Chapter Fifty-One: Kubakbu

As the first light of dawn spilled across the earth, the roar of the transport plane’s propellers shattered the morning’s tranquility, rumbling as the aircraft slowly taxied onto the runway.

Inside the cabin, Luo Longyu sat gazing through the window at the busy ground crew, his expression calm and unreadable.

Six hours earlier, in the War Room of the Xuan Yi Center, the candidates for the mission into Iraq had been finalized. As a master of the Corpse Path, the one most sensitive to corpse whispers, Luo Longyu was inevitably among them.

“Comrades, the fate of this mission is uncertain. Prepare yourselves for the possibility of having no backup. I ask everyone to remain as covert as possible—no one knows how many hidden demons may lurk there. According to reliable intelligence, most of the foreign entities infiltrating our borders emerge from this place. I hope you can uncover the truth and return safely.” The military commander swept his stern gaze over the group, an air of gravity infusing the room.

As they left the War Room, Luo Mengxuan bounded over and insisted on accompanying Luo Longyu to Iraq. Before Luo Longyu could answer, Long Shaoxian flatly refused.

Luo Mengxuan’s large eyes flicked from Long Shaoxian to Luo Longyu. She hurried to Luo Longyu’s side, clinging tightly to his arm, and said seriously, “Luo Longyu, when we left the secret realm, you promised my grandfather that wherever you went, you’d take me with you. Now, with the world in chaos, if you don’t take me and something happens—how will you explain it to my grandfather if you come back and I’m gone?”

“Uh…” Luo Longyu had to admit that her words struck home. He scratched his head in hesitation, glancing at Long Shaoxian. “Maybe… we could bring her along?”

Long Shaoxian regarded him with an expressionless, sidelong look that made Luo Longyu’s back go cold. He hastened to add, “Ahem, I just think, you know, Xuanxuan is from the Eastern Emperor’s lineage, she must have abilities we don’t know about. And Xiaoguai—the Phoenix descendant—her combat power is frightening. If we bring them…”

“We’re going to investigate, not to stir up trouble. Understand?” Long Shaoxian cut him off before he could finish.

Luo Longyu looked helplessly at Luo Mengxuan, who was still clinging to his arm. Before he could speak, she said, “Hey, Luo, you promised my grandfather.” Her clear eyes were round and insistent.

Long Shaoxian, exasperated, waved his hand dismissively. “Fine, do what you want.” With that, he strode away alone.

Kubakub—a place said to be forgotten by God, abandoned by heaven, the paradise of demons and the gateway to hell, where strange and sinister events unfolded again and again.

In May 1941, Rashid Ali al-Gaylani, hostile to the British government, sought alliance with Germany. To prevent a German occupation of Iraq during the war, the British engaged Iraqi forces in a moderately sized conflict, with German troops directly participating. The British Air Force once fell into disadvantage, but ground forces held firm in Iraq. The German and Italian air forces could do nothing.

In mid-May, a German combat squad infiltrating Iraq was pursued by the British. Fighting as they retreated, they entered the barren southern desert, hoping to delay the British and await rescue.

This mountainous region was Kubakub, the supposed gate of hell—a forgotten, unmarked place, lost to the world.

The German squad, trekking through the desert, stumbled upon Kubakub. They discovered massive stones half-buried in sand, carved with ancient, complex designs. The sixteen-man team spent the longest two days and nights of their lives there.

According to the lone survivor, Kubakub was a fallen divine kingdom, still haunted by gods. Each night, they heard eerie whispers from all directions, and the sky filled with inexplicable hallucinations.

The first night, seven men died—each with a smile on their faces, their bodies completely unmarked. Strangely, their corpses became brittle, collapsing into bone fragments at the slightest touch.

Initially, the German squad suspected Allied trickery. But after witnessing a British reconnaissance plane struck down by a mysterious beam of light, they realized this was no human doing.

The next night, five more died. That night, they saw shadowy figures flitting soundlessly in the darkness—appearing and vanishing in an instant.

The five seemed possessed, kneeling and chanting before the great stones, impervious to any attempt to wake them.

In the dark, a pair of sinister eyes glimmered coldly, watching the squad.

The two survivors could take no more. They fled blindly into the desert. Behind them, the sands roared, whispers grew to a deafening cacophony, filling their ears and minds. One was swallowed by the sand and, in his final moments, detonated an explosive. With a thunderous blast, the sands fell silent.

The other, who escaped, was captured by the British. His ramblings about their bizarre ordeal drew little attention; the war left Britain no time to investigate the ravings of a madman.

During the Gulf War, the Americans deliberately searched for Kubakub. It’s said they found something—but as their helicopter lifted off, a sudden malfunction set it ablaze, crashing to the ground. All secrets were lost in the flames. Later, when examining the wreckage, the Americans found the nose of the helicopter crushed as if by a massive blow. But what in the sky could have struck the aircraft with such force?

From then on, Kubakub became a secret. No further strange events occurred. American follow-up teams found nothing. Kubakub faded into obscurity once more.

Listening to Froyer’s account of Kubakub, Luo Longyu sat silent, his brow deeply furrowed.

Beside him, Luo Mengxuan listened intently. “That whispering—could it be corpse whispers?”

Froyer shrugged, uncertain. Luo Longyu shook his head. “Impossible. I’ve heard corpse whispers more than once. The military even has audio recordings. Corpse whispers don’t drive people mad; mysterious as they are, I believe they’re a warning, a special mode of communication. So the whispers at Kubakub can’t be corpse whispers.”

“Demonic temptation, then?” Long Shaoxian, seated opposite Luo Longyu, spoke quietly.

Froyer pondered and nodded. “It’s possible.”

The group transferred flights in Pakistan and entered Iraq via Iran, arriving in Baghdad. Compared with home, Baghdad seemed relatively peaceful. It wasn’t a primary target for the Void Spirits, and to Luo Longyu and his companions, the threats from armed factions here outweighed those posed by the invaders.

After China’s large-scale Void Spirit incursion, the Middle Eastern countries, once at odds, gradually reached consensus, setting aside disputes to address the common threat from deep space.

Still, not everyone cooperated. Armed factions continued to stir up trouble, seemingly indifferent to the invasion.

They didn’t linger in Baghdad, instead driving south to Samawah. On the way, they were stopped at a checkpoint by local militia. Upon arrival in Samawah, Luo Longyu felt an unprecedented tension. Compared to Baghdad, the atmosphere here was far more strained—many houses lay in ruins, bullet holes riddled the walls, the air thick with the scent of war—no less intense than the battles back home.

Their vehicle crawled through the streets of Samawah. In a secluded house, Long Shaoxian and his team disembarked, where two men already waited at the door.

Both were dressed in Arab garb, faces veiled, only their sharp eyes visible.

Long Shaoxian locked eyes with one of them; the two turned and entered the house, Long Shaoxian signaling his team to follow.

The courtyard was bare, save for a few jeeps and some supplies. They climbed a narrow staircase to the second floor. Inside, five burly men—clearly of Asian descent—waited. On a side table sat AK rifles, rocket launchers, and scattered bullets.

Sunlight filtered through a broken window, catching the dust dancing in the beams. All eyes turned to the newcomers, their gazes calm and steady.

“Boss, they’re here,” the veiled guide announced, stepping aside.

A dark-skinned man smiled as he stepped forward to shake Long Shaoxian’s hand. “Hello, I’m Xiao Yuan, captain of the Blue Wolf Special Action Squad. Welcome.”

Long Shaoxian nodded. “I’m Long Shaoxian, from Xuan Yi Center. I’m leading this operation.”

“I’ve heard of you. With your Xuan Yi team here, I feel much more at ease.” Xiao Yuan grinned, his manner easygoing.

Long Shaoxian didn’t waste words. “What’s the situation?”

Xiao Yuan’s expression darkened. Lighting a cigarette, he said quietly, “Not good. You saw it on the way—things are chaotic here. Government forces and local militia are on edge. There was an armed clash just two days ago, most locals have fled. Forget searching for clues—even our unfamiliar faces can spark trouble.”

He spread out a map. Luo Longyu stepped forward, but the dense markings were incomprehensible.

Xiao Yuan tapped a red circle. “This is Kubakub. Last night we tried to approach, but the local militia opened fire and we had to withdraw.”

“The local militia? They’re blocking Kubakub?” Froyer asked urgently.

Xiao Yuan nodded. “Yes. This group only appeared recently, rising to power fast. They call themselves the Pale Hands—‘Hands of the Heavens.’ They’re fanatical in their beliefs, brutally violent. Every so often, they hold so-called sacrificial ceremonies—human sacrifices.”

“Sacrifices to whom?” Luo Longyu blurted.

Xiao Yuan exhaled a plume of smoke, paused, and said, “To their god—the Void King.”