A prison in a western suburb of Tokyo in mid-May.

The sun was shining brightly, the rays were scorching, the road was heated by the scorching sun, and a stream of white smoke erupted with every step you took.

The two armed sentries at the prison gate stood tall and tall like birch trees in the north.

Walking in and taking a closer look, Furui Fubo's cheeks were dripping with hot sweat.

Their eyes were fixed on a row of high-end cars parked at the door. The cars were uniformly black. The people getting off the car were tall, short, fat, thin, with long and short hair. They were all kinds of people, some were squatting, some were sitting on the hood, and some were leaning on them.

Those who hold the car door open and chew gum, but without exception, look evil in their eyes.

The posture is very similar to surrounding the gate of a prison.

At this time, the narrow metal door on the right side of the gate opened with a clang.

Everyone immediately stood respectfully.

A burly man wearing black short-sleeves, his bare arms are covered with horrific tattoos that extend to his chest and back.

The big man walked like a tiger, holding a black leather bag in his right arm with two fingers missing. After walking a few steps, he threw it to the right, and the black leather bag hit one of the sentries in the face.

He turned around and took a mouthful of thick phlegm, "What the hell is this? You don't need anything after it comes out!"

The sentry staggered to his feet again, gritting his teeth and saying nothing, while the black leather bag rolled aside.

A thin young man with long clean hair and a short beard on his chin silently watched the big man get into the high-end bridge car inside the metal fence door. With a "bang", the narrow door opened.

"Go!" The half-white-haired police officer pushed his back.

Shimada Yukito, wearing a navy blue shirt, slowly walked out of the prison, walking like a toddler.

In a Japanese prison where the police officer's permission is required even if he wants to stand up, his long legs are almost useless, but he doesn't know whether his heart is broken or not.

The road was filled with dust and there was no car in an instant.

Standing still, Shimada Yukito greedily inhaled the dusty, turbid air outside the prison, one breath after another.

Afterwards, under the contemptuous eyes of the sentry, he picked up the black leather bag that the burly man had used to "hit people".

Holding one in each hand, Shimada walked slowly to the opposite side of the road, placed two leather bags, leaned against a street tree, sat cross-legged on the black leather bags, closed his eyes and meditated.

No matter how you look at it, he looks like a disabled person who has been tortured by years of prison life.

After waiting for about twenty minutes, a dilapidated car drove to the side of the road. Jian Zhiyong's mellow voice came from inside the car, "Pedestrian, I've been waiting for a long time. I have an important case at hand. I'll be late. Come on, get in the car."

!”

Shimada Yukito didn't know when he opened his eyes, "Uncle Kenmochi, you came just in time. I was too excited in the morning and didn't sleep well. I just caught up on my sleep."

As he spoke, he stood up and put the two leather bags into the open trunk.

…

A high-end car in the middle of a black car array.

"Brother, don't you need the release certificate in the black leather bag?"

The burly man sat in the back seat, patted his loose trouser pockets, and said with a grin: "I carry important things with me, don't talk too much!"

The middle-aged man with a flat head sneered and stopped talking.

"Shimada, let's settle the matter!" The car drove towards the city. He looked at the unfamiliar streets and licked his cracked mouth. There was an inexplicable meaning in his cloudy eyes.

…

"Let's go have a meal! You've been here for so many years, and you probably haven't had a good meal." Kenmochi Isamu took a few more glances at Shimada's slightly naturally curly hair, "Guh~",

Start the car.

"How can I say this? In fact, the food in prison is quite delicious."

"Fasten your seat belt." After reminding him, Jianchi Yong teased, "That's not bad, then?"

"Hmm~" Shimada's action of fastening the seat belt was very unfamiliar, "Life is not a good one. Being trapped in a cold and claustrophobic single room with no one to respond to you is very unfriendly to people like me who occasionally have a penchant for speech.

, and there are quite a few elderly men inside who cannot take care of themselves outside and deliberately committed crimes just to enjoy three free meals a day and have the prison guards change their diapers."

"The bad guy has grown old, what are his plans after he comes out?"

Yukito Shimada, who was in the passenger seat, stretched out his lazy body and took a cigarette from the cigarette case. He put the cigarette butt on the car igniter and burned it. Then he brought the cigarette holder to his lips and sucked it with great skill. He blew out a smoke ring.

, said calmly: "It's okay to go back to study. It's not easy to take the exam to Tokyo University again. I'm not idle here. I can make a living in Tokyo at least!"

The swirling smoke floated in front of Jian Chiyong's eyes. He paused for a while and said, "Okay, as long as you have a plan, if you need my help if you need anything, just ask!"

"Uncle Meng Jianchi has taken care of me for the past seven years," Shimada turned around and lowered his head solemnly, his long hair hanging down to cover his haggard but handsome face.

"Don't say that, I promised Yuko," Kenchi Yong's throat seemed to be stuck when he mentioned this name again after so many years, "...I will take good care of you!"

Shimada Yukito rarely replied, leaning against the window and throwing half of his cigarette out the window.

Jian Chiyong glanced at him and found that he had snored at some point.

"This boy!"

…

A few days later, on Friday, there were mountains and greenery in the distance.

The road down the mountain is rugged, and the rotten wood railings on both sides are riddled with holes, as if they might fall apart at any time.

Kenmochi Isamu drove Saaki, Kindaichi and Nanase Miyuki to the meeting.

"Why do I have to attend this suspense night?"

"Oh? Aren't you interested? This is a gathering of famous detectives from all over the world!" Kenchi Yong raised his forehead and said unwillingly, "I sent out four postcards, but I was the only one who failed! It's so hard to cry without tears.

ah!"

"Isn't this great? After all, you took four days off and can go to the hot springs alone." Kindaichi smirked, "You obviously want to go on your own, so don't use us as a shield!"

Jian Chiyong retorted: "That's not the case."

"Hey, that's the venue for the 'Night of Suspense'?" Nanase Miyuki looked out the window, and the quaint castle loomed in the distance.

"That castle is called Bardo City, right?" Zuomu knew that someone would die in that castle in the next few days, but he couldn't remember when it started or when it ended.

My humble effort is to find the murderer as soon as possible.

"The locals would not call him such a high-sounding name."

Kindaichi lay by the window and asked curiously: "What's that called?"

"Dead Soul Castle, Waxman City." A heavy and solemn voice came from Jian Chiyong's mouth.

Fifteen minutes later, the vehicle arrived in front of the magnificent and ancient castle. Nanase Miyuki and Kindaichi got out of the car one after another and exclaimed: "Wow, what a magnificent castle!"

Saoki was the last one to get out of the car and asked: "Uncle Kenmochi, you must help me find a candidate for the agent of the detective agency."

"Understood." Jian Chiyong nodded cautiously, and a figure suddenly flashed in his mind.

After Zuomu helped the police solve several difficult cases, his fame gradually spread in the circle.
Chapter completed!