Histoires de fantômes

Chapitre 2

"What is this?" I asked casually.

"Guess?" the scalpel said calmly.

I've watched no fewer than a thousand horror movies from around the world, and I even majored in "Film Art" in college, with an exam paper titled "On the Decline of Horror Films." In my opinion, all horror movies are made in a fake and weak way, failing to deliver any sense of terror or impact.

I flicked the first sheet with my fingernail.

The second photo is slightly clearer. The person suspended in mid-air is looking down at a 45-degree angle, with the muscles in his shoulders and upper arms bulging fiercely, demonstrating his superhuman strength. The degree of muscle tension when he exerts himself is almost comparable to that of a national bodybuilding champion.

Strangely, I couldn't see his hands and feet because the image was blurry and indistinguishable at those locations.

I became interested and quickly spread out the photos, looking at them from the third one all the way to the last.

There were seven photos in total, all depicting the same scene, but each one was clearer than the last. In the last photo, the man's clothing, the leather pouch at his waist, and the leggings tightly bound to his calves were all clearly visible. His hands and feet were being held in the hands of a huge sculpture. In fact, the sculpture had four hands, which was why it could hold the man's hands and feet completely.

The background of the photo features a sun god totem in the sky and a simplified image of a pyramid in the distance. The large crowd of worshippers are dressed in tattered clothes, each with a wide turban wrapped around their head, clearly the attire of ancient Egyptians commonly seen in textbooks.

I shrugged. "What's this? The latest film reel in the Egyptian tombs movie series?"

Five years ago, the film industry was swept up in an Egyptian tomb craze, with directors and screenwriters using all sorts of gods, ghosts, demons, and monsters to depict the ultimate battle between legendary heroes and ancient mummies. In every single battle, the hero emerged victorious and won the heart of the beautiful woman.

The scalpel shook its head thoughtfully: "Feng, if this person had a Chinese-style golden dragon engraved on his right shoulder and a four-centimeter-wide Tibetan silver chain wrapped around his wrist, and it was the kind that had been personally blessed by the imperial lama Jek Lak—who do you think he would resemble?"

I exclaimed "Ah!" and grabbed all the photos, scanning them carefully again before asking dejectedly, "What exactly are you trying to say? This person is my older brother?"

The tattoos and silver chain that the scalpel just mentioned are all unique characteristics of the eldest brother, and no one can imitate them. Especially that Tibetan silver chain, with lotus stamens, prayer wheels, and the Nine Realms handprints engraved on it, were all coated with the blood of Lama Jek Lak, and have not faded for decades.

The person in the photo has a similar build and posture to the older brother in the past, but it can't possibly be him.

“I don’t believe it either, but someone—the one coming tonight—is absolutely certain of it, and they’re betting it on ten oil wells in the eastern South China Sea. Feng, you should know that Tanino isn’t stupid; this Japanese guy would never take a risk if he wasn’t sure. Think about the value of those ten oil wells—it’s almost equivalent to the GDP of a wealthy coastal city in China!”

I was stunned.

As a renowned figure in the world of tomb raiding, Gu Ye has published more than a dozen books on the study of ancient Chinese Jin, Liao, and Western Xia tombs, which are regarded by universities in various European countries as invaluable resources for the study of Song Dynasty history.

Tani's most distinctive characteristic is his principle of "boldly hypothesizing and carefully verifying," which he has always advocated and practiced.

Twenty years ago, he proposed the hypothesis that Kublai Khan's tomb was underwater, a proposition that was ridiculed by historians worldwide. Previously, ancient burial methods included sky burial, cave burial, wall burial, earth burial, water burial (drifting), and cremation, but no one had ever conceived of such an extremely bizarre form as an "underwater tomb." However, Tano devoted all his resources to secretly venturing into the northern grasslands of China. After four years of investigation and exploration, followed by six years of on-site excavation, he finally discovered what can be considered a marvel of burial history: Kublai Khan's underwater mausoleum.

That incident almost earned Gu Ye the Nobel Prize in Humanities that year.

"Whoosh—" The scalpel exhaled a long breath.

"Half an hour later—" He glanced at his watch, "the mystery will be revealed. Feng once taught me that in the world of tomb raiding, the best way to become a top expert is to believe in all the fantastical and bizarre records in the world, and then strive to verify them. There is no best tomb raider in the world, only the most diligent one."

I pressed down on the leather box in my pocket again, really wanting to ask about the "Prophecies of the Centuries." The sentences my elder brother solemnly marked in red in this booklet must have profound meaning. On the other hand, the allegory of the "1999 global catastrophe" that all historians and people around the world have been following was shattered by reality; in the 365 days of 1999, no disaster that could have destroyed the earth occurred at all.

"What exactly is it that my elder brother wants to tell me?"

Volume One: The King of Tomb Raiders

The First Egyptian Tomb

— Chapter 3 - Satellite Changes —

I glanced at my watch; it was almost midnight.

"If... I mean, if my brother were still alive... what would that be like?" I muttered to myself. Looking at these photos, you can see that the person was being "captured" by a monster. Considering the context, a bizarre theory emerges: "An Egyptian tomb? A moving statue? A fifteen-year-old living dead—"

"Stop! That's insane! That idea is insane!" I couldn't help but shout.

"Brother..." A girl's clear voice rang out. Then, a faint fragrance wafted in the wind, and a petite girl leaped and pounced to the scalpel chair. Her high-elasticity sneakers landed lightly on the bluestone ground without making a sound.

"Brother, didn't the doctor say you shouldn't drink so much alcohol?" The girl spoke fluent Chinese, her voice a mix of coquettishness and reproach, chattering away, not allowing the scalpel a word.

I only saw her profile: a straight nose, a small nose, slightly pouting lips, and her face trying to look angry.

"Master, the phone." Lanon hurried in, a delicate black Sony cordless phone on the tray.

The scalpel's eyes flashed, and he patted the girl's shoulder: "Sweetie, I'll take the call. You come and greet Brother Feng, okay?" He got up, grabbed the phone, and walked into a corridor on the side of the terrace. It must have been an extremely secret call.

The girl turned around and confidently extended her hand to me: "I am Su Lun."

I reached out and shook her hand; her hand was soft and boneless.

“I often hear my brother talk about you. You’re the top student under Professor Plensina’s guidance, and supposedly one of the hundred most promising new talents in Italy in recent years.” She fluttered her long eyelashes, her lips curving into a faint smile as she looked at me. Her face was the classic oval shape of a Chinese beauty, with a slender frame and large, clear eyes, like an undisturbed mountain spring in autumn.

"Please excuse my poor attempt." I'm not some clueless lad who gets flustered in front of beautiful women; on the contrary, after being tired of hearing girls' compliments, these words of praise only make me slightly annoyed. Besides, the questions raised by those photos are so full of doubt that there's no room for any other thoughts.

“Brother Feng, I’ve seen those photos too. Would you like to hear my opinion?” Su Lun smiled, sitting down in the chair where the scalpel had been, casually brushing the hair that had fallen across her forehead back. Her hair was jet black and glossy, long and cascading down to her waist, all loosely spread out like a mysterious waterfall cascading down a precipice.

"Oh? Please go ahead." I've never had high hopes for pretty girls' intelligence.

"Tanano is a legendary figure in the Japanese and even global tomb raiding world. He wouldn't make baseless accusations, nor would he have the time or inclination to fabricate fake images to deceive the world and steal fame. Moreover, this time he was facing 'Seventh Under Heaven,' so he should be aware of his brother's decisive and efficient style of doing things. Therefore, my conclusion has always been that 'these photos are real.'"

I was skeptical. Firstly, I had never dealt with Gu Ye before, so I couldn't fully trust him. Secondly, current digital image synthesis technology has reached a level of uncanny realism. With the naked eye alone, it's impossible to determine the authenticity of an image.

If this photo depicts a real scene somewhere on Earth, then things become even more perplexing.

I know that Scalpel has an only younger sister, but I know very little about her situation. We don't know each other well, so I don't want to say too much.

After finishing his call, Scalpel quickly walked back and stood in front of me and Suren, his hands clasped together, looking puzzled. His distinctively mixed-race face was filled with bewilderment.

"Feng, Suren, I have a question for you, interested?" He raised his hand and vigorously rubbed his face, as if trying to drive away all the weariness of the late night. In an instant, I felt his waist and back were slowly hunching over, as if his shoulders could not bear the enormous pressure.

Suren reacted even faster, quickly pouring a full glass of wine and handing it to the scalpel.

The air was filled with the wild, refreshing aroma of whiskey; this pale orange liquid is one of the world's best tranquilizers. Sure enough, when the surgeon downed the entire glass, his emotions quickly calmed down.

"Here's the thing, we just received a report that five minutes ago, three sun satellites and two Thai satellites in orbit suddenly focused their search signals and frequencies entirely on the area south of Cairo, roughly within a 200-kilometer radius of the Great Pyramid of Giza. Even more remarkably, coincidentally, at least three other countries—China, Australia, and the United States—each have a cruiser-class communications and search satellite also targeting this area. What do you think this proves?"

After calming down, the surgeon casually smoothed his hair at the temples. His influence extended to more than a dozen countries, large and small, across Africa, especially in Egypt, where his power almost surpassed that of the country's president. Therefore, information about international developments related to Egypt was always the first to reach him.

In space orbit, hundreds of communication satellites launched globally are extremely busy every day receiving, relaying, querying, searching, and spying on communication information on Earth. The trajectory and operational status of each satellite are strictly regulated in advance. Eight satellites simultaneously targeting a specific area would only be possible if some earth-shattering event were to occur in that region, such as the 9/11 terrorist attacks in the United States or the Gulf War in Iraq.

However, at present, there are no signs of major changes in Cairo.

"Could it be that the Great Pyramid of Giza is going to collapse and be destroyed?" I said jokingly. The Great Pyramid of Giza is an iconic structure of Egypt and the national pride of generations of Egyptians. If it were to collapse, it would indeed be a major event.

“No, no—” Suren smiled, revealing two deep dimples on her cheeks.

I could clearly see that her face shape was vastly different from that of a scalpel, indicating that the similarity in bloodline inheritance was not reflected in her siblings.

“Brother, it’s obvious that everyone is interested in your ‘Sun God Project,’ right?”

I suddenly fell silent, because their conversation had touched on highly confidential business matters. As experienced tomb raiders, they had an annual "tomb raiding plan," similar to a work plan, usually named "Project X," which was both catchy and easy to remember. Each project was like a scalpel, groundbreaking and sensational, and the news was strictly kept under wraps until its success to avoid interference from their peers.

I know a little about the "Sun God Project" and for a period of time, I frantically searched for information about it.

Scalpel laughed heartily: "Feng, I don't consider you an outsider, so feel free to express your opinions!"

Volume One: The King of Tomb Raiders

The First Egyptian Tomb

— Chapter 4 - Tomb Raider Expert —

I smiled and shook my head.

The Sun God Project involves the whereabouts of the "Eye of the Moon," one of the most precious gems in ancient Egyptian legend, and cannot be explained in just a few words.

The scalpel seemed thoughtful: "Feng, I hope you'll communicate with Surendo in the future. I'm getting old too; this world belongs entirely to the young."

The words had barely left his lips when the screeching sound of a helicopter rotor cutting through the air came from the northwest. Looking up in that direction, two bright red and green navigation lights were clearly visible, and the outline of a helicopter was faintly discernible, heading straight for the villa.

The scalpel shrugged: "It must be Tanino, that Japanese devil. He has many connections among several fallen noble families in Egypt."

Five minutes later, the helicopter landed in the courtyard in front of the villa. Surprisingly, there were only two people in the helicopter besides the pilot, and both of them were short and thin with slightly hunched backs, typical of East Asian people.

Suren had already gone into the hidden compartment on the side of the study to eavesdrop, while I followed behind the scalpel.

A low cough came from outside the door, followed by Lanong's humble and polite voice: "Please come in, gentlemen. The master is waiting for you in the study."

At the front of the study, there is a long row of Italian leather sofas, with four genuine Egyptian leopard skins draped over their backs, colorful and imposing. Opposite the sofas, separated by two long and heavy rosewood European-style coffee tables, are four ottomans and two armchairs casually placed.

On the side is a giant bookshelf that stretches to the ceiling, filled with books of varying thicknesses, all of which are closely related to the owner's profession.

Hanging from the ceiling directly opposite the coffee table is a massive Scandinavian-style crystal chandelier with radiating crystal beads, the longest of which almost reaches the coffee table. Bathed in the light of frosted white bulbs, all the beads emit a captivating, mesmerizing iridescent glow.

The luxurious lifestyle of the surgeon could probably put the president of any African country to shame. This seemingly ordinary crystal chandelier alone had a starting bid of over 500,000 US dollars at Sotheby's.

Two small, thin men walked in almost silently. Compared to Lanong's tall, thin frame, the two looked like comical dwarf clowns.

However, when one of them spoke, it suddenly became clear that they were among the top figures in the global tomb raiding industry and should not be underestimated.

"We're here. The scalpel, those photos, have you seen them?" His broken English, with its heavy, unclear intonation typical of South Asian languages, came through before he even sat down, revealing him to be a rather impatient person.

The man had dark skin, a gaunt face, and deep-set eyes below his brow bones, like two flickering will-o'-the-wisps. His sitting posture was very strange, with his legs crossed and pressed under his buttocks. His hands, with their fingers touching, were placed horizontally at his waist, forming the "Great Hand Seal for Exorcising Demons and Slaying Monsters" from Thai Tantric Buddhism.

Although he was wearing a genuine Italian designer suit, the cuffs and collar were filthy, and his white shirt and black tie were wrinkled terribly, as if they had just been picked up from a garbage dump. I glanced at them once, then my gaze fell on his hands. His finger bones were thick and prominent, exuding extreme strength and rigidity, undoubtedly indicating a master of profound external martial arts. Furthermore, such a posture was only used when both sides were locked in a fierce, all-out confrontation.

I was looking at him, but his ghostly eyes were fixed on the scalpel, as if I didn't exist.

Another person, with very pale skin, looked sickly and listless, sitting on another sofa.

The scalpel man, brimming with confidence, pointed to the overflowing bottles of liquor on the coffee table: "You two have come from afar, would you like to have a drink first?"

He sat with his legs crossed, leaning against a leopard skin, his right hand casually resting on his knee, revealing a top-of-the-line Rolex gold watch worth one million US dollars on his wrist. On each of his five fingers was a large white gold ring, each engraved with a different design, but all from Europe's top jewelers.

"Drinking? Forget it! Does Mr. Scalpel think we'd fly all the way from Asia to Africa just for a glass of wine?"

The second sickly-looking person lifted his eyelids slightly, his voice soft but clearly carrying a sharp killing intent.

His photograph appears on the title page of many historical books, so I can easily recall his glorious past. He is Tanino, the pride of the Japanese Yamato people, and the entire Japanese public has always fully supported his claim that he wants to be "the gravedigger of the Chinese."

He flicked the scalpel with a flourish, making a "pop" sound. When meeting guests, he always carried a glass of wine, like a heavy drinker. However, I knew that glass was one of his weapons, and the five rings on his fingers were deadly poisoned darts, deadly and deadly upon contact with blood.

He often said, "It's better to rely on yourself than to rely on others." Hiring more bodyguards is not as good as learning your own survival skills.

I believe that the reason he has been able to survive all these years, braving all kinds of storms and growing his family fortune exponentially, is inseparable from his constant vigilance.

"Alright, since Mr. Tanino is so agreeable, let's talk business."

Gu Ye sniffed, covered his mouth with his hand, coughed a few times, and then slowly said, "I can guarantee with my own credibility that those photos are real, and the dates of the photos are all within the last six months. Especially the photos taken in the last month, which can absolutely prove that this person is alive and can be seen as having slow breathing and signs of life."

The living room was very quiet, so even though Gu Ye's voice was low, I could still hear every word clearly.

"I've taken over 3,600 photos in total. The clearest ones are so detailed that you can count the tiny freckles on the person's face. I think Mr. Scalpel might be interested in buying them?"

This is a battle between masters; many things don't need to be explicitly stated, you can understand everything just by listening to their tone.

The scalpel swirled the wine in the glass, the surgeon blinked repeatedly, then looked up and smiled: "Name your price?"

Gu Ye suddenly let out a "Ha!", seemingly surprised that the scalpel had agreed so readily. The other person gave a strange laugh, emitting a grating, eerie sound.

"Mr. Bancha, please speak." The scalpel chuckled a few times in agreement.

The dark-skinned Bancha suddenly stretched out his right hand, spreading his five fingers: "Five conditions."