King of Tomb Raiders

Chapter 280

He picked up the pistol, pulled a handful of bullets from his pocket, filled the magazine as quickly as possible, and then laughed loudly as he headed east.

I don't want the tiger to die from such severe injuries. Even if those curved blades didn't pierce his internal organs or other vital organs, the sheer amount of blood loss alone would be enough to make him suffer.

The snow crunched and groaned under our shoes. Just hours ago, this place was filled with orderly buildings, but now it was a chaotic mess, like a vast field of rubble. Looking towards the cave, the cave entrance, exposed abruptly on the rock face after the buildings collapsed, resembled a bizarrely large mouth.

"The sealed gate is right there, Tiger. When will the Qi cultivators from the Azure Dragon Society you mentioned arrive?" The thought of Suren on the other side of the cave made my heart feel like it was being cut by a sharp knife, bleeding every moment.

"We'll be there soon, what's the rush?" He also looked in that direction, then sped up and turned left, and soon saw the small building with a large hole in its gable wall.

I followed silently behind, not wanting to ask any more questions, but the anxious face of Suren kept flashing through my mind.

Stepping down the dark escalator, the tiger strode confidently into the deep corridor.

I paused for a few seconds, my gaze shifting to the corridor in the hall. It was there last time that I saw Suren behind the crystal wall. Thinking back on that scene of "seeing each other but not being able to be close," it had a bit of a "prison visit" feel to it. Just a window and a wall separated two people filled with longing, and yet those windows and walls were transparent, allowing them to see each other but not touch each other.

"Wind, let's go?" the tiger called from ahead.

I felt hot tears welling up in my eyes, but I quickly wiped them away and strode after the tiger. In this environment, tears are useless; they are tools for girls to gain sympathy. For men, there is only fighting their way forward step by step, with no time to stop for romance or pleasantries.

"What are you thinking about?" The tiger's voice echoed in the empty corridor.

"I was wondering—what would you do?" I told the truth.

"What will I do? Haha, with this Desert Eagle in my hand, what do you think I'll do? I'll change history, I'll kill those dapper fellows in their fine clothes and jade belts. Can a game of chess, a debate, or a war of wits determine the course of history? Wrong, terribly wrong! The reason I've been patient and retreating is simply to accumulate strength and gain a better chance to turn the tide. If I only knew the way of chess, only knew the military strategies in books, I wouldn't have led my troops into the capital. Now—" He patted the gun in his hand, roaring arrogantly, "I will make them return the land to us! China is vast and rich, and kings and generals are not born into their positions; only the strong rule!"

I understood what he said, but I couldn't imagine what the consequences of such a crazy act would be.

If he could travel through the ancient mirror and step back to the Tang Dynasty to continue the assassination attempt at Lingyan Pavilion, then someone would surely die, and that period of history would undergo strange changes, with the entire Tang Dynasty becoming the domain of the Bearded Stranger.

"Is that possible?" I couldn't help but retort.

"Why not? Feng, even you often say that nothing is impossible in this world, it just depends on who does it. I can tell you frankly, that mirror has existed for a very long time. Even before Situ Qiushi and Lei Aobai, many extraordinary people had already used the mirror to enter other eras. In my opinion, it's just a manifestation of a 'time machine.' The person who left it in the Tang Dynasty was probably a time traveler from some other era. Just wait and see my good show; that picturesque land will definitely be mine—"

He turned his face and stared intently at me, his eyes flashing with a sharp, piercing light.

Part 4: Resurrection Battle

— Chapter 2 — Sudden Changes Occurring in the Earth's Veins —

"You must be crazy," I couldn't help but sigh softly.

With a click, he pulled back the bolt, raised his rifle, aimed, and remained frozen in place. Under normal circumstances, a marksman like him or me could easily kill any target moving at a speed of less than five kilometers per hour within five hundred meters. If he were to return to ancient times with such a weapon, it would be an unimaginable catastrophe for the people of that world.

"Only the paranoid succeed—and many examples prove it perfectly. Feng, you've studied the history of World War II thoroughly. Think back to that infamous Führer of the Axis powers. Didn't he stubbornly believe he could unify the world and tirelessly push forward this great cause? Before the war began, who would have imagined that this small European country could become the enemy of the whole world? But he did it, and achieved victory after victory, sweeping across Europe, pointing his sword at North America, becoming the shared nightmare of Roosevelt, Churchill, and Stalin—"

He carefully locked the safety of the pistol again, cautiously put it in his pocket, took a deep breath, and gritted his teeth, vowing into the endless darkness, "I will succeed! I will succeed!"

Outside the corridor, it was pitch black both above and below, and you couldn't see anything.

"Tiger, didn't the Axis powers also suffer repeated defeats until they were completely defeated? Even the Führer you admire committed suicide in his luxurious apartment, which was then burned to ashes?" I enjoy reading history and have extensive and in-depth knowledge of the official and unofficial histories of World War II, as well as the biographies of more than a dozen important figures.

"Haha, you're wrong! In the eyes of historians, the victor is king and the loser is villain; there's no need to elaborate. I just want to tell you that the Soviet theater, as the turning point of World War II, was not a defeat for the Axis powers, but merely a strategic shift that had to be sought. On the surface, it appeared that the Axis powers were retreating in disarray, routed and forced to withdraw by the Soviet Red Army. But if we look at the issue from a higher perspective today, why did the Soviet Union, such a great power, disintegrate within three or four decades after the end of World War II? The key point is that the Führer successfully used a spatial retreat to gain a temporal victory."

He strode forward confidently again, gradually approaching the location of the large mirror.

As I looked back on that history, I suddenly remembered that in 1995, the English War Research Office published an informal publication called "Thoughts on World War II," in which the views expressed were somewhat similar to those of Tiger.

The article at the time raised two pointed questions: the first was, "Is there any causal relationship between the collapse of the Soviet Union today and its victory in the counterattack during World War II?"; the second was, "At the turning point of World War II, was the Soviet Union's counterattack a victory or a conspiracy?"

The author presents a comparison chart of Axis military forces within the Soviet Union and the Soviet troop strength at the time. A wealth of real data demonstrates that the Axis powers were not exhausted, but rather possessed a greater than 70% chance of victory in capturing Moscow and pacifying Eastern Europe. In military researchers' computers, the military strength of all participating countries during World War II is almost transparent, with personnel counts accurate to the hundredth and heavy machinery counts accurate to the unit, with remarkably small errors.

The fact that the Axis powers chose to retreat after their initial defeat is an inexplicable mystery. After all, the Führer's fervent supporters at the time always believed that all of Europe would submit and that the superior bloodline of the Germanic people would flourish on every piece of land in Europe.

"That was nothing but a meticulously planned conspiracy. Even his final suicide and the apartment fire were merely a smokescreen. Think about it, in the thirty years after he vanished from this world, didn't the international situation undergo major changes every year, until the collapse of the Soviet Union and the arrival of the true Cold War? Could a 'King of Terror' who shook the world disappear so easily? Absolutely not. He will exist forever. For someone who is immortal, thirty years of seclusion is just a blink of an eye—"

He suddenly turned to the right, and the mirror stood silently and brightly just ten steps away.

I was shocked by what he said. World War II left historians with thousands of unsolved mysteries, including the deaths of the Axis leaders.

"What you're saying sounds like a fantasy." I hoped he would continue.

"A fairy tale? Those are just the real experiences of some extraordinary people. In fact, the truth of the world we live in is far more fascinating than fictional stories. Feng, I truly hope we'll be best brothers for life, experiencing these colorful legends together. A lifetime, not a hundred years, but—" He patted my shoulder, "...immortal."

We stood side by side in front of the mirror. He looked old and haggard, no longer the romantic and dashing hero in the eyes of Malaysian girls.

“I’m old, but once I get through this, I’ll be the same person I was before, full of ambition and glory. Brother, come with me! Let’s conquer the land, and you’ll be my king, standing shoulder to shoulder with me.” He smiled, his thick, dark eyebrows arching like two mountains standing side by side.

"A king who stands shoulder to shoulder with a single character?" I repeated this unfamiliar phrase, which only appears in ancient Chinese history.

"Yes, let's conquer the world together, rule the country together, and share the wealth of the nation. Together we will create an even more prosperous Tang Dynasty. What Green Dragon Society, what Interpol, can they all go to hell? Once we leave here, I will be the boss—" He patted the heavy pistol in his pocket.

I shook my head: "Never mind, I have things to do here. Suren is waiting for me."

The distant ancient palace held no appeal for me; I felt only the heavy burdens on my shoulders: my elder brother Yang Tian and my beloved Su Lun. If I couldn't find them, I would be filled with worry as long as I lived. I am not a lone tiger; I can roam the world, I can travel through time, without any ties.

"Women? Brother, once I become the greatest emperor in the world, why would I be afraid of not having women?" His right hand touched the mirror, and in an instant, the image on the entire mirror began to ripple slowly, as if a pebble had been thrown into spring water, creating ripples all over the pond.

"Where's Tang Xin? Aren't you worried about her?" I stared at the mirror, afraid of missing any detail of the tiger passing through it.

The dark muscles on his face twitched, and he hesitated before withdrawing his hand: "What?"

The mirror calmed down again, but the muscles at the corners of his mouth kept twisting and trembling. Finally, he vigorously wiped his stubble under his chin and answered with great determination: "Feng, there's something you can probably imagine. Anyone who is reborn in the modern world will have their own past life. She is here, and of course, she will be in that era when all foreign powers submitted. I will go in, not only to seize the Li family's empire, but also to find her, and I believe I can definitely win her heart."

A thought flashed through my mind: "She is...she once belonged to you? Or she was someone who worked for Qiu Ran Ke?"

The tiger grinned, his face weathered by time: "Remember when we were soaking in the hot springs in Bali? I had a tattoo on my back—"

I nodded vigorously: "I see, I understand."

On his back, from his shoulder to his waist, was a delicately carved ancient woman. The craftsmanship was extraordinary; anyone who saw it would marvel at the lifelike and meticulous needlework. It is said that several Singaporean Chinese tycoons also fell in love with that kind of tattoo, seeking it out from tattoo masters all over Europe and America, but to no avail.

"There is only one her in the world, and only one tattoo like this." His voice was full of tenderness, and although his eyes were fixed on the mirror, his gaze seemed to pierce into the endless depths of the void.

"The Wandering Swordswoman Hong Fu Nu" is the woman tattooed on his back—Hong Fu Nu, which was Tang Xinsheng's name during the Tang Dynasty. In more ancient times, she had a more bizarre background.

“I should go now, but brother, I have something to tell you—” His smile turned strange and bitter.

I stroked the "Blade of Transcendence" hidden in my left sleeve and sighed, "I know, you don't need to say anything. Actually, on the way here, I even thought about stopping you. If you were allowed to go back, who knows what the world around us would become, right?"

What he is about to do is somewhat similar to the plan of the great god Tu Liehan, both aiming to change the true history of the earth. The only difference is that the great god Tu Liehan stands at a higher level, aiming to reshape the earth from the origin of life, while the tiger merely wants to rewrite the history of the Tang Dynasty.

The Tang Dynasty holds a very important place in Chinese and world history. If an abnormal change had occurred there, the Song, Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties might not have existed at all, but would have gone down a much more distant path. The worst consequence would have been the "disappearance of the world in 2007," replaced by a completely different "2007 AD."

The great god Tu Liehan is dead, but the action to change the fate of the earth has begun anew with the tiger.

"Then why don't you make a move?" His eyes began to flash like razor blades again.

We knew each other very well, so well that it was like looking at ourselves in a mirror. He knew exactly from what angle I would attack, and I could anticipate his counterattack.

“We’re friends.” I smiled wryly. “Besides, there’s still one question I can’t figure out—”

"What's the problem?" He sighed deeply. "Feng, I've always considered you my own brother. If anyone is qualified to go back with me, you're the only one. You know, sometimes when I think of you, I feel that in this vast world, only you are worthy to be my opponent. This feeling is like when I first saw the King of Qin at the Lelefang in Chang'an. I felt a mutual respect, but I also had a clear premonition that we would either be mortal enemies or brothers bound by life and death."

He vigorously smoothed his messy hair, revealing deep wrinkles on his forehead.

“I am honored.” I suddenly noticed that the wrinkles on his forehead were changing. A horizontal “broken knife line” suddenly appeared, clearly sweeping across the “Heaven, Earth, Man, Mountains and Rivers” line between his eyebrows, cutting the three vertical wrinkles in half.

"A life lived with great fanfare, but a name remains silent after death. Alone in the dead of night, I look in the mirror, lamenting my white hair—" he murmured to himself, casually plucking a white hair that drooped between his eyebrows.

A "broken blade mark" appearing on my forehead is considered extremely unlucky, a harbinger of imminent death and certain doom. I slowly looked around, confirming that there were no hidden enemies in the darkness of the corridor, nor any unusual switches on the blue stone walls on either side. If that's the case, where does the danger come from? Could it be on the other side of the ancient mirror?

"Feng, what are you looking at? You haven't voiced your doubts yet." He released his hand, and the "broken blade pattern" was covered up.

I slowly took a step to the side: "What I want to say is, is it your return to the past that inevitably led to today's world situation? Or is your return to the past merely your own destiny, and has nothing to do with the course of history? If it is the latter, Tiger, you don't need to go back at all, because what you will face is still a terrible defeat, just as history has recorded."

He was slightly taken aback: "Really? You really think so?"

I nodded: "Yes, a great historical figure once joked, 'In this vast world, a few flies bump into walls.' I'm really afraid that we'll become those flies in history, thinking we can do something, only to end up as a laughing stock in someone else's poem."

The idea that those who travel through time and attempt to change history are ultimately assimilated by history is a tired trope in modern movie scripts, and it seems that many modern people share my view.

"But I have a gun, I have modern technological knowledge, and I know every detail of what will happen in that world... Are you worried about fate? Since we can travel through time and space, of course we can also break free from fate and truly become our own masters, right?"

He also became confused, his eyebrows trembling, clearly indicating that he was having a very intense internal struggle.

I cannot answer. Tang Xin's self-proclaimed "destiny" has ended. I don't know what she was thinking before she died. Was it sadness or satisfaction? Or was it a sorrowful feeling of being unwilling to accept it but having no choice but to accept it?

“They…they can answer this question. They’ve come. I’m going to ask them for advice…” He pointed to the mirror, his emotions suddenly rising.

Nothing seemed amiss in the mirror; it remained perfectly still.

"Who? Who are you talking about?" His strange behavior sent a chill down my spine, as if a bone-chilling cold was slowly seeping into me.

"Can't you see? That paranoid leader is standing right in front of us. I'm going to ask him what the destiny of history is!" He leaned close to the mirror, arms outstretched, nose touching the mirror surface.

I couldn't see anything at all; the hairs on the back of my hand suddenly stood on end. But in that instant, I still made a bold decision: I raised my right palm and slapped it against the mirror. In fact, I was willing to experience the exhilarating thrill of time travel; after all, a deep yearning for adventure flowed in my blood.

The mirror was smooth, cold, and damp, but it lacked the exhilarating feeling I had imagined—the sensation of instantly breaking through the surface and entering another world. It was real, perhaps made of bronze, or perhaps a composite of metals with some unique elements added. It could have been made during any historical period, from the Xia, Shang, Zhou, or pre-Qin and Han dynasties. But none of that mattered. What mattered was that it was a genuine ancient mirror, not the "time machine" that Tiger, Situ Qiushi, and Lei Aobai had been describing.

"Tiger?" I tried calling him.

He seemed to wake up suddenly from his drowsiness, took a step back, and rubbed his eyes vigorously: "What? You... are calling me?"

I nodded, then shook my head, because I didn't know how to persuade him, and even suspected that there was something wrong with his brain, which was why he had just experienced hallucinations.

“The wind,” he said, “heroes create history, water dripping wears away stone, and strong winds can destroy mountains. As long as you persevere, you can achieve everything you dream of in the long river of time. It took him forty years to push for the collapse of the Soviet Union. His next target is his nemesis from World War II, which won’t take that long at all. Preliminary calculations suggest it will be in 2007 or even earlier—2007? Isn’t that now?”

He raised his right hand and made a "goodbye" gesture towards the mirror, as if there really was someone in the mirror silently walking away.

"You really saw him?" I stared at his reflection in the mirror.

“Of course, look—” He turned his left hand over, revealing a two-inch-long white ivory pistol in his palm.

I gasped. Only two of these weapons exist in the world, one in the national military museums of the United States and the other in Germany. They are exactly two inches long, carved entirely from ivory, hold two rounds, and have an effective range of thirty centimeters. They were the absolute favorite of that Axis leader.

"This is a gift from him. It's the third one in the world. The carving material isn't ordinary ivory, but rather an ancestor of the Asian elephant that went extinct 40,000 years ago. Look, on the lower right corner of the handle, there's that unique swastika." He raised the gun, showing me that strange symbol that swept across Europe during World War II.

I can confirm that it was impossible for the tiger to have hidden such a pistol on him beforehand, because its main purpose was "suicide" rather than "killing enemies," so leaving it on him would be meaningless.

“I’m leaving—hmm, what’s that sound?” He frowned, listened intently, then turned and walked towards the railing in the corridor. I also heard a rumbling sound coming from a very distant place below in the corridor, like thunder coming through a well-sealed pane of glass.

"Is it thunder?" I walked closer to the mirror and touched the spot where he had just applied the sticker.

His body heat still lingered on the mirror, but I couldn't discover the secret behind it no matter what I did.

"Hmm? Something seems off. Feng, come take a look. There's a ball of fire deep within the earth's veins. Could it be that a place like this could also experience a magma eruption or some other disaster?"

I looked at him in the mirror; he was leaning on the railing, gazing down. Theoretically, ley lines are endless, without a "bottom" or "top." The only point of connection to the surface world is an exit like the one in the empty courtyard. To be precise, it's one or more intertwined pipes, winding and buried deep inside the Earth, with no connection to the magma at the Earth's core.

Since I couldn't see anything in the mirror, I turned around and prepared to walk to the railing to see what was happening below.

Normally, when people are thinking about a country, their movements tend to slow down unconsciously. So, my movement of lifting my right foot was very slow, and it took about a second from lifting to lowering it.

Suddenly, I felt myself stepping into thin air, not on the hard bluestone ground at all. The tiger and the railing a dozen steps away had all vanished. All I could feel was a momentary visual persistence—"They...it seems like they fell into the ground? What happened? An earthquake? A volcanic eruption? Or lava flowing back in?"

The change was too fast and too unexpected, and now there's barely enough room for a pair of shoes to stand on, so I have to grip the mirror with both palms to keep my balance.

I gasped for breath, bit my tongue, and activated the "Disintegration Technique" to calm myself down in the shortest possible time. What had just happened was a sudden collapse; if I had taken one more step forward, I would have already fallen down with the tiger.