Investigation Report of the Gods

Chapter 68: Investigator Combat Mode

The moment he stepped through that door, Han Su immediately felt darkness envelop his vision, and his steps came to an abrupt halt.

Still holding that unlucky fellow in his hand, he raised him in front like a shield, while his eyes swiftly and cautiously scanned from behind this "shield."

Inside this door was certainly not a normal cake shop.

There was no counter, no cake display cabinet, not even any decorations. The surrounding walls shimmered with an unreal flow of colors, making this room feel more like a crude, unstable, and illusory space.

Directly in front of him, three to four meters away, a simple yet bizarre symbol was drawn on the ground.

In the middle of the symbol lay a corpse, appearing long dead, with multiple parts of the flesh rotting away. However, the decayed parts shimmered with a crystalline glow.

Especially around the head, the flesh had almost completely decomposed, revealing bone that radiated a psychedelic hue.

Moreover, from the corpse, clusters of twisted halos continuously seeped out of its body, transforming into blurred shadows. They struggled, stretched, circled around him, and floated out through the door.

The shadows that had clung to the living outside were all seeping out from this corpse.

“Where are Song Chu‑shi and that Monster Investigator?”

This space was extremely small and visible at a glance, yet there was no trace of any living shadow—only himself and this corpse.

They had clearly entered through this “door” before him, so where were they now?

While pondering, he raised the suitcase in his hand to block to the side. The suitcase screeched under the clawing.

It was those “Crystal Plague Infected Individuals” from the street—five or six had been pushed through the door by him and were now frantically clawing toward him.

They were originally ordinary people, but after infection, they had gained terrifying strength, lost all reason, feared no death, and attacked like controlled puppets, with eerie and cruel brutality.

Outside the door, one would avoid such things at all costs. But within this confined space, confrontation was inevitable. Han Su flung the infected individual in his hand outward, then switched to Investigator Combat Mode.

Left hand shield, right hand sword.

Simply put, his left hand lifted the suitcase, while his right hand grabbed the electric baton.

Blocking the infected charging at him, he pressed the trigger. Amidst the crackling sound, electric sparks flashed and he jabbed at the infected approaching him.

Two infected individuals were struck down in succession, their bodies twitching on the ground, and the blurry shadows on their faces became much clearer.

But before he could deliver another electric shock, more infected pounced. Han Su had no time, so he swung the baton and smashed it down.

This specially-made Disaster Management Bureau Sword of Mystery, even without electric current, was exceptionally sturdy. A single blow to the head was more powerful than an iron bar.

Even infected ones were smashed to their knees in one strike.

“This Sword of Mystery is really useful…”

It could deliver electric shocks, and the power level could even be adjusted automatically. At 30% strength, it was enough to knock a grown man to the ground, twitching for half a day.

At 50% strength, it could already suppress much of the madness in these infected individuals.

Quickly flicking the baton, the reflexes honed from multiple escapes from the Ancient Castle came into play.

As he dodged grasping hands, he struck, shocked, or tripped them with his leg—rapidly taking down the infected and pinning them to the ground.

But compared to those outside, the infected within this door seemed significantly stronger in power and durability. Their bones were abnormally tough.

Even when Han Su smashed their leg bones with all his strength, they only fell to the ground rather than collapsing entirely.

Even those whose legs were clearly broken struggled to rise. Worse yet, the blurry shadows on their faces wriggled, showing signs of detaching and lunging toward Han Su’s face.

But Han Su raised his suitcase with his left hand to block.

Having encountered these infected individuals on Line 2 before, Han Su had returned to base and asked Cui Qiao—only then learning that the standard suitcase issued to Investigators was actually a good item.

Made from low-sensitivity fiber with special materials, it could not only slow the penetration of Mysterious Power but was also bulletproof. Moreover, the left hand that carried the suitcase was immune to contamination. With no concerns, Han Su waved the suitcase around, blocking all the blurred shadows lunging toward him.

Amidst crackling sparks, heavy thuds, and the sound of bone fracturing, Han Su saw that the infected had all lost their combat capabilities. As the area around him cleared, he quickly looked outside the door.

Unexpectedly, it was completely quiet outside—no more infected rushing in.

He felt slightly uplifted: “Did they hold them off for me?”

“These teammates… aren’t performing too badly…”

……

……

Outside the door, the Infected Individuals knocked down by Miss Crow acted as if they felt no pain, still desperately trying to get up.

Even if only one hand could still move, they would use that hand to desperately grab onto something. Even if only their mouth could move, they would still try to bite down on something.

But standing at the end of the shadows, Miss Crow merely wore an indifferent expression. Her hands were raised emptily in midair, while the shadow beneath her feet swirled and expanded with an inhuman coldness, spreading out in all directions, enclosing the entire door within.

If a foot could move, it would twist and shatter their foot.

If a hand could move, it would twist and shatter their arm.

If a mouth could move, it would break their jaw.

Cold, eerie, embodying only pure harm and crushing—devoid of a single trace of human emotion.

In this grotesque scene, the people on this street might have looked like lunatics, but Miss Crow at the center resembled a meat grinder among the mad.

Her current appearance was completely different from her usually calm and friendly demeanor—so much so that it was its exact opposite.

It even made one suspect that one of these appearances must be an illusion.

Hei Hu looked on, clearly unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

When he first saw the people on this street, it reminded him of that battlefield—facing once again those mad and terrifying believers. But now, he suddenly felt like something was off.

This Miss Crow beside him resembled even more the nightmare that haunted him for a lifetime.

The Doctor, however, was watching this bizarre scene with amazement, his eyes gleaming with awe. “Magnificent…”

“This power that transcends the limits of reality—how fascinating…”

“……”

“……”

“Bang!” “Bang!” “Bang!”

Meanwhile, after swiftly dealing with the Infected Individuals who had rushed in, Han Su immediately extended his left hand, tossing them one by one out the door.

Eager to observe the situation inside the door, he was suddenly struck by a chill down his spine.

There was a sound of bone joints colliding—light but strange—echoing from behind him. Around him, it felt as if countless tiny streams interwove, and distant, subtle noises were already stirring at his ears.

His eyes glanced toward a certain spot, and his body abruptly straightened.

Not far behind him, that corpse still lay within the mysterious symbol, quietly.

Only a pale, decayed face was visible, facing directly toward him, with sunken eye sockets.

But the key point was—just moments ago, this corpse had clearly not been in this position.

It had originally been lying on its side, face turned inward.

Now it was facing him directly, as if it had silently turned over while he was dealing with the Infected Individuals.

That face was completely lifeless. The eyes had rotted into hollows, but within those hollows seemed to lurk some kind of eerie color.

A slight chill crept down Han Su’s spine, and his hairs bristled.

He had no fear confronting the frenzied Infected Individuals, yet in front of this dead body, he actually felt nervous?

Whether it was due to overly taut nerves, or the cramped and eerie energy filling this space behind the door, Han Su suddenly had an illusion—this corpse, now facing him, seemed to slightly tremble its jaw, as if speaking.

Han Su wasn’t even sure if the corpse had truly opened its mouth, but he could distinctly sense that something strange had appeared in this world beyond the door.

It was a bizarre energy, as if it possessed its own life, spreading through the world behind the door.

“Mosuo haya…”

The sound vaguely resembled a song, or perhaps someone speaking non-stop, too fast for the words to be distinguished as they overlapped one another.

Han Su clearly sensed the presence of this voice, yet he could not detect any trace of it spreading through the air.

It felt more like it had appeared directly inside his head.

This sound carried a suffocating sense of assimilation.

Han Su felt as if he had suddenly fallen into a lake, with no sky above, no bottom below, only endless water surging from all directions—trying to enter his body through his nose, mouth, ears, even every pore on his skin.

Meanwhile, from that corpse, large amounts of twisted and blurred shadows surged out at once. Each carried faint human forms and an aura of pain, like ghosts, rushing toward him.

“This corpse is trying to contaminate me?”

Before the blurry shadows could touch his body, Han Su’s right hand suddenly felt a chill—he became alert.

Spiritual Power seeped from the crevice in his right hand, helping him escape the suffocation.

Realizing this shift, he immediately became vigilant.

According to the data Miss Ai had given him, the greatest danger of this Crystal Skull was precisely its pollution—infecting ordinary people with the Crystal Plague, causing their will and thoughts to be controlled.

This method of transmission was the Crystal Skull’s—or rather, the mysterious force it represented—penetrating the real world.

Facing such overwhelming contamination, he could no longer rely on the electric baton or the Cross-shaped Bronze Scar on his left hand. In an instant, he made a decision, swiftly turned around, extended his palm far out toward the Crystal Skull on the ground, and recited softly:

“Gods descend with their divine decree!”