Chapter Forty-Four: The Mysterious Factory

A large iron gate stood before them, surrounded on all sides by iron railings and wire mesh. The True Radiance Silk Factory certainly had an impressive façade.

With a creak, two police cars pulled up, and everyone stepped out together. A middle-aged officer sighed, “I remember when this place was first built over ten years ago. Many city leaders attended the opening ceremony. Back then, it wasn’t nearly as desolate, nor was the fog so thick.”

Ah Huang held his compass, scanning their surroundings once more. Fu Yang sidled up and asked quietly, “Anything unusual?”

“This place was deliberately arranged like this. Using the sinister power of a demon-dragon tomb to gather the local dark energy and the peculiar nature of the corpses underground, they've employed some wicked ritual—hence the fog never dissipates. There must be something evil here!”

Zhao Shanshan reminded her fellow officers, “Stay alert, everyone. Don’t split up. Keep your radios on at all times.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

She pulled out her phone and dialed a landline. After all, the True Radiance Silk Factory was properly registered with the authorities, so the police must have looked up the contact numbers in advance—otherwise, they wouldn’t even get through the gate.

The phone rang a few times before a soft, low male voice answered, “Hello? This is the office of True Radiance Silk Factory.”

“This is the Jiangcheng City Police. We need to conduct a search of the premises. Please open the gate and receive us.”

Zhao Shanshan had switched to speaker mode, so everyone could hear the exchange. The other side was silent for a moment.

“Very well. I’ll meet you at the gate in three minutes.”

Zhao Shanshan gave an “OK” gesture and put away her phone.

Sure enough, soon the tightly shut iron gate screeched, opening to both sides. From the mist in the distance emerged a tall, thin figure, walking toward them.

As he drew nearer, they saw it was a young man with delicate, almost effeminate features. His hair was slicked back, giving him a polished, somewhat oily look. Despite the sight of so many fully armed police officers, he remained calm, showing no sign of panic.

“Officers, our factory is a law-abiding enterprise. Surely there can’t be any criminal activity here?”

---

During investigations, Zhao Shanshan always carried herself with a certain heroic air, her face stern.

“We’ll decide if that’s the case after the police have examined the premises. Here’s our search warrant. Please verify it, and if there are no issues, lead us inside.” She handed her credentials to the man.

He glanced at them, nodded, and returned them to Shanshan. He introduced himself as Zhang Quan, the head of the factory’s public relations department, and said he would guide them in.

“Zhang Quan? With a face like his—so bizarre—it’d be fitting to tack on an ‘egg’ and call him Zhang Quan Egg,” Fu Yang thought to himself, feeling inexplicably uncomfortable at the sight of this pretty-boy.

The group of ten followed Zhang Quan as they slowly entered through the factory gate.

“Manager Zhang, isn’t it unusually quiet here? Are all the workers on break?”

It was indeed strange. Once inside the factory grounds, they could see rows of workshops lining the cement road, their outlines barely visible through the white fog. These should be places for producing and processing fabric, yet not a single sound of machinery could be heard—not even a whisper of human voices.

It felt less like a factory, more like a graveyard.

Zhang Quan, walking at the front, seemed to pause for a moment before replying in an utterly flat tone, “No, all our silk is made entirely by hand. There are no machines.”

A middle-aged officer let out a cold laugh, “That must mean your output is minuscule.”

“It doesn’t matter. There aren’t many buyers to begin with. People like you probably couldn’t afford even a yard’s worth with your yearly salaries.”

Damn! This bastard was a bit too arrogant—talking to detectives like that.

It was a slap in the face, and the seasoned officers, used to life and death, were hardly going to swallow such an insult.

But Ah Huang shot a warning glance at a few officers who seemed ready to make trouble, signaling them not to jeopardize the investigation.

Zhao Shanshan’s tone grew harsher. She demanded to search the workshops immediately, threatening that the police would not be so courteous otherwise.

“As you wish. There’s a workshop just ahead.”

Zhang Quan led the group toward a row of single-story buildings shrouded in thicker fog to their right.

Fu Yang tugged gently at Ah Huang’s sleeve. “This place feels deeply sinister. I feel uneasy all over.”

“Feeling uneasy is good! But… so far, I haven’t found anything obviously wrong. Strange. Anyway, keep a close eye on your beautiful captain. We’re definitely in the right place, but I doubt today will end smoothly.”

Fu Yang nodded, moving closer to Zhao Shanshan. As they walked, their bodies occasionally brushed against each other, and even through her uniform, Fu Yang could feel the softness—a touch that quickened his heartbeat.

---

At the entrance to the workshop, Zhang Quan pulled a cord, and a bell rang inside.

Liu Zhan, a veteran detective, stared hard at Zhang Quan. “Is it true that the factory keeps all the workshops shut during working hours?”

He nodded. “Is there a problem with that? It’s just our usual practice—not illegal, is it, officer?”

With a bang, the workshop door opened, revealing a small figure standing in the doorway.

A dwarf!

Barely four feet tall, his facial skin was shriveled, and one eye was blind, rolling upward to reveal the white. The overall impression was truly frightening.

“Oh, no need to be alarmed. He’s our workshop supervisor. He oversees this whole row and will guide everyone shortly—”

“That won’t be necessary! We’re here to search, not to tour.”

The officers filed past the dwarf and entered the workshop, eager to catch these people off guard.

Yet neither Fu Yang nor Ah Huang noticed that Zhang Quan, the tall and thin manager, and the terrifying dwarf supervisor exchanged a glance, their lips curling into sinister, wicked smiles.

Inside the workshop.

Rows of curved worktables lined the room.

Workers stood in front of each table, silently sorting and further processing fabric laid out before them. Their movements were slow but intensely focused, as if nothing else mattered but the task at hand.

Not a single worker turned to look at the ten officers entering; they simply continued their work, heads down.

It was utterly abnormal!

“Damn! How much does True Radiance Silk Factory pay them? They’re so diligent and dedicated. Maybe we should sign up as workers ourselves, ha!” Fu Yang nudged Ah Huang, joking to lighten the suddenly tense and oppressive atmosphere.

Liu Zhan, ever observant, noticed a detail and raised a question: “The weather isn’t particularly cold, so why are all the workers bundled up so thickly, wrapped from head to toe? This isn’t some precision or hazardous chemical plant, is it?”

(End of first chapter.)