Translator: CinderTL
Seemingly terrified by Crippled Liu's gaze, Pi Ruan's complexion only improved after they had left the Feng Manor. He kept rubbing his arms. "Did you see that? There's definitely something wrong with Crippled Liu. The way he looked at me was just... off."
Anyone could tell that Crippled Liu was acting strangely, but some relied on intuition, while others were skilled at finding evidence.
"Did you notice the chopsticks and bowls?" Chen Qiang spoke, his voice low as if he feared being overheard.
"There are eleven of us, but he only set out ten sets of chopsticks and bowls," Lin Wan'er observed after a glance. "He didn't account for Pan Du."
The chopsticks and bowls had been placed on the table before they arrived, meaning Crippled Liu already knew they were missing one person before they even appeared.
Eleven people had become ten.
"Could it just be a coincidence?" someone asked. After all, one missing set of chopsticks and bowls wasn't a big deal. It could simply have been a mistake.
But Jiang Cheng stopped walking, and with a single sentence, silenced the doubter. "Do you remember what Wu Ergou and Crippled Liu said to each other when we first entered the Feng Manor?"
"They" naturally referred to Wu Ergou and Crippled Liu.
Crippled Liu asked Wu Ergou if these people had been sent by Director Qiao, then specifically asked for the number.
Wu Ergou replied clearly, "Eleven."
Even more unexpectedly, after they entered the gate, Crippled Liu, who was leading the way, suddenly turned around and stared at them with his single eye, his gaze sweeping over each person.
Jiang Cheng noticed Liu's lips moving at that moment, clearly counting them.
This experience reminded him of the beginning in Xiao Shijian Village, where they had been summoned under similar pretenses and used as scapegoats for the villagers.
Would this be the same?
But the ghost this time didn't feel like it was simply seeking revenge. Although the current clues were scarce and almost all pointed to the Feng Family, Jiang Cheng had a strange premonition.
While the others focused their attention on the Feng Family, he believed the priority was to investigate the Fifth Train.
The Mayflower.
That was the source of the supernatural.
The town was neither large nor small, but its streets were fairly orderly. They had left Feng Manor early, and vendors were already setting up their stalls along the roadside, their calls echoing through the air.
Some breakfast stalls consisted of nothing more than two simple tables with a few steamers for buns and steamed buns, and they were open for business.
The misty vapor filled the air, adding a lively atmosphere to the entire street.
After leaving Feng Manor, everyone felt much lighter. It was strange—once they crossed the manor's gate, even the sunlight on their skin felt cold.
Inside and outside the gate seemed like two different worlds.
As they passed a building, Jiang Cheng glanced casually at it. The building had been divided into numerous shops, and because they faced the street, business was brisk.
One shop stood out with its grid-patterned glass windows. It was a photography studio, and its transparent windows displayed many photographs.
By modern standards, these were ancient black-and-white prints with poor resolution. Perhaps due to the poses, the subjects all looked stiff and wooden.
After glancing at a few, Jiang Cheng was about to look away when he suddenly noticed several unusual photographs.
They were hung in an odd location, lower than the others, making them easy to miss. It felt as though the owner wanted to display them but didn't want to be too obvious.
The photographs depicted people wearing wooden clogs and loose clothing with exaggeratedly long sleeves. The men stood in the center, most of them wearing swords.
Perhaps because of their height, the swords at their waists, if stood upright, would almost reach their chins.
In the photograph, the women's status was clearly far lower than the men's. They stood in rows on either side, heads bowed and eyes lowered, displaying extreme subservience.
Their hair was piled high in elaborate buns, their faces deathly pale. Even in the black-and-white photograph, their lips remained a vibrant crimson, as if freshly stained with blood.
"Japanese?" Huai Yi suddenly spoke, having noticed the same thing.
Logically, with the war just over, it was inappropriate to display photographs of the invaders. Yet, from a purely technical standpoint, these were the best photographs in the entire collection.
"Damn, this owner is a real piece of work!" Fatty said angrily, staring at the photos. "He takes such great pictures of the Japanese, but gives our own people the bare minimum."
"He couldn't afford to take bad pictures of the Japanese," Chen Qiang said, stroking his chin. "His family's survival depended on it. But displaying these photographs so soon after the war... that's suspicious."
Just as they were discussing how to give the owner a paid patriotic education lesson, the glass door of the photography studio suddenly swung open from the inside, and a man emerged.
"It's you!" Wu Dali, clutching a black bag under his arm, froze when he saw Jiang Cheng and the others.
"Brother Wu," Jiang Cheng nodded. "What a coincidence! We just left Feng Manor and didn't expect to see you here."
"Tell me about it! I was just about to go looking for you. Now I don't have to make a special trip to Feng Manor," Wu Dali said, opening his black leather bag. "You were asking about the Fifth Train, right? Well, I actually managed to find something."
With so many people around, they found a secluded spot in an alleyway to receive the items Wu Dali handed over: some photographs and several clippings from old newspapers.
The bottom corners of the newspaper clippings were yellowed, suggesting they were quite old. Following Wu Dali's instructions, they found a small article in an inconspicuous corner.
"Why was the Mayflower Train suddenly stopped late at night, and why was the entire station placed under lockdown? Was it the work of ghosts and spirits, or the doing of the underworld army?"
The article provided some details, but it was clear that the reporter only had a vague understanding of the situation, even less than the information Jiang Cheng and the others had. The entire piece was filled with speculation and conjecture, designed to pique readers' curiosity and steer them toward supernatural explanations.
And indeed, that was precisely what had happened.
What truly piqued Jiang Cheng's interest was a photograph embedded in the report. The image was blurry, but it appeared to have been taken after the train had arrived at the station.
Due to the angle, only the rear half of the train was visible, roughly five or six carriages.
As his gaze gradually focused, Jiang Cheng stared at the train's tail end. If he remembered correctly, the anomaly had occurred in the last carriage.
That carriage was filled with dead elderly people and children, their backs turned toward the door, their faces twisted into grotesque expressions.
"Give me the photo," Jiang Cheng said, holding out his hand, but his attention remained fixed on the newspaper.
After comparing the photograph with several others, a sudden glint flashed in Jiang Cheng's eyes.
(End of the Chapter)
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