"Wild Duck Country"

Some things, even if they just stay there, will bring up many bad associations, not to mention these buzzing, gradually approaching helicopters. The propellers are spinning so fast that people can't see the afterimages, as if they are suspended in the air, with a sense of cold oppression.

The clouds in the sky gradually thickened, pulling and covering the moon. When the flat layers overlapped and merged, it was as if they were crushed by a big hand, and then gathered into a ball, squeezed and condensed into a huge object, like a roller hanging upside down in the sky, about to press down.

The moon was thus hidden tightly, the sky became darker, the clouds were lower, and the helicopter broke through the clouds, like a meteor thrown out by the sky.

Regardless, the helicopter was getting closer and closer. I covered my eyes with my palms like a thief covering my ears, and after a while, I slowly opened my fingers to see how far they were getting. The water on my fingertips dripped onto my face with a "pa pa" sound, awakening the few remaining consciousnesses in me.

Will they let me go? No. Someone must have already decided in their heart who this land belongs to. No matter how turbulent and uneasy it has been, they will never let a foreigner interfere.

Will I stop? Funny, is my dream of becoming a famous horror writer going to end here?

The approaching footsteps and the gurgling sound of the boiling water in the pot created a strange rhythm. The dark figures were surging, and the complicated emotions in my heart were surging, which strangely coincided with the time when a bunch of parents accused me of harming the young and pure hearts of children.

Seems like an exaggeration?

Of course, I am very happy that someone can come in, because this is the legendary wild duck country, and according to the plot I wrote, I can't go out again. If this doesn't attract anyone's attention and it ends, it means that all my expectations for this night will be gone. My hard work is denied, my patience is worn out, and if this continues, I will eventually become the villain in a cartoon who shouts "I will definitely come back" after being defeated, and all my expectations will be meaningless.

Just thinking about it makes me feel sorry for having a bald head all night long.

The sound was fragmented yet orderly, and in just a moment, a circle of fully armed soldiers wearing gas masks and holding guns appeared here out of nowhere. They surrounded the place like a black mass, with their guns pointed at the inside of the encirclement.

"You are surrounded. Remove your supernatural powers immediately, or we will take coercive measures."

The leader's tone was cold and solemn, and his heart gradually became heavy as he looked at the scene in front of him which seemed to have the target completely under control.

One by one, the ducks plucked their feathers nimbly, pulled themselves out of the boiling water, stared blankly at the white-feathered duck on the big pot for a few seconds, then consciously crawled into the oven, hung the metal hook on the gap between their necks, closed their eyes quietly, and slowly spun in the warm firelight, oozing out oil drops, gradually imagining a caramel color like the little girl curled up on the street in the cold winter night, fantasizing about in the light of the match.

White-feathered ducks can be seen everywhere now. The difference is that they are basically pickled and hung on the treetops of high and low buildings, crying softly, or transformed from other species, screaming in panic, and even crying for their "same species" hanging on the beams.

They are gradually being assimilated into ducks.

Are these ducks really ducks? They are no different from the people who are suffering outside, but they have to go through processing here, and after their feathers are shed, they are hung upside down in the furnace like other roast ducks. So can the feathers of ducks still be used as a criterion for judging whether they are ducks or people?

Look at that duck hanging upside down over boiling water, trapped in a small cage, without making a sound. How can you tell whether it is a duck or a human?

After this thought suddenly popped up in his mind, the leading soldier had a bad premonition, which prompted him to do something immediately to save the situation.

"This is your last warning. You are surrounded. Remove your abilities immediately, or we will take coercive measures."

He said coldly.

The two people on the left and right walked in gradually, and the armed helicopter in the sky faithfully recorded everything below.

There is a blurry human figure on the silver-green screen, which forms a sharp contrast with the very clear environment around it.

【Target energy value is stable】

[Preliminary judgment: the target's true identity has appeared]

【Target energy value is stable】

The two of them walked forward slowly for ten meters with their hearts held high.

【Target energy value is stable】

At this time, the distance between them was only five meters, and they were close enough to see traces of blood smudged through her clothes.

The dress was soaked in blood.

[The target energy value gradually increases. Pay attention, the target energy gradually increases.]

Two meters.

[The target energy value is rising rapidly, warning! It is recommended to act immediately! ]

[Repeat! Target energy value is rising rapidly, warning! It is recommended to act immediately! ]

The woman floating in the river didn't react at all and just kept mumbling something unclear to herself.

"Grandma Fujiwara was a duck meat lover. Suddenly one day, some uninvited guests came to her duck factory."

"But it happened to be the annual God Duck Banquet, and the God of Ducks warmly invited these outsiders to share in the excitement of the feast."

"Foreigners, are you willing to join us?"

No one responded to her words. Behind the gas masks, all emotions were hidden, leaving only mechanical and indifferent expressions. Two fully armed men were already close at hand, and the black muzzles of their guns brought a sense of oppression.

“The stranger happily agreed.”

She clung to the shore with her hands, barely straightened her body, and used her soaked hands to tidy up her wet hair. They immediately adjusted their weapons, aiming the barrels at her brows, their hands were steady, their guns, and the lines did not move, like a crouching beast.

"Put your hands up and don't move. You can't escape! This is your only choice."

One person shouted in a dry voice, staring at the water ghost in front of him coming ashore. Even though the woman's makeup was gorgeous and her clothes were luxurious, she looked like the daughter of a wealthy family in ancient times who fell into the water and drowned in a pond. She committed suicide because of her lover's abandonment and crawled out at midnight when she was most resentful.

How close is two meters?

If you look closely, you can see the strange smile reappearing on her face, as if she resented the whole world for being abandoned by the person she loved.

"Secret Technique - Transform into a Duck Man!"

She shouted loudly, her tone full of sarcasm, as if mocking their useless efforts.

Before she finished her words, the two men pulled the trigger, and the bullets scattered, creating a dazzling flash of fire, but it was useless, just like a duck's last struggle before being boiled.

Although, only those who are surrounded by the aroma of roasted duck will trigger the transformation into ducks, after discovering this, they have all put on gas masks, but this is the land of wild ducks, a place ruled by the gods.

Only then did people realize that everything that had happened before was just an appetizer.

Whether in the air, on the ground, or lurking in the river, everyone was horrified to discover such a fact - the world suddenly became larger, and the surroundings were full of white-feathered birds, and in the big pot in the distance, the broken limbs and heads were cooked on the campfire, which was even more horrifying. The eyes of the dead looked coldly at the sky, dismembering and processing themselves, and there were colorful advertisements on the operating table, and a person raised his thumb and praised the plumpness of his meat.

This is a world that only they can see, and people who are not in the game cannot even understand one ten-thousandth of their fear.

So they shouted, the sound resounded through the sky, the helicopter that was suspended in the air suddenly shook and was about to fall. The weak wings could not pull the trigger, and in the end, the gun could only go off accidentally.

Gah——

Gah——

Fear can be transmitted, defenses can be broken, and personalities can be assimilated, and then one can fully understand the resentful eyes of those ducks in boiling water.

How come those ducks can actually cook themselves?

Because behind them are those people who are never seen chopping the duck meat.

Gah——

I was disturbed by the sound and subconsciously covered my ears.

It's so weird, they were quacking like 500 ducks, but the convenience store guy who had caused me great offense was now being held over boiling water!

"Just a moment, a moment of calm."

I said dryly, "It was a bit too much."

But seeing them ready to run away, I felt very dissatisfied.

It’s too bad, this time it’s really too bad. The success has raised doubts in my heart.

Have I improved so much? Ah, yes, this is not just my achievement, this horror movie wizard is still on the boiling water.

I immediately felt guilty.

Under my guidance, these cute ducks have consciously lined up in front of the big pot. This scene simulates a large-scale factory production. The ducks walked to the processing table in a daze, and when they came out, they were packed into bags. I have already performed the scene of Grandma Fujiwara's tragic death. What they are performing now is the origin of the wild duck village. It's a pity that this is probably the end of the night. Where can I find a few customers?

I stared at the convenience store boy and thought seriously, but before I could figure out what was going on, I heard the sound of cotton being torn, and a silver-white blade flashed before my eyes, splashing blood-red.

A humanoid ghost in a kimono that seemed to be floating in the air and glowing purple appeared behind me. It pierced me through with a long sword, and a ball of blood appeared in the air.