of the warehouse. With the faint light, we saw Zhang Shouren enter with an unfamiliar man. The stranger was dressed in an elegant black suit, but his gait reminded me of a samurai from a movie.
"Are all the samples ready?" he asked in accented Chinese.
"It has been executed as planned," Zhang Shouren said respectfully. "This time, the blood type matches the requirements perfectly."
"Good," the stranger nodded in satisfaction. "The organization has been waiting for this day for a long time. Once the ritual is complete, we will—"
Suddenly, a piercing alarm interrupted their conversation.
"This is bad!" Zhang Shouren's face changed dramatically. "They've broken in!"
"Stay calm," the stranger's voice remained steady. "Proceed according to the plan. Remember, no matter what happens, the Moon Goddess ritual must be completed. This is an opportunity the organization has waited decades for."
They hurriedly left. As their footsteps faded, Zhou Jing whispered, "What organization are they talking about?"
"There's no time to explain," Doctor Zhao replied urgently. "We need to find the other children before they do."
As they exited the warehouse, the alarm grew louder. Explosions echoed in the distance; it seemed that the SWAT team had already breached the bunker. Yet for some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling that things were not as simple as they appeared.
"Why are they so obsessed with completing the ritual?" Zhang Shouren pondered aloud. "Who is that stranger? And what about that mysterious organization?"
Before I could sort through my thoughts, a sudden sound of synchronized footsteps approached from ahead.
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