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墨書 Inktalez
Before us stood an ancient courtyard, surrounded by high walls that obscured the view within. In the center of the wall was a wooden door, about one and a half times a person's height. The old paint had completely peeled away, revealing its age, while the bricks of the wall were pitted and appeared fragile. Above the wooden door hung a signboard, half-dangling as if it could fall at any moment.
The two wooden doors were tightly shut, resembling a coffin lid resting on a coffin. An air of desolation permeated the courtyard, mingled with an unmistakable scent of decay—a testament to the passage of time.
"Hills" neatly folded the map and said, "Let's go in!" With that, he stepped forward, and I followed closely behind him.
Between the two doors was a latch secured with a bronze lock, which had corroded over time. When "Hills" touched it, the lock fell away with a clatter.
As the door creaked open with a mournful sound reminiscent of an old man’s last gasps, dust cascaded down from it. "Hills" covered his mouth with his hand and coughed a few times.
I pushed against the heavy wooden doors with all my strength. The eerie creaking echoed in the dimness, sending chills down my spine.
Strangely enough, despite the years that had passed, these doors remained sturdy and weighty. It took considerable effort to open them just wide enough for one person to slip through.
As I stepped inside, "Hills" followed closely behind me with a flashlight in hand.
The moment my foot crossed the threshold, I was met with the sight of a tombstone. Startled, I shivered as beams of light filtered through the crack in the door. With my back to the light, my shadow was cast upon the tombstone, creating an eerie silhouette that exuded an unsettling aura.
"What’s wrong?" came "Hills'" voice from behind me.
I took a deep breath to steady myself. "A tombstone," I replied without lingering any longer and moved deeper into the courtyard. "Hills" quickly caught up with me.
A courtyard unfolded before our eyes, where a prominent path paved with bluestone led straight ahead. At its end stood another tombstone, about half a person’s height and black in color, just a few meters away from us.
I stood side by side with Hills, the beam of light casting long shadows of the tombstone onto the house behind us, creating a huge and eerie silhouette.
The entire courtyard had fallen into a state of decay, with a tree large enough for a person to embrace, stripped of all its branches and seemingly dead. In such an environment devoid of light and water, it was indeed strange that any plant could survive.
The two sides of the courtyard were occupied by wooden structures, all appearing as weathered as the wooden door outside.
My gaze shifted past the tombstone to the Main Hall. According to Black Glasses, the Main Hall was filled with Spirit Tablets, while the rooms contained Tombs. I might not have believed it before, but seeing a tombstone buried in the middle of the courtyard made me a believer.
Hills was intently observing everything before us, his eyes gleaming with intensity.
I suppressed my rising fear and approached the tombstone, hoping to find some clues. However, when I crouched down to examine it, I felt a chill run through me; it was a blank tombstone, resembling a white slate.
What was more alarming was that behind the tombstone lay a pit—just large enough for a person to lie in. A shiver ran down my spine. Damn, what was going on? No one would erect a stone in the middle of a path and dig a pit without burying someone. What did it mean?
Hills stood behind me, and as light streamed in, an even more astonishing sight emerged: within the pit lay a decayed skeleton wrapped in clothing, while the rest of the bones had crumbled away, leaving only the skull relatively intact.
My scalp tingled. They had dug a pit, erected a stone, buried someone—but they hadn’t filled in the pit? In our culture, we believe in resting in peace; if burial is impossible, ashes are scattered across mountains and rivers. It’s absolutely unheard of to leave someone unburied like this.
What was even more unsettling was that there seemed to be no coffin at all—how bizarre.
Encountering something like this right at the entrance felt ominous. The tension in my mind tightened as my palms grew cold.
Hills’ previously flushed face had turned pale.
I stood up and scanned my surroundings before finally pulling my gaze back and steadying my nerves.
I glanced at Hills, who remained silent. However, judging by her expression, it was clear that the environment and situation here had also caught her off guard.
"Let's go," Hills said.
We carefully navigated around the tombstones, heading toward the Main Hall.
The entrance to the estate was about one hundred meters away from the Main Hall, and it took us ten minutes to reach its front.
The Main Hall was slightly ajar, with two intricately carved wooden doors. I gently pushed, and the door opened. Inside was empty, but as my gaze traveled further, a dazzling array of Spirit Tablets captured my attention.
Indeed, Black Glasses was right.
Six old wooden pillars with peeling paint supported the Main Hall. In front of the Spirit Tablets lay a yellow mat, likely prepared for descendants to worship their ancestors.
Above the Spirit Platform hung a plaque inscribed with four large characters. My heart skipped a beat; it was Ghostly Script again. Translated, it meant "to bring glory to one's ancestors." It was clear that this was not just a Main Hall but a spirit hall.
Hills and I exchanged glances and moved forward.
However, as we approached to read the inscriptions on the Spirit Tablets, we were disappointed to find them blank. Unlike the previous tombstones, these appeared to have naturally eroded over time; some Spirit Tablets were so decayed that they were barely recognizable. I thought that if a gust of wind came through, these tablets would turn to dust. Just then, I felt a chill run down my spine as Hills' bangs fluttered slightly.
We looked at each other, our expressions uneasy. The wind was blowing from behind us. I turned around but saw nothing; still, I believed that nothing happens without reason.
"Be careful," I warned Hills, who nodded in agreement.
Just as I thought I could calm down, another cold breeze swept through. The Spirit Tablets on the Spirit Platform rattled loudly; some were snapped in half while others fell to the ground. Suddenly, I recalled a story my grandfather told me: he said that if an unexpected chill blows through, it often means one has encountered something sinister or has been possessed by an evil entity. With that thought in mind, my unease deepened.
Hills bent down to pick up the Spirit Tablet that had fallen on the ground and placed it back on the Spirit Platform. She adjusted the tilted Spirit Tablet and surprisingly knelt on the yellow cushion, bowing her head repeatedly.
I stared blankly at her actions but did not stop her. When she bowed for the third time, a White Ribbon suddenly appeared in front of her.
My mind had short-circuited, and I failed to catch how the White Ribbon had materialized; it simply hung from the beam of the Main Hall, dangling straight down.
At that moment, Hills had her back to me. After completing her third bow, her body visibly stiffened. She then grabbed the White Ribbon and tugged at it forcefully, tying it into a knot.
Sensing something was wrong, I grabbed Hills' hand, trying to pull her away.
Hills turned around and looked at me with wide eyes. "What are you doing?"
"What are you doing?" I countered.
Hills' expression suddenly wilted, but then she regained some clarity. Shaking her head, she realized she was holding onto a White Ribbon and quickly let go.
"What happened to me?" Hills asked, confusion etched on her face.
I recounted what had transpired. Hills rubbed her head and spoke with a tone of apprehension, "I didn't feel anything at all."
"It seems you've been possessed."
Hills did not respond to that. She stood up and said, "I really don't know why I did those things."
I picked up the flashlight from the ground and handed it to her. As I turned my gaze back to where the White Ribbon had been, I found it had vanished again. I rubbed my eyes and quickly shifted my focus to the beam above; there was no sign of the White Ribbon. How strange—had I imagined it? I felt a bit disoriented.
"What’s wrong?" Hills asked.
"Nothing," I replied almost instinctively. I had a feeling that something bad was about to happen.
Once we find what we need, let’s leave this place as soon as possible!
Hills nodded.
"Let’s go outside," I said. Staying in this hall of spirits made me uneasy.
"Wait a moment," Hills said, suddenly moving closer to the Spirit Platform again.
"You just said that a White Ribbon appeared when I was bowing, right?"
I nodded in a daze.
In my astonished gaze, Hills knelt down again. "Unless I'm really going to die, you must not stop me from doing whatever I do next."
"Why?" I blurted out.
"Just do as I say."
"Alright," I replied.
After receiving my affirmative response, Hills handed me the flashlight. Then he turned around, facing the Spirit Platform directly.
I was feeling very nervous at that moment, unable to relax even slightly. The flashlight was gripped tightly in my hand, and I had changed my grip several times, but it still felt uncomfortable.
My gaze was fixed on Hills' silhouette. She stood tall and graceful, her long black hair nearly reaching her waist.
With her hands clasped together, she closed her eyes and knelt down.
Thick dust swirled in the beam of light illuminating the yellow cushion beneath her.
"Be careful," I couldn't help but remind her again.
Hills turned back with a gentle smile and said, "You need to understand, I am your enemy now. Even if you don't save me later, it's fine."
Her words left me momentarily speechless, a strange pang of sadness stirring within me.
Without waiting for my response, Hills turned away again, her hands still clasped as she slowly knelt down.
"I'm about to begin," her voice came through clearly.
"Okay," I tightened my grip on the flashlight while my other hand held the dagger. If anything went wrong, I would immediately cut the White Ribbon, I thought to myself.
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