Chapter Sixteen: Aerial Reconnaissance (Part One)

The plane cruised steadily at an altitude of 2,500 meters, with a patchwork of clouds of various shapes drifting beneath its fuselage.

This was an Aeolus-500, a small general-purpose aircraft. It featured a conventional layout with a low-mounted wing, a fully movable tailplane, a single piston engine driving a propeller, and a retractable tricycle landing gear. The fuselage was constructed from semi-monocoque aluminum alloy, while the engine cowling, tail cone, and cockpit side panels were made from fiberglass composites. On either side of the cockpit were two upward-opening doors, and the curved windshield offered a broad field of vision. The moderately high aspect ratio rectangular wings housed integral fuel tanks and were equipped with composite upward-turned wingtips, lending the aircraft the graceful appearance of a nimble swallow—exuding a compact and exquisite charm.

The Aeolus-500 boasted a maximum commercial payload of 560 kilograms, a top speed of 300 kilometers per hour, and a maximum service ceiling of 4,500 meters. Thanks to its short takeoff and landing distances, it could easily operate from small airfields or even highways.

Designed to carry four occupants including the pilot, the plane was currently occupied by only two: Li Yongzheng, who manipulated the controls with ease, and Lei Dong, who sat beside him, intently studying a small surveillance screen.

This screen was clearly a later addition. Shortly after takeoff, Li Yongzheng had pressed a few buttons and entered a password, causing a previously indistinguishable panel on the control console to slowly descend and reveal a Miniya-manufactured SR-80 monitor. The terrain and buildings below were displayed with remarkable clarity.

In the upper right corner of the screen, a split view depicted continuous mapping images derived from the surveillance footage. Evidently, the screen was linked to a highly advanced automated remote sensing and mapping system.

Lei Dong cast an admiring glance at Li Yongzheng. He hadn’t expected this seemingly taciturn man to possess such profound expertise in mechanics and electronics. The thought of installing such a sophisticated setup on a control panel barely a meter long was enough to make even a well-trained professional like himself break into a cold sweat.

Sensing Lei Dong’s gaze, Li Yongzheng smiled faintly. “This little gadget has helped me quite a lot over the past few years.”

The Aeolus-500 was inherently a versatile utility aircraft, suitable for military and civilian primary training, business travel, tourism, agriculture, forestry, fisheries, environmental monitoring, and, with certain modifications, aerial reconnaissance, photography, flight clubs, and private as well as military and police use.

When Li Yongzheng purchased this plane, the declared purpose was flight training and tourism. However, through private modifications, it had acquired some reconnaissance capabilities. Although still far from a military reconnaissance aircraft, it was worlds apart from an ordinary plane.

Despite being quite familiar with Kyoto’s topography from previous training, upon learning that Li Yongzheng had established a flight training club, Lei Dong decided to leverage the club’s training aircraft to expand their reconnaissance range as much as possible. After all, no one could predict what might happen once hostilities broke out.

What Lei Dong never anticipated was the surprise Li Yongzheng had in store after takeoff.

Clearly, this seemingly quiet intelligence officer had used the plane to conduct numerous intelligence-gathering missions.

“Running with the underworld really does bring a certain sense of achievement,” Lei Dong thought, casting Li Yongzheng a sideways glance.

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Currently, the plane was flying near a mountain approximately 80 kilometers southwest of Kyoto. The peak rose to 3,776 meters, shaped like a cone soaring into the clouds, its summit capped with snow. Below the snow line, lush greenery divided the mountain into two starkly contrasting halves. To many, the mountain resembled an inverted hanging fan, so much so that ancient Japanese poets had praised it with verses like “Jade fan suspended over the Eastern Sea” and “Snow of Mount Fuji gleaming in the morning sun.” But to Li Yongzheng, the mountain looked unmistakably like a giant turd.

Yes, this was the revered Mount Fuji, a symbol deeply ingrained in Japanese identity.

Suddenly, Lei Dong’s eyebrows rose sharply. His previously calm face betrayed his astonishment. “What is this place?”

Li Yongzheng glanced at the navigation display and let out a wry smile. “This place… it’s quite something. It’s the infamous ‘Suicide Forest.’”

“The Suicide Forest?” Lei Dong was momentarily stunned, then thoughtful.

The Suicide Forest, known as Aokigahara, was a profoundly mysterious and eerie place in Japan. Legend had it that once anyone entered the dense woods, compasses and similar instruments would fail, and the thick forest would disorient them completely. Every year, dozens or even hundreds of people became trapped inside, perishing helplessly. Folklore spoke of countless restless spirits and vengeful ghosts claiming the lives of those who dared enter.

Yet, paradoxically, this strange place had become a powerful attraction in Japan—a nation that, bizarrely, seemed to take pride in suicide. Thousands journeyed here annually to “find their own death.” Over time, the forest’s original name, Aokigahara, faded into obscurity, replaced globally by the ominous moniker “Suicide Forest.”

The sheer volume of deaths posed a significant headache for Japanese authorities, prompting large-scale police search operations each year. In the early years, even officers equipped with advanced gear failed to return, as if the forest concealed some man-eating monster. Eventually, police resorted to the crude but effective method of tying officers together with ropes to navigate safely.

“This perverse nation…” Li Yongzheng muttered under his breath. Yet Lei Dong furrowed his thick eyebrows deeply, his dark, bright eyes filled with puzzlement. “Fly higher. Make another pass.”

Li Yongzheng shot a glance at Lei Dong, then out the window. He wondered what was so interesting about this cursed place but said nothing. Instead, he adjusted the rudder, circling Mount Fuji as per Lei Dong’s instructions.

As one of Japan’s most significant geological landmarks, Mount Fuji was not only a sacred site revered by Shinto believers but also a must-visit destination for foreign tourists. Having operated covertly in Japan for over twenty years as a veteran agent and flight club owner, Li Yongzheng was intimately familiar with the area—he flew over this region several times a month.

Precisely because of this familiarity, Li knew that almost everything about Mount Fuji was transparent. There were no military installations, no secret bases, and no clandestine organizations.

Although legends imbued the summit’s Sengen Shrine with mystical significance, and Shinto faithful believed the nearby volcanic crater to be a gateway to another realm, these were just myths. For the staunch atheist Li Yongzheng, nothing could be more absurd.

So what was so special about this damned Suicide Forest?

What Li Yongzheng could never have guessed was that at this very moment, a torrent of questions surged through Lei Dong’s mind—questions sparked by the very thing Li considered most impossible.

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Just moments ago, as they flew over a dense forest at the mountain’s base, Lei Dong suddenly sensed an unusual surge of spiritual energy. It was as if the plane had entered a new realm where the aura thickened immensely. Beneath this spiritual energy, something seemed to block his mental probing, yet simultaneously, a distinct sense of déjà vu washed over him.

As the Aeolus-500 climbed and circled, the potent spiritual energy to the east, north, west, and south shifted along a strange trajectory. That feeling of familiarity grew stronger. When the plane ascended above 4,000 meters, buffeted by turbulence, Lei Dong glimpsed below a vast area over a kilometer wide and more than 200 meters deep—a concentration of spiritual energy so thick it formed a massive canopy enveloping the summit, shrouded in swirling mists.

Suddenly, a flash of insight lit up Lei Dong’s mind—

The Five-Point Spiritual Convergence Formation! The Dark Guardian!

It was these two formations that explained the familiar sensation.

Though different from the formation set by Shui Yao Xian, the vast array covering nearly the entire upper half of Mount Fuji exhibited almost identical spiritual energy flow directions, methods, and trajectories. The dense mountain mists closely resembled the “Dark Guardian” formation Shui Yao Xian had once used.

The only prior contact with these formations had been from inside them. Now, being outside, and with the convergence formation somewhat ambiguous, Lei Dong had not immediately recognized them.

But weren’t these two formations supposed to be secret techniques passed down exclusively within the Wu Sect? Why would they appear in Japan, on the other side of the ocean? Such an enormous array would require enormous manpower and resources to create. Who could have orchestrated such a grand scheme? What secrets lay hidden beneath the formation?

Lei Dong’s mind raced until Li Yongzheng’s voice pulled him back to reality.

“Fuel is limited. We need to consider turning back…” Though puzzled by Lei Dong’s behavior, Li Yongzheng’s tone remained calm and neutral.

Lei Dong blinked, then shook his head with a wry smile. This was the Achilles’ heel of small aircraft—the limited range. With a maximum range of 1,800 kilometers, the Aeolus-500 was among the better small planes. But after departing Kyoto, detouring around Japan’s southern island, and circling Mount Fuji, they had already consumed nearly half their fuel. Normally, they could land and refuel, but to avoid even the slightest risk of exposure, that option had been ruled out before departure.

Thus, their only choice was to continue the mission, or risk failing the planned reconnaissance.

Under Li Yongzheng’s deft control, the plane smoothly changed course, heading northeast toward a critical location requiring further investigation.