(The original chapter was deleted due to operation error, and now it is reissued as a free chapter. By the way, please kindly ask some kindhearted people to come back and build the barrage_(:_』∠)_)

In the winter of 1963, it was snowing heavily in Leningrad.

Whenever the cold winter reigns over this white land again, in the vast white world, only the thick black color of the factory chimneys not far away cuts through the sky, looking into the distance in the wind and snow.

As the door of the bus opened, Kondelmir Kanukov was wrapped in a heavy woolen coat and his felt hat was covered with snowflakes. He came to an old building and pushed open the door made of fir trees.

, lift the heavy curtain, the snowflakes melt into water and unknowingly wet the brim of the hat.

There are many historic buildings like this in Leningrad, but most of them have been properly repaired and maintained. Only the sanatorium in front of us still maintains its old appearance. Even the bullet holes in the outer wall have not been repaired.

good.

It was a testimony to the tragic history that had been staged in the city below us decades ago. The German army besieged the city for 872 days. The Soviets survived, but 640,000 people died of hunger and cold.

More than 20,000 people died in German air raids and fighting.

This building on Nevsky Prospekt was also used as the ward center of the Leningrad Hospital during that period of history. It was not until the smoke completely dissipated that it was transformed into the current nursing home for veterans.

"Davarish, I'm here to see Dr. Leonid Rodtsov."

The waitress at the front desk didn't seem to have a good hearing. Kangjiemir spoke twice before picking up the phone at the front desk and confirming the visitor's information with the person opposite.

"In the second office on the third floor in front, bring this guest list."

After saying this vaguely, the short-haired waitress fell into silence for a long time, looking at the dark stairs leading to the second floor at the end of the corridor.

Nowadays, this building coexists the luxury of the Tsarist Russia period and the current dilapidation, which makes Kanjimir suddenly have some exaggerated hallucinations. It seems that many old ladies shaking feather fans and holding up the hems of gauze skirts may come out of the building at any time.

As they walked down the stairs, the heavy foundation could not cover the signs of aging, and the ruts of the times rolled over them mercilessly.

"Please come in."

Dr. Rodtsov was much younger than Kandelmir expected, so he hesitated for a few seconds after knocking on the door before saying hello to the doctor in front of him.

Dr. Rodtsov did not raise his head, but took out a medical record card from the drawer and confirmed the other party's identity again in a long tone.

"Are you - Kondemiel Kanukov, the grandson of Comrade Kardy Kanukov, Soviet combat hero and recipient of the Order of the Patriotic War? We have some relics of the old man to be handed over to you."

Kangjiemir took off his woolen coat and put it on the crook of his hand, and slowly sat in the chair opposite the doctor - under the sharp gaze of the other party, he always felt that the doctor in front of him was examining and diagnosing him.

"Doctor, my name is Kondemiel Kanukov. I came here after receiving your call this morning. I wonder what makes you so nervous?"

Conjemir looked at the other party in confusion, staring at the Red Banner of Labor medal on the chest of the white robe.

"Besides, my grandfather has passed away many years ago, and I have never received a notice. Maybe you can consider taking care of it on your own..."

But Dr. Rodtsov didn't listen.

This doctor, who is about to enter middle age, has a face as sharp as marble cutting, and his eyes are shining with sparks of will and quality. With just one glance, Conjemir can tell that this doctor has never been like other people in the city.

, eroded by alcohol and tobacco.

A black box was moved out from under the table. The numerous seal marks were obvious, and the box was covered with wear and scratches.

"Maybe I can answer your doubts. Due to his special status, all the relics of the old man after his death had to be reviewed by the Internal Affairs Committee. Later, the security function was taken over by the Security Committee, and the two sides had, um, some disputes over the transfer...

"

Some of what the doctor said slowly was enough to make Conjemir shudder.

The rm committee of the internal affairs is generally called the internal affairs department, and the safety committee is also called the kgb. I believe that no one here wants to have anything to do with these two departments.

"Doctor Rodtsov, I think it's better for you to keep the contents here..."

Kandelmir is still trying to convince the other party to accept his point of view. After all, he is just an ordinary college student at Leningrad State University. While majoring in economics, he is trying to study history and occasionally studies the history of some Far Eastern countries.

The black box was placed on the table, and Dr. Rodtsov also sat back and said in a calm tone: "Don't think too much, the contents inside have been thoroughly reviewed - now it is more

The minds and eyes of most people on this street are much safer."

As the box opened, sheets of yellowed manuscript paper were revealed. The ink color on them did not fade over time, but was so shiny that it was eye-catching.

"In the final analysis, these are just the wild thoughts of some old people in their twilight years, and the recorded things have no meaning. If I could have arrived at this sanatorium a few years earlier, I would have definitely suggested that Mr. Cardi undergo a mental evaluation to avoid his long

Hallucinations and delusions that may occur during the convalescing life.”

Kangjiemir took a piece of manuscript paper doubtfully and examined the familiar and unfamiliar handwriting on it. In the last few years of his grandfather's life, the only contact he had with his family was through letters.

This piece of paper contains a story with no beginning or end written in slightly scrawled handwriting. It seems to describe a fierce battle. The white bandits surrounded the troops from all directions, while the heroic political commissar led his men to ambush in the Gobi, waiting with bated breath.

With the scarlet moonlight shining on the desert, that will be the moment when the counterattack comes.

Dr. Rodtsov said from a professional perspective: "I guess Mr. Cardi wanted to write an autobiography, but the severe mental hallucinations have affected his memory, so that there are many records in it that deviate from reality."

This chapter is not over yet, please click on the next page to continue reading! Kangjimier picked up another piece of manuscript paper, which was blacked out for a long time, and some scrawled messages were added in small characters.

What is very strange is that sometimes the text above is not in Russian, but in a language that seems to be Tibetan.

"You may not know that your grandfather was once a political commissar of the secret operations department. Although these operational information has passed the confidentiality period, it will be censored and sealed for various reasons. Therefore, even if these manuscripts are just nonsense, they are not

It may be published as a memoir and can only be left to the family as an emotional sustenance."

Dr. Rodtsov seemed to be trying to persuade the young man in front of him to take away these materials, so he continued, "The old man once said before his death that he hoped to give these story manuscripts to his family, and the director of the sanatorium always remembered him.

will."

Seeing the wind and snow outside the window getting more and more violent, it was definitely not a good choice to leave at this time.

Kangjimeier fell silent, staring at the manuscript in front of him carefully and lost in thought. There was a brief silence in the doctor's office.

"Doctor, what is this collection number 3394?"

Kangjimeier read the manuscript carefully and suddenly pointed to the place where the signature was written and said.

Dr. Rodtsov took the manuscript, glanced sideways at the quiet phone next to him, and whispered: "What your grandfather was talking about should be the skull specimen of the 'Black Monk', which is now secretly preserved in a Peter the Great palace in Leningrad."

In the building. Your grandfather made many requests to inspect the collection before his death, but the Ministry of Internal Affairs rejected all his requests."

Kangjimeier continued to read along this manuscript. He had read records in Eastern literature. In 1912, at the junction of Mongolia and Russia, a bandit known as the "Black Monk" suddenly appeared. He led hundreds of herdsmen without invitation.

Since then, he has occupied the mountains in the Black Gobi and became the king.

In August 1912, the Black Monk survived after launching the famous siege of Khovd City. It is said that after the fierce fighting, the Black Monk took out a handful of deformed warheads from his clothes, and there were also a total of 10 warheads on his coat.

There were 28 bullet holes, but he was unscathed.

The strange thing is that in 1924, this famous figure suddenly disappeared. No one can tell his whereabouts. His large number of people and the huge wealth he accumulated also disappeared.

According to Grandpa Cardi's records, the disappearance of this mysterious "black monk" was directly related to him.

The manuscript states that in 1924, the mongo military police and the Soviet Union formed an expeditionary force, in which the Soviet war hero Kaldi Kanukov served as the instructor of the special operations team, and agent Nanzdebar served as the main executor.

Interior Minister Baldandorji personally led 100 elite soldiers to carry out the cross-border assassination mission.

Along the way, the operating troops encountered an unprecedented black storm, and the livestock they carried became manic and irritable to varying degrees. Ominous phantoms were often seen wandering around, as if the black Gobi land was resisting these outsiders.

.

All kinds of difficulties and obstacles on the road caused panic in the operating troops. Baldandorji, Minister of Interior of Mongolia, told them the stories spread here more than once.

The locals respectfully refer to elders and eminent monks as "monks". In fact, the "black monk" Tenbi Gyaltsen has never studied Tantric Buddhism at all, and he is not an elder or eminent monk.

In the spring of 1912, Burdukov, a businessman from Bayit Banner, confirmed that the black monk had told him that he did not have any occult skills. What he relied on was that he had been to many places, especially in the Yamen of Yonghe Temple.

Worked for one of the six great monks.

This statement has been confirmed in many aspects. Therefore, even though Denbi Gyaltsen was honored as Hutuktu by the local leader Jeb Zumba, the people still called him the "black monk", and the black monk was a fake monk.

mean.

It is known that he often kills everyone except the mongo people, and even hunts down Soviet soldiers stranded in the Gobi - it is often said that this is the source of his magic power.

At this point, Kaldi's records suddenly became extremely rich and detailed.

In view of the sleepiness and nervousness of the personnel and the attacks by bandits along the way, they decided to abandon their previous attack plan and disguise themselves as specially sent envoys, while a large force lurked outside the fortress on standby.

Agent Nanzdebal and two agents disguised as monks arrived at Bunker Mountain first. They told the sentry that they came from the Deribu monks in Cullen and wanted to meet with the Danbi monks. They also said that the Cullen government needed his cooperation and asked him to serve.

Minister Plenipotentiary.

In this way, they successfully entered the fortress, and the black monk came out to meet them, but the bodyguards stayed around all day long. It was obvious that the black monk did not believe these people, and while dealing with the black monk, another bold plan began to be implemented.

Nanzdebal did not get up for two days in a row and seemed to be dying. He asked for Hutuktu's blessing before he died. After receiving the request from Kulun's guest, the battle-experienced black monk actually relaxed his guard and came alone.

In the guest room, he leaned over and touched the top of the dying "patient". At this moment, Nanzdebal took the opportunity to attack the black monk, then held the black monk's head and shouted to the black monk's subordinates that he was dead.

As the siege outside the castle began, the Black Monk's men finally chose to surrender. In order to prevent the Black Monk from reincarnating, they took Tenbi Gyaltsen's head back to the Soviet Union and kept it in an anthropology museum with the number 3394.

……………

"Before your grandfather passed away, he kept telling this story to the medical staff over and over again."

Dr. Rodtsov seemed to have judged something from his expression, and suddenly said, "But as he went on, he added many horrifying details to his description. For example, Agent Nanzdebar's visit to Stalingrad in 1938

I once told him that when my knife penetrated the opponent's abdomen, many wriggling tentacles flowed out along with the blood, and the black monk's face became hideous and terrifying, with a lot of black water flowing from his mouth."

This chapter is not finished yet, please click the next page to continue reading the exciting content! "Agent Nanzdebar was afraid that he would attract the guards, so he immediately cut his trachea and continued to stab the tentacles trying to wrap around him with a knife. He heard

The noise like a bellows in the black monk's chest lasted for a long time. Someone outside the door killed the agent guarding the door and broke in, but they all fell to their knees."

Kangjimeier listened to this story with dumbfounded eyes, and sure enough, he found traces of additions to these stories from the scrawled writing on the manuscript paper that had been scrawled and deleted.

These handwritings seem to be a helpless mess, with words here and there. If you don't know the outline of the story in advance, you will never be able to piece together effective information from it.
To be continued...