Nine people walked in a line along the gravel path into Forest Park.
Though the sun was at its strongest now, the sky remained overcast. The towering pines all around them—thirty or forty meters tall, with long needles—blocked the sunlight, leaving the path dim and cold.
Coo—coo—
An unknown bird called through the forest. The occasional rustle of shrubs made everyone tense without thinking.
As they went on, the gravel path gradually turned into an ordinary dirt trail, growing harder to walk. Everyone remained silent.
Perhaps to dispel the inexplicably heavy mood, Sheriff Pierre, who was accompanying them, chuckled and said:
"Plenty of tourists have visited Forest Park over the years, but most don't dare venture far. They just look at the wildlife from the viewing boardwalks near the edge... You're brave to risk going in."
"I'm looking for my parents." Fima had changed into a tracksuit suitable for hiking and was carrying a backpack. Looking up at the handsome man ahead, she asked, "They're archaeology professors at the University of Michigan. Have you seen them, Sheriff?"
"Looking for someone?" Pierre paused, then gave a rueful smile and shook his head. "We haven't heard of any archaeology professors coming to Forest Park... Though they might have slipped in without telling anyone. The park staff don't report everything to the Public Security Bureau, after all."
"I see. Thank you."
Fima thanked the sheriff, but her expression was unmistakably disappointed.
Miss Seagull walked beside her and murmured a few words of comfort. Mr. Stork used his Steel-core Cane as a walking stick, planting it in the dirt as he went. Taking the opportunity, he asked:
"By the way, Mr. Pierre, I heard there's a Black Lake deep in Forest Park. Is there really a so-called Demon lurking there?"
"Haha, of course not." Pierre and the other two sheriffs laughed. "It's true that some tourists and locals ignore the warnings and trespass in that area. They either drown or get killed by wild animals... Sigh, the locals explain it away with their 'Demon legend' and blame outsiders."
"What about the Lake God Cult?" Mr. Oystercatcher had some bandages wrapped around him, but they didn't hinder his movements. He spoke at just the right moment. "I also heard that Cultists brutally murdered people deep in the forest."
"None of that ever happened..." Pierre shook his head.
But before he could finish—
Whoosh—whirr!
A throwing axe flew out of the woods and sliced straight across the sheriff's arm!
Thunk!
The bloodied axe buried itself in a pine behind him with a dull thud.
"Shit!" Pierre cried out in pain, quickly drawing the long-barreled revolver at his waist. "We're under attack by suspicious individuals! Everyone, be careful!"
The others hurriedly drew their weapons and warily scanned their surroundings.
Sheriff Pierre checked his bleeding left arm. Luckily, the wound wasn't deep, though it was still bleeding.
He looked up and couldn't help freezing.
Nearly everyone in the "tour group" he'd accompanied had drawn a weapon—pistols, bows, and the like. In perfect unison, they formed a circle around Fima, protecting her.
This was a tour group?
It was clearly a special operations team!
"Protect Miss Fima," Mr. Stork said calmly, gripping a Luger. "She can't get hurt."
He said no more, but everyone understood what he meant.
If the heroine of a movie died by accident, the story might take an unpredictable turn. That was the conclusion Mr. Stork had reached from experience.
Rustle, rustle.
Just then, a dozen figures slowly emerged from the pine woods around them.
They were men and women of various builds, but without exception, all wore Reindeer Masks and carried hatchets or firearms.
"Heh heh heh... Hahahaha..."
Low laughter came from their mouths, growing more frenzied as it echoed through the forest.
"May the Lake God live forever! The Elixir of Immortality is ready!"
The men and women chanted the words with devout fervor.
"They're Cultists from the Lake God Cult. Stay sharp."
Mr. Stork called out a warning.
As he spoke, a masked man wielding an axe charged at him and swung. The man's exposed eyes were bloodshot, filled with murderous intent.
"I'll kill you first, you talkative old man!" he snarled.
Clang!
Mr. Stork swung his Steel-core Cane and easily blocked the axe blade, sending sparks flying.
With a cold expression, he spun the cane once, making it whistle through the air, then struck the back of the man's knee. Smack! The man dropped to his knees.
The Cultist had just begun to scream when his cry abruptly cut off—
Splurt!
Mr. Stork turned the cane around and drove its twelve-centimeter iron stork's beak into the man's throat. Scalding blood gushed out.
Thud!
He kicked the Cultist, sending him flying several meters. The man fell bloodied among the mud and decaying leaves, twitched a few times, and went still.
Gilan saw it all clearly.
Mr. Stork was very strong! he thought.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunfire erupted as the two sides began a fierce shootout.
Bullets howled past their ears. Dirt and dead leaves flew through the air. The Assembly members scattered in practiced unison, ducking behind cover and firing back.
Miss Sparrow and Miss Seagull stood out among the women.
The former nocked an arrow and drew her bow in one fluid, meticulous motion. Even every little detail of her movements had an elegant quality. Her build meant the draw weight of her compound bow couldn't exceed fifty pounds, but the two sides were close enough that nearly every arrow struck a Cultist in a vital spot.
The blurred streaks of arrows flashed through the air. One Cultist after another cried out and fell.
The latter was an excellent shot. Every round from her Luger found its mark. After firing a few shots, she always found a chance to move to new cover, avoiding concentrated enemy fire. She had clearly received professional firearms training.
But just then, Mr. Oystercatcher spotted something. His face changed dramatically as he roared:
"Watch your backs!!"
The other members of the Assembly turned around. Every one of them paled.
The tall, handsome Sheriff Pierre and the two other sheriffs who had come with him had taken Reindeer Masks from their bags...!
They slowly put on the masks, low laughter spilling from their mouths.
"What a bunch of fools. You'll all stay here and become living sacrifices!"
"So you're all members of the Lake God Cult..."
The Assembly members' hearts tightened. They hadn't expected the helpers they'd called in to be Cultists too!
The situation had just become even more dangerous!
Bang! Bang! Bang!!
Three shots rang out without a pause.
Before Sheriff Pierre could launch his attack, three bloody holes appeared in his chest. He cried out and collapsed.
Everyone was startled. Then they saw a figure rush toward the other two sheriffs.
The hem of his coffee-colored trench coat billowed behind him like that of a ghost.
"Mr. Snowy Owl!" Miss Sparrow cried out.
"I'll handle them. Watch out for the enemies in front."
Gilan's calm voice rang out, bringing an inexplicable sense of reassurance to the Assembly members.