King of Tomb Raiders

Chapter 143

Xiao Keleng pressed on again, "Did you see clearly? Was it really a lotus flower?"

She cared more about the veracity of the news than I did, after all, it was she who dragged the severely injured Plague back to the Xunfuyuan Hall, and even threw him into the bathtub when he was on the verge of death.

Ishijima nodded firmly, clenched his left fist and placed it next to his left ear, solemnly swearing: "I swear it's true, that person had lotus flowers carved on both arms, one was the blue lotus I just mentioned, and the other was pink. They were very beautiful, but they also gave people the creeps."

Part Two: Ancient Temple Under the Dark Night

— Chapter 3 - The Plague Re-emerges (Part 2) —

My head buzzed, as if a hornet's nest had been disturbed, and hundreds of buzzing hornets instantly flew up in a chaotic and disorderly manner.

The Plague is definitely dead. If Ishijima's words are absolutely true, it only proves that there is still someone in the world who, like the Plague, has two lotus flowers tattooed on their arm. The dead cannot be brought back to life, and the Plague certainly doesn't have an indestructible body, so this can only be an unintentional coincidence.

Xiao Keleng stood there silently, leaving Shi Dao utterly bewildered, unable to understand why the lotus tattoo had caused us such a stir. He glanced back and forth between my face and Xiao Keleng's, carefully holding his breath, ready to run away at any moment.

"Snap, snap," Xiao Keleng started tapping her nails again. I knew it was an unconscious action when she was under extreme stress.

"Are you sure you're not mistaken? One blue lotus and one pink lotus?" she continued to ask, wanting a more definitive answer.

I pulled out my pen, grabbed the stack of photocopies of military intelligence from the table, handed them directly to Ishijima, and loudly ordered, "Draw the lotus flower, draw it carefully, and I'll reward you handsomely!" No matter how much or how detailed the written description, it's not as intuitive as a picture, I firmly believe that.

A generous reward will surely attract brave men. Ishijima quickly retreated, ran to the table in small steps, and before he could even sit down, he began to draw rapidly on the paper.

“Mr. Feng, you should still remember the shape of the key, right?” Xiao Ke’s voice trembled.

I nodded silently, remembering not only the lotus key shape in the ancient clock on the second floor of Xunfu Garden, but also the two identical lotus flowers on the plague's arm. At the time, Xiao Keleng and I couldn't understand why he had lotus flowers engraved on his body, and we tried our best to figure out if there was another identical key in the world. However, apart from the plague's tragic death, that night did not leave us with many clues.

Xiao Ke took out her phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed a number, her lips and face equally pale.

If I'm not mistaken, she's going to call Nobuko—Anko's twin sister. At the villa, Nobuko is probably her only confidante. Of course, given my previous suspicions about Anko, I'm not entirely confident about Nobuko's identity either.

Xiao Ke took a deep breath, looked down at her fingernails, and gradually calmed down. There was definitely a reason why the scalpel was used so heavily by her. In less than half a minute, she had broken free from her panic and returned to her original calm and composure.

"Nobuko, go to the living room on the second floor right now, take down the key that winds the clock, and keep it safe." Sure enough, it was Nobuko on the other end of the phone.

After saying only this brief sentence, Xiao Keleng slowly hung up the line, turned around, and shook her head with regret: "Actually, I should have kept that key safe long ago. Perhaps the death of the Plague wasn't just because of the 'Book of Purgatory'? He had been lurking in the Muwanzhou area, knowing that the 'Black Angels' were hunting him, yet he didn't flee. He must have been hiding another unspeakable secret in his heart and on his body. His death was such a pity..."

I couldn't help but retort, "Sigh, a江湖 (jianghu) figure like him would rather die than reveal his secrets. In my opinion, any secret that can't be uncovered is just empty talk, utterly meaningless. 'Angel of the Night' couldn't get the truth out of him, so guess what about the two of us?"

For hundreds of years, the martial arts world has been one where "people die for wealth, and birds die for food." The plague-stricken man died to preserve his secrets; his death was fitting and understandable.

"It's finished! It's finished!" Ishijima jumped up, threw the pen aside, and held the paper up to his chest.

His painting skills were very poor, but Xiao Keleng and I understood one thing in an instant—"The people who attacked Shidao did have two tattoos on their arms that were exactly the same as the plague."

"That person was slightly shorter than Mr. Feng, a little hunched over, and walked very lightly, making almost no sound. Also, although half of his face was covered, at least a dozen newly healed red scars were visible on his forehead and brow bone." Ishijima frowned, thinking hard, trying to fill in the gaps in his impression of the attacker.

Xiao Keleng took the paper, looked at it several times, slowly exhaled, and nodded silently.

If the plague has indeed resurrected, it will be another bizarre discovery on this trip to Hokkaido. At the time, Xiao Keleng, Guan Baoling, and I clearly saw that he was dead, with dozens of serious injuries, covered in blood, and Xiao Keleng accompanied the police to collect the body the next day.

"What the hell! It's truly unbelievable!" I shook my head and sighed. The attacker's body, as described by Ishijima, closely resembled that of someone with the plague. A master of light-footed martial arts like him would indeed walk differently from others. And the scars on his face must have been a result of the combined attack by the "Black Angels of the Night," right?

Shi Dao asked in horror, "A ghost? What ghost?"

I waved my hand. Someone as lowly as him wouldn't understand the ins and outs of the plague at all, and it would be useless to talk to him.

Xiao Ke chuckled coldly twice and casually asked, "Shidao, what clothes is that ghost wearing?"

Ishijima was even more terrified. He tightened his monk's robe, and the flush of excitement on his face was replaced by a sallow complexion. He licked his dry, cracked lips and replied, "It's a... black, tight-fitting tracksuit, but how could he be a ghost? I can feel the heat in his palms even through his black leather gloves. Are you two... kidding me?"

I really had no desire to get entangled with him any longer, so I simply instructed him, "You did very well tonight, and I will promote you accordingly. If there's anything that needs to be added, come and report to me immediately. Now, you can go and go back to sleep."

People have varying levels of intelligence, so getting him to understand the strange events that occurred at Xunfuyuan Villa would be harder than climbing to heaven. Perhaps his greatest skill lies in manipulating financial records to line his own pocket, something completely unrelated to matters of the underworld.

Shi Dao left happily, completely disregarding the fact that he was only wearing a thin, ripped monk's robe in the dead of winter. It seems that the spiritual power of money is sometimes truly unimaginable.

Xiao Keleng leaned against the table, her fingers tapping incessantly on the clumsy lotus flower on the paper, making a "tap tap tap tap" sound.

Tonight is destined to be another sleepless night. The news of the plague's strange resurgence has suddenly made me wide awake, and all my fatigue and exhaustion have vanished.

After a long silence, Xiao Keleng finally spoke: "Mr. Feng, ever since I discovered the two lotus flowers on the plague's arm, I have been wondering if there are two identical lotus keys in the world. I know that most of the strange and unusual items that appear in the world have their own unique origins or unfathomable origins, but we just can't reveal these underlying contents."

This lengthy opening suggests that she has a well-thought-out idea to share.

I dragged a chair to the table, picked up another piece of paper, and quickly sketched another lotus flower from memory. Then, I looked up at her with interest and said, "Please continue."

Xiao Ke gave a bitter laugh: "The key has always been kept in the old clock in the villa. Before you arrived at Xunfu Garden, Mr. Scalpel examined it carefully under a 500x microscope and left behind an incredibly clear electronic image. In many typical treasure hunting cases, the treasure hunter would leave a miniature map of the route to the hiding place on some exquisite and small items—but it turns out that it was just a very valuable work of art, without any hidden secrets."

Part Two: Ancient Temple Under the Dark Night

— Chapter 4 — Willow Bank, Dawn Breeze, and Waning Moon (Part 1) —

With his renowned surgical skills in the global tomb raiding world, he has exhausted every method to explore Xunfuyuan Villa, and his eyesight is extremely sharp, often discovering the crux of most problems when ordinary people are completely unaware.

I understand what Xiao Keleng means. Searching further at Xunfuyuan Villa would be a waste of effort, and it seems unnecessary to invest a lot of energy in in-depth investigation.

"So, besides digging three feet into the ground, there's nothing else worth doing?"

I recall what Guan Baoling said when she first wanted to acquire Xunfuyuan: that demolishing the villas and building irrigation canals would dispel the "black magic" surrounding the tycoon. To many seasoned veterans, such a solution was utterly laughable.

The origins of black magic lie far away in Guatemala, while the land beneath our feet belongs to Japan in East Asia, separated by the vast Pacific Ocean. To forcibly link the two to a necessary "solution" is tantamount to trying to find fish in a tree, or an unsolvable problem in a multivariate equation.

“I think it should be like this—regarding the secret of Xunfu Garden, after Mr. Scalpel passed away, I talked with Sister Su Lun several times on the phone, and the final conclusion was also to completely dismantle the building. However, she kept emphasizing that this matter should be decided by you, and no one can take your place.”

She carefully picked up the paper, flicked it gently, and it made a crisp "pizz" sound.

Currently, only Su Lun knows my true identity, and she is a tight-lipped person who would never reveal it to outsiders. The villa was left to me by my elder brother, Yang Tian, so only I have the authority to dispose of it.

"That bronze warrior holding the clock is very heavy. I intend to cut it open carefully to see if there's anything strange inside. Since this is a major overhaul of the villa, I hope to analyze anything suspicious—"

Xiao Keleng's narration was concise and very organized, which must have been due to extensive prior investigation and planning.

I raised my hand, slightly displeased: "Xiao Xiao, have you considered how many people are eyeing this villa? Watanabe City, the Night Angels, even the Crimson Flame Army—if we dismantle this villa, aren't we just giving others the opportunity to reap the benefits? I'll call Su Lun again to discuss a detailed excavation plan."

Xiao Keleng's overstepping of her bounds displeased me. She was on the side of the Pro-God Gun Society, and if anything was discovered, Sun Long would be the first to benefit, not me and Su Lun.

The small island of Hokkaido has already been thrown into turmoil by the "Wrath of the Sun God" and the "Great Weapon of Destruction." If other complications arise, the situation could lead to a complex and unpredictable war, with no one able to control the final outcome.

Xiao Keleng noticed my change in mood, fell silent, and tore the clumsy lotus painting by Shi Dao into pieces. Of course, he also destroyed the phone record written on the front, leaving no trace.

"I'll call Su Lun tomorrow morning to discuss everything from scratch." My tone grew increasingly cold; I didn't want Xiao Keleng to lead me by the nose. At present, apart from Guan Baoling, I wouldn't care about anyone else's opinions at Fengge Temple.

Xiao Ke glanced at her watch and sighed, "It's already one in the morning. Time flies! In another two weeks, it will be the Chinese Lunar New Year—"

Every Chinese person feels a surge of emotion as the old year gives way to the new, a sentiment that has remained unchanged throughout history.

I shrugged, frowned, and smiled bitterly: "With each passing day, the day of the 'Big Seven' draws ever closer. Facing the impending destruction of Earth with such clarity is an extremely cruel tragedy. Therefore, I hope that all the clear-headed scientists on Earth can quickly figure out how to reverse the destruction of the 'Big Seven' and work together to save the planet."

No one wants to die, especially young people who are full of confidence and hope for the future.

Xiao Keleng raised her head, gave me a deep look, cleared her throat, and slowly read the following sentence: "When the Great Seven Cycles come to an end, mutual slaughter will occur. It will happen shortly after the beginning of this thousand years. At that time, the dead underground will break out of their tombs."

This is the Chinese translation of "The Centuries," which I can recite from memory.

Many authoritative religious analysis articles have concluded that the "dead emerging from the tomb" refers to the resurrection of the pharaohs in the Egyptian pyramids, and that this occurred "shortly after the beginning of this millennium," that is, just a few years before the turn of the 21st century.

As for the phrase "mutual slaughter," both World War I and World War II were undoubtedly large-scale acts of mutual slaughter within human society. If prophets explicitly point out that the same cyclical events will continue in the future, they are certainly referring to World War III, or what political and military analysts from various countries call "nuclear war."

"Hehe, what do you mean? Do you have any profound insights into these words?" I couldn't help but laugh. There are specialized research organizations for the prophecies in "The Centuries" in various European countries. I hoped that Xiao Keleng would have some new and innovative personal insights, although the possibility was very small—after all, when a book is available for experts all over the world to study, and the meaning of all the chapters has been thoroughly explored and made public, it has reached the limit of human thinking.

Xiao Ke smiled coldly: "Everyone has to die eventually. Only those who can't let go of things and can't accept death have a fear of it. If you see through everything and have no attachments, what difference does it make whether you die today or a thousand years from now?"

Her words are close to the decadent Buddhist theory of "the four elements are empty, all things are empty".

"Sister Su Lun also said—well, never mind, let her tell you herself on the phone tomorrow. I don't want to be a meaningless mouthpiece anymore."

Xiao Keleng was somewhat disappointed, seemingly still unsatisfied with the topic of "life and death." She was still so young; if it weren't for Jin Chunxi's "overpowering the emperor" experience, she should be enjoying the prime of her life and love.

I pointed to the only bed in the room, trying to shake off my heavy mood: "Xiao Xiao, it's almost dawn. Rest here for a bit, we'll talk again tomorrow—" I paused, then added, "Thank you for coming, thank you for being so honest with me."

Her background is a huge personal secret, concerning her future life and death. The fact that she told me about it shows how much she trusts me.

As I left the room and closed the door behind me, I couldn't help but recall the days in the Egyptian desert when I shared a tent with Suren, sleeping side by side. In a man's eyes, Suren was practically a perfect girl—beautiful, intelligent, wealthy, and decisive—embodying almost every virtue men admired. The only regret was that she could never truly move me; the few times we were together were like a gentle breeze across a lake, creating ripples that lasted no more than a few minutes.

She's a good person, and I like her, but it's definitely not the wild and passionate love I longed for in college.

Guan Baoling's room was still lit, and her silhouette, sitting sideways, was clearly projected onto the paper door, making the landscape and cherry blossom painting that was originally painted on the door look dull in comparison.

I stood quietly at the bottom of the steps, watching her shadow. She was the first girl to capture my heart in an instant, and the more unattainable she was, the more intense my longing became.

She suddenly stood up, slowly walked to the door, and placed her hand on the door handle. In an instant, the dark and deep sky seemed to become clear and high, giving me the urge to "stroll by candlelight" with my confidante, and I even forgot the existence of the tycoon, Su Lun, or Xiao Keleng.

"If she comes out, will I completely surrender to love? Will I reveal my true feelings?" I asked myself this question over and over again, my palms suddenly becoming sweaty, and my throat involuntarily choking up. I admit I was very nervous, because what I was about to face might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for love.

She didn't actually open the door. Through the light brown mulberry paper pasted on the door, she seemed to sense my presence, turned back, picked something up from the table, and returned to the door.

I understood. She was holding a slender calligraphy brush. After a moment of contemplation, she wrote with a free and easy stroke, and a line of cursive script appeared on the paper door. The media had reported countless times with admiration on her talent in calligraphy, classical poetry, and composing lyrics and music. Moreover, wealthy businessmen and gentry in Hong Kong would often go to her residence to pay exorbitant sums for her calligraphy in order to curry favor with the tycoons.

The inscription reads "Willows on the bank, a gentle breeze at dawn, a waning moon," a line from Liu Yong's poem "Rainy Night Bells" from the Northern Song Dynasty. I suddenly understood her feelings at that moment; her heart was filled with a mixture of bewilderment and helplessness, and overwhelming excitement. "Rainy Night Bells" is a timeless masterpiece that poignantly describes the lingering emotions of lovers parting. Whether she intended it to be meant for me or not, her writing of this line speaks volumes about her current feelings of melancholy and longing.

A minute later, she returned to the table, and the light suddenly went out.

The lights on Xiao Keleng's side had long been off. At this moment, I suddenly found myself in boundless darkness, standing motionless, my mind reciting the words of "Rainy Night Bell" over and over again. The barrier between two people caught in unrequited love is probably like this layer of mulberry paper before me—easily torn apart, yet neither side has the courage to break through it.

I suddenly felt like singing and roaring, shedding all the pretense of maturity and composure I'd cultivated over the years, and summoning the do-or-die courage of a young person to confess my love to Guan Baoling, casting aside the tycoon and seeking only a moment of mutual pleasure.

A faint, sweet fragrance wafted in the air. I couldn't tell if it came from Guan Baoling or Xiao Keleng's perfume. I took a deep breath and felt a slight dizziness, as if I were floating on air.

It was a strange floral fragrance. Spring was still early, and the most famous cherry blossoms in Hokkaido had not yet formed buds, so where did the fragrance come from? Moreover, this fragrance had a strangely exciting feeling. Although I had stayed up most of the night, I was suddenly filled with youthful and energetic vitality.

I couldn't resist stepping onto the stairs and reaching for Guan Baoling's doorknob. That door probably wasn't locked, right? If she also had feelings for me, she should give me a chance…

Part Two: Ancient Temple Under the Dark Night

— Chapter 4 — Willow Bank, Dawn Breeze, and Waning Moon (Part 2) —

Suddenly, I felt a chill between my brows, as if I had been struck by something. I reached up and brushed it away, only to find a wet patch. Snowflakes began to fall from the sky, and more snowflakes landed on my face and hair, instantly turning into cold water.

The fragrance in the air vanished completely as the snowflakes fell thicker and thicker. The cool water also cooled my boiling enthusiasm. I tapped my dizzy head and suddenly realized how absurd I had been just now. In shock, I quickly took four or five steps back, exposing myself to the dense snow.

Through the snow, the writing on the door was blurry and ethereal, like a crystal glass still smudged with wine after a hangover, making me involuntarily let out a bitter, relieved smile. If I made a fool of myself tonight, not only would my reputation be ruined, but it would also tarnish Guan Baoling's reputation, and greatly disappoint Su Lun, Xiao Keleng, and the others.

I am the younger brother of Yang Tian, the "King of Tomb Raiders". How could I possibly act like an eighteen or nineteen-year-old urban rogue, indulging my desires recklessly?

All the irresistible impulses originated from that strange fragrance.

I leaped onto the roof and looked directly east toward the meditation hall. Everywhere I looked was a vast expanse of enormous, goose-feather-like snowflakes, blurring all the buildings like a freshly painted watercolor. But I could keenly sense a surging, murderous intent quietly emanating from the direction of the meditation hall.

"Mr. Feng, is there a problem?" Xiao Lai faithfully hid behind the chimney, his head and shoulders covered with a thick layer of snow, only his alert eyes flashing with a wary glint.

I slowly retreated to his side, and within ten seconds, I felt that the murderous aura, like a snake spitting its tongue, gradually disappear, leaving only cold dampness in the air.

"It's nothing, I was just thinking about you." I reached out and patted the snow off Xiao Lai's shoulder.

Xiao Lai smiled somewhat shyly, revealing two rows of white teeth. If it weren't for the scar on his face, with his appearance, he could indeed have made a name for himself in the Chinese film and television industry, perhaps even becoming an overnight sensation. However, life is a strange thing; a quarrel or a fight in one's youth can often ruin the rest of one's life, turning one into a drifting leaf in the world of martial arts.

"This little bit of snow is nothing. I remember the winter when I first came to Hokkaido, I was fighting with the Kanto gang from the biker gang for control of Osaka's red-light district. I set up an ambush with Master Guan and Brother Thirteen at the intersection in the West Second Ward of central Osaka. It was snowing just this much..."