Night Journey

Chapter 157 The Name Stained with Blood
Cillian practically burst through the hospital doors, his hurried footsteps echoing hollowly in the corridor, each step feeling like a taut eardrum.

As he rounded the corner filled with whispers and groans, the blinding white light from the emergency room shone down, scorching his eyes.

Ciri stopped. The disinfectant mixed with the smell of blood was like a thick fog, pressing down on his nasal cavity and lungs.

"Damn it... damn it..."

He kept cursing, his hands, tucked into his pockets, gripping the cold casing of the communicator.

Before nightfall, De Karl sent an emergency notification, and the communicators carried by the employees screamed like wailing ghosts.

From those simple and cold words, Cillian learned of the attack on the city guard.

Upon receiving the news, some staff rushed to the city garrison, while others, like Cillian, headed to the hospital treating the injured.

Cillian was not the first to arrive.

In the pale halo, he saw Mefuni.

The eldest daughter of the Lof family was curled up on a cold plastic chair. She had arrived in a hurry, and her usually carefully styled hair was now disheveled with a few strands hanging down, sticking to her tear-stained cheeks.

She hugged her arms tightly, her red shawl crumpled and wrapped around her body, shrinking into a small ball that trembled slightly from time to time.

“Cillian?”

Meifuni looked at herself; her eyes, which always sparkled with curiosity or cunning, were now swollen and red like ripe peaches.

Cillian didn't speak, but simply reached out to wipe away her tears and tucked her disheveled hair behind her ear.

Turning her head, Anya leaned against the opposite wall, standing straight with her hands deeply tucked into her trench coat pockets, her tall figure casting a long, stiff shadow.

The two exchanged a glance. Anya's lips pressed into a bloodless line before her gaze shifted to the closed door of the operating room.

A heavy silence enveloped her, almost suffocating.

"How's it going?"

Finally, Cillian broke the silence.

Anya's flow of time seemed different from his; she paused for a long time before slowly speaking.

"It's terrible. All the staff on night duty have collapsed, and the city guard station has been mostly destroyed. The doctor said... the doctor said that Dalin is the most seriously injured and is on the verge of death."

Cillian's face instantly drained of color, and a grim, ashen expression froze his grey-blue eyes like frost.

The scale of time was distorted and stretched to an extremely long time here. It was unknown how much time had passed before the doctor pushed open the tightly closed door and announced the end of the surgery.

Medical staff pushed the hospital bed into the intensive care unit, followed closely by several others.

On the hospital bed, Dai Lin lay quietly, almost completely submerged in white bandages and tubes.

The ever-smiling face was now lifeless, a faint but rhythmic hissing sound came from under the oxygen mask, and the exposed skin was covered with abrasions and purplish bruises.

"The good news is that Mr. Morrison is still alive, but the bad news is that his condition is very bad."

The doctor reported on Dai Lin's condition: "Multiple fractures and contusions, and varying degrees of internal bleeding."

"Ah."

Cillian responded sullenly, but secretly he felt a sense of relief.

Dai Lin is still alive.

Even though he's injured like this, he's still alive. As long as a person is alive, there are endless opportunities and possibilities.

“These physical injuries aren’t difficult to treat; the real problem is…”

The doctor took off his mask, a barely perceptible hint of regret flashing in his eyes.

"Mr. Morrison may not wake up."

The voice was deep and clear, each word like an icicle striking the eardrum.

Cillian clenched his fists instinctively and looked at the doctor.

"It's the brain."

The doctor pointed to his temple.

"His brain tissue appears to have been subjected to some extremely precise and powerful energy impact, disrupting areas of consciousness and causing him to fall into a deep coma. We have tried all known methods to awaken him..."

He shook his head, his unspoken words as heavy as lead.

“There was no response, and apart from Mr. Morrison, the other City Guard staff who were brought in also had similar symptoms of unconsciousness.”

As he spoke, the doctor looked to the other side of the intensive care unit. Cillian followed his gaze and saw many familiar faces, now lifeless, lying on the hospital bed like living corpses, emitting hollow breaths.

"Their brain tissue had suffered some damage, but unlike Mr. Morrison, they had almost no obvious external injuries."

Cillian continued the doctor's words, analyzing, "In other words, when the City Guard was attacked, only Dalin engaged in direct combat with the attackers; the others fell before they could even react." "Probably... after all, I'm just a doctor."

The doctor said no more and quietly left the intensive care unit, leaving them alone.

Cillian shifted his gaze from Daelin's lifeless face to Anya.

The two forced themselves to calm down and maintain absolute rationality. Without a word, a cold, tacit understanding flowed between them.

Who has such power and such motive?
Today, Dalyn, along with many of her employees, finds themselves in a situation remarkably similar to Valerie's.

Therefore, the answer is obvious.

Ciri clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking. Anya's tightly pursed lips twitched slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she just clenched her teeth even tighter, the frost in her eyes almost freezing over.

Just as the oppressive, almost suffocating silence was about to be broken by an uncontrollable anger, steady and clear footsteps came from the end of the corridor.

Looking back, Dekar's figure appeared in the doorway, his tall frame almost blocking out the light from outside.

His dark uniform was impeccably tailored, and his expression was as serious and calm as ever, as if etched into stone. However, his deep-set eyes seemed even darker than usual under the bright hospital lights.

He first looked at Dalyn, who lay silently on the hospital bed, then at Mefuni, who was tearful, then at Anya, who was as silent as iron, and finally his gaze settled on Cillian.

Without any unnecessary pleasantries or a hint of pity, De Karl's voice, like a cold block of iron thrown into stagnant water, broke the silence and froze the air.

"When I found Dalin in the burning ruins, he was already on the verge of death."

He spoke slowly, as if he were grieving, or as if he were weaving a lie.

“Before Dai Lin fell into a coma, he handed this document to me… You are his team members, so you should know something about it.”

As he spoke, De Karl took out a sealed document, which was crumpled and stained with blood.

Cillian took the sealed bag with suspicion and took out the blood-stained document.

He was familiar with the contents, and after reading them carefully, he even found them somewhat amusing.

Dai Lin meticulously disassembled and pieced together his own story, weaving it together with the real Reverse Falcon. The writing was full of loopholes, yet it was also brimming with authenticity.

He wasn't a novelist; he wouldn't write something like this for no reason. Cillian realized that this was the trap he had been setting all along.

"nerve……"

Ciri was secretly amused and annoyed.

Dai Lin had originally planned to use himself as bait to lure "the blazing sun," but in the end, he made a completely different choice.

Really are……

His smile vanished abruptly, replaced by a chilling murderous intent that devoured Cillian's heart. He remained expressionless as he spoke.

"Chief, you mean..."

“I don’t think Dalyn would do something so pointless when he was dying.”

Dekar scrutinized Cillian's micro-expressions without leaving a trace. He was perfectly disguised, displaying confusion, bewilderment, grief, and... a perfectly timed, forcibly restrained anger.

"I believe that the culprit behind this tragedy is Reverse Falcon. This is his retaliation against the City Guard Bureau and the City Council."

"He thought he could still get away with it," Decal said thankfully. "But he never imagined that we had already caught up with him."

Cillian turned to the last page of the document, and among the blood-stained text, a name pierced his eyes.

"Leslie".

In an instant, the air seemed to freeze.

The smell of disinfectant, the ticking of the instruments, Meifuni's suppressed sobs, Anya's tense expression... everything became distant and blurry, only that name, like a red-hot branding iron, seared his soul.

Cillian's fingers unconsciously tightened, gripping the blood-stained report page tightly, making a slight creaking sound.

That name.

That name, which sounds similar but was deliberately misspelled.

His throat felt as if it were being gripped by cold iron clamps, yet his voice was unexpectedly calm, even carrying a hint of cold, twisted amusement.

Cillian repeated the name, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. It was not a smile, but more like a wild beast baring its fangs before launching an attack.

"Leslie? Sounds like a woman."

"I think so too."

De Karl affirmed and repeated the name.

"Leslie."

(End of this chapter)