Iron Bull taucht wieder auf

Kapitel 214

"Brother, isn't the largest number of strings on a guqin (a traditional Chinese stringed instrument) no more than thirty-three?"

It turned out she had dialed Gu Zhijin's number. At this time, some people should have just fallen asleep after finishing their glamorous nightlife.

Gu Zhijin's dissatisfied but not daring to show it came through: "Yes, calling so late, I thought the sky was falling or a volcano was erupting!"

"What would happen if... thirty guqins simultaneously played their highest notes? I mean, at least thirty, maybe more, possibly over a hundred." Gu Qingcheng turned towards the tunnel, biting her lip, her eyes focused.

"Haha, that would definitely be a considerable amount of noise. The sound waves, when combined, could shatter the glass curtain wall of a building. However, no one would be willing to do something so foolish. While shattering the glass, the resonance of the strings themselves would snap all the adjacent strings, and in more serious cases, even the body of the instrument would crack." Gu Zhijin explained patiently and helplessly.

The physical properties of sound waves are very complex, and Gu Zhijin's explanation is only the most basic theory.

Gu Qingcheng strode towards her tent and spoke into the microphone again: "Brother, my discovery here has immeasurable academic value. It's not just related to ancient musical instruments; it's even a groundbreaking achievement in sound wave physics. Could you come over as soon as possible? With your knowledge—"

I immediately heard Gu Zhijin's wry laugh, "Hehe, Qingcheng, I really can't get away. There are several auctions and exhibitions in Hong Kong, and next week I have to fly to England to attend the opening ceremony of the Princess Diana Memorial Hall. I simply can't be in two places at once. You and Uncle Wei should handle things carefully over there, okay?"

Gu Qingcheng entered the tent, and I was about to follow when Feiying rushed out of his own tent. Perhaps the recent expedition had been too tiring; he, who should have been extremely alert, only woke up now that the situation was settled.

"Feng, wait a minute, did you witness everything with your own eyes?" His expression was very complicated, a mixture of rage and boundless horror.

He won't believe Uncle Wei's words unless I confirm it with my own mouth. Every gang leader only trusts their own brothers, which is a good thing, but it also has obvious drawbacks.

“Xiao Guan did indeed run into trouble, and I can confirm that he was the one who killed those brothers. I shot him first, but he was possessed by something and was not afraid of bullets at all. Fortunately, Uncle Wei arrived in time, which prevented greater casualties.” I am telling the truth and I am not exaggerating.

Uncle Wei stood beside Flying Eagle, chuckling coldly in a low voice: "Divine sorcery, specifically targeting those with weak wills. You'd better keep an eye on your brothers. If something goes wrong again, none of us will be so lucky."

Flying Eagle walked toward the tent where the incident had occurred, his face ashen. Uncle Wei stared at me thoughtfully: "Young man, you've been observing me. Is there a problem?"

My train of thought, which had been following Gu Qingcheng, was interrupted, so I stopped and met his gaze: "Uncle Wei, were you using the 'Butcher Ding's Skill' just now?"

He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately nodded in agreement: "Yes."

"I guessed who you were—" A weight was lifted from my heart, and I felt a wave of relief. When working with this group, I should at least understand their identities and backgrounds; otherwise, who knows when someone might stab me in the back?

"Really? That's great. But you're probably familiar with a saying that old hands often use—'Eat more food, know less.' Knowing too much won't do you any good." Uncle Wei's left elbow twitched slightly, and a murderous aura was faintly visible through his clothes.

I smiled calmly: "Uncle Wei, you are one of Miss Gu's people, so you shouldn't do anything to harm her. Therefore, we have no conflict. Since that's the case, we are just like duckweed in the martial world, coming together and going apart. It's better to avoid trouble, and I will definitely not cause any trouble."

Uncle Wei laughed heartily: "Young man, you're indeed quick-witted and sharp-eyed. You're really something."

It was a clash without sparks; I brushed past him and went into Gu Qingcheng's tent.

She was still on the phone when she leaned over the table, scribbling something hastily.

"Brother, we must find out the identities of all the buyers of the sixteen guqin, the secrets behind them, and the flow of funds. I suspect that the value of the guqin lies not in the instruments themselves, but in the fact that they can be used as a stepping stone to uncover even greater secrets. I will report the progress to you at any time—including now, waking you up from your bed in the middle of the night." Gu Qingcheng laughed and hung up the phone, spreading her arms to cover the distribution map of the stone pillars, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths, as if only in this way could she calm her inner excitement.

The sixteen ancient zithers are like a mirage, their whereabouts unknown, yet she is already planning to sell the spoils of her victory. Right now, we only possess the image of the zithers engraved at the tunnel entrance; everything else remains a mystery.

“Feng, I know what those stone pillars represent!” She opened her eyes, a pencil twirling deftly between her right fingers. The blueprints on the table were a mess, indicating she had been flipping through them while on the phone.

“Stone pillars, guqin…” My mind raced and I guessed the answer.

The results of Uncle Wei's exploration show that there are thirty-three stone pillars in the last row; the question she just confirmed with Gu Zhijin is that the ancient zither with the most strings in the world has thirty-three strings, so I can boldly guess that "they represent the strings of the zither? Each row of stone pillars of the same size is equivalent to an ancient zither."

Gu Qingcheng slammed her pencil on the table and burst into laughter: "Feng, how did you guess? Did you already have the answer but just wouldn't tell me?"

When I uttered this astonishing answer, I was startled myself. Who could possibly play such thick strings? And who would have the leisure to carve a tunnel in the middle of nowhere and then place so many stone pillars inside?

"Is this the correct answer?" I asked back, because this idea was indeed a bit far-fetched and too different from normal thinking.

Gu Qingcheng held up the drawing of thirty-three stone pillars, her expression slowly turning serious: "This is only a temporary explanation. They resemble strings, but not 'strings' in the usual human sense. Until we know their names, we can call them that for now."

She picked up the table full of drawings, walked to the mattress, and carefully spread them out one by one.

The wind started to pick up outside; the fluttering of the curtains proved that it had turned to a northerly wind.

“We will soon have a new answer. Tomorrow, I will lead people into the tunnel and follow the method we agreed on until we reach the end.”

All explorers hope to reach the ends of the earth and unravel the final mystery. Curiosity is the sole driving force behind human adventure, and this drive is particularly strong in me.

"What lies at the end of the tunnel?" I think everyone is asking themselves this question right now. Tomorrow or the day after, I'll be able to turn the page again.

Gu Qingcheng arranged all the drawings representing the strings in order, with the one at the top having the most stone pillars.

“Wind, let’s discuss a question—if someone stands deep inside a tunnel and makes a sound, whether it’s a cough or a scream, then according to the characteristics of sound propagation, the path it follows will inevitably slide across the surface of the stone pillars, travel in a curved path, until it reaches the tunnel entrance and enters our ears, right?”

She drew a dotted arrow with a pencil, extending from the top of the sheet all the way to the bottom.

"If the sound waves do not resonate or resonate, they will attenuate by the time they reach the cave entrance, depending on the distance. If the distance is long enough, the attenuation will be so great that we cannot hear them at all."

I didn't interrupt her; I just tried to imagine the sound wave transmission process she described in my mind.

Part 3: The Square-Eyed Monster

— Chapter 6 — Li Kang's Family Heirloom —

"But—in the process of sound transmission, it encounters the strings. Any string instrument enthusiast knows that all instruments need to be tuned before use, and the more precisely the strings are tuned, the more harmonious and beautiful the sound will be. Conversely, all the notes will become a chaotic noise. Now, let's have this person speak again, and the sound will pass over the strings, specifically the highest-pitched string. What will happen? The sound waves will definitely combine harmoniously with the string sound, not attenuating, but rather amplified. When this 'composite sound' is amplified infinitely, what do we hear when it reaches the entrance of the cave?"

She bolded and blackened the arrow at the very bottom, then crossed her arms and looked at me.

Without the slightest hesitation, I immediately replied, "It is a sound amplified countless times. Even if the original sound source was very faint, it would still be a perfect match for the highest note of the string."

When two people of similar intelligence discuss a problem, the accurate answers they arrive at increase exponentially. Wherever Gu Qingcheng spoke, my thoughts followed.

"If our conclusion is more than 80% correct, can we assume that the sighs I heard and the English songs in the middle of the night came from a very distant place? The reason we were able to detect them is simply because they went through countless amplification processes in between?"

When I said the above, I felt both joy and sorrow. If this theory holds true, it would prove that Su Lun is incredibly far away from me; although we can hear each other's voices, our meeting seems a distant dream.

Gu Qingcheng nodded solemnly: "You could say that." She drew an upward arrow on the drawing with the thirty-three stone pillars marked on it, and added a question mark next to it.

I understand that there are countless rows of stone pillars south of that location, and no one can give a definitive answer.

"How much supplies did Miss Suren carry? Will she have enough energy to last until we arrive? What if there's a fork in the road after we pass through the tunnel? What kind of terrifying force will we face...? We know nothing about these things. Feng, I have a feeling that with Miss Suren's intelligence, she wouldn't risk going so far so easily. After all, her two identities are not to be underestimated—the sister of the tomb raiding veteran Scalpel, and the top disciple of Master Guan Nan Wulang. Don't you think there might be some helpers she's arranged who haven't shown up yet?"

Her words coincided with my expectations.

After the deaths of Li Zun'er, the Jiang brothers, and the Ba Kun brothers, only Li Kang himself could definitively answer the above questions.

“After dawn, I will have a detailed discussion with Li Kang about exploring the tunnel. Please ask Uncle Wei to expedite the process. There’s one more thing…” I pondered, “The four team members who mysteriously disappeared are probably in grave danger. Therefore, we must cautiously remind everyone to strengthen collaborative prevention to avoid further losses.”

Gu Qingcheng nodded: "I will go over the precautions with Uncle Wei again. It's almost dawn, you'd better go back and get some more sleep. Saving people is important, but your own health is even more important."

Her care is always shown in the details, which touches my heart a little.

Leaving Gu Qingcheng's tent, the mountaintop to the east was already bright with light. My watch pointed to six in the morning, and a new day was about to begin.

The road from the north was quiet, shrouded in a light morning mist.

The thought of snakes and insects that might lurk deep within the tunnel reminds me of He Jishang. If the "Azure Blood Night-Shining Toad" were here, she could easily scare away the snakes and stroll through the perilous terrain. Her exploration was halted by the stone pillar formation; now, if she were to cooperate with us, it would be mutually beneficial.

In the world of martial arts, one must always be wary of others. It's understandable that she doesn't believe me, since I've never revealed my identity. I've made my final decision: if we get trapped in the snake formation after passing through the tunnel, I will return to He Jishang's village, reveal my identity, and invite her to join the expedition.

Our goal was the same: to find our elder brother, Yang Tian. No matter how much effort each side put in, the final result was the most important thing. She had deep feelings for her elder brother, and every time I thought about it, I was filled with emotion.

"Then, who is this Shui Lan, whom Big Brother loves the most? Why has the scalpel never mentioned her? He only thinks about the Lan Yao and Lan Ji sisters who are by Big Brother's side, but he doesn't mention the person in the photo at all. Doesn't he know that this 'Shui Lan' exists in the world?"

The morning air was damp, and white frost covered the withered grass. I walked around the campsite and was just about to return to my tent when Li Kang was already standing next to a jeep, calling out to me loudly, "Good morning, Mr. Feng."

His complexion was terrible. He had just gotten up, his hair was sticking up like a tangled mess, and his eyes were somewhat vacant. Li Zun'er's death had dealt him a heavy blow. For the first two days, he had spent all his time drinking with the Bakun brothers, and would fall asleep as soon as he finished drinking. Now that the Bakun brothers were dead, he was left all alone, unable to fit in with anyone, becoming the most awkward person in the camp.

"Mr. Feng, I had a very bad dream and I'd like to talk to you about it." He rushed over, his lips chapped and peeling with a layer of white skin.

I gestured for him to come into the tent and sit down on the mattress.

He scratched his head, rubbed his face vigorously with both hands, and said in a hoarse voice, "I dreamt of Miss Suren again. She was lying on the steps of a palace, exhausted and hungry, covered in wounds. She didn't blame me for anything, but I felt extremely guilty. I should have just not shown her the information Father had written down. Also, the Jiang brothers weren't good people. Father shouldn't have introduced them to Miss Suren and even showed everyone the family heirloom. Given their despicable character, they'd be capable of anything, openly or secretly, if they lost money gambling. Fortunately, they're dead, so I don't have to worry about anyone stealing my heirloom anymore. Sigh—"

Dreams arise from the heart, and Suren's predicament is closely related to him, no wonder he is restless and unable to eat or sleep.

“Mr. Feng, I always felt that the family heirloom was closely related to where Miss Suren was going. You haven’t even looked at it yet. Are you too busy or do you think it’s unimportant?” He got to the point, a hint of anxiety showing in his eyes.

I frowned. "A family heirloom? Is it that book in the oil paper package?"

When I took it from Li Zun'er, I casually handed it to Fei Ying, and I really didn't care much about it.

"Yes, yes, that's it." Li Kang's sallow face flushed with excitement, and he straightened his hunched back with effort.

"Miss Suren has read that book?" I felt like I had found a clue.

Li Kang blinked, pinched his nose, and asked in confusion, "Miss Suren often calls you from overseas, didn't she mention our Li family's heirloom?"

He had worked with Suren the longest, and must have heard Suren on the phone more than once. After Guan Baoling and I escaped from the glass box, there was always a slight barrier in our communication with Suren. Schiller and Guan Baoling became two major obstacles to our communication. In the end, we rarely talked about our own affairs, only exchanging perfunctory greetings on the phone.

Seeing me shake my head again, Li Kang excitedly slapped his forehead, making a "smack" sound: "Mr. Feng, you really should take a look at that book. It is a book passed down from our ancestors since the time of Qin Shi Huang. It records a very peculiar thing. I have shown it to many people. An American archaeologist from New York was willing to pay five thousand RMB to buy it, but I couldn't bear to sell it."

I gave him a bottle of mineral water, hoping he would tell me something even more uplifting.

Ancient books worth 5,000 RMB are everywhere in Xianyang. They're nothing special, and certainly not worth wrapping up in oiled paper like some priceless treasure.

"Mr. Feng, let me correct you. The content of the book was passed down from the Qin Dynasty. It was originally drawn on a piece of rag. During the Tang and Song Dynasties, in order to preserve it better, an ancestor copied it onto paper, so it became a paper book. Of course, given the current antique market in mainland China, even a book from the Song Dynasty is quite valuable, isn't it?"

He's right. A rare booklet from the Northern and Southern Song Dynasties in slightly better condition can sell for around 10,000 RMB.

"I've already bought that book from your father, so there seems to be no need to discuss its value anymore—let's talk about its contents."

The book is in Flying Eagle's hands. After Xiao Guan's accident, he must be in a bad mood, and I don't want to bother him at this time.

Outside, the Nepalese mercenaries were washing up and having breakfast. I heard Uncle Wei giving instructions for the day in English, which included a full-scale search for the four missing comrades.

"Mr. Feng, that book—no, to be precise, it's a comic book. My father, grandfather, and I have made countless guesses that the ancestor who passed this book down was probably illiterate but skilled in drawing, so he used pictures instead of words to record the story. It begins with a large army traveling through the mountains, protecting a very ornate carriage. The carriage has a sealed compartment, and someone is peeking out of the side window, observing the situation ahead."

I nodded. In feudal society, the social hierarchy was very strict, and very few ordinary people were literate. Only nobles and scholars had the opportunity to come into contact with written things. Therefore, the ancestor of the Li family was very clever to use pictures instead of words. At the very least, everyone, regardless of their wealth or social status, could understand the book.

"Mr. Feng, I must explain in advance that every painting by our ancestors has a shocking aspect that will startle anyone who sees it—"

I waved my hand: "Li Kang, I'm not that timid. Just say it. Is there anything strange about the heads sticking out of the carriage?"

Imagination is very important. As I listened to his narration, I sketched the scene in my mind: in the winding procession, the painter must have emphasized certain parts, the close-ups that he paid the most attention to. The unique carriage was already quite eye-catching; after all, only extremely distinguished people had the privilege of riding in carriages. Under normal circumstances, anyone outside would look up when someone leaned out of the carriage.

Li Kang was taken aback: "How did you guess?" Judging from his expression, he didn't believe that I hadn't read that book before.

I ignored his question and simply gestured for him to continue. Time was precious, and I wanted to find the information that interested me as soon as possible.

"In the video, the person's facial features are very realistic, but his eyes are square—"

Li Kang stared at me expectantly, perhaps hoping to see a look of horror on my face.

I smiled slightly: "Square eyes? Not surprising at all. Ancient Shu people left behind strange masks with protruding eyes during archaeological excavations at the Sanxingdui site on the mainland. This shows that people with protruding eyes existed back then—isn't that even more astonishing than square eyes? Hurry up and tell me about the information in the book related to our adventure. Could it be that the direction that army is heading is the road we're walking on?" [QIS]

Ancient Chinese drawing techniques emphasized spirit over form, resulting in many inaccuracies in the depiction of facial features, limb movements, and body proportions. This can be clearly seen by examining the illustrations in ancient books.

Li Kang was somewhat frustrated because he did not get the desired effect: "It is impossible to determine from the picture which road the army took. In the next picture, everyone is standing on the edge of a cliff, and there is a round stone house opposite, with a round doorway as well."

This is the same as what Jiang Guang described. It is conceivable that the Jiang brothers' so-called "exploration of the Epang Palace" was just a fabrication after reading the Li family's book. It is ridiculous that the pedantic Li Zun'er took it seriously and officially wrote a book to record it, thus staging a farce of self-deception.

"The following pages depict a giant egg, about the height of two people. The egg is split open from side to side, and a person with square eyes walks into the egg. He is significantly taller than an average person. Finally, the egg is closed and pushed into the stone house."

I've read similar accounts in many archaeological magazines; it seems to resemble some kind of mysterious religious ritual. If the picture book Li Kang mentioned isn't just a fabrication, it at least indicates that at some point in history, there was indeed such a strange person, sealed in an egg-shaped container and then placed in another round stone house.

If Jiang Guang and Jiang Liang were lying, then where did their strange compasses come from? Was the ambush on the tomb raider Kongkong Xiaosheng true? Was Kongkong Xiaosheng the only person in the world to have been to the mysterious palace?