Infinite Nightmares

Crisp leaves crunched under Zhang Wenda’s feet, snapping in two. He raised his sickle and easily sliced through the branches blocking his path.

The two of them stuck to the trees whenever possible, avoiding the ground so they wouldn’t meet the same fate as the attack helicopter.

"Meow! Meow meow!" The constant cries of the Black Cat ahead guided them along Wang Xiaohua’s trail.

After about ten minutes, Zhang Wenda suddenly stopped. He crouched down, his eyes fixed on a splash of red on a nearby branch.

Song Jianguo crouched beside him. She dipped a finger in the blood, then brought it to her lips and tasted it. "It’s human blood. Someone on their team must be injured."

Zhang Wenda scanned their surroundings but found no signs of a struggle. "Not necessarily. If there was a fight here, why is it so clean? Let’s keep moving. Something feels wrong."

As they pressed on, the bloodstains grew more frequent. Zhang Wenda couldn’t tell if the blood belonged to friend or foe. The strange part was that, despite the amount of blood, the surrounding trees and leaves were completely unharmed.

Feeling uneasy, Song Jianguo quietly blew a whistle. All the Black Cats, except for the scouts Heitan and Mao Heihei, quickly swarmed toward her, forming a thick layer of black armor over her body.

The oppressive atmosphere didn’t last long. Zhang Wenda forcefully cut through a thicket of branches obscuring their view, and a temple, half-swallowed by green vines, was suddenly revealed before them.

"A temple? This is Wang Xiaohua’s destination? Why is there a temple in the middle of a primeval forest?"

After the Black Cat and Wai gave a quick all-clear, Zhang Wenda and Song Jianguo approached the temple with extreme caution.

Just as they reached the temple entrance, a corpse lying face down in a pool of blood made their skin crawl. The man was wearing an earthy-yellow Daoist Robe and was clearly one of the temple’s monks.

Zhang Wenda quickly glanced at the man’s wounds and saw they were from a Red Core laser. This was clearly the work of the Third Line; Wang Xiaohua’s team must have done this.

"What crime could these monks have possibly committed to warrant a combat team from Bureau 507?" Zhang Wenda wondered as he cautiously reached out and rolled the monk’s body over.

When the monk was turned face-up, an incomprehensible sight made Zhang Wenda’s red, rabbit-like eyes widen slightly. Every one of the monk’s facial orifices had been sewn shut with fine thread.

’If this is what they did to the monks,’ Zhang Wenda thought, ’I can’t imagine what the gods and Buddhas they worship are like.’ Suddenly, he was beginning to understand why Wang Xiaohua had come here.

"Should we keep going?" Song Jianguo asked, her voice trembling from within her armor as she stared fearfully into the temple’s unknown depths.

"Let’s go. There shouldn’t be any danger. Wang Xiaohua’s team already cleared the path for us," Zhang Wenda said, striding inside.

Just as he’d predicted, the main hall was littered with bodies and signs of a fierce battle. The statue that should have been standing there was gone.

In addition to the typical laser scars and bullet holes, there were also various caved-in indentations.

He reached out and touched one of the black laser scars. "Still warm," Zhang Wenda said to Song Jianguo. "They can’t be far ahead. Have your cats track them. We should be able to catch up quickly."

"Right!" With another soft whistle from Song Jianguo, the Black Cats reformed into the shape of a large black dog and began sniffing intently at the ground.

THUD! A violent tremor shook the hall, and the two of them froze.

THUD! The sound came again, accompanied by another shudder. Before they could escape, a foot larger than the temple doors slammed down at the entrance, crushing the incense burner to dust.

Seeing a toenail at the entrance taller than he was, Zhang Wenda could only imagine a body bigger than a mountain. ’What in the hell did Wang Xiaohua’s team come here to fight?!’ he screamed internally.

Just as Zhang Wenda was frantically looking for a place to hide, a hand, larger than the doorway, slowly reached down into the hall. In the center of the giant palm was a huge, closed eye.

The fleshy eyelids twitched. Just as the giant eye was about to open, a child’s voice called out from behind the lotus throne inside the hall. "Over here."

With no time to think, Zhang Wenda moved in a flash. He tucked Song Jianguo and the large black dog under his arms and dashed for the back of the throne with all his might.

A split second before the bulging eye opened, Zhang Wenda dove behind the throne.

Zhang Wenda clamped a hand over Song Jianguo’s mouth, neither of them daring to breathe. Several times, he saw fingers several meters wide sweep just over their heads, nearly discovering them.

Fortunately, the giant hand’s fingers were too long to probe the tight space, and they remained undiscovered.

After a few dozen seconds that felt like an eternity, the thudding tremors resumed, then gradually faded into the distance. For now, the two of them were safe.

"Hey, thank—" Zhang Wenda began, turning to thank the person who had helped them. But he stopped short when he saw a Little Maitreya Buddha, only about a dozen centimeters tall.

This Buddha was tiny. Not just in stature, but its features were small and child-like, giving it the appearance of a six or seven-year-old.

"Aww, he’s so cute!" Song Jianguo lunged forward, grabbing the figure’s robes and reaching to rub its little bald head before Zhang Wenda hastily stopped her.

Just then, the Little Maitreya Buddha spoke again, its voice high-pitched and child-like. "Xiaozhang, we believe in you."

"Huh?" Zhang Wenda was baffled. "Uh, little friend, do we know each other? What do you believe I can do?"

The figure didn’t answer, however, continuing in its own little world. "Xiaozhang, you have to come back for us. We’re counting on you."

Unable to resist, Song Jianguo reached out again, this time to poke the figure’s chubby little belly. But her hand passed right through its body.

Zhang Wenda reached out to touch it as well, only to watch as the image of the Little Maitreya Buddha gradually faded into thin air.

"It’s all your fault! You touched it and killed it," Song Jianguo said, her face a mask of regret.

"You’re so ignorant. Go read a book. If I’m not mistaken, that was a residual image, a recording left to deliver a message." Zhang Wenda went to the spot where the image had vanished and felt around, but he couldn’t find any device or mechanism that could have created it.

He might have known what it was, but that only left Zhang Wenda with even more questions.

’What did the little monk’s message mean? And how did it know who I am?’

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!