King of Tomb Raiders

Chapter 156

"I'm fine." She turned her back, raised her hand to wipe away her tears, her thin shoulders trembling, which made me feel even more guilty.

I held up the ring and discovered a bloodstain on its inner band—Guan Baoling's blood, of course. Filled with immense remorse, I gently rubbed it with my fingertip, trying to wipe away the bloodstain, only to be horrified to find that the bloodstain had become one with the ring, seeping deep into the band.

"What's going on?" My back suddenly turned ice-cold. Within seconds, the blood had seeped into the inner layer of the ring, which could only mean one thing—the ring had the special ability to absorb human blood.

Part 3: Wind, Forest, Fire, and Mountain

— Chapter 6 — Did the Second Epang Palace Really Exist? (Part 2) —

The phone in my pocket suddenly rang, accompanied by a rapid "whoosh" of vibration. I took out the phone, absentmindedly pressed the answer button, and held it to my ear while staring at the indelible bloodstains on my ring.

Experts in the Chinese antique world know the principle that "good jade absorbs blood." Jade artifacts that are over a hundred years old, regardless of their shape, possess an extraordinary ability to communicate smoothly with the human body, naturally absorbing the wearer's blood, energy, and spirit, thereby nourishing themselves to become lustrous and warm, and significantly improving their quality.

Does a black silver ring possess the ability to absorb human blood? There has never been any information on this. I examined the ring over and over a dozen times, and I can say with certainty that before tonight, there was absolutely no blood on it; it was simply a solid piece of black silver.

"Brother Feng—" is Su Lun's special way of addressing me; no one else has the right to use it.

I agreed, my thoughts still entangled with the strange ring.

"What are you doing? What strange thing has happened again?" Suren was very perceptive and quickly asked.

I sighed softly, put the ring back on the table, and pulled back my chaotic thoughts: "It's nothing. I'm drawing up a simple defense plan for Xunfu Garden. Xiao Xiao has already reported to you, right? We're currently working with the tycoon and have borrowed advanced weaponry from the US military base in Japan to strengthen the villa's defenses."

Xiao Kelen reports everything that happens here to Su Lun immediately, perhaps just as she used to report to the scalpel. This strange relationship makes it seem as if the three of them are playing the roles of maid, mistress, and head of the household, respectively.

"Yes, she reported very clearly, including your insistence on staying in the temple to wait for Miss Tengjia's news—" A lone man and a lone woman, alone in a small courtyard late at night, and Xiao Ke's clear understanding of my admiration for Guan Baoling, it seems that everything indicates that this soap opera-like scene of raging passion is about to unfold at any moment.

I smiled silently. My relationship with Guan Baoling has been full of twists and turns, and even now I can't be sure where it will ultimately lead.

Guan Baoling turned to look at me and lowered her fingers.

I pointed to the ring, picked up a pencil, wrote "inner ring, bloodstains" and pushed it towards her. The more people who know about this strange occurrence, the more we can brainstorm and figure out the answer.

"Brother Feng, Xunfuyuan Villa is afflicted by the ominous 'Nine-Headed Bird Struggling for Life' formation. Have you considered ways to resolve this? I was in a hurry last time and didn't have time to discuss this with you. Now, do you have any new ideas?"

Suren's call wouldn't be just for idle chatter about trivial matters. Time is precious, and I'm sure she wouldn't waste each other's time unless there was something important to discover.

The sketch was a mess because of Guan Baoling's blood; I'd have to redraw it later. I picked up the fire tongs and added a few pieces of charcoal to the brazier to make the fire burn brighter.

Suren and I are both extremely sensitive people; we can sense even the slightest distance between us. If we were still in the Egyptian desert, facing a formidable enemy, our conversation wouldn't have been filled with such long silences. Actually, strange things have been happening one after another at Fengge Temple, and I have so much to tell her: the deaths of the Shao brothers, the hallucination of the door, the words on the stone wall behind it, the ten Japanese soldiers in the underwater shrine, and the sword of the Yagami-ryu school… but I'm too lazy to say anything.

“Brother Feng, do you... have nothing to say?” Suren sighed.

Guan Baoling picked up the ring, glanced at me with misty, tearful eyes, and suddenly burst into silent laughter through her tears.

My heartstrings seemed to be suddenly plucked, and I couldn't help but smile along with her, letting out a long, satisfied sigh. If I could see Guan Baoling's smile every day, even without the honor of growing old together, what would I regret?

"Brother Feng, who's with you? Is it Miss Guan?" Su Lun unconsciously raised her voice.

I could imagine her displeasure, so I replied curtly, "No, there's no one."

A loud "thud" came from the receiver, as if Suren had slammed something onto the table to vent her anger. If it were me, wandering through the harsh, primitive forests of the Sichuan-Tibet border region, my hopes dashed time and time again, I certainly wouldn't be in a good mood.

After a while, I heard the swivel chair creak, and the dejected voice of Shou Dasulun came again: "The plan to search for the Epang Palace has hit a bottleneck. Brother Feng, I really hope you can come here. Let's fight side by side, just like in the Tuli Khan Pyramid, doing something together without any barriers."

Given her strong personality, she rarely admits to her vulnerability; this is at least the first time I've heard her do so.

"I found some clues. There's a natural rock crevice called 'Lan Valley,' located three kilometers west of our camp, at the junction of two mountains. According to the old farmer who led the way, he and his companions, to escape pursuers, went straight from there until they reached an old house with the words 'Heavenly Ladder' carved on it. Of course, they didn't recognize the characters; they traced them and brought them back, only finding out the meaning after consulting others—"

I grabbed a piece of paper and started jotting things down with a pencil, my interest gradually growing.

“Brother Feng, I’m waiting for the equipment from Egypt to arrive so we can go into ‘Lan Valley.’ It’s a pity we don’t have any capable help. If… if we encounter any danger, Schiller will let you know…”

Suren's tone was mournful and desolate, as if it were a final farewell between the living and the dead.

"What's inside the old house? A secret passage? How could they be so sure that entering the old house would lead to the ancient Epang Palace?" I scribbled randomly on the characters for "Heavenly Ladder" with a pencil, feeling that the name held an extraordinary meaning. Literally, only those who climb a ladder to "ascend to heaven in one step" are qualified to use these two characters. Were the ancients, from who knows when, carving these two nonsensical characters on an old house a joke to posterity?

Even if we assume that the old house leads to the Epang Palace, it should be called the "Earth Ladder" instead of the "Heaven Ladder".

Guan Baoling's shadow swayed and fell onto the paper in front of me, causing me to drift off into thought once again.

She frowned, repeatedly scraping the inside of the ring with her fingernails, trying in vain to wipe away the bloodstains. Her focused expression was like that of a teenage girl engrossed in a game.

"The old farmer said that if you enter the old house and close your eyes, you can be transported to a palace—"

I softly said "Oh," and Guan Baoling looked over in surprise. I quickly made a "sorry to bother you" gesture, got up, and walked towards the door.

“I’m just relaying what the old farmers said. They don’t know a single word, so it’s impossible to expect them to use the most advanced scientific vocabulary to explain what happened. And as you know, many strange things can’t be described in the language of Earthlings, like when you were at the foot of the pyramids, facing a ground full of strange snakes—” Suren’s voice trembled noticeably when he mentioned snakes.

I hurriedly explained, “No, no, Suren, you misunderstood me. What I meant was that the search for the Epang Palace was inherently complex and lengthy, not the responsibility of any one person. From the flames of the Chu-Han Contention to today, so many dynasties have passed, and countless talented individuals have emerged. Would they really leave this mysterious underground palace waiting for us to excavate? If the old farmer you met could accidentally discover the existence of the ‘Heavenly Ladder,’ what about others? How many explorers like Xu Xiake have appeared in history—remember the lines from the ‘Song of Everlasting Regret’? ‘Searching high and low, from the highest heavens to the deepest hells,’ every place would be searched like ants gnawing at a bone after the emperor gave the order—”

Suren interrupted me weakly: "I know all that history."

I stepped out the door, closed it behind me, and stood under the cold eaves. The temperature difference between indoors and outdoors was at least twenty degrees Celsius, and the white breath I exhaled when I opened my mouth was half a meter long.

Maple Temple was shrouded in deathly silence, with the abrupt "Tower of the Dead" standing out like a colossal monster from mythology in the dark night.

I didn't mean to quote that poem; perhaps it will remind Suren of those extremely unpleasant memories about the "Blue Heaven and Yellow Springs Sutra" and the death of the scalpel.

“Suren, I just want to advise you to stop wasting your time. How credible are the absurd stories coming from the old farmer? You and I both know that in that kind of environment, all the seemingly honest natives have long been brainwashed by the ubiquitous antique dealers and turned into swindlers who live off the land. Believing them will only lead to nothing and a waste of time.”

Based on my own travel experience, I know that most people in Xi'an and its surrounding cities know how to attract the interest of treasure hunters from other places, leading them to wander aimlessly through forests and vividly fabricating numerous Qin Dynasty treasure caves.

I don't doubt Suren's high intelligence, but I can't rule out the possibility of the strange phenomenon of "those involved being blinded by their own perspective".

“I’ll give it a try. There will never be a shortage of fools in the world who challenge fallacies. Now, let’s get down to business—Brother Feng, Yan Xun wants to speak with you formally because it involves a major incident involving the disappearance of an American spy. I can’t go into the details. She will call you directly in a minute. Of course, if you’re still with Miss Guan, it might be a little inconvenient to answer the phone.”

Suren's voice turned cold and emotionless, devoid of even a hint of jealousy, delivered in a purely businesslike tone.

“Yan Xun? No, Suren, listen to me, I actually hope you can come back to Hokkaido—”

Suren hung up silently without saying "goodbye." I still had so much to say, stuck in my throat, and a huge wave of frustration welled up inside me.

Perhaps I should have tried my best to stop Suren's somewhat absurd search plan from the very beginning. Could there be two Epang Palaces on Earth? Wouldn't that be as unbelievable as the existence of two Great Walls?

Given the national circumstances at the time, the Warring States period had just ended, and many places were in dire straits. The Qin state was also facing constant invasions and harassment from nomadic tribes in the north. Beset by internal and external troubles, the construction of the Great Wall, which had defensive value, alone was enough to keep the Qin people busy.

Historians have ample evidence to suggest that even when Xiang Yu set the Epang Palace ablaze, it was still not fully completed; only the portion intended for Qin Shi Huang's pleasure and debauchery was finished. Imagine, with tens of thousands of artisans mobilized from across the country to work day and night just to achieve this, where would the surplus manpower and resources have been found to construct another identical palace? What would be the point? And to do so inexplicably in the remote, mountainous region on the border of Sichuan and Tibet is even more absurd.

Perhaps the only conclusion that Suren could come to in the end was that "the so-called second Epang Palace is nothing more than a 'castle in the air' fabricated by those with a little historical knowledge."

Part 3: Wind, Forest, Fire, and Mountain

— Chapter 7 - Reese's True Identity (Part 1) —

The phone rang again, but this time the screen displayed a number from Japan.

I answered the phone with a puzzled look. It was a deep, gentle female voice: "Mr. Feng?" It was fluent Mandarin, even more magnetic than the Mandarin dubbing actors in Hong Kong and Taiwan movies.

"Yes." I turned up my collar, full of doubt. What did the disappearance of the American spy have to do with me?

"I am Yan Xun. I have heard Su Lun and Xiao Yan mention you many times. I have long admired you." Yan Xun's voice was very pleasant to listen to, like drinking a fine wine, making one feel lightheaded.

I smiled. Being able to talk to a girl like that is the ultimate auditory pleasure.

"Thank you. Xiao Yan has also mentioned you, the mysterious expert in the Pentagon." Both Su Lun and Xiao Yan remained tight-lipped about her identity; aside from her name and gender, I couldn't glean any further information.

Yan Xun chuckled softly, reminding me of the ancient Chinese phrase "large and small pearls falling onto a jade plate," so beautiful it defied description. I took a deep breath, realizing that if I continued to be so engrossed, I would almost be hypnotized by her voice, which wouldn't be a good thing.

The monk seemed to have forgotten the guard duty I had assigned, as there was absolutely no sign of any monks moving around. If it weren't for Xiao Lai's presence, Fengge Temple would have been an undefended ghost town tonight.

Considering the various illogical behaviors of the monk, the doubts in my mind were slowly growing.

"Mr. Feng, time is precious. I only have seven minutes on the encrypted Pacific satellite channel, so I must get straight to the point. Please forgive me—a Pentagon top-level alert: a female spy who has been serving as an intelligence liaison officer for the Arab world has gone missing. There were previously uncertain reports that she had booked a flight to Russia. However, intelligence analysis provided by the Eastern European intelligence network indicates that she transited through Cairo, Egypt. Perhaps you are aware that after 9/11, our intelligence system established a special spy network codenamed 'The Great Waves Sifting Through the Sands,' specifically to deal with potential crises in the Arab world..."

I grunted in agreement and quickly continued, "I understand the general characteristics of the 'Great Waves Sifting Out the Sands' process. Please omit this part and just tell me the code names of the missing persons."

Yan Xun chuckled briefly: "Okay, her job number is '987,' and her code name is 'Silver Dandelion.'"

Those who followed the 2003 Iraq War closely might have heard the code name "Great Waves Wash Away the Sands" in clips broadcast on Al Jazeera. If I remember correctly, all members of the organization were selected from the United States' elite spy talent pool; they were all complete strangers with no criminal record on any country's counterintelligence blacklist.

Leading this organization was the American "Oscar," who was once on par with the world-renowned British super spy "007." It was a code name representing the highest level of American espionage, much like the world-class film awards they created.

The most distinctive feature of spies incorporated into the "Great Waves Wash Away the Sands" organization is the implantation of a nanoscale microchip in their brain, connecting them to a covert spy satellite over the Pacific Ocean. As long as a person's brain is active, the organization can pinpoint their location.

So I only asked one key question: "Did the satellite search system malfunction? How come there's no trace of this person?"

Unless a person dies, brain activity will not stop, because even if a spy becomes a vegetable, this chip will continue to work.

“Yes, the system can’t detect her, but we can confirm that the last place she disappeared was in Hokkaido, and—right next to you, within a kilometer of the center of Fuuki-ji Temple.” Her narration was clear and well-organized.

I gave a cold laugh, indicating that I couldn't believe her, but I quickly scanned the faces of all the girls around me in my mind and focused my suspicions on the missing Reese.

"An American, boarded a plane in Cairo, Egypt, and mysteriously disappeared—it must be her!"

"Mr. Feng, our super intelligence analysis system, after examining nearly a hundred million images and nearly half a million pieces of information, finally pieced together her route of action and true destination: Fukichi-ji Temple in Hokkaido. You might be a little surprised to hear her alias—Reiseka, a second-level reporter for Discovery magazine..."

Yan Xun's words made me chuckle. Real life is indeed more exaggerated and bizarre than movies and dramas. Guan Baoling and I had just talked about Resica and her black silver ring. In less than twenty minutes, her identity had undergone a complete transformation.

"No, I'm not surprised, because I've always known that the Pentagon's elites are everywhere, closely integrated into every city and every space on Earth. So, does all this have anything to do with me? I just happened to be seated next to her on a plane and exchanged a few insignificant words with her. Why bother you to make me a encrypted call?"

Prior to this, I had never doubted Resica's identity, much less imagined as associating her with the Pentagon. The "Great Waves Wash Away the Sands" organization has long operated in the Middle East and Arab world; how could it possibly have come to East Asia and specifically targeted the Fengge Temple?

I glanced instinctively into the room, unsure whether I should tell Guan Baoling about such complicated matters. Given her innocent mind, she probably couldn't possibly understand the intricate web of espionage between nations, as complex as a thousand-fold encrypted spiderweb, nor would she be interested in it.

Yan Xun calmly replied, "There aren't that many coincidences in the world. The reason Resica changed flights several times, besides trying to shake off potential surveillance, was to sit next to you and take the same flight to Japan. The 'Great Waves Wash Away the Sands' organization can't provide a reasonable explanation for this. Therefore, within 72 hours, a senior spy named 'Pompeii' will arrive at Fengge Temple. The purpose of my call is simply to solemnly remind you that, with the President's special approval, 'Pompeii' possesses all the top privileges of the spy system, including special assassination warrants. Unless absolutely necessary, do not provoke him, or the consequences will be extremely severe."

The intricacies of espionage are incredibly diverse, and no one can ever fully grasp the ultimate truth behind this behind-the-scenes war. This ancient and enduring community is the only profession whose nature has remained unchanged since humanity evolved from its primitive state.

"Privilege? Act first, report later?" In the American military system, certain individuals with special missions will hold "killing warrants," allowing them to kill anywhere on Earth by any means without explanation. Any resulting conflicts, regardless of size, will be fully covered by the US government, which will also implement the highest level of security measures to ensure the killer's safety.

"Of course, that's only part of it. In addition, what I understand is that 'Pompeii' has the privilege of mobilizing one-third of the Pacific Fleet and can start a small-scale world war at any time—if necessary."

Judging from his voice, Yan Xun wasn't a person who liked to joke, and these seemingly unbelievable things must be the real life that was about to begin.

The Pacific Fleet's hypothetical enemies include all countries, large and small, in the Pacific Rim region, and even alien spaceships and sea monsters that may appear in the ocean. The armament systems they are equipped with have exceeded the limits of the imagination of military experts from other countries.

The high-level aircraft carriers belonging to the fleet were initially formed to deal with the widely rumored "underwater alien base." They possess high-speed missiles that are theoretically capable of shooting down flying saucers, as well as sonar detectors with an extremely wide range.

I suddenly realized that the temporary calm that followed Sun Long, the tycoon, and the big shots leaving Fengge Temple was merely the beginning of another massive storm. The Americans had finally lost patience and were preparing to intervene. The fact that they could mobilize spies of Pompeii's caliber meant far more than just finding the missing Resica; it was likely another "two birds with one stone" scheme, similar to the invasion of Iraq.

"I will remember your advice. Is there anything else you need?" My mood gradually became depressed.

"Mr. Feng, you're too kind. Xiao Yan has said countless times that you're a very interesting person. The reason I'm giving you this frank advice is simply because I don't want there to be fewer and fewer interesting people in the world. Wouldn't everyone's lives become more and more boring?" Yan Xun smiled, and the dull countdown from the electronic device came through the receiver.

"We have about twenty seconds left before we say goodbye. It has been an honor, an absolute honor, to speak with the renowned 'Egyptian Warrior.'" Although I knew she wasn't deliberately mocking me, my cheeks felt hot and I was a little embarrassed. Having flown with Resica the whole way, I hadn't noticed her identity at all; I had indeed been somewhat careless.

I immediately perked up: "Thank you, Ms. Yan. Your voice is very pleasant. I hope to have the opportunity to learn from you again next time."

Yan Xun chuckled softly, said "Goodbye," and then hung up.

The phone screen dimmed, and my feverish cheeks gradually returned to normal.

The fact that "Reese is a spy" made me very uncomfortable, as if I had accidentally touched a terrifying-looking caterpillar. Although I didn't feel fear, I was still uneasy about it. Fortunately, we didn't have much contact, and after arriving in Hokkaido, we didn't even meet a second time.

I stepped out of the corridor, looked up at the roof, and whistled softly. Xiao Lai quickly peeked out from the shadows of the roof tiles, his eyes gleaming. Even without obvious enemy activity, he would meticulously carry out his mission, working tirelessly through the night.

"Is there any news?" I asked in a low voice, pointing eastward toward the meditation hall.