A young man with white hair? My heart skipped a beat. Sun Fatty and I exchanged glances. His eyes were full of questions—he looked even more surprised than I was. I sighed and turned to Director Hao Wenming, saying, "Director Hao, that white-haired young man—is his name Wu Mian by any chance?"
"Wu Mian? Don't know him," Hao Wenming frowned and shook his head. "When Director Gao brought him back, he was the investigation chief of the Sixth Department—Wu Rendi." (Note: This name means "invincible.")
Oh, Sun Fatty and I both breathed a sigh of relief. So same surname but different people. But that name sure was bold—someone who could rival him would probably only be the legendary Dongfang Bubai. (Note: A character from Jin Yong's martial arts novel The Smiling, Proud Wanderer.)
"We'll stop here for now regarding the Bureau of Paranormal Investigation. I'll tell you more when there's time. But I'm not joking—now I'm going to take you to a good place."
After entering the elevator, Hao Wenming pulled out an access card and said, "Forgot to mention: The ninth floor upstairs is unrestricted. All internal staff can come and go freely. The basement has five levels with restrictions. Ordinary admin staff cannot enter the basement. Investigators can reach only the second basement level, six chiefs can get to the third basement, and the director can access the fourth basement."
He pointed to the boxes in our hands. "Your basic equipment includes access cards for the first and second basement levels."
I caught something off in Hao Wenming's words. "Wait, didn't you say there are five basement levels? The director can only reach the fourth floor, so who goes to the fifth?"
"Since the Bureau was established, the fifth basement level has never been opened. As for who it's for, you'll have to ask Director Gao," Hao Wenming said with a half-smile.
"They say only Director Gao knows. Who dares to ask him?" Fatty muttered quietly. Hao Wenming ignored him, swiped his card, and pressed the button for basement level two. The elevator descended slowly—almost three minutes before it arrived.
This is the basement? And only the second level? What lay before me could no longer be described as spectacular. The ceiling was at least fifty meters high. From my vantage point, the space stretched endlessly. Honestly, you could fit two football fields here with plenty of room to spare.
Sun Fatty smacked his lips in wonder. "Director Hao, is this a basement or an air-raid shelter?"
"More like a nuclear bunker…" I added.
"You've got no idea. Wait till you see the third basement before you judge," Hao Wenming said as he led us deeper inside.
Compared to the quiet main building of the Bureau, this place felt livelier. Not far from the elevator, we saw four or five people gathered together. The one leading the group looked about twenty-five or twenty-six years old. Hmm? Blonde hair and blue eyes—actually a foreigner.
Isn't the Bureau of Paranormal Investigation supposed to be low-key? Why would there be a foreigner here? Before I could wonder more, the foreigner walked over and greeted us in perfect Beijing dialect, "Hey, Director Hao, wasn't Director Gao calling for you? That was a quick return. Who are these two guys behind you?"
Hao Wenming clearly disliked the foreigner's slightly casual attitude and said, "Can you speak like a normal foreigner? I mean, who taught you to speak with such a Beijing accent?"
"That's impossible, my dear Hao." The foreigner toned down the Beijing accent but added exaggerated body language, spreading his hands helplessly in a very Western manner. "I can't suppress my talent—language talent. You know what I mean, my dear Hao."
Being called "my dear" by a foreign man clearly made Director Hao uncomfortable. "Alright, say whatever you want."
Hao Wenming gave in, waving a hand toward the foreigner. "This foreigner is the chief of Investigation Department Three, Director Hugo. Those are the investigators from Department Three. Hey, honestly, Hugo, what's your full name again?"
"Hao, I'm sorry to say I'm disappointed in your memory. My full name is Nicholas K. Hugo. You can call me Hugo, but Nicholas is fine too," Nicholas K. Hugo said somewhat disgruntled.
Hao Wenming ignored his interruption and continued introducing to me and Fatty, "Director Hugo's third office is responsible for international religious affairs. Don't be fooled by his young age — he's actually an exchange officer sent by the Vatican."
He then gestured toward me and Fatty. "These two are newcomers in our first office. They just reported today. The chubby one is called Sun Da… Sun Desheng, and the other is Shen La."
Ever since Hao Wenming mentioned that Hugo came from the Vatican, Fatty had been frowning, trying to figure out what the Vatican was. Suddenly, he slapped his thigh and said, "Got it! The Vatican is the stronghold of Christianity!"
As soon as he said this, Hugo's mouth twitched a few times, and his face changed color, but luckily he quickly composed himself and said, "Sun, my friend, if you said that in the Vatican, it would be an irreparable nightmare. Fortunately, we're in China. But Sun, you really should brush up on your knowledge of Western mainstream religions."
Just as he was about to start explaining the differences between Catholicism, Protestantism, and Orthodoxy, the elevator opened again, and a tall white man came out. He walked straight toward us. Upon seeing Director Hao, he gave a slight nod as a greeting, then went directly to Hugo and whispered a few words in his ear.
The basement level two was so spacious that even in a low voice, a few words could be overheard at this distance. Unfortunately, hearing it didn't help much. I pricked up my ears but couldn't understand. He wasn't speaking English; it sounded like some language from the Latin family.
After the white man finished speaking, he stood behind Hugo. Hugo didn't explain but gave us a subtle smile and said, "Sorry, it seems I have to leave now. There are some minor matters I need to handle. Shen, Sun, it's a pleasure to meet you today." With that, he opened his arms as if to hug Fatty and me.
Hugo's action startled me. In all my life, no man had ever hugged me like that. Fatty immediately took a few steps back and pushed me forward. Luckily, I was quick-witted and made a polite fist salute toward this foreign gentleman with both hands, saying, "Director Hugo, you are too kind."
Hugo was momentarily stunned, then chuckled and returned the salute, saying, "Chinese customs are really fascinating." After that, he excused himself, took the white man and his investigators, and got into the elevator, leaving.
Watching the elevator doors close, Fatty finally asked, "Director, who was that foreigner just now?"
"He's Hugo's assistant, called Moyes. Don't underestimate him — when it comes to real skills, he's no less than Hugo."
Fatty scoffed, "If he's really that capable, why be an assistant?"
"You don't know anything," Hao Wenming gave Fatty a look and continued, "Honestly, you don't even understand domestic matters, so why meddle in foreign ones?"
After saying that, he led us forward to a room deeper inside basement level two. Hao Wenming opened the door and said, "Come in, we've arrived."
When I entered, I realized this place was full of surprises — it was actually a standard 50-meter shooting range. It looked like from now on, we'd be dealing with firearms. I didn't bother thinking too much; Fatty and I placed the boxes on the shooting bench.
Hao Wenming pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one without offering us any, then said, "Open the box. The code is 501215."
"Director, does the code have any special meaning?" I asked as I started dialing.
"Not really, it's just a date — December 15, 1950 — the birthday of Director Gao… oh right, don't forget to show some respect then."
Show respect? I started feeling annoyed. Luckily, the box was already open, diverting my attention. The box had two layers. The top layer neatly held a Type 92 pistol, with four magazines stacked on the right side. On the left was a leather pouch that looked like a phone case.
The second layer was even more interesting — various credentials. Customs, Inspection and Quarantine Bureau, Public Security Bureau, Procuratorate… The craziest was a badge from the Central Internal Security Department, and every single credential had my photo attached.
Fatty flipped through almost every credential, saying, "Director, these fake IDs are pretty good — way better than those two-hundred-yuan ones on the street." Before Hao Wenming could answer, I cut in, "Dasheng, how do you know so much about this stuff?"
Fatty blinked a few times, struggled for a bit, and finally said, "I guessed."
I wasn't in the mood to joke with him and turned to Hao Wenming, "Director, can I ask you something?"
Hao Wenming blew out a smoke ring and said, "Ask away, but I might not answer."
"Fatty and I just reported today, right?"
"Huh? You call that a question?" Hao Wenming tilted his head and looked at me, "Honestly, you don't need to ask me — you should ask yourselves."
"I know it's not really a question," I said, "What I'm wondering is, why do these credentials already have our photos? And they're not glued on; they're laser-printed and scanned onto the cards. Printing so many photos like this takes some time. It's impossible to have been done in such a short period."
Contrary to my expectation, Hao Wenming showed no surprise. Instead, he blinked like Fatty and said, "You should ask Director Gao that question. Honestly, he prepared all this stuff."
Fatty was sifting through over ten credentials, saying, "Director, making so many fake IDs must cost a fortune."
Hao Wenming sighed and looked at him, "Who said they're fake? Every one of these IDs is 100% real. Honestly, you two know how our work unit can't be too conspicuous. When we go out on assignments, we can't use the official name. These IDs make things much easier."
"Oh? What's this?" Fatty pulled out a short stick from the box, swung it straight in the wind — it was a police expandable baton.
Fatty swung it a few times and asked, "Does the Bureau of Paranormal Investigation really use batons?"
Hao Wenming grew a bit impatient, "These are basic equipment you'll be using later. Also, I need to tell you both — before you start formal work, you have to undergo a three-month special training with the Bureau. Only after passing can you officially start."
"Director, you mean if we don't pass, we can't work? The contract we just signed would be void?" I was regretting signing the contract just moments ago but never expected fate to give me such an opportunity so soon.
"Void?" Hao Wenming gave me a half-smile, "Dream on. If contracts could be voided that easily, I wouldn't still be here after ninety-nine years, believe me. If you don't pass the training, it just gets extended until you do. But the extension period is unpaid."
Fatty said, "So we work without eating?"
Hao Wenming flicked the finished cigarette butt to the ground and said, "Enough nonsense. Before introducing your equipment, let me briefly explain the internal structure of our Bureau."
"As I said earlier, the Bureau has six investigation offices. We belong to the first office, also called the Comprehensive Investigation Office — as the name suggests, we handle a bit of everything. The second office handles domestic affairs. The third office's director, Hugo, you've met; they handle the three major Western religions domestically. The fourth office is the field investigation office. The fifth office's director, Ouyang Pianzuo, you've met too; they compile and verify incidents reported from across the country, then notify the other offices. Your equipment is also managed by him."
"This info should be part of your training and told to you by Ouyang Pianzuo, but he's suddenly busy, so I'll cover it for now."
"Wait a minute," Fatty counted on his fingers, "Director, you only mentioned five offices. You didn't say anything about the sixth."
"Did I not? Impossible." Hao Wenming's voice lacked confidence. I added, "That's right, Director Hao. You forgot to introduce the sixth office."
"You two have good memories." Hao Wenming's tone was reluctant but continued, "The sixth office's director is Wu Rendi. If any case can't be solved by the other five offices, it goes to his sixth office."
Fatty said, "Is Director Wu that powerful? So he's a big shot in the Bureau?"
"Alright, enough about that. Let me introduce your basic equipment." Hao Wenming awkwardly changed the topic. He took out the Type 92 pistol from Fatty's box's top layer, "No offense, but one of you was a special forces soldier, the other a narcotics cop, so this should be familiar to you."
I picked up my Type 92 pistol. I had been too focused on the lower layer before and neglected this gun. Holding it now, I noticed it was different from a normal Type 92. The whole gun was engraved with rune-like patterns, and it felt oddly heavy in my hand. This was the same pistol Wu Mian, the white-haired man in Water Curtain Cave, gave me. Lao Lin's life was taken by a bullet fired from this gun.
I removed the magazine and took out a bullet to hold in my hand. It was different from an ordinary bullet — the tip had a sigil stamped on it. I held it up to the light, and it shone dazzlingly.
"Director, this gun wasn't made by your Bureau, was it?" I asked, holding the Type 92.
"What do you mean 'your Bureau'? It's our Bureau. And put the gun down before talking — you were in the army before, right? Don't you know accidental discharge can kill?"
When I put the gun down, he said, "This pistol is based on the domestic Type 92 with some modifications. The runes engraved on it are demon-expelling and ghost-subduing talismans from the Dragon and Tiger Mountain Taoist Masters. Although they're copies of copies, the power is still considerable. The special bullets also have a story — the tips are made of silver alloy treated to resist oxidation, and they are specially processed to explode a second time on impact, releasing highly compressed cinnabar. As for the sigil on the bullet tip…"
（Disclaimer
This novel contains fictional depictions and references to various religions and religious practices. Any portrayal of religious beliefs, figures, or institutions is purely for artistic and narrative purposes. It is not intended to disrespect, demean, or criticize any religion or its followers. The author respects all faiths and encourages readers to approach the story with an open mind and understanding that it is a work of fiction.）