Histoires de fantômes

Chapitre 31

I remained crouched in the corner with my arms crossed, terrified of being hit by stray bullets from the fanatics.

If there really is a hole under the gold ingot, that would not be surprising; it could be equated to "a manhole cover and a deep well".

In numerous accounts of tomb raiding in mainland China, eight or nine out of ten describe a deep well left in the middle of the ancient tomb. These wells are extremely deep, often reaching directly into underground aquifers, forming a genuine "well," although the wellhead is tens or even hundreds of meters below the surface. Even in special geological conditions where a water source cannot be reached, the well is filled with mercury to create a "fake well."

In the classic texts of Yin-Yang Feng Shui, water is the master of all things, the mother of all Yin, capable of rising as clouds, descending as rain, freezing into ice, and melting into snow. After death, for a person to continue to have an impact in the underworld, the presence of water is essential.

Therefore, I think there might be a well under the gold ingot.

As two of the four ancient civilizations, it is not surprising that the ancient Egyptians and the ancient Chinese would have commonalities that are difficult to explain using physics.

Roughly calculated, if the center of the gold ingot coincides with the center of the well, then the well opening below should be two meters square.

The atmosphere at the scene was chaotic, so my sense of smell was completely useless. After a moment's thought, I decided to go back to the surface to clear my head. Staying in a chaotic tomb for too long would only make my thoughts more confused.

I greeted Tina, then left the tomb alone and walked back along the tunnel.

This should be considered the second mistake I made today: not continuing to follow the clue of the "bird of a thousand flowers".

The tunnel was filled with tangled cables, high-strength rubber pipes, and other debris; not a soul could be seen. All the workers had entered the tomb chamber, and each person was doing the work of three or four.

I suddenly remembered that red "water sleeve" that could easily sweep people away. If it were to appear now, it would surely provide a "feast." There was no need for it to roll around; simply sealing the opening in the tomb and waiting for the oxygen to run out would be enough to...

The thought of such a cruel ending sent chills down my spine, and I turned and ran forward.

When I reached the top of the shaft, I still felt a chill run through my body and was shivering. I insisted on taking the elevator up to the top of the shaft, my teeth chattering violently.

Actually, the sun was shining brightly on the ground; it was a typical sunny day in the desert.

I returned to the tent, where Suren was engrossed in reviewing documents. When she saw me, she was startled and asked, "Brother Feng, you don't look well. What's wrong?"

I forced myself into the sleeping bag, feeling as if my neck and below were immersed in a mixture of ice and water, chilling me to the bone.

"I think I have a cold... a cold... malaria..." Waves of chills and fever began to assault me, my teeth chattered, and my legs twitched involuntarily. With my exceptional constitution, even the most severe acute illness couldn't possibly defeat me so quickly.

My mind went into a semi-conscious state, and the horrific scene of Berenlang's death kept flashing before my eyes.

"Am I going to die? Have I also been struck by the Pharaoh's curse?" At this moment, I felt not only fear, but also a wave of amusement. Because in all my studies and research, I had always dismissed the "Pharaoh's curse" with disdain.

"Brother Feng, don't panic, I'll go find some medicine..." Suren's voice sounded very distant, like the voice of a poorly responsive walkie-talkie. Of course, both the camp and the Rainbow Warriors' supply trucks had effective drugs for treating malaria.

I lost consciousness; my last awareness was the constant twitching of my hands and feet.

The curse of the Pharaohs is a question that has been debated for hundreds of years between science and superstition, with each side holding its own opinion and neither able to convince the other.

Indeed, some people died mysteriously after entering the pyramids and touching certain items inside, but many more lived healthily until their eventual "natural death."

To date, I believe the most accurate explanation is the "bacterial theory." When those undetectable ancient bacteria invade the human body, those with good constitutions and no sensitivity to bacteria can survive without any hindrance, while those sensitive to bacteria develop diseases unknowingly, and these diseases are unlike any known disease on Earth, thus appearing as "mysterious deaths."

What about me? I wonder what the autopsy results will be like after I die?

Of course, I didn't die.

When I woke up, my mind was completely blank, like a typical case of amnesia. The first thing I saw was a silver-scaled white snake. Its tongue flicked out almost directly at the tip of my nose with each flick. The scales on its neck stood straight up, like a strange and cold shawl.

Judging from this situation, it should be sitting cross-legged on my chest.

This is clearly the white snake Tang Xin keeps, so why is it attacking me again? What on earth is going on...?

"Xiao Bai, you can stop now." It was Tang Xin's cold voice.

The white snake flashed and disappeared from my sight.

I just pretended I had taken a nap. Wasn't it the same when Youlian made me lose my memory and fall into a coma last time? But this time was better. I felt light and refreshed, and I sat up abruptly.

Still in my own tent, Tang Xin sat by the bed, her fox fur tightly wrapped around her. The snake named "Xiao Bai" had long since slithered into her left sleeve, with only the tip of its tail sticking out.

"No need to thank me. I saved you in exchange for the Thousand-Year Corpse Worms." She remained indifferent, slowly raising her hands, chest out, head held high, as proud as a queen reigning over the world. A gust of wind blew by, and my scalp suddenly began to tingle, because the gaps in the long fur of her fox fur were almost entirely filled with countless poisonous insects, which were constantly rumbling and wriggling.

My stomach churned violently; if I hadn't gone a whole day without eating, I probably would have vomited immediately.

Tang Xin suddenly smiled brightly: "I am from the Tang Clan of Sichuan, so it's perfectly normal for me to carry a few baby insects with me. Unfortunately, they are just like me, very afraid of the cold. We only need Mr. Feng's strong assistance to obtain the Thousand-Year Corpse Insects and improve their growth genes, which will surely..."

"I'm sorry, I can't take it anymore..." I jumped out of bed, ran desperately out of the tent, knelt on the ground, and vomited two large mouthfuls.

I'm not afraid of poisonous insects; what I fear is Tang Xin, who blends seamlessly with them. A girl like that seems born to be a vessel for "poisonous insects." I don't understand how a tiger could be captured by her.

After I finished vomiting, I looked up and found that Tiger and Song Jiu were standing five steps in front of me, looking at me with a mocking and indifferent expression.

Tiger has indeed changed. He used to be incredibly loyal to his friends, always ready to lend a helping hand in times of crisis, and we were brothers who had gone through thick and thin together. Now, he looks at me like I'm a fallen beast.

Song Jiu's gaze was like two sharp embroidery needles. I had no doubt that once Tang Xin gave the order, he would plunge the soft sword into my chest at the first moment.

"I didn't use poison, Mr. Feng. You're just like every martial arts master in the past few hundred years who underestimated the Tang Clan of Sichuan—you'd better remember that what makes the Tang Clan the most powerful is not poison, curses, or hidden weapons, but our omnipresent and omnipotent fighting spirit and courage." Tang Xin stepped out of the tent, his back ramrod straight, his face glowing with a faint ivory white, his features as exquisite as the finest carvings in Han jade.

The third part: The Bizarre Purgatory

— Chapter 12 — Tang Xin's Warning —

Tang Xin left with Tiger and Song Jiu. I called out to her retreating figure as if making a vow: "I will find the Thousand-Year Corpse Worm and give it to you. I will never break my promise!"

Tang Xin saved me. I learned from Su Lun that I had taken all the antimalarial drugs in the camp, but they only made my body convulse uncontrollably, like I was on an electric chair, with the frequency and intensity increasing. It was at that moment that Tang Xin stepped in to save me.

"However, she requested that no one be present—"

"This is no problem for you! There are so many hidden cameras and recording devices!" Suren's eavesdropping and filming techniques are so complex and covert that they are at the level of professional espionage.

Suren laughed sheepishly: "All the hidden devices were found by someone just taking their time to walk around—isn't that embarrassing?"

Tang Xin's identity is mysterious enough. Assuming she is the future leader of the Tang Clan in Sichuan, this "thousand-year-old corpse worm" seems to be of great importance. Ironically, after spending most of the day in the tomb, they haven't even seen a single mummy bone, so where did this "thousand-year-old corpse worm" come from?

During my coma, two important figures arrived at the camp: the scalpel and a high priest named "Natula," a favorite of the Egyptian president.

I met the two of them in the large tent in the valley, accompanied by the taciturn Lu Jiacan.

Nathura's appearance was not that of a traditional priest in flowing robes. He was young, not yet thirty, with thick eyebrows and large eyes, wearing a sharp suit from an international brand, and his hair was neatly combed and slicked back. It seems priests these days really enjoy life; they don't even need to shave their heads.

On his right thumb, he wore a huge emerald ring. The dark green cabochon was surprisingly large, and it was clear at a glance that it was made by a top European craftsman.

“Mr. Feng, I’ve heard Mr. Scalpel mention you many times. I’ve long admired your name,” Natura said in fluent London English.

I know I'm not famous, and I have nothing of value that would make the other party admire me for a long time.

“Mr. Feng, after this excavation project is completed, I have a favor to ask. Let’s go see the president together. He has always been interested in brave and intelligent young people like you from the East…”

His words were outrageous, and I had no desire to meet the Egyptian president.

Suren has already given a detailed report on the situation inside the tomb to the scalpel, so there's no need for further rambling on about it.

Natura beamed with joy, for the discovery of such magnificent gold ingots in the Egyptian desert was a global sensation, poised to give Egypt's tourism industry another boost. As a pillar industry of Egypt, tourism generates over $80 million in revenue for the government annually.

Everyone was completely unconcerned about the missing Tengjia, Bancha, and others. Inside the luxurious tent, they continued drinking and joking as usual, showing no sign of worry about the missing people.

After reuniting with Suren, I felt completely calm and was able to carefully review the information I had obtained in the tomb.

I definitely need a search dog because I can't get enough of the scent of "Thousand Flowers Bird." You know, perfume applied to a dead person and a living person produce completely different results. I've tested it many times, and my nose can definitely tell the difference.

"Suren, I know, Miss Tengjia is still alive!" After leaving the tent, I said to Suren with absolute certainty.

"So what?" she retorted, looking westward.

Amidst the endless yellow sands, the Pyramid of Turksham stands alone. From its appearance, no one could possibly guess that a breathtaking excavation is currently underway beneath it.

I followed her gaze and glanced at Sahan's tent. The curtains were drawn low, and there was no movement. Although they were both spiritual leaders in Egypt, Nathula and Sahan had always kept to themselves, like one holding an official position in the court and the other living as a commoner in the mountains.

I've had this feeling of unease and discomfort ever since I heard about the Sahan "sacrifice of scriptures."

In his prayers, he must have considered everyone who broke into the tomb as food for the god Tu Liehan. This "borrowing flowers to offer to Buddha" was quite ingenious, but unfortunately, there were too many people for the god Tu Liehan to consume.

"Suren, I think we should do everything we can to save her. As long as we are people on Earth, regardless of nationality, we should help each other, right?"

I didn't have a good impression of Tengjia, but at this moment, under the frenzied stimulation of the huge gold ingot, everyone had forgotten about her. If I don't go to save her, who will have the time or inclination?

"I need a..." I could already hear the military dog's uneasy whimpering as I said this.

A short, thin soldier held a brown leash, at the end of which was a young, tan-colored, long-eared dog that had just reached adulthood. Originating in Argentina, South America, this breed may not be the most fierce or dashing in appearance, but its sense of smell and hearing are among the best in the world of military dogs.

Suren smiled and, without waiting for me to thank her, walked towards our tent.

She prepared a very old weapon for me—a crossbow. Like the long-eared dog, the crossbow was something she had asked the scalpel to bring. Twelve short arrows were hidden in a bamboo tube about the thickness of a wrist and half a foot long, and the crossbow was fired entirely by the compression of a spring.

"Within ten meters, the straight-line deviation is less than two centimeters. Within three meters, it can easily penetrate a four-centimeter-thick pine board. Hopefully, it will be useful in a critical moment."

I know that Suren has started to care about me; otherwise, she wouldn't have prepared this weapon specifically for me.

A girl's heart is like a needle at the bottom of the sea, utterly unfathomable. I simply tossed my hair, letting go of everything related to romantic love. If Fujika were truly alive, every minute wasted now would bring her one step closer to death.

Just before I was about to go down into the well, I saw the tiger again.

He dashed out of Tang Xin's tent, blocked my way, and said something unbelievable: "Be careful, never use an open flame. You know, if you anger the gods in the darkness, even the slightest spark will provoke their wrath. It's best not to insist on trying to see the unknown darkness clearly; it will only do more harm than good."

His reciting-like tone infuriated me, and he seemed to lose his soul. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and at that moment, the tiger's eyes seemed shrouded in a gray veil, making them unfathomable to me.

The words were spoken by Tang Xin; the tiger was merely a messenger. At this moment, in front of Tang Xin's tent, the curtains were drawn and there was no sound.

"Tiger, what... what happened? How did you become a lackey of the Tang Clan in Sichuan?" I really wanted to have a heart-to-heart talk with Tiger, and then join forces to go down the well and uncover all the secrets hidden in the darkness.

The tiger slowly shook its head: "Remember to be careful what you say, she means no harm."

The thought of the hundreds of poisonous insects hidden under the fur of Tangxin fox fur sent shivers down my spine.

Suren asked with concern, "Brother Feng, are you alright?"

My feelings for Suren were slowly growing. She was so young and beautiful, and so considerate and caring towards me—I smiled back, only to realize that, due to my excessive nervousness, her hand had already covered the back of my hand.

The long-eared dog whimpered anxiously, its nostrils flaring as it nervously sniffed around the ground beside the well rig.

Down in the mine, soldiers, dazzled by the gold, were working busily, because Tina had relayed the latest order: "Every soldier who participates in the underground excavation will be promoted three ranks, rewarded with ten thousand US dollars, and given six months of paid leave."

With a generous reward, there will surely be brave men, which is why these people work so hard.

The tiger turned around, intending to leave in silence.

I grabbed his shoulder, my fingers digging in like a cold, ruthless steel claw. If he didn't resist, I would have cracked his shoulder blade.

I hope he rebels, I hope he can turn back into the passionate, heroic "tiger" he once was, who once dominated the world.

Unfortunately, he didn't move, but simply added in a muffled voice, "Take care."

"Tiger! What did those words mean? Tell me, what do you owe the Tang Clan of Sichuan? Tell me..." Even if Tang Xin clearly stated that she did not use Gu on Tiger, should I believe her? Anyone with a little experience in the martial arts world would associate this situation with "being poisoned" or "using Gu".

I pressed harder with my fingers, and the tiger's shoulder blades made a terrifying "crunching" sound.

My intention was not to harm the tiger, but to force the people in the tent to speak up.

Sure enough, as soon as the tent flap was rolled up, Song Jiu, dressed in black, shot out like a black arrow. In the blink of an eye, he was positioned between me and the tiger, and with a slash, the soft sword in his hand wrapped around my pulse point.

"Let go!" Song Jiu's gaze was like that of a venomous snake enraged. The sword was a fine one; judging by its quality, it was forged from the finest iron from the China-Myanmar border. I believed that with a gentle pull, it could sever the hand that was gripping the tiger at the wrist. As for Song Jiu himself, he probably had no pity for me. The reason he held back was probably because he hadn't received the order to act.