Chapter 267: Fabricated Hatred

There is no dusk inside the facilities of the Federal Weird Investigation Bureau.

Here the lights are forever as bright as daylight, and forever as cold as chilled iron.

In the special containment zone, three hundred meters above the ground, four heavy transport helicopters are using alloy cables as thick as giant serpents to suspend an absurdly incongruous behemoth—a solitary, standalone residential building perched on a massive steel platform.

The gale howls at altitude, and the engines' roar is enough to tear a normal person's eardrum at close range.

This is the Federal Weird Investigation Bureau's mobile aerial prison, operation group code-named "Azkaban".

And the one imprisoned on this airborne island is Sequence 002, "Ghost Wall".

Inside the residential building, the walls display a bizarre dark red, as if dried blood has seeped deep into the cement. The air is saturated with an inescapable mix of iron rust and putrid decay.

"Ghost Wall" Wang Kai lies dormant within the walls of this building.

He is like a spirit sealed in amber, his entire being reduced to compressed, extreme resentment, awaiting a trigger.

Around the steel platform's perimeter, two agents on guard shift stand by the railing, lighting a cigarette.

"Damn, this ghost place is fucking cold."

The younger agent rubbed his frozen, stiff hands, exhaled a puff of white vapor, and couldn't help glancing at the lifeless building behind him.

"Cold's better; at least it's not out on the front lines dealing with those ghost things."

The older, seasoned agent flicked ash from his cigarette, showing an unsurprised demeanor.

"Indeed." The young agent lowered his voice, leaning in, "Hey, brother, you think... just because of that thing in the building, do we really need to mount such a big operation? Can't we contain it like we do with the containment folklore?"

"Containment folklore like that?" the senior agent scoffed, taking a drag, his eyes growing complex. "Xiao Li, you're new, you don't get it. Fierce Ghosts differ from folklore; they possess human consciousness, far smarter. Especially this kind... born from a massive injustice."

"Injustice?"

"Exactly." The senior agent lowered his voice, glanced left and right to confirm only the howling wind surrounded them, then whispered, "By the way, when we just got here, I overheard the guys from the Technology Department talking about a top‑secret file they extracted. Guess what it said?"

"What about it?" The young agent's curiosity was fully piqued.

"That 'Ghost Wall' in the building, when alive he was Wang Kai. His wife and child were forced to death by a scoundrel called the Han De Group. You know that, right?"

"I know, it's in the file."

"But what you don't know," the senior agent's voice carried an inexplicable chill, "is that back then the Han De Group was untouchable because someone powerful was shielding them. A towering figure."

He deliberately paused, savoring the shocked expression on the young agent's face.

"Who?"

"Ouyang Feng."

The senior agent slowly uttered the name, then added.

"Our Investigation Bureau's ace captain, Ouyang Feng."

"What?!"

The young agent nearly swallowed his cigarette tip, his eyes bulging like copper bells.

"Impossible, right?! Captain Ouyang..."

"What's impossible about it?" the senior agent said, his tone full of veteran world‑weariness and contempt. "Did you think this was a clean office? The water's deep. They say if Ouyang Feng hadn't buried all the evidence back then, the Han De Group would have collapsed long ago, Wang Kai's wife and child wouldn't have died, and naturally... there would be no 'Ghost Wall' later."

Their conversation seemed as if it were being torn apart by the high‑altitude gale.

Yet each word was like a living nail, piercing the heavy walls, piercing the steel cage, and with uncanny precision driving into the sleeping core of resentment.

Inside the residential building.

The walls, originally a dark red, suddenly deepened, turning into a viscous, flowing blood.

An indescribable chill seeped wildly from every corner of the structure.

The two agents, who had been "chatting," suddenly felt a chill down their spines.

Meanwhile.

Federal Weird Investigation Bureau, Command Center.

On the massive screen wall, a monitoring window representing "Azkaban" showed values soaring at a terrifyingly rapid pace.

The curve representing an energy fluctuation instantly burst through the red warning line, racing to the top!

The alarm shrieked sharply, echoing throughout the command hall!

"Report! Sequence 002 energy reading abnormal! Resentment index has exceeded normal thresholds!"

"It's still... still rising!"

On the screen, the special imaging feedback showed the entire residential building no longer a lifeless object, but a massive conglomerate of resentment exuding overwhelming black vapour!

That resentment was so dense it nearly solidified, brimming with extreme murderous intent toward a specific target...

Wei Gong stood before the screen, expressionless, watching it all.

His salt‑and‑pepper hair was immaculate, and his plain Zhongshan suit was crisp as new.

In his cloudy old eyes there was no ripple, only a bottomless calm.

He stared at the energy curve that had reached the gauge's apex as if reading the most ordinary report.

"Wei Gong..."

The assistant beside him trembled in voice.

Wei Gong ignored him, simply picking up the red Communicator on the desk.

His voice, transmitted through encrypted lines, reached the altitude clearly, into the ears of the four transport helicopter pilots.

Calm, and unquestionable.

"Begin."

In Wei Gong's voice there was no trace of emotion.

A few seconds later.

One of the helicopter pilots clenched his teeth and pressed a red button on the control panel.

Above the clouds.

The transport helicopter hanging at the southeast corner of the steel platform suddenly erupted a dazzling fireball at its engine!

The violent explosion sound even drowned out the propeller's roar!

Thick black smoke billowed out, and the fuselage shook violently.

Boom!

The cockpit was ejected at the last moment, like a bullet leaving a gun barrel.

The powerless heavy helicopter then resembled an iron bird with broken wings, trailing a long black smoke as it fell toward the ground.

Chain reaction, occurring instantly!

The four supports that kept the airborne prison balanced suddenly lost one point.

The entire massive steel platform tilted sharply!

Crack—!

The other three alloy cables, stretched to the limit, emitted a teeth‑aching snapping sound!

Finally, under gravity's relentless pull, the last three cables snapped in response!

The unbound "Azkaban", this airborne prison that held a tide of resentment, together with the residential tower that resembled a gigantic coffin, turned into a burning meteor.

Dragging rolling thick smoke and endless resentment, it plummeted straight down, smashing hard!