Chapter 63: The tunnel where I was buried

Chapter 63: The tunnel where I was buried

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslationThe roots of this story extend from novell bìn origin.

Illuminated by the gentle sunlight streaming through the window, Gao Ming gradually lifted himself into a sitting position on his bed in the special care ward. The room was crammed with an array of medical equipment, most of which were unfamiliar to him. Outside his room, the corridor was under strict surveillance, so heavily fortified that it seemed as if not even the smallest insect could penetrate its defenses.

“Your condition is extremely serious,” a voice broke the silence, delivering a grim diagnosis, “you’ve sustained a myriad of injuries, both significant and minor. It’s a miracle that none are fatal. Yet, the most severe problem is the irreversible harm done to your internal organs. Despite our best efforts, all we can do now is prolong the inevitable.”

Medical staff, including doctors and nurses, maintained a constant vigil. They were always on hand, typically stationed in the adjacent room to Gao Ming’s.

Confused, Gao Ming inquired, “Where am I?”

“You are currently in the hospital of the Eastern District Investigation Bureau, a facility specifically equipped to treat agents and security staff injured in supernatural events,” the doctor responded, pressing a call button next to the bed.

Shortly thereafter, Chen Yuntian and several senior officials from the Investigation Bureau entered the room. The medical team discreetly exited, closing the door behind them.

Chen Yuntian sat down next to Gao Ming and began, “The investigation into the supernatural occurrences at Sishui Apartments has concluded. You played a pivotal role. However, regarding the issue with Situ An, we need to maintain confidentiality.” He continued, “The Bureau has already endured significant losses. Revealing that our own agents were manipulated by Situ An might cause widespread disillusionment and internal conflict, which we cannot afford at this stage.”

A high-ranking Hanhai City Investigation Bureau official, temporarily in charge of the Eastern District branch, chimed in, “Let us know if you have any requests. We are committed to fulfilling your every desire in your remaining days.”

Examining his arm, Gao Ming noticed the stark contrast between the treated wounds and the dark, curse-like symbols etched into his skin. “How long do I have?” he asked.

“You have three days,” Chen Yuntian replied, his voice heavy with sorrow. As the one who had recruited Gao Ming, he felt a profound sense of helplessness.

An official from the Bureau mentioned, “This afternoon, experts from the Supernatural Mystery Institute in Xinhai City might visit to conduct an experiment on you, that is if you’re willing...” He placed a document before Gao Ming, adding, “The decision is yours.”

Without glancing at the document, Gao Ming turned his gaze to the window. “There’s a place I’d like to visit. I hope you won’t prevent me.”

“Of course, you’re free to go wherever you wish. Your personal items are on the bed beside you.” After a brief exchange, the officials departed.

Alone, Gao Ming looked out over the bustling Eastern District of Hanhai City, its skyline dominated by towering structures and perpetual neon lights. Yet, to him, it all seemed distant and inconsequential.

He reached for the backpack on the neighboring bed, thumbing through the photos inside. He knew that the Investigation Bureau had probably scrutinized every one of them and that the secrets captured in these images might soon become public knowledge.

Activating his smartphone, which he suspected was under surveillance, Gao Ming, undeterred, proceeded to call his home. He gazed at the photographs of his parents stored in the phone, noting how this time the images remained static, simply ordinary pictures save for the unsettling cracks marring them.

Receiving no response, he ended the call and sat there, staring blankly at the phone screen. It displayed a series of missed calls and messages that had piled up while he was unconscious, including notifications for various group chat invitations.

The security personnel, cautiously trailing him, responded, “We hope you understand, the tunnel is not yet open for traffic, and we worry about your safety. We will stay close but won’t interfere with your exploration.”

“If that’s what you want,” Gao Ming obliged.

With his backpack in tow, he proceeded into the tunnel. His steps were measured and slow, yet the security team seemed to struggle to match his pace.

“The temperature is dropping,” Gao Ming noted, exhaling a visibly cold breath. He slowed his pace even further, his hand brushing against the rough surface of the tunnel wall, memories of the Ghost Festival night flooding back to him.

He remembered being rescued from this very tunnel by Xuan Wen, who mentioned that Gao Ming had forgotten something crucial due to the horror of what he had witnessed, his mind suppressing the memory for self-preservation.

It was later, under the influence of the Flesh Immortal, who sought to see his desires by taking control of his eyes and heart, that Gao Ming began to recall fragments of those forgotten moments.

“I’m close now, it must be just ahead,” he murmured to himself.

The sun had set, and the tunnel was enveloped in complete darkness, its exit nowhere in sight.

Feeling water droplets on his sleeve, Gao Ming sensed an inner voice urging him forward, as if his fate was inexorably linked to this dark passageway.

“A strange feeling. Who is calling me?” he wondered aloud.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as he continued his journey. By all logic, he should have reached the other end of the tunnel by now, yet only darkness lay ahead.

Gao Ming glanced behind him, realizing the echoing footsteps that had accompanied him earlier were gone. The security personnel who had entered with him had disappeared without a trace.

Finding himself alone in both directions, Gao Ming felt an eerie sense of calm. It seemed he had become accustomed to such isolation.

The voice in his mind grew more distinct, and Gao Ming, closing his remaining eye, let down all his defenses, fully entrusting himself to the unseen guide within the darkness.

The path beneath his feet became uneven, and he began to hear additional, indistinct sounds.

As he continued, Gao Ming felt droplets of water against his palm. These droplets weren’t falling from above, but eerily seemed to be rising from the ground itself.

His fingers grazed the tunnel wall, moving slowly through the air, encountering a texture akin to human flesh as if he were brushing against a human face.

Opening his eye, Gao Ming was met with a horrifying sight. The tunnel walls were embedded with corpses, each face an exact replica of his own, each depicting a gruesome, horrific death.