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墨書 Inktalez
In this sinister place, the likelihood of Cao Cao appearing was greater than a sow climbing a tree. I instinctively reached for the staff at my waist, my palm slick with cold sweat, feeling the warm breath of that person on my neck.
I had to catch him off guard!
Now was the time—I suddenly drew my staff and swung it backward. However, that person moved with astonishing speed, as if he had anticipated my ambush. He pressed my staff and my arm against my back with a sharp twist, almost breaking my arm in the process.
I bit down on my tongue to suppress a cry, but my heart sank. Cold sweat trickled down my forehead as I quickly glanced at my companions, who were engrossed in their research on the wall not far away. Hadn’t anyone noticed I was missing?
Damn it, forget it. It’s better to rely on myself than to rely on others; I’d just report myself missing!
I regretted not crying out in pain earlier, but just as I was about to call for help, that person covered my mouth first and whispered in my ear, “It’s me, don’t make a sound.”
I froze for a moment and stopped struggling. He then released me, and I regained my freedom, grimacing as I rubbed my nearly dislocated shoulder. Turning around, I looked at Cold Bench in confusion, unsure of what he was up to.
Cold Bench briefly explained his motives: “Your memory is intact; I share the same memories.” He must have overheard my conversation with my junior brother.
I felt a surge of relief; finally, someone was on the same side as me. “Right? It’s not me who has a problem; it’s them…” Were they collectively unwell?
Cold Bench shook his head. “The specific reason is still unclear, but I suspect it might be related to this.” He pointed to the Aroma Pouch hanging from his chest.
I recognized it immediately. “Moon Meteorite?”
A strange glimmer passed through Cold Bench's eyes. “Mine is Xue Du. There may be some kind of toxic gas in this air that causes mental confusion.”
I was astonished. “So they’re all poisoned?” I looked around in disbelief, unable to comprehend that everyone here could be afflicted without even realizing it.
Cold Bench gestured for me to lower my voice. "Don't worry, it shouldn't be fatal; it just causes confusion in one's spirit and memory."
At this point, I completely understood. I had initially wanted to ask when this situation began, but I felt that question was meaningless now. It was already like this; knowing when it started wouldn't change anything. The key was how to end it. "Is there any way to detoxify?"
"We must first find the source of the poison before we can treat it," Cold Bench replied. However, judging by his expression, it seemed the source had not yet been located.
After a moment's thought, I asked, "Are there any clues?"
Cold Bench fell silent for a moment, then shook his head, his gaze fixed on the crowd ahead. Suddenly, his expression turned sharp.
"What’s wrong?" I wondered, following his gaze. I noticed that everyone was now gathered in front of the blue stone wall on the left side of the passageway, intently staring at something above. It seemed that my junior brother mentioned there was something ahead—most likely a mural or some early form of writing—because the leaders, Old Qiao and Third Granduncle Master, were slowly moving forward, their eyes glued to the wall, clearly reading without much difficulty.
At that moment, Cold Bench suddenly said, "There are two more."
"Huh?" Initially, I didn’t understand what he meant. I followed his gaze and looked again carefully, counting as I went: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight—exactly eight people, not one more or less… Then it hit me—eight?! Including myself and Cold Bench made ten! A cold sweat broke out on my back.
I suddenly had a premonition that those chaotic illusions were definitely related to these two new individuals; perhaps that damned Illusionist was among them! Feeling anxious, I immediately wanted to expose them; after all, we had the numbers and didn’t need to fear them.
But Cold Bench suddenly stopped me. "Hold on; take a closer look at who those last two people are."
Fearing to alert the snake by disturbing the grass, he had turned off his flashlight as soon as he noticed the extra two people. Now we could only rely on the dim light reflecting off the wall onto their faces to identify them, which was quite difficult. I wanted to move closer for a better look; after all, we had eight people while they only had two—if a conflict arose, they wouldn’t have the advantage. But Cold Bench clearly didn’t want me to approach. His advice was worth listening to; I had learned that lesson well.
I squinted hard; fortunately, I wasn’t nearsighted. However, the light was too dim and the crowd had moved forward three or four meters, making it even harder to see. But once my eyes adjusted to the low light and I focused carefully, I could still make out some useful information.
For instance, both of these individuals were tall—about as tall as Cold Bench and me—with short hair that suggested they were men (though if a woman stood at one hundred eighty-two centimeters with short hair, I wouldn’t mind). They had lean builds but appeared muscular based on their shoulder and waist contours; they wore dark clothing and one of them carried a large backpack—clearly well-prepared.
Just then, it seemed these two noticed something interesting or puzzling; they tilted their heads slightly to converse with each other. Their profiles became visible for a moment—yes, they definitely fit the type women liked.
I relayed this information to Cold Bench, who turned to me with an expression that was almost one of disbelief. It suddenly dawned on me that I had guessed wrong; what Cold Bench wanted me to observe was likely not just this, but I felt no shame inside. Perhaps I had grown accustomed to his disdain, and without realizing it, I had become thick-skinned.
Cold Bench pointed out, "Look at the chest of the last person, and the right hand of the person in front of him."
I stared intently at the places he emphasized. On the chest of the second-to-last person, I noticed an Aroma Pouch, and on the right hand of the last person, there was a bandage.
A thunderous realization struck me: "They... are us?"
Cold Bench silently nodded.
Now, I was even more certain: "Who exactly are you? Why are you impersonating Zhao Qian?"
Cold Bench seemed momentarily taken aback. "What do you mean?"
I raised my right hand and fixed my gaze on his eyes. "If A Chen was injured, then how do you explain this?"
Clearly, if my memory served me correctly, it was A Chen who had been injured on his right hand by a mermaid. This left no explanation for the injury on my hand, while this Cold Bench in front of me affirmed my "memory," creating a complete contradiction.
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