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墨書 Inktalez
We waited silently in place, motionless, as darkness mingled with the light, creating a tranquil atmosphere.
About a quarter of an hour later, the Mud Man and his companions returned.
"What happened?" I asked.
"She got away," he replied.
"Never mind," I sighed lightly.
The Mud Man took a few steps toward the corpse and squatted down.
I leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "She's completely dead."
After hearing this, the Mud Man slowly stood up, still holding the Black Donkey Hoof that Fat Ma had thrown to him. Everything that had happened earlier had unfolded so quickly; no one could have anticipated that Song Ran would actually pull a gun. In hindsight, I had been too careless to allow someone so unfamiliar to join our group.
I couldn't shake off the question that lingered in my mind: what secret did he want to reveal, and how was it related to my father?
We continued deeper into the area, but the group of Bats had vanished without a trace.
A heaviness settled in my heart, and I felt a tightness in my chest. Suddenly, I felt a warmth in my throat and coughed up a mouthful of blood.
"What's wrong with you?" Zhang Tong asked as he handed me a towel. I took it and wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth.
Fat Ma and the Mud Man also expressed their concern for my condition.
I explained that it was just an old ailment acting up again.
Zhang Tong said he was worried about me getting into trouble, which was why he insisted on staying close. With no other option, I reluctantly agreed.
As I moved forward, memories of the past flooded my mind. It seemed like ages since I last coughed up blood. The worst incident had been when I was hospitalized in Beijing, and the cause of my illness remained undetermined. The most recent episode had occurred shortly after I arrived in Tibet.
Now, my old ailment had suddenly flared up again, leaving me feeling somewhat weak. I truly had no idea what illness plagued me.
I suddenly recalled a night in the hospital in Beijing when a mysterious person had fed me some medicine that proved to be quite effective. After taking it, I hadn’t experienced any relapses for a long time. It seemed that the effects of that medicine had worn off. I let out a faint sigh.
My thoughts drifted to my father and the letter he left behind, accompanied by a newspaper regarding the Bronze Fish. Coupled with the secrets about my father revealed by the corpse today, I became increasingly convinced that my father might have also entered this Ghostly Heavenly Palace.
I had a premonition that I might soon see him again.
As I continued on my path, my pace slowed down, and the guide was replaced by a clay figure.
"Why is your face so pale? Are you alright?" Zhang Tong asked, shining a light on me.
"I'm fine, don't worry."
At that moment, I felt a fire igniting in my chest. Though it wasn't intense, it persisted without extinguishing, roasting me from within. My breathing became slightly labored as I coughed violently a few times to ease myself. Afterward, I took a sip of cold water, which made me feel somewhat better.
Before long, the clay figure led us to the staircase leading to the third floor.
Part of this building was obscured by the top of the Training Ground, making it impossible to see that section from below.
Once we reached the third floor, I speculated that going up another level would likely lead us to the hidden part.
The light illuminated the space on the third floor, revealing it to be roughly the same size as the second floor. The only difference was that this area was furnished with some tables and chairs, and a tattered flag lay on the ground.
Upon seeing items in this place, Fat Ma instantly bolted forward like a wild horse. Meanwhile, I searched for any signs indicating whether anyone had come here before us, while the clay figure surveyed the environment as well.
Zhang Tong remained steadfastly by my side.
Suddenly, Fat Ma let out a ghostly wail and then chuckled, saying, "Old Sun, you guys come over here quickly."
Upon hearing Fat Ma's call, we all hurried to his location.
The darkness was dispelled, illuminating the area around Fat Ma.
When we arrived, we saw a coffin in front of us—a wooden coffin that appeared somewhat decayed on the surface. It was no surprise that Fat Ma was so excited; what thrilled him were the colorful gems embedded around the coffin. They densely surrounded the gaps between the Coffin Lid and the Coffin, looking more like seals for the coffin.
This was the first coffin we encountered since entering.
Previously, we had only come across Zongzi. "Speaking of which, it really pisses me off. Zongzi left us to clean up while they took all the good stuff," Fat Ma said indignantly.
"This coffin might not be harmless," I remarked.
"Why do you say that?"
"Think about it—Song Ran managed to get in here..." Before I could finish my sentence, they understood.
"Oh! I get it! Old Sun, you mean someone has been here before but didn’t open this coffin," Fat Ma exclaimed, using three "ohs" to express his cleverness.
I nodded.
"It doesn’t make sense. They couldn’t possibly leave something this valuable behind! Even the wandering Fat Master has never seen anything like this; it must be a rare treasure!" As he spoke, Fat Ma couldn't help but reach out to touch those gems.
Under the flashlight's beam, the gems sparkled brightly. Even Zhang Tong's gaze became eager.
"Later, let’s grab a few for Sister-in-law!" Fat Ma said with a grin.
For some reason, upon hearing this, a faint blush appeared on Zhang Tong's face.
“ Fat Ma, let’s get serious and stop the nonsense.”
Fat Ma wiped the smile off his face and looked at me with a serious expression.
At that moment, the clay figure showed no signs of anything unusual.
“Let’s open the coffin!” After a while, the clay figure suddenly said.
“Good idea!” Fat Ma immediately echoed without hesitation.
With that, I had no objections, and Zhang Tong remained silent. It seemed pointless to discuss archaeological principles at this point.
Since I had entered the field, I had only worn white gloves twice: once when I encountered Old Mountain Master and once while following Zhang Tong. The rest of the time, I had worked bare-handed, and this time was no exception.
“Same old rules!” the clay figure stated.
Fat Ma showed no ambiguity. He pulled out four candles from his military-style bag from the seventies or eighties, placing them at the four corners of the coffin. Although we didn’t perform the elaborate three bows and nine kowtows, we still made basic preparations.
Zhang Tong looked at us curiously as we went through these motions. To her, it seemed strange, much like how we had viewed Northern Faction. We were all engaged in the same activity of “digging graves,” yet there were distinctions among us, which was indeed puzzling.
After Fat Ma extinguished his lighter, he felt a weight settle in his stomach and murmured, “Alright, all four candles are lit without any mishaps.”
I watched as the four candles around the coffin gradually illuminated, feeling a sense of calm wash over me.
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