As they entered the windmill, they were met with a sight that made their blood run cold. Rohan was hanging from the ceiling, his body battered and bruised. The King was standing next to him, a smirk on his face

The sun had just set over the rolling hills of Shimoga district in Karnataka, casting a golden glow over the lush green forests and the winding roads that snaked through them. But amidst the peaceful surroundings, a sense of unease settled over the small town of Sagara, nestled on the banks of the Varada River.

It started with a missing person's report. 25-year-old Rohan, a young and ambitious journalist, had gone out to investigate a tip about a possible sandalwood smuggling ring operating in the area. He had promised his editor that he would be back with a scoop, but as the hours ticked by, there was no sign of Rohan. His family grew worried and filed a missing person's report with the local police. The police launched a search operation, scouring the forests and questioning locals, but there was no sign of Rohan.

As the days passed, the police began to suspect that Rohan's disappearance was more than just a simple case of a missing person. They discovered that Rohan had been investigating a powerful sandalwood smuggler, known only as "The King," who was rumored to have connections with the local police and politicians.

The police were stumped, and the case seemed to be going cold. But then, a breakthrough came in the form of an anonymous tip. The tipster claimed to have seen Rohan's car abandoned on a remote road, deep in the forest.

The police rushed to the scene and found Rohan's car, but there was no sign of him. However, they did find a cryptic message scrawled on the dashboard: "The King will strike again." The police were baffled, but they knew they had to act fast. They launched a massive manhunt, scouring the forests and searching for any leads. But as the hours ticked by, the police began to realize that they were in over their heads.

The King was a ghost, a shadowy figure who seemed to always be one step ahead of the law. The police had heard rumors of his brutal tactics, of how he would stop at nothing to protect his empire. As the sun began to set on another day, the police received a chilling message: "Meet me at the old windmill on the outskirts of town at midnight. Come alone."

The message was unsigned, but the police knew that it was from The King. They were being summoned to a showdown, and they knew that they had to be prepared. The police chief, a grizzled veteran of the force, decided to take a small team of trusted officers to the meeting. They arrived at the windmill just before midnight, their guns drawn and their hearts pounding.

As they entered the windmill, they were met with a sight that made their blood run cold. Rohan was hanging from the ceiling, his body battered and bruised. The King was standing next to him, a smirk on his face. "You should have stayed out of this," The King sneered, as the police closed in.

But just as they thought they had The King cornered, he pulled out a gun and fired. The police returned fire, and in the chaos that followed, The King escaped. The police were left to pick up the pieces, to wonder how they had let The King slip through their fingers once again. But they vowed to keep fighting, to bring The King to justice and to make sure that Rohan's sacrifice was not in vain.

As the sun rose over the hills of Shimoga, the police knew that they had a long and difficult road ahead of them. But they were determined to follow it, to track down The King and to bring him to justice. The game was far from over, and the police were ready to play.