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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter 5: The Abandoned Factory and the Symbols in the Corner
"Are you ready to face your first 'Mind Refinement Task'?"
The words from Inceptor slithered into the chat window like a cold electronic snake, tightening around my heart.
Ready? I had no idea whether they wanted me to deliver a package or a head; how could I be ready for anything? But could I say no? A simple "no" would likely sever this fragile connection, and all the leads I had painstakingly gathered—along with that life-or-death uncertainty surrounding the suspected Xiao Ya and the 'New Pathfinder'—would vanish.
Under the eaves, one must bow their head. Right now, I was that trembling fool beneath the eaves.
I forced down the anger rising in my throat and the hundred curses swirling in my mind, tapping out a response with trembling fingers. I carefully considered my words, trying to mimic that mix of anxiety and faint excitement at being "chosen for a great task":
Me: I... I'm ready! Inceptor, please guide me. I will do my best to fulfill your expectations!
After hitting send, I felt like a brainwashed cult member willingly donating their fortune—cheap and pathetic.
Silence fell on the other end. The chat window was eerily quiet, that gray avatar seemed to mock my humility without uttering a word. This suspenseful waiting was more agonizing than any direct threat. What was he thinking? Was he labeling me as "easily manipulated" based on my choice of words and response time?
Time dragged on like years. After what felt like five minutes, just as my patience was about to run out and I was ready to unleash a barrage of insults at him, a new message finally appeared—not text, but a notification:
Inceptor: [The self-destruct encrypted instruction has been sent to your Temporary Secure Mailbox. Unseal and confirm within one hour. The countdown has begun. Frequency, action is required to prove yourself.]
Temporary Secure Mailbox? I paused for half a second before recalling the anonymous email Old K had left me. That guy had some foresight.
I quickly switched to that rudimentary email interface that looked like it belonged in the last century. Sure enough, there was a new message in my inbox, sent from a string of gibberish, with the subject: "First Light".
Opening the email revealed no text, only a complex animated graphic that resembled a combination of circuit boards and mazes flashing incessantly. Just as I began to feel dizzy from staring at it, my phone vibrated—it was an encrypted message from Old K: "One-time key, self-destructs after reading. Kid, don’t mess this up; I'm waiting for you to pay your next 'intelligence tax'."
"To hell with the IQ tax!" I cursed inwardly as my hands swiftly copied the key and unlocked the graphic. The image vanished, and a cold, concise command appeared, devoid of any emotion:
**Task:** Mind Refinement 01 - "Mark Search"
**Objective:** From 15:00 to 16:00 today, in the area of "Red Star Machinery Factory," located in the western suburbs of the city. Find and clearly photograph the specified mark on the south side of the main building's exterior wall (see attachment).
**Requirements:**
- Operate independently; do not disclose the task or seek assistance.
- Conceal your whereabouts and avoid all attention (including potential security, scavengers, and surveillance devices).
- The photo must include both the mark itself and identifiable surrounding environment to ensure coordinate authenticity.
- Upon completion, upload the photo using the encrypted tool provided in the attachment to the designated return channel. The time of successful upload will be considered as the reference.
**Reminder:** This is not only a test of observation but also an assessment of determination, adaptability, and Frequency stability. The light of the lighthouse shines only for those souls who can accurately find and bring back coordinates in darkness. Do not let noise interfere with your judgment.
The email attachment contained an image of the so-called "designated mark" and a download link for an encrypted upload tool.
That mark... I examined it closely. It was a crooked circle, seemingly drawn by hand, containing a sharp triangle with three uneven angles. The longest vertex pointed downward, extending three wavy rays of varying lengths from its tip. This thing resembled less a symbol and more like some hurriedly scrawled notation—possessing a primitive yet somewhat neurotic beauty. I was certain it was not a common insignia.
Red Star Machinery Factory... that infamous "Ghost Zone" in the western suburbs. It had long been abandoned; I had heard it was livelier than a graveyard, filled with homeless people, scavengers, performance artists, and those engaging in wild activities... all sorts of people.
You want me to go there alone in broad daylight to find some ghostly scribble?
What are these people really after? Testing compliance? Courage? Or are they just seeing if I make mistakes under pressure? Or perhaps this is merely a selection mechanism—only those who can survive and complete the task are qualified for the next step? Could it be that there are other "task executors" in that factory? Or is it simply a trap?
Countless thoughts raced through my mind, causing my temples to throb.
Checking the time, I realized it was getting late. There was no time to hesitate.
I quickly changed into a gray hoodie, durable jeans, and old sneakers—an outfit that screamed "just another passerby." I stuffed my backpack with essentials: water, compressed biscuits, a Swiss Army knife, a powerful flashlight, and a collapsible baton. After a moment's thought, I added the long-focus point-and-shoot camera that I had barely used—my phone had a large target but often ran out of battery; in critical moments, a physical shutter was more reliable.
Before heading out, I glanced in the mirror. With the brim of my hat pulled low, the pale and haggard face staring back at me reflected an undeniable tension and a fierce determination born from desperation. I looked like a desperate outlaw preparing for one last job.
To hell with it, let’s do this!
On the way, I put my counter-surveillance skills to the test. I took the bus to the subway, got off midway, then rode back a few stops in the opposite direction; I was almost dizzy from the detours. The entire time, I kept my ears perked up and remained alert to my surroundings. Any passerby who glanced at me for too long or any slow-moving van sent my heart racing. Paranoia was driving me nearly insane.
When I finally emerged at the subway's last stop, I still had to walk for over half an hour. The further I went, the more desolate it became; the air was thick with rust and dust. At 2:50 PM, I finally reached the rusty barbed wire surrounding Red Star Machinery Factory.
Weeds grew wild around me, and the dilapidated factory buildings resembled the skeletal remains of prehistoric beasts. Warning signs hung askew, and there were gaping holes in the barbed wire large enough for a tricycle to pass through. I found a relatively concealed gap, confirmed that no one was around, and crouched down to slip inside.
Inside was even more hellish than outside. Debris, shards of glass, and foul-smelling industrial waste littered the ground. My feet squelched on thick layers of some unknown sticky substance, making an unsettling sound. The tall factory buildings loomed darkly above me like monstrous jaws ready to swallow me whole.
Following my instructions, I held my breath and crept toward the main building. It was the tallest structure there, its red brick walls resembling congealed blood. As I approached the southern exterior wall… I circled around it.
This wall was longer and even more dilapidated. It was covered in various graffiti—new and old layered together like a chaotic abstract painting. In some places, large patches of paint had flaked off to reveal bricks beneath. The base of the wall was piled high with all sorts of trash, including remnants of something burned beyond recognition.
To find a palm-sized mark in such a place? What an international joke!
I gritted my teeth and began searching from one end of the wall to the other, inching forward carefully. My eyes widened as they scanned closely along the surface. Sweat trickled down my forehead into my eyes—stinging and painful.
Time ticked away second by second; my heartbeat quickened as anxiety coiled around me like creeping vines.
Suddenly, from about thirty meters ahead on the right, a loud crash echoed from a dilapidated workshop, like something heavy hitting the ground!
I jolted, immediately crouching down and hiding behind a pile of discarded oil barrels, my heart racing so fast I almost forgot to breathe.
Was it the wind that knocked something over? Or… was there someone there?!
I held my breath and listened intently. Silence—an eerie, deathly silence. Only the wind whispered mournfully.
After what felt like two full minutes, confirming there were no other sounds, I slowly peeked out. Cold sweat had soaked through my back. Damn it, this cursed place could really scare someone to death!
I steadied my nerves and continued my search. My gaze swept over a corner almost completely covered by dense, thorny vines. The vines grew aggressively, nearly overtaking half the wall.
My instincts told me that in a place like this, secrets were likely hidden.
I pulled out my Swiss Army knife and carefully pushed aside the thorny vines. My arms were scratched several times, stinging painfully. Behind the vines, a mottled brick wall was revealed.
Then, at about eye level, I saw it!
The mark!
It was carved into a relatively smooth red brick, the grooves deep and edged with fresh white powder, as if it had been etched not long ago. The size and shape matched exactly with the one in the email! A circle, an odd triangle, three wavy rays…
My heart tightened. This mark… carved so forcefully and recently—was it meant to be found? Or… was it some kind of warning? I leaned in closer to examine it. Less than a centimeter away from the mark, I noticed an extremely tiny scratch, almost invisible—a small cross that seemed to have most of its detail rubbed away. What was this? An accidental scratch? Or… some kind of additional information?
There was no time to think further. I quickly raised my compact camera and snapped several shots of the mark and its surroundings, adjusting the focus to ensure every detail was clear.
After taking the photos, I dared not linger for even a moment longer; I quickly stowed away my camera and turned to leave.
As I hurriedly crossed a chaotic clearing, nearing the gap in the barbed wire where I had entered, a flicker of movement caught my eye from the second floor of the main building. In a window devoid of glass, a shadowy white figure seemed to sway for an instant!
My blood felt as if it had frozen in that moment! I abruptly stopped, fixating on that window!
Inside was pitch black, an abyss of darkness.
Was it just an illusion created by light and shadow? Or perhaps a hallucination brought on by my heightened nerves? In that fleeting moment, I thought I… I thought I saw… a face? A pale, expressionless face of a young girl? Her hair was somewhat disheveled, and she appeared to be wearing… something light-colored?
Xiao Ya?!
The name thundered in my mind! Was it really her?! Was she trapped here?! Or… was she also on some sort of mission?!
A powerful urge surged within me, compelling me to turn around immediately and rush back up to the second floor to find out!
But the remnants of my rationality doused that impulse like a bucket of cold water. No! It was too risky! If it truly was her, charging in like that would only alert those lurking in the shadows, completely exposing myself and possibly putting her in danger! Moreover… it had only been a fleeting shadow, too quick for me to confirm anything.
I clenched my fists tightly, my nails digging into my palms as I forced myself to turn away. Fear and frustration coiled within me like two venomous snakes. I took one last deep look at that hollow window before I turned away for good and slipped through the barbed wire with all the speed I could muster, disappearing down the desolate path.
That mark, that figure resembling Xiao Ya…
The first mission of the Lighthouse Society was far more bizarre and dangerous than I had imagined. This murky water had already risen to my neck.
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