Histoires de fantômes

Chapitre 47

In short, that night, Yellan generously ordered a whole bottle of English whisky, along with two incredibly seductive Egyptian prostitutes.

Long was already extremely destitute and rarely enjoyed such treatment, so he impatiently chugs down strong liquor, boasting to the two girls about his past.

His words came out unconsciously under these circumstances: "Yelan, I had a strange dream, a prophetic dream... In the desert, I was lying there unconscious, and someone was cutting and slashing at my body with a strange little knife, making all sorts of strange movements. I didn't feel any pain at all, I just watched him smear all sorts of strange powders on my face and body... I wasn't wearing any clothes, so this person took off his clothes and put them on me..."

Such an absurd dream naturally terrified the two orioles, who cried out in alarm, further stimulating the dragon's desire to perform.

“Yelan, I know I… will die in the desert, for I am the last prophet of our tribe. Heaven intends to annihilate our entire tribe, so I have sworn an oath before the Sands of Resurrection, in the name of the gods of our ancestors, to exchange my death for your eternal life…”

Prophecies are inherently absurd and only gain renewed attention after they are fulfilled. Therefore, Yeram treated the dragon's words as nothing more than a joke.

In the desert camp, when the dragon entrusted the "Resurrection Sand" to Yelan, he also said the following: "I don't want to die. If my soul gets lost in the desert, remember to scatter the sand all over my body. Also, you must find a way to keep my body intact... After a certain period of time, I will automatically wake up..."

Yelan, of course, did not believe the dragon's words, and after the dragon's accident, the camp was in a strange and chaotic state, so he forgot about the incident.

"The whole thing doesn't seem particularly noteworthy. There are many explanations for the dragon's disappearance, such as it being carried off by wolves"—Surren interjected, "Wolves don't undress a person in a vegetative state..."

"For example, the dragon suddenly woke up, meaning he woke up on his own without being saved by the 'soul-reviving sand.' Driven by some special thought, he took off his clothes, laid them flat on the bed, and then quietly slipped away naked." This explanation seems very reasonable to me.

In ancient times, those who sought immortality and attained enlightenment had a saying: "Life is like a dream, and clothes are like molting." According to the "In Search of the Supernatural," many immortals, after achieving enlightenment, would have their primordial spirit leave their bodies and their physical bodies perish, leaving only an empty set of clothes on their beds.

"Brother Feng, why don't we go to that tent together and take a look before making a decision?" Suren didn't agree with my deduction.

The three of us walked through the center of the camp, where everyone seemed on high alert, and headed straight for the lone old tent in the southwest corner.

The troop strength on the watchtower has doubled, and the camouflage on all the military vehicles has been removed, revealing dark anti-aircraft machine guns. Clearly, Lu Jiacan's disappearance has angered Natura and the Egyptian government; it remains to be seen who will be made the scapegoat for the disappearance.

Inside the large tent in the valley, the room was brightly lit, and Natula's angry roars could be heard continuously.

Suren explained in a low voice, "Lu Jiacan used to be an important figure at the Pentagon. The Egyptian government was trying to use his connections to buy a batch of cheap MiG-21 fighter jets from the Americans—now that he's disappeared, this great deal is likely to fall through. Alas, even High Priest Natura's head is probably in danger..."

It suddenly dawned on me that the Desert Legion's almost entirely mobilized to search for Lu Jiacan not to rescue him, but to salvage this business deal that was crucial to Egypt's future.

If the Egyptian army were to equip itself with more than twenty MiG fighter jets, it could effectively have an attack range extending from its northernmost border all the way to the Cape of Good Hope at the southernmost tip of the African continent. This also reveals that the Egyptian president's ambitions extend far beyond simply remaining a small, isolated nation forever at the mercy of European powers.

"Oh my god! Natura is in big trouble now!" I shrugged and made an exaggerated expression of sympathy.

Suren brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing shrewdly at the Rainbow Warriors around her out of the corner of her eye. She leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Brother Feng, if Natura is definitely going to step down, he'll be replaced by a close confidant of the Egyptian president, or even Tina herself. So, Natura is very likely to act desperately and launch a coup in alliance with the military..."

One has to admire Suren's insight. Judging from the tense atmosphere in the camp, it would be a waste of his talents if it were only for preventing sneak attacks from outsiders.

In particular, temporary roadblocks and sandbag fortifications have been erected a kilometer north of the camp, undoubtedly to prevent presidential reinforcements from Cairo. If the camp becomes a hotbed of mutiny, Tina herself will be the first to suffer.

I'm a little worried about her, even though I know we're on completely different paths. Intuitively, I don't think Tina is a bad person; she's just caught up in politics and can't seem to break free.

The derrick was quiet; it seemed that with Lu Jiacan's disappearance, the excavation work had to be temporarily suspended.

“I have already informed a cryptography expert in the United States that he can fly to Cairo within 72 hours to crack the drilling rig’s start-up code. I have already communicated this with my brother and Natura. The excavation work is suspended and will only resume once the drilling rig can be started.”

In just one day, Suren has accomplished a great deal of work with remarkable efficiency.

I picked up where she left off: "What? Even Lockheed Martin, the company that manufactured the drilling rig, couldn't solve the original start-up code?"

Suren shook his head dejectedly: "For this kind of high-precision, cutting-edge product, according to the customer's requirements, the reset program was removed long ago, and all backdoor vulnerabilities that could be brute-forced were closed in the system. The company had no other options, so we had to resort to another method..."

I recall those mysterious phone calls she made, and I can deduce that there are some mysterious forces hidden behind her.

Upon reaching the tent entrance, Yelan's body began to tremble uncontrollably.

The tent was very old and worn, with at least seven or eight patches on the front, and its original grass green color had been weathered by wind and rain into a half-yellowish-white color.

"This place has always been used as a tool shed. After the dragon became a vegetable... there was nowhere else to store it, so we brought it here..."

A gust of wind blew by, and the curtain rolled up halfway, revealing a simple single wooden bed placed against the left side of the tent. Sure enough, work clothes and trousers were laid out on the bed; if a mannequin were used to prop up the clothes, it would look exactly like a real person lying flat on the bed.

Yelan lifted the curtain and let Suren and me in. Immediately, we were hit with a strange smell—a mixture of gasoline, lubricating oil, and engine oil. Opposite the bed were two greasy generators, and beside them lay haphazardly piled shovels, picks, and other digging tools.

The tent has an empty back window, about 30 centimeters square, completely unobstructed, offering a view of the vast desert stretching out behind it.

Suren stood silently in front of the bed, staring at the two faded work clothes.

The tent was only so big, and all the remaining traces were clearly visible.

I walked to the back window, leaned out, and could see a military vehicle parked about five meters away. Several soldiers carrying submachine guns were smoking, while the machine gunner on the roof was lying prone, intently watching westward. At the slightest sound, he would surely open fire without hesitation.

Heading west past the military vehicles, you can see the Turkham Pyramid standing firmly in the desert.

Suren leaned over to look under the bed, her expression melancholy.

Yelan hurriedly explained, "When I discovered that the dragon was missing, I immediately dropped my lunchbox and ran out. I searched around the tent and asked everyone, but..." Sure enough, in a corner near the entrance, there was an enamel mug lying on the ground, with most of the thin porridge inside already spilled.

I knew that his attempts to inquire about the dragon's whereabouts would only invite ridicule. Everyone knew the dragon was practically a vegetable, half-dead, so how could it possibly stand up and run around?

"Has this been reported to the High Priest?"

"No, the High Priest is furious about General Lu Jiacan's disappearance, he's yelling at everyone he sees, I didn't dare go over." Yelan at least knew when to back down and what was important. Reporting such a trivial matter while Natura was in a frenzied rage might have earned Yelan a bullet as a reward.

No valuable information could be gleaned from the back window; the relentless north wind would erase all footprints left in the sand. Because Yelan worked in the tomb all day, he couldn't provide the exact time of the dragon's disappearance, only that it occurred roughly from yesterday afternoon after feeding until three and a half hours ago.

Suren emerged from the tent in silence.

Yelan pressed me, asking, "Mr. Feng, what do we do next? What should I do?"

The box containing the "Soul-Resurrection Sand" was still in Suren's hands. I exchanged a glance with her and smiled as I comforted Yelan: "Don't say anything rashly, don't speculate about anything. Just treat the existence and disappearance of the dragon as a nightmare, understand?"

He certainly didn't understand, but he already realized that there was no need to escalate the matter.

"Um... could you give it to me?" He pointed to the Soul-Returning Sand in Suren's hand.

"Give it to you? What use would you have for it?" I scrutinized him.

“The dragon said that if he were to suffer the same misfortune as in his dream, he should break the ‘Sand of Resurrection’ and scatter it into the Nile River, and never try to unravel the secret of the sand. Otherwise, once the ‘King of Terror’ is angered, Africa, Europe, and Asia will never have peace again…” Yelan’s worship of the dragon stemmed from the long-standing faith and worship of his people, so he would believe and carry out the dragon’s words one hundred percent.

Suren weighed the box in her hand, her eyes darting around, but she showed no intention of returning it.

Yelan's hand froze in mid-air; he could tell that Suren wanted to keep the box.

I took out my checkbook, quickly filled in an amount of twenty thousand US dollars, tore it off with a sizzle, and handed it to Yelan's face: "Take this money, and don't mention the Soul-Returning Sand or the disappearance of the dragon again, okay?"

Money is a good thing; it's more effective than hundreds of high-sounding words of comfort.

Yelan accepted the check with a beaming smile: "Mr. Feng, you are very generous, much more so than that American." Twenty thousand US dollars could probably buy a small house with an orchard in the suburbs of Cairo, which would be equivalent to half a year's salary for Yelan.

“An American?” Suren frowned.

"Yes, it was Dr. Cheney. He wanted me to assign five workers to do his bidding, and he only gave me five hundred dollars. He's incredibly stingy!"

Night had fallen, and the beams of searchlights began to hover over the camp once again.

Suren suddenly asked, "Where are the workers? Are they in the camp right now?"

Yelan paused for a moment, then immediately shook his head: "They're not here. Dr. Cheney took them down into the well, saying he wanted to make rubbings of some of the Egyptian murals and asked them to help him carry his camera, tripod, and video camera. They haven't come back yet. However, we just spoke on the phone, and everything is normal."

I suddenly felt that Cheney's movements were far too mysterious. Knowing full well the dangers lurking in the tomb, he still went against the tide. Moreover, the fact that he was willing to pay a hundred million dollars for that golden sword was enough to show that he knew some unknown secret about the tomb.

He was an expert in pyramid construction; many hidden mechanisms, which others might not be able to see, certainly wouldn't escape his notice.

Suren then asked, "Mr. Yelan, what about the dragon's relics? Please give them to me as well."

With that $20,000 as a guarantee, anyone would probably cooperate willingly.

Inside Yelan's tent, he handed us a tattered camouflage canvas tool bag, the kind of cheap, low-quality stuff you could buy anywhere in Cairo.

Inside the bag was only a dark, old notebook, the edges of many of the pages crumpled and blackened. There was also a slightly worn Playboy magazine, the cover featuring a nude woman posing provocatively at me. Unfortunately, this beautiful blonde American woman had, by some prank, had large glasses drawn on her face and a poorly drawn rose on her navel.

I frowned, tossed the magazine aside, and held only the notebook in my hand.

Yelan pointed at the magazine and smiled wryly: "Boss Long claims to be a genius painter and prophet. No matter what magazine he gets, he has to scribble on it before he feels at ease. I've seen the contents of that notebook; it's just a bunch of messy illustrations, completely meaningless."

Every homeless person is lonely at heart, and if they left behind any writings or drawings, it must have been a true reflection of their inner world. Therefore, by reading this notebook, one can surely find some prophetic content about him.

As I said goodbye to Yelan and left, I turned back, winked at him, and smiled: "Yelan, I gave Long a large check, and he definitely hasn't had a chance to cash it yet. Since he's disappeared, this money..."

Yelan stared intently, his eyes wide with tension: "No, no, Mr. Feng, since you gave that check to Long, it must be his payment for his work. You can't go back on your word! You can't go back on your word!" The veins on his neck throbbed with agitation, and a vein bulged across each of his temples.

It's conceivable that he found the checks while sorting through the dragon's belongings and kept them for himself.

I feigned hesitation and pondered, "Well... unfortunately, he didn't offer me enough help..."

Yelan immediately replied, "Mr. Wind, just say the word, and I can do anything, and even better than a dragon—"

This was just a minor incident. I don't like people who are opportunistic and take advantage of others' misfortunes. However, Long was just a homeless vagrant, and given his relationship with Yelan, Yelan had the right to inherit the money.

Of course, using this missing check as an excuse, I can get more firsthand information from Yelan.

As I walked back side by side with Suren, I noticed that the atmosphere in front of Gu Ye's large tent was somewhat tense. Two squads of soldiers carrying submachine guns stood straight outwards, forming a fan shape to protect the tent.

"Brother Feng, Tina has been staying in that tent ever since she returned to the camp. Do you think she might be in danger?"

Suren could see my worries and always put herself in my shoes. If Tina were in this position, she might not have considered my feelings before doing anything.

I briefly recounted the events in Ahkan town to Suren.

Amidst a myriad of clues, Suren found the first point of entry: "Brother Feng, I think... I think the tiger carcass found in the desert is actually a dragon disguised in disguise."

She was certain of this because after lunch that day, Natura had personally taken the roll call and counted all the soldiers and workers in the camp. Apart from those who died in the graves, there were no other casualties. Based on this, Natura felt there was no doubt about the authenticity of the tiger's carcass—in this desolate desert, it would be impossible for a tiger to find another corpse to impersonate itself.

“Only dragons are not valued or noticed, and Yelan mentioned the prophecy about dragons. If that prophecy were represented by a picture, wouldn't it be like a tiger using a knife to make subtle disguises?”

Before Suren raised this argument, I already had my own judgment, I just hadn't found the source of the "tiger double." If what Yeran relayed was truly a dragon's prediction—

Ignoring my silence, Suren continued, "Never mind that for now. I want to use the 'Resurrection Sand' on Teng Jia to unravel the mystery of her time travel first—is that alright?"

She pointed to a nearby tent: "Tengjia's stretcher is over there. The special transport vehicle from Cairo won't arrive until tomorrow. So, tonight is the only chance."

The moon rose, and against the backdrop of the vast, gray sky, it appeared even more aloof and proud.

Such a night is the kind of setting most likely to feature werewolves and vampire bats in horror movies. I waved my hand to banish the dragon's prophecy of being the "King of Terror" from my mind, lest I constantly suspect that Fujika might turn into a demon after his "resurrection."

"You've made up your mind? Did you make that decision the moment you found Tengjia unconscious this morning?"

Suren nodded vigorously, a playful smirk playing on her lips, temporarily dispelling the gloom on her face. Such a young girl, bearing such heavy mental pressure, must feel incredibly burdened every day.

I patted her arm and encouraged her loudly, "Go for it! If werewolves and vampire bats appear, I'll handle it!" Even the strongest and most decisive girls have moments of vulnerability, whether it's Suren or Tina. I'm a man, and in crucial moments, I must be Suren's emotional support.

Suren smiled gratefully, turned around, and walked into the unguarded tent.

"Enough, no need to say anything more!" A loud voice suddenly rang out from Gu Ye's large tent, almost a roar. It was Nanatula shouting, but it was unclear who he was targeting.

“Mr. Feng—” The voice sounded unfamiliar, and then James’s enormous glasses came into view. Of the four experts we met at the camp, he was the quietest; we hadn’t exchanged a single word alone.

“Mr. Feng, may I ask you a question about the ‘Eye of the Moon Goddess’? Is that alright?” He pushed up his glasses, which had slipped down to his nose, and approached me cautiously, as if I were a fragile clay figure. His suit and shirt were impeccably clean, and his tie was a genuine Montblanc spun silk. Even in the dusty desert, his leather shoes remained spotless and gleaming.

Of the four experts, Berenlong and Tang died tragically, Cheney became my business partner, and only the one in front of me remains, with whom I haven't had an in-depth conversation.

During the excavation of the Pyramid of Tulku, the involvement of the topic of "superweapons" almost made everyone forget that the ultimate goal of the excavation was to obtain the legendary gem, and they stubbornly pursued the trivial while neglecting the essential.

If James hadn't mentioned it, I wouldn't have thought of the "Eye of Luna" idea tonight at all.