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墨書 Inktalez
As everyone discussed, the current situation was unclear. Firstly, we had no idea what awaited us ahead; entering the tomb felt like a novice monk participating in a wedding ceremony—completely unprepared. Secondly, we were uncertain about the true power of the Moon Meteorite. For instance, it made me feel depressed and irritable, while A Chen became mute. Whether its effects varied from person to person or depended on time and place was unknown to anyone. Therefore, it was essential to entrust the Moon Meteorite to someone with a very strong will, minimizing its impact on us.
The consensus was that Cold Bench would keep it for a while, but he had to wear the meteorite—also known as the Aroma Pouch—in a visible place. If any abnormalities were detected, we could take timely action. The next in line for this responsibility was tentatively decided to be Third Granduncle Master, while a third successor had yet to be chosen. We all hoped that during their tenure, we would find the main tomb.
The first Copper Door was adorned with a Qin Totem, followed by a Quicksand Pit, clearly designed to deter tomb raiders or unwelcome guests like us. The second Copper Door depicted a Jiao Long emerging from the sea, leading into an enormous burial chamber. In the center stood a White Jade Arch Bridge, surrounded by twenty-two kneeling figures resembling young boys and girls known as Deng Nu. What purpose did this serve? Where was the exit of the burial chamber?
I asked Old Qiao, "Does this layout conform to the tomb structures of the Qin Han period?"
Old Qiao shook his head. "I've never heard of or seen anything like this. Ancient people typically built tombs following the principle of 'treating the dead as if they were alive,' implying that they lived in the afterlife as they did in life, achieving eternal existence. Therefore, the structure of a tomb would mimic the deceased's living environment. Take the renowned Mausoleum of the First Emperor's underground palace as an example: 'Above is culture; below is geography,' with Mercury representing rivers and seas, adorned with gold, silver, and jewels depicting birds and trees—a complete reflection of the human world." After a pause, he continued, "However, there’s another possibility: we might still be circling around Li You's Tomb's anti-theft perimeter without touching its core structure. Simply put, we haven't even breached their security door yet; thus, we cannot know what lies within."
We were all novices in this area and didn't fully grasp Old Qiao's meaning. Even if we understood his words literally, we failed to comprehend their deeper implications. A Li then asked, "Is this situation... common?"
"No, it's quite rare," Old Qiao said seriously for once. "Typically, after breaking into a tomb, one would reach either the main burial chamber or side chambers; if they dug horizontally again, they would hit nearby passageways. It's unusual for us to advance through multiple doors from the outermost edge like this—it wastes time and energy and risks triggering traps set by the tomb owner. The odd thing is that Fen Jin Pen pinpointed this location accurately; there’s no mistake about that. Additionally, previous thieves' tunnels support our route's correctness. Yet according to common sense and experience, it doesn't add up... This is truly perplexing!"
"I get it!" my junior nodded as he listened. "Could it be that Li You wasn't normal and preferred unconventional paths to catch future generations off guard?"
"Let's hope so," Old Qiao replied without humor.
A Li summarized, "So now we're back where we started—the purpose of this burial chamber remains unresolved. Until we figure that out, it will be difficult for us to leave here."
Everyone fell into deep thought.
I considered that if Old Qiao was correct and we hadn't yet reached Li You's Tomb's core location but were still lingering at its edges, what significance did these peripheral burial chambers hold?
There had been mentions of accompanying burial chambers filled with items that the deceased cherished during their lifetime—gold and silver treasures, famous calligraphy and paintings, warhorses and silk fabrics, or perhaps their most beloved wives and children.
Could it be that what Li You cherished most in life was... the White Jade Stone Bridge?
If it were any other time, I would have laughed at my own thoughts, but now, I didn’t feel like it was a joke at all; anything was possible.
For some reason, my head felt heavier and heavier, my throat kept tightening as if I was about to vomit, and my back was drenched in cold sweat. This was not the time to be coming down with a cold! I reminded myself to pull it together.
In the past, when faced with such a dead-end situation, we would brainstorm together, throwing out every idea and possibility without holding back. No matter how ridiculous or absurd they were, the more ideas the better. Then we would verify and eliminate them one by one, and whatever remained, no matter how unlikely, would be the truth.
I shared these thoughts with everyone. To my surprise, my junior and Liuzi both voiced their agreement in unison. It felt surreal.
“Let’s do it,” Third Granduncle Master called out to A Chen to grab some paper and a pen to jot down everyone’s ideas—
First, there was my idea: my burial chamber, labeled with the number “1” and simply titled “Burial Chamber,” without a name. The format would remain consistent for the others.
Second was Liuzi’s idea: a place for some kind of sacrificial ceremony.
Third was my junior’s suggestion: a meaningless place just for show!
Fourth was Old Qiao’s idea: a bridge connecting to the main tomb chamber, similar to a passageway.
Fifth was Third Granduncle Master ’s idea: a security room.
Sixth was A Li’s suggestion: a place specifically for raising mermaids.
A Chen opted out of taking notes, leaving only Cold Bench. Everyone's gaze turned toward him in unison, but he didn’t even turn his head. He remained hunched over at the bridge's edge, clearly unwilling to participate in our discussion. No one had the audacity to insist he join us, so we considered his silence as opting out.
Next came the verification and elimination process. We agreed that each idea's proposer would state their reasoning and evidence while others could refute them but needed to provide evidence as well.
However, it soon became clear why Cold Bench dismissed our discussion—our conversation had hit a dead end. Each person's ideas were heavily subjective, and the “evidence” supporting those ideas was merely an objective product of subjective assumptions. No one could present truly objective proof that was as solid as iron.
After a heated exchange of words, my head felt even more dizzy. The voices of everyone arguing echoed in my ears, buzzing incessantly. To make matters worse, my nose was nearly blocked, making it difficult to breathe freely. It felt as if something was stuffed inside, and I could only gasp for air through my mouth to avoid suffocating.
At that moment, my junior suddenly tugged at his collar, panting heavily as he said, "Do you guys feel like it's hard to breathe?"
I was taken aback and pinched my nose, thinking I was the only one feeling unwell. But when I glanced around, I noticed that everyone was breathing heavily to varying degrees. Even Old Qiao had started to sweat on his forehead.
What was going on? A collective cold?
A Li speculated, "Could it be that we got too emotional just now and our brains are lacking oxygen?"
Liuzi immediately chimed in, "Yeah, that's possible! When I used to recite loudly, I would feel like my brain was starved of oxygen!"
My junior laughed and said, "That's not a lack of oxygen; that's a lack of brains!"
"You—" Liuzi was about to retort when Third Granduncle Master surveyed the room and said just as he was about to look away, "It's true that our brains are lacking oxygen, but it's not just because of the emotional excitement."
We followed his gaze and gasped in shock. Out of the twenty-two lanterns that had been lit, only eight remained glowing.
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