Histoires de fantômes

Chapitre 172

The Plague sighed, “Yes, go there and say it; perhaps you will understand it better then.”

Xiao Ke hesitated for a moment before hurrying over, nervously tapping her nails again. Her short hair gleamed with a dark, oily sheen under the interplay of the lamplight and the snow.

The moment I opened the door, the sight of that strangely shaped cherry blossom tree covered in snow stirred a strange flutter in my heart.

Ancient Chinese physiognomy texts cite the example of the "Five Blessings Killing at the Door"—In late Ming Dynasty Hangzhou, two salt merchants had a long-standing feud. The son of the Zhang family rose rapidly through the ranks, becoming the prefect of Hangzhou, wielding immense power and suppressing their rival, the Lin family, to the point of submission. To show their sincerity, on the Zhang family head's sixtieth birthday, the Lin family crafted five miniature plum blossoms, orchids, bamboo, chrysanthemums, and pine trees from coral, jade, gold ingots, and silver leaf, placing them at the Zhang family's door early in the morning, before the Zhang family even opened their gates. This became a celebrated story in Hangzhou, with everyone praising the Lin family for their pragmatism and social skills. However, less than three months later, the Zhang family members suffered a series of misfortunes: some died suddenly from serious illnesses, others were imprisoned for lawsuits, and still others were robbed and killed. Nineteen members of the once-prosperous family met untimely deaths.

Flowers blooming at the entrance are considered an omen of divine retribution. Therefore, this is a major taboo in Feng Shui botany, and its appearance is chilling.

“Mr. Feng, the plants don’t seem to be worth worrying about before they bloom.” Xiao Keleng understood my thoughts.

I touched my chin and saw some extreme stubble growing out, which pricked my fingers painfully.

“We Koreans do not agree with Chinese feng shui. We only follow the ancient teachings of ‘being cautious in speech and action, and being humble and forbearing.’ We have always believed that humans, animals, and plants coexist in the world, and that the fittest survive while the unfit are eliminated. Existence is justified.” The Plague was the last to leave and did not care about the existence of the withered tree.

The snow in the yard was already ankle-deep. We went out of the yard and walked west along the alley, passing by a withered tree. The trunk and branches were covered with heavy snowflakes and icicles. If it were in the sunlight, it would surely be dazzling and beautiful. But in the gloomy, snowy midnight, it reminded me of the ancient poem, "Suddenly, like a spring breeze overnight, thousands of pear trees bloom."

"What martial art did you use when you killed the elephant monk?" I asked thoughtfully, reaching out to scoop up a handful of snow from beside the tree.

"Thirteen o'clock." Plague walked briskly with his head down, his footsteps making a loud "crunch crunch" sound on the snow.

I sighed, feeling deeply sorry for the death of the monk Xiang. He was just a peaceful and unassuming practitioner in Fengge Temple, with no grudge against the plague, yet he died tragically, taken by "Thirteen Points," one of the "Seven Killing Methods" from the "Black Angel Gang."

The three of us were quick and eager, so we arrived at the courtyard of the "Well of Spirits" in just three minutes. Everything around us was white, with only a thin mist rising from the water. Snowflakes that fell immediately melted in the water without lingering for a moment.

The plague stopped at the north-south axis of the well, turned to face due north, and after a moment's thought, said, "At that time, he stood here, stepped onto the well platform, paused for more than ten seconds with his head down, like a Christian's pre-meal prayer, and then slowly swooped forward, making a very standard diving leap, parting the water and plunging in, splashing only a very brief splash..."

As he spoke, he took a step forward, bringing his feet together, and stood in the snow on the well platform.

Xiao Keleng took out a small flashlight, turned it on with a "snap," and a bright beam of light shone out, landing on the water's surface. The water was as clear as a crystal without any impurities, displaying a pale bluish-green color and carrying a chilling aura.

As the beam of light shone downwards, the three of us stared intently. We could see a depth of about twelve meters. The well walls remained perfectly smooth, with only occasional glimpses of tiny green moss in the crevices. Below twelve meters, there was only a blurry, dark green expanse, nothing to be found. The water was calm; the occasional ripples caused by snowflakes quickly subsided.

The Plague asked in a low voice, "Have you ever considered where this deep well leads?"

This is a question almost everyone who sees an ancient well asks. I remember when I saw the "Ji Gong Transporting Wood Well" in Jiangnan, there was a ready-made answer carved on the well railing: "Ancient well connects to the sea." Wells with spiritual energy never dry up. According to credible inferences, the water source beneath them comes from the sea, and is formed by the tides of the sea, and then through the natural filtration of the rocks and soil, thus forming these magical ancient wells.

Xiao Keleng splashed some water in the well a few times and asked again, "You saw him go down and never come back up? If your conclusion is correct, then it proves that Hero Yang Tian is still trapped at the bottom of the well, right?"

This is also the question I wanted to ask, but could we consider it from a different, more positive perspective? My elder brother has already left this place through another channel? But if he could return to the surface, why didn't he go back to Xunfu Garden or come looking for me? Instead, he's been missing for fifteen years.

I dare not choose the second remaining answer. If a person has been at the bottom of the sea for fifteen years, he is either dead or has been transformed into a fish.

With a "tick-tock," something fell onto the water's surface, creating a ripple.

Plague rose and pointed to the "Tower of the Dead." He pondered, "I saw him leap into the water over there, rushing over. He disappeared from my sight for only half a minute. When I reached the well, there was no water on the ground, which means he hadn't appeared since the first second he entered the water. For fifteen years, what I've never forgotten is whether he came back up. If he went into the water to find the 'Underwater Tomb,' did he find it?"

Only I know the truth about this matter. My elder brother not only found the place, but also successfully entered the passageway behind the two doors.

"Tick-tock," another sound. I looked at the water surface in surprise, and Xiao Keleng also moved the flashlight in his hand to the water surface. To my surprise, I found that the center of the ripple was a bright red.

"Blood?" Xiao Ke coldly exclaimed.

The Plague swayed, raised its right arm, and laughed bitterly: "My blood, I'm going to die. It's the 'New Zealand Shepherd' from the 'Seven Killing Techniques,' the one Golden Finger used when he left. I only realized it now, too late..."

Within seconds, his clothes tore at the junction of his right shoulder and right ear, and his muscles and bones were covered in blood, as if being gnawed by an invisible monster. Blood continued to fall into the pool, and as he looked down at the ripples spreading more and more, he suddenly let out a miserable howl: "No—I don't want to die..." His body fell backward, powerless, onto the snow, and the rapidly gushing blood stained a large patch of white snow bright red.

The "Seven Killing Methods" of the "Black Angels Gang" combine physical, snowmelt, and biological methods of destruction. The speed of destruction is astonishing, and the injured can hardly survive for more than five minutes unless they can be treated with "rapid freezing therapy" in the first instance, along with the removal of the ulcerated parts of the injured limbs.

More than twenty minutes had passed since the Golden Finger left, so the plague wound was now beyond cure. The large, horrific wound continued to spread toward his head and chest, and even if it were corroded by strong acid, it would probably end up the same way.

The Fifth Undersea Mystery

— Chapter 2 — Is the King of Tomb Raiders in the Well of Spirits? (Part 2) —

“The real ‘Book of Purgatory’… Feng, little sister… the real… the real…” He forcefully raised his wrist, revealing the two lotus flowers, and stretched them out in front of me and Xiao Keleng.

Xiao Keleng was a man who had seen his share of great things, but he was helpless in the face of the devastation before him, unable to even take any emergency measures. I knew that the most important thing to do at this moment was to perform euthanasia for the plague, to ease his suffering.

“Really…really…” The wound quickly spread to his right chest, and his monk's robe, already soaked in blood, crumbled into pieces, mingling with the putrid blood.

“Mr. Feng, what should we do…” Xiao Ke looked at me pleadingly.

I shook my head helplessly: "'The Night Angels Gang' will not let any traitor go. Even if the South Korean president jumps out to plead for them, it will be to no avail. There is no way to break the 'Seven Killings Method.' Just like the plague killed the Elephant Monk, it is just a rapid cycle of retribution."

Snowflakes falling on withered trees also become a kind of flower, so Xiao Keleng's statement that "the death at the door, not blooming, is not terrible" is unfounded. The layout of that small courtyard destined every owner to meet a violent end; before the monk or after the plague, someone else would surely be harmed.

"Little sister, I'm going now—" Plague's legs convulsed, and he suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood and a bloody tongue, chewing it up to commit suicide.

Xiao Ke laughed blankly. Tonight, she first discovered the true identity of the plague and thought it would become our powerful helper. She also obtained the "Book of Purgatory"—this small victory required the plague's life to maintain the result. The price she paid was too high.

The snow was about to stop, the air was getting colder and colder, the blood of the plague had stopped flowing, and the soaked clothes had frozen into a thin layer of ice.

"I suddenly feel... lost, terrified... Is this the real world of martial arts?" Xiao Keleng muttered to herself, her fingers helplessly digging into her short hair, scratching it hard. The Plague was a friend she used to know very well; seeing him die a bloody death before her eyes was bound to terrify her.

My phone rang within thirty seconds of the plague's death. It was Golden Finger calling, with the background sound of surging waves crashing against the table.

"Mr. Feng, the Plague should be dead by now, right? My 'New Zealand Shepherd' is quite precise in controlling the timing of its kills. After all, this is the fifteenth generation product, with unprecedented research and development precision. It will be used to deal with the gang's number one enemy. Are you satisfied with our performance?"

She chuckled softly on the phone, as if the tragic death from the plague she had just witnessed was a staged performance she had deliberately arranged for me, expecting me, the audience, to offer appropriate commentary.

I smiled calmly: "Very impressive."

Golden Finger's laughter grew louder as he continued slowly, "'The Dark Angel Gang' will never let a traitor go unpunished, but it will also never harm a friend. The gang leader has a very high opinion of you, Mr. Feng. At least in the Asian underworld, no one can replace you. Therefore, I formally extend the gang leader's invitation to you to join the 'Dark Angel Gang.' Let's work together to build the number one Asian gang. Are you interested?"

I smiled and said, "Thank you."

Judging from the sound, she was standing on the beach. I could hear the powerful engine of a sailboat roaring to life, and she was probably about to cross the sea to leave.

"So, we'll meet again? Someone from the gang will contact you soon. Good luck!" Golden Finger could sense the anger hidden beneath my calm demeanor, but he didn't seem to care. The tables have turned in the underworld; their dream of unifying the Asian underworld might just become a reality. At that time, the "Dark Angels Gang" would reign supreme and wouldn't take anyone seriously.

Just before she hung up the phone, the engine noise suddenly increased to a deafening level, indicating that the escape route had been planned well in advance of the robbery and murder.

The reason I forced myself to remain calm was because even if I were to fly into a rage and fight to the death, it wouldn't save the plague. He killed Shidao and Elephant Monk, and Golden Finger killed him. This cycle of killing made it impossible to clearly distinguish who was right and who was wrong, because no life on Earth should be deprived of its right to exist by anyone else.

In this respect, the US-led coalition's Operation Desert Storm serves as the best negative example.

Xiao Keleng didn't shed tears, but her emotions grew heavier and heavier. We both forgot the bitter cold of the snowy night and stood by the "Well of Spirits" with our own thoughts.

I leaned down and plunged both hands into the water. The water was icy cold, exactly the same feeling as before. So, what will my brother do after entering the water? Will he keep swimming downwards until... until a certain depth?

What's most incomprehensible right now is that the plague himself said, "He went into the water and never came back."

Humans live on land. Even the most formidable river pirate of the past, Sima Jiaolong, only occasionally performed his 72-hour underwater dives, surviving on a snorkel and liquid food. We are not fish and are not adapted to underwater life. Even submarine operators must surface once every 72 hours to expose their respiratory system to the Earth's atmosphere.

"Unless something unusual happens, my brother will definitely come back, and the plague will surely see him..."

"Mr. Feng, what should we do next?" After suffering a severe blow, Xiao Keleng's thinking ability declined rapidly, and he had to ask me for instructions on everything.

I grabbed Plague's left arm and hoisted him onto my shoulder. It was too late; let's go back to the courtyard first. So much had happened that night; it had felt far too long.

As I walked back, all I saw was a desolate expanse of snow; there was no human voice or bird in sight. The entire Fengge Temple was like a giant, silent tomb.

Returning to the courtyard, covered in thick snow, felt like stepping into another world. The light in Guan Baoling's room was off, and the courtyard was quiet. We opened the door to another room, temporarily placed the plague corpse under the eaves, carefully covered it with a sheet, and then went back to our room to rest.

Xiao Keleng slept on the only bed, while I pulled up a blanket and lay flat on the table, ignoring the cold and hardness beneath me. After a three-minute daze, I immediately drifted into a deep sleep.

This dream was like a blurry black and white silent film, without any sound.

It was still snowing heavily. A broad-shouldered, tall man stood with his back to me, head bowed, staring intently at a wooden plaque in his hand. I felt like a shameful voyeur, watching him from afar through the blue-coated lens of my binoculars. Of course, I also saw the lotus flower carved on the plaque, only it wasn't its normal color.

"Is this what the martial arts world is like? Full of killing, bloodshed, plunder, and covetousness, and nothing but these. There's not a single thing that excites or uplifts you. If this is the raw, unadulterated state of the martial arts world, I would rather have refused Mr. Scalpel's invitation and stepped into this filthy quagmire. My ideal is to be a university professor, taking my students to see the peach blossoms in March, chatting and writing poetry on the green grass, and dreaming of a bright future for the world..."

It was a distant voice, and it came from Xiao Keleng.

I hummed in agreement, turned over, and felt a tingling, numb sensation in my shoulders and hips, and all my joints were stiff. Sleepiness kept creeping in, like the rising tide, gradually silencing Xiao Keleng's voice.

I really want to continue that black and white dream I just had. That person must be my older brother, Yang Tian, without a doubt.

The snow was heavy. When you looked up at the sky, the snowflakes were connected end to end, falling in large chunks, just like the scene described in the poem "Yanshan snowflakes are as big as mats".

"What exactly can the 'Book of Purgatory' tell him?" I adjusted the magnification of my binoculars, focused on the sign, and finally saw clearly that all the strokes that made up the lotus flower were inlaid with dense numbers.

The Fifth Undersea Mystery

— Chapter 3 — The Secret of the Two Lotus Flowers (Part 1) —

"Numbers? Could it be a code? A password to open some door?" Codes have existed since the dawn of written history. Overcoming the barrier of non-verbal communication, intelligent people discovered that if only one person could master a language, it created a natural barrier protecting private secrets. Thus, all sorts of codes emerged—

I saw him rushing towards Fengge Temple at an astonishing speed, like a snowball being swept across a hillside by the wind.

"He's going to the 'Well of Spirits'—I have to stop him." I ran after him towards Fengge Temple, but unfortunately, my lightness skill was far inferior to his. Just as I stepped into the courtyard, I saw him gracefully leap up and plunge into the water. I quickly reached the well's edge, peered down, and could only see his shadow in the distance, at least ten meters below.

"This must be just a dream, right? He's been missing for fifteen years, he'll never come back—" I sighed, gazing at the churning water on the surface of the waves.

"Big brother?" I tried to call out, but then the dream vanished.

It was cold inside. I turned to the side and found the door open, with a blurry shadow leaning against the doorframe, facing the yard. The snow seemed to have stopped, reflecting a dazzling silver light.

"Who is it?" I turned over and asked in a low voice. Xiao Ke's bed was empty, so I figured it must be her standing in the doorway.

"It's me, Xiao Xiao." Sure enough, she answered me with a heavy nasal tone, as if she had just been crying.

"Has the snow stopped?" My mind was hazy, and the huge, horrific wound on the shoulder of the plague kept flashing through my head.

“Yes.” She went out, stood under the eaves, and gently closed the door.

I woke up from the dream to a blurry darkness. When I became more alert, I realized that dawn had already arrived and the first light of day was about to appear in the east.

I immediately picked up the phone and dialed Xiaoyan's number. Even disregarding the time difference, this was his busiest time working online. My mind seemed to be racing with countless numbers, hoping someone could solve this mystery.

Xiao Yan answered the phone while yawning, but as soon as she heard my voice, she perked up immediately: "Hey, Feng, I have good news for you, do you want to hear it?"

I wasn't in the mood, so I quickly interrupted, "I also have some news for you, but it's two very strange sets of numbers, engraved into two lotus flowers using micro-carving techniques. I can't fax you this kind of image, could you please come to Hokkaido?" My mind was too chaotic, and I even forgot to ask him where he was first.

Xiao Yan laughed loudly: "Feng, you're not kidding, are you? I'm in Kuwait right now, flying back and forth between the north and south. Do you know how much time I've wasted?"

I rubbed my eyes, remembering that he seemed to be listening to Al Jazeera news during our last call, and couldn't help but laugh apologetically: "I was a little sleepy. These two sets of codes come from the 'Book of Purgatory,' and I suspect they might be the key to unlocking the 'Underwater Tomb.'"

Having too many dreams makes my temples throb and my head feel dizzy.

Sunlight shone on the door, and melted snow began to drip from the eaves, making a monotonous "drip-drip" sound.

Xiao Yan hummed in agreement, seemingly intrigued: "Alright, could you fax it to me first so I can take a look?" He quickly gave me a fax number, then added, "If it's really worth cracking, I'll rush to Hokkaido immediately, but the chances are slim. I just did something interesting; I accessed the core database of India's largest arms dealer. It's quite impressive. He has close ties to the world's fifteen largest organized crime groups, with daily revenue and expenditure reaching hundreds of millions of US dollars. Did you know? He's preparing to resell two aircraft carriers to the Indian Ministry of Defense, with a record-breaking profit of 55%..."

I yawned, not interested in listening anymore, and wanted to lie down and sleep for a while, but my eyelids were too heavy to lift.

“Feng, I found a strange transaction record. An arms dealer received a pre-order from Japan and secretly sealed up a weapon worth 1.5 billion US dollars, waiting for payment before shipping it out. The Japanese man’s name is ‘Fenglin Shanshan’—a retired war criminal who has been in hiding for 60 years. Strange, isn’t it?”

What's so strange about that? I've dealt with Fenglinshanshan before, but I just couldn't keep him.

"I've already sold this intelligence to the Americans and Russians. The arms dealers are probably going to be in trouble soon. I wonder if, in a desperate move, they'll mobilize their armed forces hidden throughout India to launch a full-scale counterattack. In any case, the Pentagon's feedback is 'no mercy' without any room for negotiation."

Xiao Yan is just a hacker with no sense of chivalry; he's capable of anything for his personal likes and dislikes.

I gave him the name "Plague" and heard him clattering away on his computer keyboard. I then reported, "Hmm, he was a first-class instructor in the former North Korean Red Flame Army. Before enlisting, he studied under the famous North Korean master of concealed weapons, 'Divine Needle' Yao, specializing in micro-carving techniques. Later, dissatisfied with North Korean politics, he resolutely defected. If I'm not mistaken, the meticulously carved 'Book of Purgatory' must contain many strange things. Simple digital faxes can't capture the details—well, if possible, I'll still make a trip there..."

The door was pushed open, and Xiao Keleng walked in, her body covered in cold air and her eyes red.