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墨書 Inktalez
My mind was suddenly overwhelmed, as if attacked by a raging flood, tangled and chaotic. I gazed at the Iron Suspension Bridge, which spanned the steep and sheer cliff, and something slowly resurfaced in my thoughts. I was certain this was not a dream.
Zhang Tong's slightly distorted expression and the cold sweat beading on her forehead made her face pale in an instant. She couldn't help but ask with concern, "Sun Liangtu, are you okay?"
I felt hollow, unable to hear any sounds from outside. Zhang Tong handed me her water bottle, urging me to drink some to calm down. However, my emotions surged uncontrollably. In a sudden burst of frustration, I forcefully swiped the bottle away; it fell like shattered stones into the abyss below, landing with an eerie silence.
Zhang Tong stumbled back, one foot dangling precariously over the edge. Suddenly, I felt as if I had been jolted awake and quickly grabbed Zhang Tong, pulling her back up with all my strength. A cold sweat broke out on my body as I anxiously asked, "Are you alright?"
Zhang Tong patted her chest with her hand and shook her head, but I could see her breathing heavily.
"I'm sorry," I murmured.
"I'm fine, don't worry!" she reassured me.
I still felt a lingering sense of guilt.
Eventually, Zhang Tong and I headed toward the Iron Suspension Bridge together. We moved cautiously forward; I let Zhang Tong hold onto my shirt for safety, and she didn’t refuse. After about five minutes, we passed through a narrow passage and arrived at the front of the Iron Suspension Bridge.
Without hesitation, I stepped onto it. The bridge seemed to sense the weight and swayed slightly; my heart raced in response. It was truly terrifying, especially for someone like me who had a fear of heights. More people were arriving on the Iron Suspension Bridge, nearly filling it up.
We carefully made our way across.
The bridge was paved with wooden planks, which surprised me. It was almost entirely made of Bronze Tombs yet used wooden boards as flooring. But then again, it matched perfectly with what I had seen in my dreams. The thought made my anxiety grow even stronger.
In my dream, Hills had fallen from this very bridge; a shiver ran through me at the memory.
As more people gathered on the bridge, its weight increased, causing even slight movements to send chills down my spine.
Halfway across, I could hear the wooden planks creaking ominously as if they might give way at any moment. Unable to hold back, I warned Zhang Tong to be careful. She responded softly in acknowledgment.
Old Ghost followed closely behind us, treading carefully as if every step could be his last.
Meanwhile, Fat Ma had long since disappeared from sight.
The Iron Suspension Bridge, though only a hundred meters long, felt like walking on the edge of an abyss. With each step, we tread cautiously, and finally reached the middle of the bridge.
Anxiety grew within me as I utilized the beam of the searchlight to faintly discern the scene across the way.
At that moment, a wave of worry washed over me; I feared that someone might suddenly stumble out from the Hills and fall into the abyss, leaving me powerless to help.
Just as these thoughts crossed my mind, Fat Ma's voice rang out. He shouted, "Old Sun, are you all turtles? Why so slow!"
I looked up to see that Fat Ma had already reached the other side of the bridge.
The cold wind from below the cliff tugged gently at us.
Fat Ma called out to us with exuberance.
After about ten more minutes, we finally crossed the bridge without incident. My heart settled as well; the Hills had not appeared, suggesting that perhaps my fears were unfounded.
A second later, Fat Ma let out a howl like a wild wolf and dashed ahead, brimming with excitement!
Before us lay a broad avenue, spacious and flanked by Bronze Sculptures that stretched endlessly. I gazed down the line, captivated by nearly every Sculpture. The vivid details of their forms brought back memories of the familiar Ghostly Script that danced before my eyes once more.
The Ghostly Script inscribed on each Sculpture celebrated various figures—generals, common folk, and even horses. I observed silently, lost in thought. The Mud Man followed closely behind me, also quietly studying the inscriptions on the walls. Even Zhang Tong was similarly absorbed, trailing behind a group of Eerie Figures armed with firearms.
The silence enveloped us like the stillness surrounding these Sculptures.
"Thousands of years have passed!" I suddenly exclaimed in awe.
Zhang Tong asked me, "What does it say up there?"
I didn’t hold back and explained everything I had seen—the invincible general and the defiant commoner at death's door. These inscriptions chronicled their lives, yet all their glorious achievements lay buried in obscurity, never to be immortalized through time.
Perhaps they deserved to be remembered forever.
Many Sculptures stood scattered about, resembling an unending Great Wall that remained silent and enduring in this place.
As I looked downwards, I noticed that the ages of the Sculptures varied significantly; they seemed to draw closer to modern times. My heart raced with astonishment as I traced back from the Shang Dynasty all the way to the Qin Dynasty. To my shock, I found myself staring at depictions of Li Bing and his son once again. Suddenly jolted awake from my reverie, I broke into a cold sweat.
Could it be that Li Bing and his son are also part of the Ghost Clan? Previously, it was just a dream, but I think I have found confirmation here. I let out a breath and collected my thoughts.
"Are you okay, Sun Brother?" Old Ghost asked.
I shook my head.
I continued to read on. Zhang Tong urged me to take a sip of water, telling me not to be too tense. After drinking, I felt a bit calmer and continued reading. It mentioned the Han Dynasty, then the Tang Dynasty. By this time, the Ghost Clan had almost merged with the Han people.
However, it still recorded the outstanding members of the Ghost Tribe from that era.
What puzzled me was the absence of the surname 'Wei' here. I remembered once when I was in the fields, there was a vividly carved wall depicting a general named Wei Wu. I vaguely recalled that it detailed this general's iron-blooded achievements in battle.
Why was it not mentioned here?
Yet, the dense Ghostly Script indeed spoke of the development of the Ghost Clan. Eventually, this ethnic group had been fragmented into various states, and some members of the Ghost Tribe who had gone into exile lost contact with them.
The portion of the Ghost Tribe that had entered Central Plains had built this very secretive Tomb after accumulating wealth over hundreds or even thousands of years. It served to record the history of their Ghost Tribe.
I sighed a little; these records included brave men who fought bloodily to protect their homeland and civil officials who dared to petition for the people without fearing for their own lives. All of this moved me deeply. Years have passed, yet they remained buried here.
This is the History belonging to this Mysterious Ethnicity.
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