The carriage navigated through the industrial transport tracks on the outskirts of Munich, finally coming to a stop before a sprawling, cold, and hard complex of red brick buildings.
The complex was encircled by a wall several ters high, embedded with anti-climbing iron spikes, with tower structures at the corners serving as lookout posts.
In the night, the chimney of the factory's main building was rhythmically belching steam.
What spewed out was not the grimy black smoke of coal dust and sulfur, but a pure white water vapor.
From deep within the factory buildings ca the steady, powerful roar of machinery.
This was the coordinates marked on the telegram: 17 Red Swallow Road, the Bavarian Precision Gears and Power Core Factory.
This na carried the pride of German industry, an entity that existed on the map of the surface world.
With just one glance, Lin Jie detected the scent of the Association from the tight security asures and the pure steam.
This scent shared the sa origin as the Underground City in London, yet its character was entirely different.
The factory before them was a steel fortress exposed under the moonlight;
it did not conceal its power and order. Its very existence was a declaration, a declaration of war against chaos and anomalies.
The coachman exchanged a secret hand gesture with a guard in factory uniform at the gate.
The guard's waist bulged conspicuously.
The heavy steel gate opened with the screeching sound of interlocking gears, clearing a path for them.
Entering the interior of the factory, the German-style rigor and coldness beca even more concrete. The ground was spotless as far as the eye could see.
All pipes and conduits were encased in tal sheathing of uniform specifications, turning at precise right angles.
Charts of operating procedures and safety regulations hung on the walls.
The sll of machine oil perating the air also had its impurities filtered away by an invisible force, leaving only a purely functional odor.
This place did not resemble the branch of a secret society, but rather a disciplined armory, or a precise slaughterhouse.
Everything here, from the layout to the scents, served the purpose of efficiently processing sothing.
A young man in dark blue work clothes and a serious expression was already waiting at the entrance.
He offered no superfluous pleasantries, scanning the three of them with sharp gray eyes.
After confirming their identity badges, he said succinctly, "Supervisor Weber is waiting for you in Conference Room Three. Please follow ."
He turned around with clean, decisive movents, his steps steady and maintaining a fixed rhythm.
Lin Jie, William, and Julian exchanged glances, seeing the sa information reflected in each other's eyes.
The people here were a different breed from the colleagues they had encountered in London and Paris.
They followed their guide through the massive factory building. Inside, the space was divided into functional areas: training grounds, weapons testing zones, and vehicle modification depots.
They saw hunter squads conducting high-intensity coordinated combat drills, simulating UMA attack patterns, with command shouts and the dry fire of firearms rising and falling.
They saw an "Armant Blacksmith" adjusting a massive steam-powered exoskeleton armor, the light of alchemical runes flickering on the chanical arms of the armor.
They also saw a military train, reinforced with heavy armor and grotesque armants, quietly parked on a dedicated railway track.
Julian, a scholar who usually held an elegant disdain for "brute force," couldn't help but hold his breath at this mont.
He leaned close to Lin Jie's ear and whispered, "My friend, I now completely believe those rumors. The people here aren't 'studying' anomalies;
they are preparing for a 'war' against the inner world."
Lin Jie did not answer.
His gaze was drawn to a female hunter conducting shooting drills on the training ground.
She appeared to be in her early twenties, with neat, short blonde hair and a tall, athletic build.
She was performing rapid fire with a Mauser M1879 revolver on distant moving targets with inhuman accuracy.
Each of her shots coincided with the target's turning rhythm, the gunfire becoming part of a cold, ruthless symphony.
At that mont, the female hunter noticed their gaze, stopped shooting, and turned her head.
Her facial features were sharply defined, possessing a classical Germanic beauty, but her blue eyes were like glaciers—calm, focused, and devoid of emotion.
She rely glanced at them briefly before refocusing her attention on her training.
Their guide seed sowhat displeased with their pause. He gave a light cough and quickened his pace.
Finally, they were led to a door made of thick steel plate, requiring both a pass and a password for dual verification.
After the guide completed the verification procedure, he pushed open the door leading to Conference Room Three.
"Supervisor, the visitors have arrived."
The conference room was brightly lit.
Unlike the cold style of the external factory, this place more closely resembled a military command center.
In the center of the room was a massive sand table, displaying a terrain model of the Bavarian Alpine region.
The walls were covered with maps, data charts, and several blackboards for displaying information.
A burly, resolute-looking middle-aged man was studying the sand table with his back to them. He wore a well-tailored dark gray hunting suit, his hair already showing so gray.
But his back was as steady as a mountain range, exuding the iron-blooded and authoritative aura unique to a veteran.
Hearing the guide's report, he slowly turned around.
The middle-aged man appeared to be around fifty years old, undoubtedly of German nationality.
His face was that of a standard Germanic man: a high-bridged nose, deep-set eye sockets, and tightly pressed lips, combined to form a stern expression that commanded respect without anger.
But his most striking feature was his eyes.
They were deep brown eyes. Unlike Sir Henderson's profound gaze, these eyes held no scheming or calculation, only tempered determination and focus.
"I am Klaus Weber, Field Operations Supervisor of the Munich Branch."
He spoke in steady, clear English, dispensing with formalities.
"Welco to Munich, mbers of the hunting party. Barton spoke very highly of you in his telegram. I hope you will not disappoint ."
His voice was low and magnetic, each word enunciated clearly.
He was the mysterious "K" from the telegram.
Just as Lin Jie was about to open his mouth to respond, another door to the conference room opened, and a familiar figure walked in.
It was precisely the blonde female hunter who had been conducting shooting drills on the training ground. She had changed out of her sweaty training clothes and into a well-fitted dark blue Association uniform.
Her steps were light and silent, as alert and graceful as a feline.
"Gretchen Schultz, codena 'Universal Scale'," Klaus introduced her to them. "Association Fifth-Level Investigator, technical expert of our branch, specializing in geology, ether physics, and the erging field of electrical engineering."
"Universal Scale" Gretchen gave them a slight nod as a greeting.
Her gaze lingered on Lin Jie for a mont, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes.
Lin Jie could sense that within this young technical expert's body lay a powerful energy, different from her calm exterior, ready to erupt at any mont.
She was both a scholar and a warrior.
"Ti is short. Let's get straight to the point."
Klaus wasted no ti. He pointed to a blackboard on the wall, where several photos of missing persons and a map were pinned with magnets.
"Mission codena: 'Silent Avalanche'."
Klaus's tone turned grave.
"Starting one month ago, at least five incidents involving missing climbers and miners have occurred on the southern slopes of the Zugspitze in the Bavarian Alps."
"Local police initially classified them as routine mountaineering accidents, but our intelligence personnel, upon inspecting the scenes, discovered so anomalous phenona that could not be explained by common sense."
He picked up a pointer and indicated several red marked points on the map.
"All the disappearance incidents were accompanied by a small-scale yet precise landslide. The landslide's range was extrely small, yet its timing was deadly. Even more bizarre, no traces of struggle, no bloodstains, were found at any of the scenes. Not even the bodies of the victims could be found."
Klaus paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.
"Our search and rescue teams employed the most advanced sonic detectors and scent dogs, but found nothing. Those missing people... it's as if, at the mont the landslide occurred, they, along with their voices and scents, were erased from this world."
A look of intense interest appeared on Julian's face;
his scholarly curiosity was piqued.
William remained expressionless, but his fingers had already begun tapping rhythmically against his thigh—a sign he was entering combat readiness.
"To figure out exactly what is happening," Klaus continued, "one week ago, we authorized a reconnaissance team composed of two senior investigators to enter the area."
"They were equipped with the Association's latest-developed 'Etheric Image Recorder,' capable of recording spiritual fluctuations. Just three days ago, we received the last transmission of footage from them."
He walked to a corner of the room and activated a complex projection device constructed from brass, crystal, and vacuum tubes.
Accompanied by a faint hum of electric current, a blurry, shaky, black-and-white image filled with snow-like static was projected onto a white screen in the center of the room.
The perspective of the footage ca from one of the investigator's recorders.
The scene showed a steep mountain wall, with howling winds and low visibility.
The heavy panting of the investigators and the sound of their footsteps trudging through snow could be heard.
"...This is 'Glacier Eye' team, have reached coordinates E3 area, no visual anomalies detected... repeat, none..."
A hoarse voice ca intermittently through the noisy sound of wind and snow.
Suddenly, the cara lens tilted upward;
the recorder seed to have noticed sothing.
Then, a low rumbling sound of rock friction began.
The image started shaking violently, accompanied by the investigators' panicked shouts.
"Avalanche! No! It's a landslide! Above us!"
"Find cover! Call headquarters! We're under atta—"
The shouts and the sound of collapsing rock cut off abruptly in the very next mont of the footage.
The image was left with only the sound of the wind and the faint hum of the recorder itself operating.
That landslide, which should have been earth-shattering, seed to have had its mute button pressed by an invisible hand.
For the final few seconds, the image continued to shake violently, showing the recorder was still active, perhaps even running.
But neither he nor his companion made another sound.
Finally, after a chaotic tumble, the signal cut off, and the screen went dark.
Silence fell in the conference room.
Everyone was affected by the eerie atmosphere contained within those dozen seconds of footage.
That was no ordinary mountain disaster.
It was a silent hunt, consuming life along with the very sound of its existence.
Klaus turned off the projector. The conference room lights brightened again, and a trace of barely concealed sorrow showed on his face.
"Those two were among my best subordinates."
He said in a low voice.
"Now, I need you to help find out exactly what they encountered."
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