Histoires de fantômes

Chapitre 131

Guan Baoling kept sneering, stomping her feet angrily. Suddenly, she turned around and rushed into the house, slamming the door shut. But only a few seconds later, she opened the door again, her anger completely gone, and smiled wanly: "I'm so cold. Can you hug me, like when we were in the deep sea?"

Her incredibly delicate appearance captivated me, and I took a few steps forward as if in a daze, standing on either side of the threshold. I slowly reached out, and she groaned as she rushed towards me, falling into my arms and wrapping her arms around my waist.

When we were both trapped at the bottom of the sea, facing the fear of death, our hearts were intertwined, and I was her only support. Only in that confined space, forever cut off from the world, could we truly be honest with each other. Once outside that specific environment, the tycoon's threat was ever-present, and any man who fell in love with Guan Baoling would have to consider this reality.

I am not a cowardly man, but unfortunately, the environment of Fengge Temple does not seem to be suitable for love between men and women, and under Su Lun's watchful eye, I cannot relax to cater to and cherish Guan Baoling.

She was in my arms, like a wounded fawn, her warm breath falling on my chest and neck.

"Feng, do you love Su Lun? I can see it. She loves you very much. Perhaps you two are the partners who can travel the world together. As for me, I'll only be a burden to you, causing you trouble, and I can't do anything for you. I'll leave here tomorrow. I hope you two will be happy—"

My heart ached, and I instinctively tightened my arms, holding her close.

Falling in love with a tycoon's woman is a very tricky thing. I know I have to give up, but I can't let go. It turns out that people's thoughts can change drastically depending on their environment. When I returned to Fengge Temple, I immediately had to take on my responsibilities and couldn't just immerse myself in personal love affairs.

"Hold me, tonight is the last chance. If we miss this, we will never have a second chance to meet..." Guan Baoling sighed, her fluffy hair resting on my chin, incredibly smooth, the most pleasant enjoyment and experience I could ever imagine.

In an instant, the blood in my chest boiled again. I really wanted to throw everything away and shout to her, "Stay by my side!" — "Brother Feng!" Someone called me from behind. Without a doubt, it was Su Lun's voice.

I released her hands, and Guan Baoling took a step back in a daze, her face ashen as she looked at Su Lun, then at me. In the lamplight, glistening tears began to fall from her long eyelashes, her hands still wrapped around me as if trying to hug me from thin air.

Time seemed to stand still. Although we were only a step apart, neither of us dared to close that distance again under Su Lun's gaze.

A sudden gust of wind blew by, striking the wind chimes under the eaves hard, making a short "ding-dong" sound.

Guan Baoling seemed to snap out of a daze, taking three steps back, her face as pale as paper. As an internationally renowned superstar, she had never shown such vulnerability before. I felt a deep sense of self-reproach, as if all of this was for my sake.

“Brother Feng, I have something to discuss with you.” Suren’s words were icy.

I turned around, and there were two people standing by the moon gate. Besides Suren, there was a tall, handsome young man with shoulder-length hair, his eyes fixed on me intently in the dim twilight. He was wearing a gray leather jacket and leather pants, and brown high-top combat boots, exuding boundless energy and competence.

“This is Schiller, my working partner.” Suren pointed to the young man, who raised his hand and waved slightly at me as a greeting.

Suren had mentioned him on the phone; he was a young biologist.

I nodded: "Please come to my room—"

Behind me, Guan Baoling sighed deeply and gently closed the door. At that moment, something inside me seemed to shatter with a bang, like a mirror that had been carelessly dropped.

I turned on the light, and Schiller smiled, revealing his white teeth: "Mr. Feng, it's an honor to meet you. Your glorious story in the Egyptian desert has spread throughout Asia, Africa, Europe, and America. Although I am not a member of the martial arts world, I have always hoped to come and listen to your guidance in person."

He had Asian facial features, but also the blond hair and blue eyes typical of Americans, making it clear at a glance that he was of mixed Chinese and American descent. He held two stacks of drawings in his hands, and judging from the way his fingers were flexed and extended, this man was far more than just a biologist; his martial arts skills were undoubtedly exceptional.

Su Lun's face remained gloomy. I knew that she would definitely not feel good seeing me hug Guan Baoling.

Suren sat down and made a gesture. Schiller immediately understood and spread out his sketches: "Mr. Feng, I am utterly astonished by your and Miss Guan's miraculous encounter. Comparing your accounts, especially after seeing Miss Guan's sketches, every detail matches perfectly. The key now is to find out the origin of that enormous underwater structure."

Guan Baoling's drawings totaled sixteen. Schiele quickly flipped the ones with gears and scaffolding to the top and laid them out on the bed. The tacit understanding between him and Su Lun made me feel a little jealous, but it vanished in an instant.

"First of all, it's certain that the Japanese don't have the capability to build large underwater structures. After World War II, every Japanese military facility was completed with the assistance or supervision of the US military stationed in Japan; they couldn't have done it without anyone noticing. The remaining possibilities are Russia and extraterrestrials. What do you think, Mr. Feng?"

My thinking had long since excluded the Japanese, because according to the Japanese way of doing things, even if they were given enough manpower, material resources, and financial resources to build to the greatest extent possible, they would absolutely not be able to build such a magnificent and grand building as depicted on paper.

“Brother Feng, this is a list of Russian military facilities sent by Xiao Yan. According to the latitude and longitude coordinates, there are no large underwater structures within 300 nautical miles of Hokkaido. I can be 100% sure.”

What Suren took out of his pocket was a folded fax paper with hundreds of lines of numbers densely packed on it.

Xiao Yan's hacking skills are almost unmatched. The authenticity of the information he can find is beyond doubt, and he knows it more clearly and thoroughly than the Russian Minister of Defense.

I took the paper and glanced at it. At the end, in Xiaoyan's clumsy handwriting, it read: "Feng, there's nothing much to see in the Russian military database. I'm currently accessing their space technology core station. If I find any information about the Saturnians, I'll let you know immediately. Hehe, I'll invite you for a drink then!"

Xiao Yan was still a child; he had no idea what the consequences would be of spying on the core secrets of these superpowers.

“Mr. Feng, the last remaining possibility is that it’s a structure left behind on Earth by aliens.” Schiller suddenly gave a wry smile, because many reports of aliens visiting Earth in recent years had ultimately been proven to be pure fabrication and couldn’t withstand scrutiny. He didn’t want me to tell Guan Baoling the same unfounded story, and the wry smile contained very complex emotions.

"The glass box you inhabit can be understood as an underwater elevator for aliens to enter that building, and the elevator entrance is somewhere at the top of the 'Tower of the Dead.' Theoretically, this analysis is possible, but such a theory is of no help in understanding what actually happened. You said that you accidentally entered that space under certain circumstances and were then ejected quite by chance. If the elevator entrance cannot be found, everything is based on mere assumptions. The ocean is vast and boundless; who can find that place again?"

Schiller twirled the pencil in his hand helplessly and looked at Suren.

Attributing all unsolved mysteries to extraterrestrials is indeed a chronic problem among Earth's scientists, as if once the definition of "extraterrestrial activity" is established, there is no need to conduct further research.

“I believe that underwater structure is real. You are a biologist, so you may be unfamiliar with this kind of professional knowledge related to aliens. Suren, could you send all the data to the alien laboratory at Cambridge University so that the experts there can conduct a detailed study and evaluation?” I did not completely agree with Schiller’s reasoning. Biologists at most know how to catch butterflies and observe bacteria. It is like a mountain to those outside the field. How could his words be trusted?

"Hehe, Mr. Feng is right. However, coincidentally, I am also one of the special observers of the alien laboratory, and the subject I explore is the survival traces of extraterrestrial life on Earth. After the data is transmitted, it will still come back to me. The final conclusion on this part of the extraterrestrial life topic will be made by me. I'm sorry, but basically the description I just gave is the final conclusion you will get."

Schiller, neither humble nor arrogant, gently placed the pencil on the drawing, then suddenly sighed and added, "Mr. Feng, in any case, I admire you immensely. There's an old Chinese saying, 'Even if Mount Tai collapses before you, you remain unmoved'—this saying was practically created to describe you. No matter how harsh the environment, you always manage to calmly cope and turn danger into safety. No wonder the five mentors at the Xenomorph Laboratory unanimously requested the President to conduct tissue biopsies of your body cells, no matter the cost, hoping that the research results would improve the combat capabilities of American soldiers..."

I shrugged: "No thanks. If we're going to do research, it'll be for Chinese experts. It won't benefit the Americans."

At this point, almost all the credible answers pointed to an "alien structure," meaning that Guan Baoling and I were almost sucked into an alien underwater base in that inexplicable glass box.

I dared not underestimate Schiller any longer and humbly asked, "Mr. Schiller, where might the underwater elevator be powered? Do you have any similar examples in your laboratory?"

Schiller nodded: "Yes, ever since I received Miss Xiao's call, I have been collecting information on this. There are two records about the red light and the underwater glass box. The information is with Miss Suren."

Suren began somberly, “There are only two documented instances of the same thing. One was in the Gulf of Mexico in 1900, when fishermen saw a huge red light suddenly emanating from the water, shooting straight into the sky. A daring fisherman dived down and saw a glass box rapidly descending into the water, carrying four people in white spacesuits. He tried to knock on the outside of the box to attract the attention of the four people, but it had no effect. The box continued to fall into the deep sea at an irregular speed. After he came ashore, he told everyone he met that he had seen aliens. Later, the Mexican government issued a statement denying that it was just a secret military exercise by the navy.”

Schiller listened with a smile, his eyes fixed on Suren's profile, filled with adoration.

I felt an invisible pressure from Schiller. The scalpel had told me to take good care of Suren, but now it seemed that I wasn't the only one who wanted to take care of her.

"The second similar incident occurred in August 1945, around the time of Japan's surrender to the Allied forces. The exact date is not entirely certain, but it can only be vaguely recorded as sometime in August. The officers and men on the Allied surrender ship USS Missouri saw a red light shooting up from the seabed. It was sunset, and the red light overshadowed the sunlight, shooting straight into the sky. It was more than ten meters in diameter and lasted for two hours. If it weren't for the important surrender mission, the ship's commander would have already sent people to search the sea, because the ship was stationed with the U.S. Navy's best 'animal trainers' special underwater ghost team. This incident was recorded in the logbook of John West, the ship's first mate at the time, but he later secretly tore out that page for fear of being ridiculed by his colleagues."

Suren's tone was calm and composed, his gaze fixed straight ahead on the scattered, crimson verses hanging on the wall.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. No matter how powerful Schiller was, or how much effort he put into Sulen, subconsciously, I felt I could win Sulen back—if I wanted to.

What do these two news items prove? One is in the Gulf of Mexico, the other in the Sea of Japan, thousands of miles apart, seemingly unrelated. If the red glow from the seabed has only appeared three times on Earth, are Guan Baoling and I so lucky that we encountered a third of them?

The Sixth Sea God Plaque

— Chapter 8 — A Battle Between Men —

“Mr. Feng, if you had another chance to go there, would you be willing to try again?” Schiller’s words were extremely challenging, and he seemed to possess an innate sense of superiority over Suren and me. I knew that almost all Americans, from birth, harbored this pride of being “superior citizens of the earth,” as if they were the sole masters of the planet. I shook my head, and Schiller’s face immediately blossomed into a wide smile. He made a face at Suren, as if silently saying, “Look at this coward! Haha, scared out of his wits by this strange event!” This was a battle between two men, and regardless of who Suren’s heart sided with, I wouldn’t willingly lose to Schiller, especially since he couldn’t possibly beat me anyway. I picked up the white paper with the giant gear drawn on it, examined it carefully for a while, and then sneered at Schiller: "Your laboratory claims to be the largest extraterrestrial biological research institution in Europe. Can you tell me the specific function of these gears? My shaking my head doesn't mean I'm afraid to try something, but rather that I don't want to fight an unprepared battle. My guess is that unlocking the secrets of these gears is the key to entering and exiting that mysterious space." Schiller chuckled noncommittally, then laughed awkwardly: "Gears? They're just ordinary power devices. What secrets could they possibly hold?" I nodded, flicking my fingers lightly on the paper, making a "plop plop" sound, and turned to Suren: "What do you think? I want to hear your opinion; it's... incredibly important to me!" This was the truth; Suren's opinion had always been very important to me. Suren fell silent, her face cold. I had also considered Schiller's idea, but I had long since dismissed it. Gears turning to generate driving force, thereby opening certain portals—this was a common idea among Earthlings. Given the circumstances, if the gears were mounted on some massive structure and meshed with each other, forming a "gear transmission chain" in physics—only then would it match Schiller's description. However, the gears in the mysterious space were connected by a band of light, which remained stationary while the gears spun rapidly. I found another drawing depicting underwater structures, where the band of light connecting the gears to the scaffolding extended in an "S" shape, clearly unsuitable as a power transmission channel. Therefore, gears were not created to transmit power, completely different from Earth's concept of "gear transmission." When Schiller smugly believed that "a gear is merely a gear," he had already begun to stray from the truth. “I don’t know. All follow-up work can only be formally discussed after the underwater elevator entrance is successfully opened. Discussing these drawings is just blind armchair theorizing, meaningless. Brother Feng, I will return to the camp searching for the Epang Palace tomorrow. Xiao Xiao will represent me here. You can consult her about anything.” Suren’s tone grew colder, her words like a block of ice suddenly shoved into my throat. “Just arrived… and you’re leaving already?” I didn’t want Schiller to see my deep frustration. “Yes, the work over there has made some progress, and I don’t want another exploration team to get there first.” Suren avoided my gaze and began tidying up the drawings scattered on the bed. I felt a chill run through me from head to toe. If Suren’s coldness towards me was all because of Guan Baoling, I would have no way to defend myself. She is the tycoon’s woman; we have no future, and I will not continue this pointless entanglement. "Ha, Miss Suren is absolutely right. If we successfully excavate the unprecedented second Epang Palace, it will not only shock the world but also rewrite the magnificent works of the Chinese, such as the *Records of the Grand Historian* and the *Zizhi Tongjian*. Her name will be forever engraved on the monument of Chinese history. Therefore, the exploration work on the Sichuan-Tibet border is far more important than listening to Mr. Feng's stories here, don't you think?" Schiller laughed arrogantly, walked over, bent down to help, and quickly tidied up the drawings that Guan Baoling and I had painstakingly drawn, placing them on the small table by the bedside. He casually tossed the pencil, and with a whoosh, it pierced through more than thirty sheets of white paper and embedded itself in the tabletop. This skill with hidden weapons was indeed remarkable; using a pencil as a dart, the force infused into the pencil when thrown was at least twenty kilograms. He wasn't just showing off his martial arts skills; he was also subtly demonstrating his power to me. Before my strength was fully recovered, I would never fight anyone. Through repeated life-and-death experiences, I gradually understood the importance of concealing my abilities and biding my time. Besides, Schiller is a friend of Suren's; there's no need to make things tense from the moment they meet. "This pencil is quite nice," I said with a cold smile, ignoring Schiller's smugness. Suren frowned, pulled out the pencil, and said in a low voice, "Schiller, I have something to say to Mr. Wind. Would you mind leaving for a moment?" With a victor's smile, Schiller bowed and left, leaving behind a gust of cold wind. "Brother Feng, the tycoon keeps asking about you on the phone, which isn't a good sign. My older brother used to say that Hong Kong's underworld figures would rather offend the Governor than the tycoon. His ruthless methods are enough to terrify anyone. If my older brother or Yang Tian were here, they would probably advise you against pursuing Miss Guan. Therefore, I hope the tycoon will take Miss Guan away as soon as possible. Xiao Xiao will accompany you to continue searching for the secrets of Xunfu Garden Villa. If there are still no results, I'd like to invite you to join the search operation at the Epang Palace—" My expression slowly changed. It turned out that in Su Lun's mind, I had become a shameless scoundrel who would betray his principles for lust. It was understandable that she used her scalpel and her brother's status to pressure and persuade me, but I hadn't done anything for Guan Baoling, not even as much as Wang Jiangnan had for her. Why should the tycoon investigate me so thoroughly? "Is Suren criticizing me? Why not just say it directly instead of beating around the bush?" I stood up and paced back and forth in the room, a burning heat churning within me. Someone gently tapped on the back window; it was Xiao Lai's cautious voice: "Mr. Feng, is there anything I can do for you?" He'd come at the perfect time. I glanced at Schiller, who was idly gazing at the sky in the yard, and lowered my voice to order Xiao Lai: "Go test Miss Suren's friend. Go all out; he's quite skilled." Since I couldn't handle it myself, it was better to let Xiao Lai test Schiller. I couldn't let him swagger away so arrogantly. Xiao Lai grunted in agreement and disappeared almost inaudibly. I liked Xiao Lai's quick wit; he could understand someone's meaning perfectly with just a few words. Having such a bodyguard wasn't a bad thing. "Brother Feng, you still care about me?" Suren suddenly lowered her head, her earlobes flushed red in the lamplight. All her elusive thoughts were revealed in that one sentence. If it weren't for the unfamiliarity brought by her short hair, I really wanted to gently hug her and erase all the barriers between us. For some reason, after getting used to Guan Baoling's long hair, I had a particularly sensitive aversion to girls with short hair, even to Su Lun, with whom I had once fought side by side. I sighed, "Perhaps." Su Lun raised her head, her tone incredibly resolute: "Brother Feng, let's leave Hokkaido together! Let's put things here aside for now. If we can do our best to uncover the secrets of the Epang Palace, it will be a triumphant thing. My brother will surely be comforted in the afterlife, don't you think?" I shivered, not from the night wind sweeping in from outside, but from the profound pain in Su Lun's eyes. She wanted me to leave, not necessarily because of the Epang Palace, but more importantly, she didn't want me to continue getting involved with Guan Baoling, because Guan Baoling was the tycoon's woman, a peach that no one could touch. “Guan Baoling didn’t do anything to wrong the tycoon, and neither did I. So, even if the tycoon takes any action, it’s just baseless accusation. I won’t—” Suren looked directly at me, her eyes clear and cold, as if she could see right through my selfish thoughts. The wind chimes were ringing, when suddenly a mournful horn sound filled the air, drowning out the clear tinkling of the wind chimes. Suren’s eyes lit up: “Hmm? There’s something important at the temple. This is the horn summoning monks of the third generation or higher to the ‘Marrow Cleansing Hall’ for a meeting!” I knew the rules of Fengge Temple: the bell signaled the entire temple to gather for defense, while the horn signaled a meeting of monks with official positions to discuss important matters. Suddenly, I remembered the plaque I brought back from the mysterious space. I wondered if the monks had secretly kept it. It was the only gain from this trip, and regardless of whether it was the “Sea God’s Plaque” that Resika had mentioned, it had extremely high research value. “If underwater structures are the work of aliens, then this sign must be an alien artifact—” I suppressed my extreme excitement, hoping Schiller would leave quickly. “Brother Feng, don’t think of the tycoon as too simple or too kind. We’re all people of the underworld, we know many of the rules. If he takes action, will he leave you a chance to explain? If something happens to you, who will take care of finding Hero Yang Tian?” I understood what Su Lun was saying, but I just couldn’t let go of my feelings for Guan Baoling. “Think about it, give me a reasonable answer, okay?” Su Lun prepared to leave, her mood very low. My answer was written on my face: “I’m sorry, I can’t comply.” When I willingly left Guan Baoling, no one could stop me, because it was my own choice. But now, if I were to succumb to the tycoon’s power and coercion, I would never back down. Let’s see what the tycoon can do to me. My feelings for Guan Baoling fluctuated. One moment he wanted to give up and focus all his energy on finding his elder brother; the next he couldn't bear to give up, feeling that only she and her long hair were the one he longed for in this life. He couldn't tell Suren this feeling; she was a girl, and a girl who deeply loved him, so she certainly couldn't calmly analyze the problem for him. Suren stepped over the threshold, and suddenly the whirring sound of a helicopter rotor came from the southern sky. Looking up, two navigation lights, one red and one green, appeared in the night, flying towards Fengge Temple. "Is that the tycoon?" Schiller ran over, exclaiming. Guan Baoling's door was flung open, and she stepped out, shielding her eyes with her hand, gazing intently at the sky. The tycoon had come to Fengge Temple by helicopter once, so Schiller's first reaction was perfectly normal. I scoffed, "It can't be a tycoon. Just look at the reflective paint markings on the helicopter's tail!" Undoubtedly, my eyesight far surpassed Schiller's. In the few dozen seconds it took for the helicopter to adjust its landing position, I had already clearly seen the huge cherry blossom pattern on the tail. Suren exclaimed softly, "A big shot! It's a very important member of the Imperial Family!" The cherry blossom pattern almost covered half of the tail, using top-quality white reflective paint, making it clearly visible in the night. Helicopters using this marking are reserved for the Japanese Imperial Family, so Suren's exclamation of "a big shot" was entirely accurate. Judging from the increased rotor speed as it hovered, the cabin was already full, which puzzled me: "Could it be that not only a big shot has arrived, but also many other entourages?" Usually, important figures traveling within Japan travel without any entourage, always traveling light. The Japanese Imperial Family is almost transparent to the media; the number of people who can truly be called "big shots" is very limited, with the Emperor himself being the highest-ranking. Who could be arriving at Fuuki-ji Temple at this time? The helicopter hovered for a moment, then slowly landed in the direction of the Marrow Cleansing Hall. The roar of the engine gradually subsided, and then it went completely silent. Guan Baoling sighed in disappointment, retreated into the house, and didn't even glance at me or Su Lun. Schiller asked with a grin, "The world-famous Miss Guan Baoling is indeed beautiful. No wonder there are rumors in Washington that the President is drooling over Miss Guan and has invited her to visit the White House several times. It seems that true top beauties have no nationality distinctions, right, Mr. Feng?" Perhaps he was a little too carried away today, becoming increasingly unrestrained in front of Su Lun. I looked at him and sneered, "Do you know? If you dare to say such things in front of a tycoon, you'll be dragged to be fed to the wolves within ten minutes!" Everyone in the entertainment industry has scandals and gossip, but it depends on where and to whom you say them. Schiller laughed twice, offering no rebuttal, and raised his head high with the air of an absolute victor. He thought that belittling me and Guan Baoling in front of Su Lun would make her happier, but he was completely wrong. "Brother Feng, guess who's coming?" Su Lun asked in a low voice. Suddenly, hurried footsteps came from outside the wall, as if people were rushing towards the "Marrow Cleansing Hall" from all directions, the footsteps accompanied by the clattering sound of prayer beads. These should all be monks of some status in Fengge Temple, many of whom were agile and obviously skilled in martial arts. I couldn't guess, because important figures would never travel on the same plane as their attendants; that would be tantamount to lowering their status. Su Lun sniffed, her eyes darted around, and then habitually tossed her hair. Unfortunately, after cutting her hair short, she had lost the charm of a beautiful woman tossing her hair, and such a gesture would no longer attract men's attention. "Do you remember what Gu Ye Shenzhi said? About Miss Teng Jia's identity—" she reminded me thoughtfully. I placed my hand on the back of hers, shaking my head slowly and impassively. "I know, I guessed it too, but they don't seem like important figures." Tanino Shinji had once said that Fujika's true identity was a princess of the Japanese Imperial Family. Her awakening should cause a stir within the Imperial Family, and the so-called important figures would definitely come to visit her. I didn't want these little-known details to be exposed to Schiller. These secrets were best kept to ourselves to avoid any complications. Schiller suddenly covered his ears, turned south to listen intently, and muttered in surprise, "Hmm? Two more planes are coming? What's going on tonight? Is there some major military operation in Hokkaido?" Almost simultaneously with his words, I heard the whirring of two propellers, and then two pairs of flashing navigation lights appeared in my vision, rapidly approaching. The remote Fuuki-ji Temple suddenly became lively on this cold winter night. According to the data, there were five new helicopters directly assigned to the Japanese Imperial Family, and now more than half of them had arrived. I really didn't know what the important figures in the Imperial Family were up to. Suren looked up as the two helicopters drew closer, letting out a long sigh. "It's the cherry blossom emblem again. Judging by the rotor spin this time, there are no more than two people on the second helicopter. Someone important must have arrived—" Her judgment was on par with mine. It seemed the first and third helicopters were escorts; the real VIP was on the second. Especially the helicopter that arrived earlier—it was definitely the advance bodyguard team. "With such a serious matter at hand, we should remain calm and collected, right?" Suren looked at me again. I had already arranged for Xiao Lai to handle things; there was no turning back now. I hoped this small incident wouldn't disturb the VIP. Besides, Schiller was extremely arrogant, completely disregarding me, and had even insulted Guan Baoling. If we didn't give him a small warning, wouldn't that be letting him off easy, making him think the Chinese were weak and easily bullied? "Yes, I know." I met Suren's gaze with a gentle smile. Distance cannot obscure closeness; Schiller, this newcomer, would never understand the deep bond between Suren and me, forged through life and death together. Ten minutes later, absolute silence descended upon Fengge Temple. Only the ever-present sound of the mountain wind, sometimes strong, sometimes gentle, could be heard. All the streetlights, high and low, were on, but no one spoke, coughed, or moved. The two great monks of Fengge Temple, Kamekazuki and Bumenri, were gone and dead respectively. Only Master Shenbi was in charge of affairs—I seriously doubt whether Tanino Shinshu could even be considered a member of Fengge Temple? He was never seen leaving the "Meditation Hall," nor did he participate in any of the temple's affairs, and recalling his past as a tomb raider… If possible, I hope to find an opportunity to visit him. The Five Elements and Eight Trigrams ambush surrounding the "Meditation Hall" would likely be no match for the combined efforts of Zhang Baisen, Shao Bai, and Shao Hei. I was puzzled by this: "As one of the top psychic masters in mainland China, Zhang Baisen doesn't seem to be showing any strength. He's always been reserved, as if he has some unspeakable secret. What is his purpose in coming to Muwanzhoushan? And why invite the Shao brothers here instead of using so many other psychic practitioners in Sapporo?" There were still many issues to consider. Looking back, I really didn't have time to talk about personal matters in this rush. If Guan Baoling left Fengge Temple, it might not be a bad thing. It would allow me to calm down and start solving the problems at hand. "Brother Feng, what are you thinking about? I'll ask Xiao Xiao to book the plane tickets tonight. Should I prepare yours?" Su Lun was determined to leave. I shook my head without hesitation: "No need. I think exploring the secrets of 'The Wrath of the Sun God' is more meaningful than finding the mysterious second Epang Palace. I only glanced at the pictures you sent me; I'm not very interested. Sorry." Schiller smiled silently. My rejection of Su Lun's invitation was exactly what he wanted. Suren frowned slightly, somewhat displeased. "Those pictures—if you could see the actual compass, I believe you'd be more interested. There are many magical legends in Xianyang about the second Epang Palace, mixed with many bizarre tales of Yang Guifei's resurrection. With your curiosity, you certainly won't miss them easily, and perhaps you'll regret your decision in a few days!" Before I could answer, Schiller scoffed dismissively. "You can't talk about ice with a summer insect, Miss Suren. Since Mr. Feng thinks the inference that 'Epang Palace still exists' is nonsense, there's no point in saying anything more. Let's continue our efforts ourselves. The Cambridge University laboratory has agreed to allocate another twenty million US dollars for research. Once the new ultrasonic detector arrives, I believe—haha…" He ended the conversation with utter disdain, as if saying even half a word to a frog in a well like me would be a waste of time. I stopped looking at Schiller. With his limited knowledge and narrow-mindedness, he was destined for mere assistants, not great achievements. "Then, I'll take my leave. Brother Feng, take good care of yourself. I look forward to meeting you again in the southwestern borderlands. Perhaps by then we'll have found the mysterious entrance to the Epang Palace." Suren was confident about the search team's future, a confident smile blooming on her thin face. At that moment, I wanted to hug her tightly, but I only patted the back of her hand: "Take care!" The reunion was too short. If Schiller hadn't been there, Suren and I could have strolled around by candlelight, chatting happily all night. Actually, her residence was just two courtyards away to the east. If I thought of anything, I could go see her anytime. Fengge Temple occupies a vast area; even the unused guest rooms roughly amount to more than twenty courtyards. With the Japanese Imperial Family as its backing, the temple is undeniably wealthy and powerful. Schiller turned to leave, and when he was seven or eight steps from the moon gate, Xiao Lai suddenly appeared, ducking and bumping into him head-on, pretending to

He seemed to have come to report something urgent. With my advance warning, Xiao Lai, in the instant of his charge, fully charged his shoulders, elbows, hips, knees, and arches, any part ready to unleash a strike. Even if he couldn't use a gun, I believed he'd conceal short knives in his sleeves or trouser legs, enough to force Schiller to fight with all his might. I needed to know Schiller's strength; one can never be too careful. Although Suren was already alert and intelligent enough to take good care of herself, I still needed to clear some obstacles for her. "Huh?" Caught off guard, Schiller shifted his feet, dodging diagonally. In an instant, Xiao Lai subtly shifted his shoulder, unleashing at least a dozen attacks, his body already pressed close to Schiller. His martial arts foundation was solid, hard-hitting and solid, likely from the Bajiquan school of Cangzhou, Hebei, with elements of Shandong and Henan's freestyle fighting style—not flashy, but highly effective. "Heh—" Schiller sneered, taking a sharp step back to avoid Xiao Lai's attack. Simultaneously, he flipped his arms, landing a sharp crack on Xiao Lai's shoulders. He was a head taller than Xiao Lai, and this attack method was completely different from Chinese martial arts—a combination of pressing and grabbing, similar to Taoist grappling techniques, yet not entirely the same. With two sharp "cracks," Xiao Lai suddenly somersaulted backward, kicking Schiller's elbows to deflect the attack. However, he clearly stumbled upon landing, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

The Sixth Sea God Plaque

— Chapter 9 — In the world of martial arts, separation and reunion are both difficult —

Both men's attacks were swift and decisive, exchanging blows in just five seconds. "Little brother, watch your step, don't bump your head!" Schiller feigned a tap on his elbow, subtly shifting his stance to a V-shape, concealing a more formidable Muay Thai kicking technique. I was certain his boots had copper inlays on the toes, which, combined with the power of his spinning kicks, could cripple an opponent with a single blow. "Xiao Lai, what's up?" I raised my hand in time, stopping Xiao Lai's second attack. Without firearms, Xiao Lai was probably no match for Schiller. His hard-hitting style was most vulnerable to the unpredictable and chaotic style of Muay Thai, and having underestimated his opponent's strength, he was severely injured in the first exchange; there was no need to continue the fight. Xiao Lai rushed over, his face ashen, and reported in a low voice, "At least thirty fully armed plainclothes bodyguards have disembarked from three planes and have placed the 'Marrow Cleansing Hall' under complete lockdown. All the monks in the temple are already seated in the courtyard of the 'Marrow Cleansing Hall,' respectfully meditating with their heads bowed." I nodded, placing my hands on his shoulders, and was immediately horrified. Where my fingers brushed, Xiao Lai's shoulder blades had sunk limply, likely crushed by Schiller in one blow. I had paid special attention to Schiller's hands and had a premonition that his finger techniques were extremely powerful, but I hadn't expected them to be so ruthless. Xiao Lai cried out, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. Schiller calmly swung his arms, his elbows, wrists, and finger bones making loud cracking sounds; his martial arts were remarkably similar to the "Iron Pipa Finger" of Shaolin Temple. Xiao Lai was a江湖 (jianghu) assassin; if his shoulders were crippled, he would likely never amount to anything in his life. I let out a long sigh and forced a smile: "Mr. Schiller, we have no grudge against each other, why resort to such heavy-handedness?" Xiao Lai was acting under my orders; his serious injury would make me feel guilty for the rest of my life. This is the world of martial arts—it's either I hurt others or others hurt me. I lowered my hands, slowly gathering my inner strength, preparing to save face for Xiao Lai. "Heavy-handedness? If I hadn't broken his shoulder blades first, those two kicks would have crippled my arms too! The Divine Gun Society members always act without considering the consequences; I was just teaching them a lesson!" Schiller glanced at me coldly, his ten fingers slowly straightening, then slowly clenching into fists, making a "crackling" sound. With such finger strength, crushing walnuts and splitting bamboo would be a piece of cake. It's hard to imagine how a high-tech researcher like him could possess such outstanding martial arts skills. His identity is highly suspicious; how could an ordinary biologist be so knowledgeable about the affairs of the martial arts world? I let out a soft sigh, releasing all the pent-up frustration, then shoved Xiao Lai aside, facing Schiller's disdain: "Fine, the Sharpshooter is my friend. Chinese people have always valued loyalty and righteousness, so I had no choice but to presume to save face for my friend." My signature leg technique is the Flick Kick to break Muay Thai; he shattered Xiao Lai's shoulder bone, so I had to cripple his leg to even things out. Whether it was settling a personal score or a public grudge, I always had a reason to act. In the martial world, humility and forbearance are indispensable, but sometimes it's all about living on a surge of hot-blooded heroism. "Brother Feng, don't be impulsive. These are extraordinary times; let's talk things out," Su Lun whispered, trying to stop me, but before she could even move, her words were already out, and I was already standing opposite Schiller. Having just woken from a long period of unconsciousness, my strength was greatly diminished, and Schiller was a formidable opponent, so I wasn't confident of victory. With two sharp cracks, Schiller released his raised left fist, his fingers clenching into fist, and laughed arrogantly, "Why get angry? Injuries in fights are common. In American underground boxing matches, no fewer than a hundred people die in the ring every day. This world is, after all, an era where the strong rule. But don't worry, with Miss Suren here, neither of us will go too far, right?" His fists were covered in bulging, muscular muscles, and his right foot was poised to deliver a sudden flying kick. I wouldn't lose face in front of Suren, nor would I be as reckless as Schiller. "Come on—" I only uttered two words before Schiller's right foot shot out five kicks in quick succession, accompanied by a whistling sound. I raised my right arm to block, but his shoelaces brushed against my right ear, causing a burning pain. Elbow strikes, knee strikes, iron finger sweeps—his attack patterns were almost exactly as I had anticipated, all of them deadly, one-hit kill moves from Muay Thai. I dodged twice, but his fingernails still scratched my neck, and a sticky liquid slid down my chest—it was definitely a cut and bleeding. "Fight back, Mr. Feng? Too scared or embarrassed?" His toes lightly tapped the bluestone floor, making a "crackling" sound, proving that the copper-plated toe caps were thick and heavy; a kick to the toe would instantly tear flesh and shatter bones. He was Su Lun's assistant, and Su Lun would often need his help when returning to the Sichuan-Tibet border to continue the search operation, so I didn't want to touch his legs, which was why I hadn't rushed to retaliate. Xiao Lai was still groaning; a man who had roamed the martial world would never groan and show weakness in front of his enemy unless in excruciating pain. The thought of Schiller's ruthless attack made my anger surge again. No one was outside the courtyard, and the chill of the night was rolling in—I suddenly closed in, left arm below, right arm above, simultaneously deflecting Schiller's elbow and leg, and entered his inner circle. "Ha!" he yelled, twisting his neck and smashing a headbutt at my skull. Muay Thai training methods can turn any part of the body into a deadly weapon. Schiller's Muay Thai wasn't authentic, but its lethality was undeniable. I didn't want my head smashed into a pulp, so I raised my right elbow and struck his collarbone, easily shattering the fragile bone with a "crack" using the force of his forward lean. Schiller leaned back, sliding his feet, trying to escape my attack range, and then launched a double kick. "Thud, thud," my palms slammed heavily onto his ribs, precisely at the moment he gathered his strength, my internal energy penetrating his flesh and reaching his internal organs. Foreigners practice martial arts only focusing on the surface and techniques, never understanding what "internal energy" is; I believe Schiller was no exception. "Again—ah…" After retreating five steps, he regained his footing, just about to raise his foot to strike, when suddenly he clutched his chest in pain, bent over, and dry-heaved in a agonizing manner. External injuries can heal in a few days, but I used my internal force to displace his internal organs. Without more than six months of traditional Chinese medicine treatment, he simply won't be able to muster the energy to fight again. Suren frowned nervously, "Brother Feng, isn't this going too far?" Her martial arts were inferior to mine, and she couldn't possibly rush over to stop me quickly; she could only sigh as she watched Schiller. Schiller cried out a dozen times, then collapsed to the ground with a thud, frantically rubbing his chest and lower abdomen. Less than half a minute later, his body arched backward, rolling on the ground. My sudden, heavy blow had shattered the air he had inhaled, causing it to scatter into his liver, kidneys, pancreas, gallbladder, and stomach, obstructing his bodily functions and preventing them from being cleared from the surface. Xiao Lai walked over, kicked Schiller in the buttocks with his toe, and chuckled coldly. I had saved Xiao Lai's face; this time I was acting for my brother, and it had nothing to do with the Divine Gun Society. Suren bent down, brushed Schiller's hand aside, and suddenly thrust his sword-like fingers forward, stabbing Schiller four or five times into his ribcage. Schiller stopped rolling around, letting out several loud burps; the pain seemed to lessen somewhat. "Suren, releasing the air from his diaphragm is like drinking poison to quench thirst. After taking him back to the mainland, find an old traditional Chinese medicine doctor to prescribe some remedies to clear his obstructions and allow him to recover slowly. He should be fully healed in about a year. However, during his recovery, it's best not to fight or spar with anyone. Blindly exerting your energy will only worsen the damage to his internal organs." I deliberately avoided looking at Schiller; this mild punishment was already giving Suren a lot of face. Otherwise, if I had kicked his legs with a slingshot, he wouldn't have needed to return to the search party. Schiller gritted his teeth and stood up, pressing his left hand hard against his lower abdomen. With his right hand, he took out a white medicine bottle and tossed it to Xiao Lai: "This powder, applied externally, can quickly heal broken bones within three days. I only... suffered a scratch; it won't damage the periosteum or other soft tissues... Sorry..." He staggered out, his body contorted with pain. A bloodless victory—this is the best strategy in ancient warfare. Outwardly, Schiller had no visible wounds, but his internal injuries were deeply ingrained. Suren wanted to say something, but I raised my hand to stop her: "Suren, you saw it too. Schiller is so arrogant. If we don't give him a setback, it might affect your search plan. Besides, he severely injured Xiao Lai first; I'm just following in his footsteps." Defeating Schiller didn't seem to bring me any joy; instead, I suddenly felt inexplicably tired. Perhaps it was the arrival of the three helicopters that suddenly made the atmosphere at Fengge Temple heavy and strangely eerie. In this complex environment, I hoped Suren could stay, just like when we fought side by side in the Egyptian desert, so close and inseparable. "Well then, I'll be taking a Japan Airlines flight to Xi'an tomorrow. I wonder when we'll see each other again?" Suren was a little sentimental. A brief reunion, followed by separation. And with her concerned about her search for the Epang Palace, and my heart focused on the "Underwater Tomb," neither thing would yield any results in the short term. Xiao Lai quietly slipped out, leaving the courtyard to Suren and me. Of course, in another room, there was the melancholy Guan Baoling; I wondered if she was intentionally eavesdropping on our conversation. "Actually, I really hope you can stay—after all, Xiao Xiao can't completely replace you. She seems to have some connection with the North Koreans. Do you know these secrets?" The Crimson Flame Force was a politically biased force, obeying only the North Korean government, regardless of whether the mission was right or wrong. Even if it was a grave mistake, they would carry it out without hesitation as long as an order came from above. Suren hesitated, as if she had something difficult to say. I sighed deeply, "Su Lun, you keep telling me to trust Xiao, but you keep everything from me. How can I trust her? This is simply... asking the impossible." In this unfamiliar environment of Hokkaido, I need someone I can unconditionally trust as a backup. I want to know everything about Xiao Keleng's past if I really want to fight alongside her. After a five-minute silence, Su Lun finally relented, "Regarding Xiao's identity, I'll consult her before deciding whether I can reveal it to you, or have her explain it to you herself. Brother Feng, shouldn't everyone have the right to keep their privacy? Like you and me, like Miss Guan Baoling—" She glanced at Guan Baoling's room, which was lit up, a complex and helpless expression of melancholy, disdain, and jealousy flashing across her face. "Of course, everyone can keep their privacy, but only if it doesn't hinder cooperation. The Crimson Flame Force has a terrible reputation, and I'm really afraid of a tragic shootout due to some conflict of interest. The area around Mokuwan-Zhoushan is already lively enough with the gathering of Watanabe Castle, the Yamaguchi-gumi, the Koga ninjas, and the Korean Black Angels; if we add the North Korean special forces, haha, it'll practically draw the attention of the entire East and Northeast Asia. If something happens, wouldn't it be another small-scale world war?" I forgot to mention someone: the mysterious Tanino Shinshu, hidden in the "Meditation Hall." From his communication with Fujika, I indirectly learned that he was monitoring the operation of the "Divine Tide." Who knows what secrets are hidden in that strange house? Currently, it seems that Fujika has become the key to unraveling all the problems. Suren chuckled, tacitly acknowledging my grumbling, then turned to ask, "Brother Feng, aren't you at all interested in the second Epang Palace? Also, that mysterious compass I mentioned—if it weren't for customs inspections and the strict controls on the import and export of cultural relics from the mainland, I would have brought it over to show you long ago. For the past two weeks, I've been reading over 300,000 words of material almost every day, all unofficial historical accounts about Qin Shi Huang's reign, including some absurd interpretations of the 'Twelve Golden Men.' I've made many connections and discoveries, and I really want to… do this work with you, but unfortunately… neither of us wants to give up for now." I believed Suren had made some discoveries about that matter, but I couldn't let the "Underwater Divine Tomb" project fall apart, especially after Teng Jia's awakening. She would surely give me a lot of inspiration, and I needed to have a long talk with her to obtain the secrets of the *Azure Heaven and Yellow Springs Scripture*. “I’m sorry, Suren. But I promise you, as soon as things are settled here, I’ll fly to Xi’an to meet you.” I meant it sincerely. I was very worried about leaving such a frivolous American like Schiller by her side, just as she was worried about me staying with Guan Baoling. Suren smiled, radiant and bright. In that moment, the barrier between us miraculously healed. "Alright, let's all take care. Brother Feng, don't blame me for nagging, but I just received intelligence that Mr. Sun Long of the Divine Gun Society will soon be flying to Hokkaido. In recent years, he's been ambitiously trying to 'revive the glory of the Han nation,' and has already gained strong support from many patriotic groups in Hong Kong, Macau, and overseas. I'm afraid he might use the 'Underwater Tomb' as a pretext to cause trouble. Just as my elder brother often warned me—'We are people of the Jianghu, it's best to keep to ourselves and never get involved in political struggles, lest we become someone else's pawn.' Sixty years have passed since the end of World War II, and looking at the current international situation, war is raging everywhere. I hope it doesn't break out like those historians predicted. Hehe, I've gone off on a tangent, sorry…" These words are somewhat far-fetched. The Jianghu is just a replica of politics; the structure and rules are all the same, just a different name for the same thing. She is following in the footsteps of her mentor, Guan Nan Wulang, and isn't she also working for global peace? As long as one remains on Earth, one cannot escape the influence of politics, nor can one remain unaffected. We all sigh, perplexed by the uncertain future. Just as the Americans, under the guise of "eliminating terrorists and global counter-terrorism integration," have brazenly and massively invaded the Middle East, this may be the spark that ignites World War III. Global arms dealers are already in full swing, continuously smuggling various Russian, American, and British weapons into several anti-American countries in the Middle East through various clandestine channels. It is said that those countries have converted all of their oil revenues in the past two years into tons of weapons and ammunition, enough to equip more than fifty special forces divisions. Although the Sniper Society is ostensibly unrelated to the Arab world, they are already on the US counter-terrorism list and are among the targets of "elimination," just not yet on the official schedule. Given Sun Long's ambition and strength, once pushed to the limit, he is capable of anything, no less than a second Bin Laden. In short, given enough nuclear weapons, Sun Long could turn the world upside down; it was just a matter of finding a reason to provoke him. As Su Lun walked out, he simply said, "Goodnight," and gave Guan Baoling's door a meaningful look. In the dead of winter, in a lonely ancient temple, a lone man and woman so close together—it was a perfect breeding ground for gossip. I understood Su Lun's meaning, smiled slightly, and offered no explanation. At dawn, I heard the rumble of a helicopter taking off, heading south, disappearing into the distance within minutes. "The big shot has left? It seems that although Fengge Temple is in a remote corner, it has a mysterious connection to the Japanese Imperial Family. Tomorrow, I must ask Fujika what exactly the 'Blue Heaven and Yellow Springs Sutra' says? Why did the tiger risk its life to steal it?" I groggily turned over, and suddenly heard Guan Baoling's long, drawn-out sigh, lingering like a Peking Opera character on stage. “Guan Baoling will leave too, which is even better. I can finally focus on my work—” I pulled the blanket over my head and fell into a deep sleep, completely absorbed. I slept until noon, when Xiao Lai gently knocked on my door: “Mr. Feng, Miss Xiao has come to see you three times. Should we get up now?” I woke up with a start, jumped out of bed in my pajamas, and opened the door. My gaze passed over Xiao Lai’s shoulder and saw Guan Baoling standing in the pavilion, staring blankly at the babbling water between the rocks. She was still wearing yesterday’s cotton robe, with a fox fur shawl over her shoulders. The stark contrast of black and white made her look even more delicate. “Mr. Feng, the injury on my shoulder has improved. Their medicine really works…” In just one night, Xiao Lai’s arms were already moving freely. I nodded to him: "Thank you for your hard work yesterday. I didn't expect Schiller's martial arts to be so powerful." Xiao Lai coughed awkwardly a few times and lowered his voice: "Mr. Feng, I heard that Mr. Sun Long is coming about the Xunfuyuan Villa—" He turned to look at Guan Baoling and stammered: "Mr. Sun Long is a good friend of the tycoon. Miss Guan wants to acquire Xunfuyuan. Will you give Mr. Sun Long face and facilitate this transaction?" "This is something Miss Xiao just casually mentioned to me; she really wants to hear your opinion." I smiled and shook my head: "Xiao Lai, let's talk about these things later. Have all the Japanese who came last night left? I heard the helicopter leaving. I'm going to see Miss Teng Jia. You stay here and protect Miss Guan well; don't let her get hurt!" After the two mysterious disappearances—from Xunfu Garden and the Tower of the Dead—Guan Baoling had become extremely wary. She was such a delicate girl; without someone by her side, she would likely struggle to move. Behind the glamorous and happy facade under the flashing lights, she truly relied on the tycoon's meticulous care—"Can I take care of her in place of the tycoon?" Such thoughts kept popping into my head. Her long hair was full of inexplicable charm, especially when it was blown about by the wind in the sunlight, it shimmered with a dreamlike brilliance, making me helplessly infatuated and deeply captivated. If Su Lun hadn't cut her hair short, she might have been comparable to Guan Baoling, but now, of all the girls I knew, only Guan Baoling truly cared for me. Xiao Lai still had something to say, but my mind had already flown to Teng Jia and the "Azure Heaven and Yellow Springs Scripture," so he could only tactfully smile wryly: "Mr. Feng, Miss Teng Jia is in seclusion in 'Youhuang Water County,' behind the two courtyards north of 'Marrow Cleansing Hall.'" Hearing the words "Youhuang Water County," I was suddenly stunned, my mind, which had been distracted by Guan Baoling, instantly returning. Xiao Lai was very clever and nodded firmly: "I'm not wrong, it's that place, and it's with that plaque—the huge metal plaque you were carrying tightly in your arm after your mysterious appearance." He gestured with his hand in confusion, probably finding my experience utterly miraculous, how I had inexplicably produced such a large plaque, and how it was somewhat laughable. Suddenly, I felt a sense of clarity, as if I had seen a ray of light through the thick fog: "Since Teng Jiaken was able to comprehend that plaque in 'Youhuang Water County,' he must have discovered something on it!" "That was the only thing Guan Baoling and I gained from our underwater adventure, and I didn't want it to be a useless piece of trash. Leaving the courtyard, I turned left and then north, walking over two hundred steps along the gray brick floor before turning east. My feet were moving, but my thoughts were racing, wandering far and wide. I recalled the numerous reports in the Asahi Shimbun supplement about Fuge-ji Temple's 'Yubako Mizugun'—'A secluded courtyard where bamboo sways year-round, with a bamboo shed suspended above a pond. It's said the pond water seeps from a thousand-year-old cold spring, incredibly frigid, and its temperature has remained around zero degrees Celsius since written records began. Legend has it that monks in this special environment, aided by the cold spring's energy and the Zen-like tranquility of the bamboo, can enhance their comprehension tenfold, achieving a sudden enlightenment and ascension in broad daylight.'" The above excerpt is from a travelogue by Otake Umi, chief reporter for the Asahi Shimbun's supplement, and has been reprinted in many newspapers and magazines. I prefer to explain the construction principle of "Youhuang Water Town" using the "Ice Bed of the North Sea" theory, which is coveted by martial arts enthusiasts—the most suitable environmental temperature for human survival on Earth is around 18 degrees Celsius, when people feel comfortable and energetic. If the external temperature is lowered appropriately, it can stimulate a special level of human brain cells, resulting in abnormal thinking. Just as a liquid turns into an invisible gas when heated, and becomes solid ice when cooled, the active state of human brain cells is similar.

The Sixth Sea God Plaque

— Chapter 10 — Mermaid's Lungs —

Passing through two moon gates and turning left again, I found myself in a long, secluded alley, three meters wide, paved with cobblestones, leading thirty meters to the north to a lush, swaying bamboo grove. The north wind intensified, causing the thick bamboo, some as thick as eggs, to sway incessantly, their five-meter-high tips forming undulating waves. The air was filled with the intoxicating fragrance of bamboo leaves. "Sir, please wait." Two men in white, their steps steady, suddenly appeared, their expressions cold. Their impeccable English pronunciation sounded like a synthesized voice from an electronic machine, even the pitch of their voices almost identical. My thoughts were instantly disrupted, and at the same time, a middle-aged man in a gray suit appeared beside the bamboo grove in the distance. The two men in white stood before me, their casual suits zipped up all the way, gold-rimmed glasses perched on their noses, their features refined, their skin fair—they looked like cultured university intellectuals. Yet, both of them had their right hands on their hips, maintaining a posture of full alertness. "What? We can't visit here?" I feigned ignorance. "That's right." One of the men in white answered briefly, while the other snorted dismissively. I could tell that both of them had powerful pistols tucked into their waistbands, and extremely sharp knives concealed in their sleeves—likely the "Swordfish" tactical daggers commonly used by the Japanese High Special Police. The inherent chill emanating from their blades made the hairs on the back of my hands stand on end. The bamboo remained evergreen year-round, unlike the yellowing and falling leaves elsewhere; this was a characteristic of "Youhuang Shuijun." The entrance to the courtyard was behind that bamboo grove. A middle-aged man gazed forlornly at the clear, water-washed sky above the bamboo, sometimes with his hands behind his back, sometimes with his arms crossed, clearly lost in thought. He was facing away from me, so I couldn't see his face. “I am a guest of Fengge Temple. Master Shenbi promised me that I could visit anywhere in the temple, including the most private scripture library. Who are you two? You don’t seem to be monks. What right do you have to stop me?” I deliberately pestered him, hoping to get the middle-aged man to turn around. His back looked familiar; I even suspected he was some important figure in the Japanese Imperial Family. But didn’t the helicopter fly away at dawn? Why would such an important figure still be lingering in the temple? “You’d better leave quietly and don’t cause trouble. I’ll only give you ten seconds.” The white-clad man’s voice was even colder. When he casually lifted the hem of his casual clothes, he revealed the gray grip of a gun outside its holster. That weapon was also for special police use, produced in a secret military factory in Osaka, Japan, and used in conjunction with the “Swordfish” missile. It was in no way inferior to the weaponry of the US Navy SEALs. I could guess that there couldn't have been only two people on guard duty. When Japanese special police units are deployed, the entire combat team operates simultaneously, with a total manpower of between twenty-five and thirty people. Their formidable combat capabilities are ten times that of a regular army. "You'd better get out of my way, or I'll—" I raised my voice. The middle-aged man still didn't turn around, pacing back and forth, his face fixed on the courtyard. The man in white on my right, without a word, drew his gun with a whoosh, pointing it at my chest. The one on my left silently slashed at the back of my neck with a sharp gust of wind, using a genuine karate "slashing technique." Undoubtedly, those who can guard important figures possess the privilege of "acting first and reporting later, and being able to handle extraordinary events with extraordinary means at any time." From the characteristics of the two men in white, I had basically confirmed the middle-aged man's identity. Only when the white-clad man's palm touched my hair did I slightly turn my body, letting the blow miss, and simultaneously thrust my left elbow back, striking the attacker's chest with full force. With a "thud," the white-clad attacker fell backward, but his reaction was quick; he used the momentum to flip backward, slamming his shoulder into the stone wall beside him, deflecting the force of my elbow and escaping a broken chest. The white-clad man in front of me had just raised his gun when my right palm slashed hard at his wrist. With a "crack," the wrist bone shattered instantly, and the pistol fell to the ground. What happened next was exactly what I expected: more than twenty white-clad men silently emerged from the corners, under the eaves, and among the bushes, layering themselves to block my path, completely obscuring the middle-aged man. I quickly raised my hands to show that I meant no harm, but was merely forced to retaliate. Faced with more than twenty dark gun barrels, there was no other way but to endure. Another man in white approached and expertly conducted a military-style body search on me, his movements as practiced as a machine operator on an assembly line. "No weapons, let him go!" Finding nothing, the man in white turned and gestured for his accomplice to drop his weapon. This was Japanese territory, and the man in white's unusually low-key behavior was truly unexpected. Normally, daring to disturb such a powerful figure would at least land me in jail for three months. I took a step forward, as if heading towards "Youhuang Water County," but the man in white quickly raised his hand, blocking my chest: "Friend, could you please go around? There's nothing to see here!" This man had thick eyebrows, pressing firmly against his hawk-like eyes, and a peculiar horseshoe-shaped scar on his left cheek. "I recognize you." I smiled, because I had seen this man and that horseshoe-shaped scar countless times in media photos of powerful figures traveling. He was the powerful figure's bodyguard captain, a man of few words yet always commanding attention, codenamed "Eagle Knife." “Thank you. If you truly know me, you should understand my duty. Regardless of where you come from, please turn back.” He remained as low-key and indifferent as ever, but I knew that even without the white-clad men with guns behind him, I couldn't easily defeat him. “I am Feng, a friend of Miss Tengjia. I have business at ‘Youhuang Water County.’ We have an appointment.” I took a step back, retreating from his cold, hawk-like gaze. Eagle Blade nodded: “I know you, but I can't let you pass now.” He waved his hand, and all the white-clad men quickly disappeared. I saw the middle-aged man startled, looking this way. Eagle Blade stamped his foot, pulled up his collar as if he were a little cold, and repeated: “Please go back.” Although his body wasn't particularly tall or strong, the aura he exuded when standing in front of me was incredibly domineering, like an insurmountable mountain. I sneered, preparing to turn back. Offending a powerful figure would be unwise. Even a powerful dragon can't suppress a local snake. This time, I wasn't dealing with a local snake, but a local dragon. "Hmm? Wait a minute, please wait for Mr. Feng—" I had only taken a few steps when Eagle Knife suddenly called out in a low voice and quickly caught up from behind. I braced my arms, ready to deal with his sudden attack at any moment. In this complex environment, I had to be wary of anyone at all times. "Hehe, Mr. Feng, please don't misunderstand. My master invites you." He turned to face me, casually extending his hands to indicate that he meant no harm. At this moment, a gentle smile appeared in his hawk-like eyes, as warm as a spring breeze. I turned my head to look back. The middle-aged man was waving at me, the top two buttons of his suit jacket undone, revealing a snow-white shirt underneath. "My master invites you, but Mr. Feng should understand that at least thirty guns of various kinds are aimed at you right now. If anything happens, I won't be able to control my men. Do you understand what I mean?" Eagle Knife smiled politely, but his words concealed murderous intent. He had just searched me and found no lethal weapons. These words were a warning not to attempt to assassinate a big shot with my bare hands. It's said that this powerful figure once gave his bodyguards a death order: better to kill the innocent than let the guilty go free, with his safety as the top priority. I sneered, ignoring Eagle Knife, and walked straight ahead. The Asahi Shimbun carries photos of this powerful figure almost daily; his daily life, his every word and action, are captured by reporters who spare no effort in taking pictures. As I approached him, I felt a slight, involuntary tension. It's said that powerful figures who wield immense influence are born with a murderous aura, and there's truth to that. "Mr. Feng, it's an honor to meet you. To be so young and already famous worldwide! Compared to you, our generation is truly old and feeble, I'm ashamed!" He spoke fluent Chinese and maintained a constant smile. When he extended his hand to me, he even leaned slightly forward, his attitude incredibly humble. He was probably fifty-five years old; his hair was meticulously dyed black and neatly combed back, revealing a smooth, white forehead. I extended my hand, noticing his strong, firm fingers and the warm, prolonged handshake, as if we were old friends meeting in a foreign land. "Thank you, but I'm just a nobody, unworthy of such praise." Being praised by a Japanese person always made me feel uneasy, like associating with a traitor—a sense of self-degradation. "A nobody? Haha, Mr. Feng, you're too kind! Last week I dined with the President of the United States, and he mentioned you several times, even describing you as a 'promising young Chinese man.' Did you know? The Pentagon is gathering information on you, preparing to offer you a high-paying position in their special organization. Young man, your future is incredibly bright; I have high hopes for you, very high hopes for you!" Only then did he release my hand, loosen his tie, and unbutton the top button of his shirt. In this weather, and dressed so lightly, these actions only proved his extreme frustration. I've never been interested in American jobs. Their so-called "high salaries" might not even amount to a tenth of the legacy left by a surgeon's scalpel in a hundred years. Why should I lose the watermelon for a sesame seed? The cobblestone path continued forward through the bamboo grove, blocked by a bamboo gate about two people high. On either side of the gate were bamboo walls extending outwards, half man-made and half naturally formed. Before the gate was a three-meter-long, one-meter-wide bamboo bridge, with a babbling stream flowing across it from east to west. The reason this important person stood awkwardly here was because on the seventy or eighty bamboo stalks before him, neatly carved in small Han-style characters—"Youhuang Shuijun, no entry without permission." In Japanese temples, Chinese signs are frequently seen; this is an unchanging custom passed down from the Tang Dynasty. “Mr. Feng, I know… you recently had a strange experience and brought back a mysterious iron plaque. Fujika is inside, trying to understand its secrets, but she dislikes being disturbed while meditating. Do you have any way to get in?” He smiled, as if the bamboo door were an insurmountable fortress. But clearly, his words were just an excuse. Everyone knew that in the Japanese archipelago, from the airspace to the territorial waters, there was no place he couldn't reach. If I wanted to see Fujika, I could simply push open the bamboo door and go in, regardless of any “no entry without permission” rule. That was for the ordinary monks of Fuuki-ji Temple; what did it have to do with me? But then I remembered Fujika's special relationship with the important figure, and suddenly it dawned on me: "The important figure, neglecting national affairs, flew to Fuuka-ji Temple in the middle of the night; it couldn't be just to see Fujika. What secret is on the iron plaque? What direction is Fujika's enlightenment heading? Could it be related to the 'Underwater Divine Tomb' again?" I shook my head nonchalantly: "There's no way around it; if Miss Fujika refuses to see anyone, it seems inconvenient to barge in. If it really comes to it, I can come again tomorrow." The important figure always prioritizes Japanese defense and national affairs; women and children are merely embellishments in his political career, which is why he doesn't care about the rumors circulating about himself. His concern for Fujika is not a father's concern for his daughter, but purely for the secret Fujika might be comprehending—the secret of the "Underwater Divine Tomb." Fortunately, we didn't have a direct conflict on this point. What interests me is the record in the *Azure Heaven and Yellow Springs Sutra*: let the Japanese covet the "Wrath of the Sun God"—let them be; we'll keep to ourselves. He suddenly burst into laughter, casually unbuttoning another button to reveal a heavy gold medal hanging around his neck. I recognized the medal; I'd seen it when Fujika disappeared at the Turkic Pyramid—it was the symbol of the Japanese Imperial Family. "Feng, it's just the two of us here. To be honest, I admire you. I've read many reports about you. According to a secret recommendation from the Prime Minister, they hope you can stay in Japan and develop your career—" I scoffed, "Thank you, thank you." Although I'm new to the scene, I've already attracted considerable attention from various factions, which should prove my worth. Unfortunately, he's misplaced his affections, trying to bribe me with a high-ranking position. Actually, the bamboo door in front was only slightly ajar, without any chain marks; it should have opened with a push. I am the true owner of the iron medal. Even if I fell unconscious immediately after escaping, shouldn't Fujika at least have greeted me before studying and deciphering it? That thing was the only trophy Guan Baoling and I had obtained after enduring countless fears and terrors. If it were just taken and used by someone else without any explanation, it would be utterly unjust. I took a deep breath, preparing to enter according to the rules of the martial world. Suddenly, amidst the sound of flowing water, the tinkling of a guqin (a seven-stringed zither) filled the air, exquisitely elegant. My left foot, which I had just raised, froze in mid-air, unable to move forward or backward. Although the guqin and guzheng are traditional Chinese instruments, their sound in this ancient Japanese temple seemed perfectly harmonious, fitting the context and setting. "Hey, Feng, I have something else to say. You can come in after you've heard it all!" He stroked his slightly stubbled chin, giving a meaningful, cold laugh, and before I could refuse, he quickly continued: "Twenty years ago, a Chinese man surnamed Yang went to the Tokyo National Museum and offered a large sum of money to the former director, Mr. Watanabe Konosuke, to answer a mysterious question—'Mermaid's lungs'..." I withdrew my left foot and listened calmly as he continued. "Mr. Watanabe is 103 years old this year. He can be considered a rare living encyclopedia in the Japanese archaeological community. I believe only he can give the most convincing answer to this question. Merfolk have two lungs, are amphibious, and are said to be able to dive to the extreme depths of the ocean, remaining motionless at depths of several thousand meters for up to three months. Would you like to know what Mr. Yang's purpose was in asking about this?" He flicked his neat, red fingernails, making a "crack" sound, and reached out to stroke the verdant bamboo pole beside him, deliberately pausing. "Hmph." I chuckled coldly. The sound of the guqin rose and fell, the rhythm sometimes slow and sometimes fast, as if someone was dancing in an empty hall, not for any audience, but simply to express their feelings. He spoke again, this time about the music: "No guqin player in Asia can discern the origin of this piece; they can only claim it's 'casual playing.' But I know it's Tengjia's inner voice. She only plays this piece when faced with extremely perplexing problems, and only in 'Youhuang Water Town,' playing it only for herself." I didn't want to listen to the music, nor did I want to hear anyone analyze its meaning. The rumor about "mermaid lungs" actually refers to a mysterious diving technique, meticulously refined from Indian yoga and Chinese turtle breathing exercises. "Could the 'Chinese man surnamed Yang' he mentioned be my elder brother, Yang Tian?" My mind raced, but my face remained impassive. A big shot is a big shot; he excels at strategic negotiations. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to effortlessly outmaneuver the Russians and Americans, and allow Japanese-made military, electronics, automobiles, and other high-value-added products to penetrate both countries' markets with such unwavering resolve. In his presence, I still seemed too transparent and shallow. "Fine, if you're not interested, I'll just keep quiet." He slowly buttoned his shirt, making a move to leave. I turned to stare at him; his face held only a cunning smile, like an omnipotent Tai Chi master, effortlessly handling any storm or tempest with effortless skill. "Please continue, I'm very interested." I didn't want to beat around the bush; in front of such a negotiation expert, roundabout approaches were a waste of time. I wanted to know the answer about the 'mermaid's lungs'. "It is said that through a special kind of training, certain highly skilled individuals with special abilities can transform their lungs into an additional set of respiratory organs, achieving the effect of 'mermaid lungs.' The same record exists in the *Minghai Zhi*, *Wanchuan Jihai*, and *Biluo Huangquan Jing*, and the famous ninjutsu master Ishizuru Kuro, from the Edo period, did indeed reach this level—Feng. With your knowledge, you should believe that all of this is not unfounded, right?" His smile vanished, replaced by a meticulous and serious demeanor, perhaps revealing his true nature after shedding his politician's mask. Ishizuru Kuro's nickname was "Sea God Ape," and accounts of his exploits are incredibly fantastical. For example, to assassinate the notorious pirate Kiba Tenmeimaru, who roamed the waters off Japan, he supposedly clung to the hull of a pirate ship for two days and three nights, infiltrating the pirate's lair before successfully carrying out the assassination. If a person could cling to the hull of a ship like an octopus or oyster without any oxygen supply, what difference would there be between him and an octopus? I nodded, silently agreeing. Both the ancient Chinese classics *Classic of Mountains and Seas* and *In Search of the Supernatural* contain examples of "enlightened masters transforming into fish-dragons and disappearing into the sea." So, what use is my brother's search for this answer? Before I could even ponder it, he gave a straightforward answer: "After obtaining the answer, Mr. Yang left laughing heartily. According to Mr. Watanabe's recollection, before leaving, Mr. Yang looked up at the sky and sighed three times, 'I understand!'—Shortly afterward, the Japanese Navy submarine force received a secret report of 'mermaids playing in the water near Kyushu Island,' accompanied by photographs taken from an extremely long distance. Their physique and build closely resembled Mr. Yang, who had come to Watanabe's house seeking guidance." I couldn't hide my shock: "What? Where are the pictures? Where are the pictures?" If there really are photographic evidence, then my brother Yang Tian's mysterious disappearance wasn't in some underground tomb, but on the vast, endless sea. Since he became a mermaid, how could he possibly return to land? Wouldn't that be a sensational, globally shocking event? I suddenly felt a chill run through me, but my head was burning and throbbing, as if it were about to explode: "Big Brother? Mermaids? What is he searching for? God! Where did he go?" The music stopped abruptly, and two bamboo doors opened automatically with a whoosh, revealing a water pavilion, also built of green bamboo, in the center of the courtyard. White curtains hung from all sides of the pavilion, swaying in the wind, making the seated Fujika appear and disappear. "Shall we go in? The master invites you." He smiled again. I reached for his collar, my voice trembling: "Tell me, where are the pictures? Where...where are the pictures of mermen...where?" In an instant, I heard the grinding of my teeth, but even more terrifying was the sound of dozens of short guns simultaneously popping their safety catches, and Eagle Blade urgently growling in Japanese: "Don't fire, obey my orders." This action would almost instantly kill me. The bullets in the magazines of the guns used by Eagle Knife and his gang were all soaked in a highly potent biochemical poison; once they hit a target, the mortality rate was as high as 99%. But I couldn't care less. My mind kept conjuring up images of merfolk leaping and playing in the sea. This scene made all the blood in my body rush to my head, almost bursting out of my skull. I'm human; I can't imagine my older brother, Yang Tian, turning into some inexplicable sea merfolk. A wave of acid churned in my stomach, and I choked a few times, almost vomiting violently. "Feng, don't get excited. Those pictures were eventually handed over to Mr. Watanabe, but unfortunately, they were destroyed in an accidental fire along with his villa. But he has come to a very certain conclusion: it's Mr. Yang, a Chinese martial arts master known as the 'King of Tomb Raiders.'" I jumped up with a scream, shouting without thinking, "Impossible! Impossible! Impossible... It can't be him..." My voice was extremely shrill, and my hands tightened, half-lifting the important figure in front of me. Volume Two of the "Tomb Raider Series," *The Tower of the Dead*, is complete. Please read Volume Three, *The Underwater Tomb*.

Volume Three, The Well of Spirits

Part 1: Clash of Titans

— Chapter 1 — Youhuang Water County —

"Stop—" Eagle Blade shouted and rushed over, but Teng Jia was faster. At the same time I shouted, he had already leaped out of the water pavilion, spanning more than ten meters, and slapped the back of my neck, suppressing all the surging blood in my body.

"Don't act rashly, or you might get carried away by anger and go astray." Teng Jia's deep whisper was filled with endless tenderness. A warm current surged from his palm, traveling from my neck all the way to the "Yuzhen" and "Baihui" acupoints on the top of my head, making me feel warm and very comfortable.

When Eagle Blade struck my wrist with his palm, I had already released my fingers. The big man staggered to the ground, but was fortunately caught by Eagle Blade.

This round of changes ended with my hysterical outburst. If it weren't for Fujika's timely intervention, I might have suffered a hidden loss from Eagle Blade in my heightened state of agitation.

"No...no...no..." I muttered to myself as a wave of dizziness washed over me, and the feeling of my blood churning in my chest intensified.

Although the important figure is the head of the Japanese Imperial Family, he gives a very humble impression on the surface. It is just unknown whether he is as polite as he is on the inside.

Eagle Blade stepped back, seemingly unimpressed by my outburst. Perhaps he thought a renowned martial arts master in Egypt shouldn't behave so poorly?

After the dizziness subsided, I felt severe pain in my shoulders and back. It was as if someone who had been carrying a heavy load for too long was now experiencing pain all over their body and a strong feeling of lightheadedness.

"I feel much better, thank you." The thought of Tengjia's identity as "Jianzhen's disciple and a thousand-year-old ghost" made me straighten up immediately, remove my hand from hers, and feel a chill run down my spine.

"Feng, please come into the pavilion to talk." Tengjia extended his hand in invitation, but remained indifferent to the important figure.

I nodded weakly, my legs feeling as heavy as lead, making it difficult to walk.

"Hey, Feng, if you want to hear the story about 'mermaid lungs,' call me anytime." The big shot laughed. This was just a well-practiced polite remark. In Japan, it was practically impossible to just call him casually.

He took only half a step forward, and Fujika's gray monk's robe suddenly fluttered in the wind. He coldly shook his head, pointed to the small characters carved on the bamboo poles, and didn't bother to speak. I remember Tanino Shinji saying that Fujika was the offspring of a powerful figure and a female ninja. If they were truly related by blood, how could she be so cold and contemptuous towards the powerful figure?

The important figure smiled magnanimously: "Tengjia, I know that the entire bamboo courtyard has been sealed by a spell and you have no intention of going in, but regarding the entrance to the 'Underwater Divine Tomb,' please give me a satisfactory answer this time. I beg you." His feet never crossed the boundary of the bamboo forest, as if he was very wary of these small words casually carved on the bamboo poles.

Undoubtedly, the reason he lingered at Fengge Temple amidst his busy schedule was to uncover the secrets beneath the "Tower of the Dead," not for meaningless meditation and spiritual practice.

"I won't tell you, give up." Fujika waved her sleeve, raised her face, and rejected him without leaving any room for negotiation.

The important figure suddenly frowned, raised his hand to grasp the gold medal around his neck, and asked with some confusion, "Your thinking has changed a lot. What's wrong? Have you been bewitched by someone? We clearly had a prior agreement, and there was also the covenant I made with Tianxiang back then... Didn't you already..." before you went to Egypt...

He kept glancing at me, his words ambiguous, as if he were hiding many secrets he didn't want outsiders to hear.

After circulating my internal energy rapidly four or five times, my mind had calmed down. Although I still pretended to be extremely tired, my hearing and thinking abilities had long since recovered.

"An alliance? An alliance between a big shot and a ninja sect? Is Fujika really his descendant? Fujika's behavior and mental state have indeed changed a lot. From his arrogance in Egypt, to his cold and capable demeanor after awakening, and now to his low-key and melancholic demeanor, he is like a completely different person."

"The matter of the alliance is merely a personal grudge between you and Tensho Jubei. What does it have to do with me? Instead of bothering me, why don't you go to the 'Meditation Hall' and consult Tanino Shinshu? Wasn't he also once a ruthless elite of the royal family and one of the empire's greatest soldiers? Well, I will naturally have Master Shinbeki inform you of any news—"

Fujika's attitude was extremely unreasonable. As a Japanese person, she would never speak to an important person in such a cold tone. After all, the hierarchy in Japan is very strict, and subordinates are 100% obedient to their superiors and commoners are servile to the imperial family.

"You, you, you, you..." The important man suddenly became speechless, his expression changed drastically, and he raised his hand to point at Teng Jia.

This was his true face: his slightly upturned lips revealed his gleaming white front teeth, and his wide-open eyes radiated a chilling light.

Tengjia and I stepped through the bamboo gate, only to find ourselves on another bamboo bridge that stretched all the way to the water pavilion in the middle. The pavilion was supported by countless bamboos growing in the stream; there was no solid ground inside the bamboo walls, only bamboo roots and gently flowing water.

The chill and dampness rushed in, making it hard to understand why meditating on Zen in such a "desperate" situation would be the greatest harm to a monk's health. This courtyard layout perfectly matched the "Kun" hexagram in the Book of Changes, which only benefits the petty person and not the virtuous person; surrounded by water, it was a desolate and impoverished place.

"Fujika, if you insist on going back on your word, think about the solemn oath in the alliance—I'm not threatening you, but the Imperial Family of Japan would never do something so ruthless. But you'd better think it through. The 105 kinds of torture a ninja suffers for betraying his master... I'll give you three more days! Everyone's patience has its limits..."

When the important person spoke, every word carried a sinister threat.

The bamboo door closed again, but his words still pierced through like a cold wind and sharp arrows: "All members of the Japanese Imperial Family are willing to contribute a drop of their blood to punish traitors, even the youngest newborn baby."

I didn't understand what he was saying. I walked forward into the five-meter-square water pavilion and saw a dark purple guqin on a bamboo couch in the center. Next to it, three sticks of sandalwood incense were burning and almost finished. A gust of wind blew by, filling my nose with the fresh scent of bamboo leaves and branches. Looking through the gaps in the bamboo floorboards, I could see four or five half-meter-long red carp leisurely swimming among the bamboo roots.

"Three days? Taniguchi Shinshu spent three years trying to understand this secret and still couldn't grasp the basics? Who do you think I am, a god from heaven?" Fujika stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the flowing water in the courtyard, his voice filled with melancholy.

There was only a bamboo couch and a small bamboo chair in the pavilion. I couldn't find the iron plaque and was taken aback.

"Feng, congratulations on your safe return. This achievement surpasses everyone else, including my mentor. Your deeds are worthy of being written into a classic text that will be passed down through the ages, along with the historical records of the Japanese people."

I still have doubts about what Fujika and the big shot just said. There seem to be many untold stories between them that are hard to understand.

Fujika slowly extended his right palm towards the water's left, fingers spread, and grabbed at the air. With a splash, the water parted, and the colorful pebbles paving the bottom turned over, revealing a black metal plaque stuck vertically in the water. It sprang up and jumped, dripping wet, into Fujika's hand.

I couldn't help but exclaim in a low voice, "What amazing 'Crane Control Skill' and 'Dragon Capture Hand'!"

While in Egypt, I didn't see Tengjia display any martial arts skills. After she woke up, I only saw her being worshipped by the monks of Fengge Temple. There were no other more miraculous performances. But now it seems that her martial arts skills are at the level of a first-class martial arts master.