The deck of the Bronze Ship stretched out long and wide. The two of them walked along the ship’s side wall in the midst of the Nether Fog, trekking nearly a kilometer before the silhouette of the Golden Crow Corpse began to emerge.
One of the corpse’s wings lay over a stone forest in the deck area, and another draped over the nine-story ship tower. Even a giant beast like the Nine Infants would seem rather slight beside it. It had died here countless years ago, yet its corpse was not cold.
Instead, it shone a brilliant golden color, with heat glimmering as if fire moved within it. Even from a hundred meters away, one could feel waves of heat rising from the body. Every feather of the Golden Crow Corpse was many tens of times larger than that of an ordinary human, glittering with flowing light and dazzling beauty.
It was hard to imagine just how resplendent it must have been when alive—almost like a sun roaming the heavens and earth, just as the myths have said. The fatal wound on its head was unmistakable—a three-meter-long, horrific blood cavity made by an unknown, sharp instrument.
The Golden Crow Blood used for cultivation was drawn from a blood pool more than twenty meters in diameter located beneath the cavity. When it was first taken, the blood in the bucket was almost boiling hot and had to be specially treated to cool it down. Li Weiyi stood at the edge of the blood pool, carefully watching.
The Golden Crow’s blood was a vivid red interlaced with a faint golden glow. Its scent was potent but not harsh. Instead, it carried an aroma that made one’s mouth water with the rich blood energy.
Had it not been for the infamous reputation of the Golden Crow as the “Bird of Destruction,” inspiring reverence and fear, the scientific team members would have already eagerly started drinking it.
“No wonder they all want to drink it—the blood of the Golden Crow must be as delicious as roasted meat. And who knows, it might even grant immortality. It’s enough to drive anyone crazy,” Gao Huan said, swallowing noisily before adding, “Imagine if this were on Earth—a drop of Golden Crow blood would have all the tycoons throwing away fortunes, and here we have an entire pool. Hurry up and use your charming looks to ask Dr. Cai. Our college always says, if a junior wants to win over a senior, either be rich or handsome.”
“Always spouting those smooth lines. What, you want to apply for a Ph. D.?”
Li Weiyi replied with a smile.
Perhaps it was because he had just refined an extraordinary breakthrough in cultivation and his body urgently required high-grade nourishment, but his appetite was even stronger than Gao Huan’s. Even the torrid energy from the sole of his right foot flowed uncontrollably along his thirteen meridian passages, urging him to drink the Golden Crow blood without delay.
“The greater the temptation, the greater the danger.”
Li Weiyi suppressed the surging heat within his body and quickly stepped away from the blood pool. Over on the other side, the Black Flood Dragon had been cut cleanly in two by a sharp weapon. Its body was incredibly thick, towering over Li Weiyi’s own height.
Plate-like scales the size of fans, thick as iron and exuding a chill, lay scattered about. Where the dragon’s body had been severed, its blood had frozen into purple-red ice crystals that needed to be chopped out with an axe and then heated to melt them. Near the Black Flood Dragon Corpse, many armored skeletal human bodies lay haphazardly.
Six members from Laboratory 705 were gathered around one of the more unusual skeletons, carefully studying it, sketching structural diagrams, recording the inscriptions and patterns on the armor. This skeletal human was unique because its bones glowed faintly like noctilucent stones. They had turned into a metal-like substance; they were incredibly smooth.
When struck, they sounded just like metal being hit. Upon hearing footsteps, all six from Laboratory 705 turned in unison to look at Li Weiyi and Gao Huan. Gao Huan, ever so familiar, laughed and inquired, “Director Yang, have you found anything?”
Among the six, a burly man with a buzz cut and nearly two meters tall tightened his grip on his shotgun, his eyes alert and cautious. Seeing that the two were injured wanderers out for a stroll, he slightly relaxed his demeanor.
It seemed that people on the Bronze Ship had become wary of each other, no longer trusting as they once had. Director Yang, still pleasant, answered with a smile, “Clearly, those who died on this Bronze Ship were no ordinary beings—it defies scientific explanation.
These human bones on the ground, clad in heavy armor that would weigh at least a thousand pounds; even with six of us, we couldn’t budge them.” He continued, “Even the weapons are remarkably heavy; the lightest spear, nearly a meter long, required two people just to lift it.
Its density is tremendous, and we can’t tell what material it’s made of.” Li Weiyi felt the urge to try picking up that ancient spear lying on the ground. But when his fingers brushed its surface, he reconsidered and instead asked, “How did they all die?
It’s so strange—who killed them?”
“Could it be that there’s some unknown danger lurking on this Bronze Ship?”
Gao Huan asked. Director Yang replied, “After years of studying this Bronze Ship up close with our microscopes, we’ve concluded that the Golden Crow, the Black Flood Dragon, and these armored human beings were all intruders—most likely intent on treasure hunting, exploring, or seizing something. There’s bound to be a dangerous force on this ship that we simply can’t understand!”
Gao Huan then remarked, “But aren’t we also intruders? Why haven’t we been killed?” The six members of Laboratory 705 wore heavy expressions.
Just because they hadn’t been killed yet didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen later. Li Weiyi speculated, “Perhaps we’re too weak, or maybe we haven’t violated any of the taboos here, so the danger hasn’t struck us.” Director Yang obviously hoped that was the case.
Suddenly, he pointed ahead.
“Do you see that nine-story ship tower? If you pass through the narrow corridor between the ship tower and the railing along the side wall, you’ll reach the stern. There lies an ancient garden, with pavilions, halls, tall towers, connected corridors… It’s probably where the ship’s master resided.”
Gao Huan said, “So you think the ship master killed them?”
“We can only say that’s a highly plausible guess,” Director Yang replied.
Li Weiyi looked toward the ship tower—it was imposing indeed. Each story rose three or four zhang high, its deep red hue almost entirely bathed in the shining light from the Golden Crow Corpse. Strangely, along the edge of every railing outside the tower, there were countless stone figurines arranged in human form.
Cabin doors remained firmly closed, hiding untold secrets within. Stone forests, grave clusters, ghost flags, human figurines… This hardly seemed like a normal ship.
Gao Huan mused, “They must have been dead for at least a thousand years—perhaps even longer. Even if it was the ship master who killed them, that master has long since passed.” Director Yang laughed softly, “That’s right.
Anyone capable of slaying both the Golden Crow and the Black Flood Dragon would never allow the Bronze Ship to be stranded atop the Buddha Relics for over a thousand years.”
“But Director,” a bespectacled middle-aged lady from Laboratory 705 reminded them, “the Bronze Ship has now set sail again!”
After bidding farewell to the six members of Laboratory 705, Li Weiyi headed toward the nine-story ship tower. Standing at a distance of some ten meters away, he observed the narrow corridor leading to the stern. The passage was filled with swirling Nether Fog and lined with stone figurines frozen in various postures and expressions.
Anyone timid would already be horrified at such a sight and flee. The corridor was so dark one could not see the stern.
“The immortal radiance I sense must be coming from that ancient garden the Director mentioned. What exactly is that place?”
Li Weiyi’s curiosity was piqued, though he instinctively felt something was amiss. Gao Huan, matching his interest, came along excitedly, “The ship master of this Bronze Ship is absolutely no ordinary being. His residence may very well contain immortal pills or divine elixirs.
Li, why don’t the two of us slip in and take a look?” Just then, Li Weiyi stepped forward a couple of paces and crouched down. On the ground lay a patch of dried, blackened blood.
He extended a finger, dabbed the dried blood, and held it close to his nose for a careful sniff. Abruptly, Li Weiyi looked up and then stared intensely toward the dark passage, his eyes filled with caution and gravity.
“After we fell onto this Bronze Ship, did we see that bear-like creature?”
“You mean the Ghost Bear Emperor? What brings that up all of a sudden?”
Gao Huan asked. Li Weiyi explained, “Our entire scientific team, along with the Longji, all fell onto this Bronze Ship. That bear-like creature—you know, the Ghost Bear Emperor—could it be exempt?”
“That’s true, it’s odd… But if it fell here, it’s been five days already. How could it not have emerged to hunt for food by now?”
Gao Huan replied.
“Perhaps it is still on the ship,” Li Weiyi said, pointing to the dried, black blood on the ground.
“This is its blood! It must have been gravely injured and is hiding for the time being.”
“How do you know this bloodstain is from it?”
Gao Huan asked, curiosity and doubt mingling with a hint of panic. Li Weiyi felt uncertain how to explain, for only after reaching an extraordinary level in cultivation had his sense of smell become so refined as to detect the distinct aroma of the Ghost Bear Emperor’s blood.
From afar, a familiar voice called out, “You two are courting death—what are you doing here?”
“Doctor Qi, we were just out for a walk… hehe,” Gao Huan hastily offered a laugh in reply.
“Is this a place for strolling? With a broken right arm and a hurt left shoulder, you two look half-dead. Get back to the medical tent right now,” Qi Shanshan chided coldly.
Li Weiyi had already heard Qi Shanshan’s approaching footsteps and, not at all surprised, stood up and followed her lead in offering a laugh, “Director Yang said there’s an ancient garden at the stern. We were just discussing whether there might be any immortal pills or divine elixirs there. Perhaps even a single pill could completely heal our injuries!”
Qi Shanshan was a woman who cared much about her own beauty. Even in such a place, her face was flawlessly made-up, her skin as white as snow, her cheeks delicately flushed, and with perfect pink lips. She wore a pristine white physician’s coat and even high heels, her legs clad in flesh-colored stockings that matched her fair skin.
Standing over 1.7 meters tall with a slim waist and gracefully curved figure, the blue shirt she wore was stretched noticeably at the buttons. Overall, she exuded undeniable feminine charm. Thus, even though her voice was cold as she scolded, it retained a melodious and magnetic quality rather than an oppressive tone like that of Cai Yutong.
Qi Shanshan’s dark brows knit together in disapproval.
“Were you not told how dangerous it is there? Four of the scientific team already went to explore that passage in the ship tower, and none of them have returned.”
Li Weiyi and Gao Huan exchanged glances, dumbfounded. That Director Yang, who seemed kind and friendly, turned out to be a sly old schemer.
Had Li Weiyi not found the bloodstain of the Ghost Bear Emperor on the ground, and had Qi Shanshan not come looking for them, the two might well have met the same fate as the other four team members.
Qi Shanshan’s ample chest heaved with rage as she covered her face, “You two really are naive little kids who have never stepped outside the school! Li Weiyi, you don’t know everyone suspects that the Buddha Relics are on you? Director Yang values those relics more than his own life.
Surely he intends to use this opportunity as a test.” Gao Huan, as if trying to dodge bad luck himself, stepped back from Li Weiyi and said, “Li, I nearly got us killed because of you—we’d have died without any explanation.” Qi Shanshan glared at him, “You deserve it!
Li Weiyi is only a freshman; it’s understandable if he gets deceived. But you’re in your third year now—how can you be so unguarded? If there’s truly something worthwhile, would anyone kindly take the trouble to inform you?”
Gao Huan didn’t seem angry at all. In fact, being scolded by Qi Shanshan appeared to please him. Suddenly, he beamed as if he’d uncovered a treasure, “Doctor Qi, we’ve made a huge discovery!
This patch of dried, black blood—it appears to be from the Ghost Bear Emperor.” Qi Shanshan rolled her eyes, “That bloodstain was discovered the day before yesterday and has already been tested. It was left by that bear-like creature.
The four team members who entered that corridor of the nine-story ship tower were likely devoured by it. We’d better leave immediately. Who knows when that bear-like creature might heal its injuries, and when it emerges—with the little ammunition we have left… sigh, we might as well leave everything to fate.”
Li Weiyi was equally worried. The Ghost Bear Emperor was most likely an extraordinary being, endowed with terrifying speed and strength, and its healing ability would not be slower than his own. It had had three extra days to recover; even if its injuries were more severe, by now it was probably almost fully healed.
Both Li Weiyi and Gao Huan hurriedly followed Qi Shanshan as they turned back, eager to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the nine-story ship tower. Qi Shanshan’s long legs clicked rhythmically as she walked.
Li Weiyi then inquired, “Since we’re sure it’s the Ghost Bear Emperor, why don’t we gather all the guns, ammo, and weapons and, while its injuries haven’t fully healed, eliminate it?”
“Because that bear-like creature is extremely formidable. When it’s in the open, even with plenty of ammunition it’s nearly impossible to subdue. Now that it’s hiding in the dark, it’s even harder to deal with—that’s one reason!”
Her eyes growing cold, Qi Shanshan continued, “Secondly, facing it is a fight where survival is a one-in-nine chance. How many would dare to confront it? Thirdly, there are only three guns on this ship and the ammunition is limited.
Everyone sees their weapons as a symbol of their identity and authority. Without their weapons, who would still follow their orders? If we all die, that’s one thing, but losing our power and status is far more unbearable.”
She paused, “In short, when everyone’s divided and harboring hidden intentions, nothing can be accomplished.” … Please support by giving a monthly vote.
(The End of This Chapter)