At the 705 Laboratory, among the six people, aside from Han Qin holding a shotgun and the bespectacled middle-aged lady, the other four had clearly aged a bit. They were still standing right where they had been before.
When Qi Shanshan, Li Weiyi, and Gao Huan returned from the direction of the Nine-Story Ship Tower, Director Yang quickly rushed over to greet them.
“Thank goodness you’ve come back. I forgot to warn you earlier—there’s an unpredictable danger by the ship’s stern. Don’t let your curiosity get the better of you and rush over there.”
“It could very well be a burial ship!”
“The traditional garden at the stern might not be where the ship’s master slept, but could be the master’s tomb.”
Could anyone really forget such warnings? Li Weiyi and Gao Huan listened to Director Yang with barely concealed indifference, exchanging perfunctory pleasantries. Before Director Yang, Qi Shanshan put on an entirely different expression and smiled gently.
“Thank you for the reminder, Director! Those two brats, even if they had the intent, they lack the guts. Just looking at the rows of lifeless terracotta figures at the Nine-Story Ship Tower is enough to give anyone chills. Hey! Weren’t all the immortal treasures on the skeletal human bodies already taken away? Director, what exactly are you stalling on with your research?”
Director Yang replied, “We’re studying the causes of their deaths! And I believe that the most important treasures on them aren’t those immortal relics, but these armors and weapons. Unfortunately, they’re so heavy that nobody can lift them.”
“They’re probably the legendary Heavenly Soldiers and Celestial Generals. Such armors and weapons are divine arms and marvelous weapons—how can we mere mortals possibly use them?”
Qi Shanshan said. Li Weiyi’s eyes shifted to a nearly ten-foot long ancient spear lying on the ground. Its entire body was as black as ink; though the spear shaft was covered with rust, its tip remained sharp and gleamed with a chilling light.
If it weren’t for the many eyes around, he truly wished he could pick it up to test just how far he had advanced in his cultivation and see what strength level he had reached. It should have been possible to lift it.
After Qi Shanshan and Director Yang exchanged some words, the three of them headed back toward the medical tent at the front of the ship. Unable to hold back, Li Weiyi asked, “Doctor Qi, what exactly are those ‘immortal things’ you mentioned earlier?”
With both hands in her pockets and without turning back, Qi Shanshan explained, “They’re the accessories and clothing items found on those skeletal humans—things like Dragon Pattern Rings, Three-Headed Snake Bracelets, Cross Pendants, Scripture Belts, Silver Thread Gloves, and so on. These items do not decay even after thousands of years; they are no ordinary objects.”
“When the skeletal humans were first discovered, everyone scrambled to grab them all. Since then, these treasures have been hidden away tightly, and no one really knows how many valuable items are in their possession.”
“What I just mentioned are only the most talked-about ones in recent days that many people have seen.”
“It is said that when Xie Tianshu removed the Dragon Pattern Ring, there was a faint sound like a dragon’s roar—truly mysterious. And they say that after Kong Fan received a pair of Silver Thread Gloves, the strength in his arms increased so much he could lift three to four hundred jin of weight.”
Li Weiyi remarked, “Kong Fan? You mean the head chef, Kong? With his build, how could he possibly lift three or four hundred jin?”
Qi Shanshan nodded delicately, her enchanting eyes revealing a hint of admiration as she sighed softly, “Now you see why everyone is so eager to find the Buddha’s Relics and why they’re so determined with you. No matter how excellent these treasures are, they pale in comparison to the Buddha’s Relics.”
A sudden smack of a hand on his thigh made Gao Huan exclaim, “Ah, what have we missed? All these treasures that do not decay for thousands of years, and yet we haven’t managed to secure even one. Li Zi, we shouldn’t have been injured!”
Li Weiyi stayed calm, saying, “A common man bears no guilt, yet he can be burdened by treasures. Whether it’s fortune or misfortune, who can say for sure?” … The Ghost Bear Emperor was still alive, and could make a comeback at any moment.
On the Bronze Ship, people had lost their old sense of unity. Not only were they fretting over the imminent shortage of food and water, but they also eyed the treasures in each other’s hands with covetous glances. The conflicts grew increasingly fierce.
Moreover, many believed that ever since Li Weiyi had swallowed the Buddha’s Relics, all eyes were on him. This was the fifth day aboard the falling Bronze Ship! With each day that passed, the possibility of further conflicts and dangers increased by one degree.
Driven by survival, greed, jealousy, and desire, many were secretly building their strength and plotting. Just taking a short walk outside had made Li Weiyi keenly feel the atmosphere of danger. It was only a single spark away from igniting everything.
While Li Weiyi strove to remain as alert as possible, he also channeled the scorching currents to nourish the injuries on his left arm with all his might. Two days later. It was the seventh day since they had all fallen onto the Bronze Ship.
At nine in the morning, outside the medical tent, there erupted a series of exclamations. The air was filled with shouts and the sound of hurried footsteps.
“It’s daylight now—the dark clouds are gradually dispersing.”
“Wonderful! Does that mean we’re about to reach land?” …
Everyone in the medical tent was startled awake. Li Weiyi himself was overjoyed. After a quick tidying, he leapt out of bed and hurried onto the deck.
Outside, the deck was already packed with people. The thick, nearly black dark clouds high above had indeed thinned out, drifting like silk, and the faint glimmer of stars could be seen overhead.
“Look, I see the sea!”
A young member of the scientific team, pressed against the ship’s wall, pointed excitedly toward the bottom of the ship and shouted ecstatically. When everyone gathered around, they could see, roughly a hundred meters beneath, the rolling sea with layer upon layer of waves.
Although the dark clouds had not completely disappeared, making the view a little hazy, it was enough to stir deep excitement. It was like a blind person regaining sight, or like an eternal night finally welcoming the dawn—a sight that filled one with endless hope and longing.
“What is that? Is it a steep mountain rising out of the sea?”
Someone dashed toward the very front of the ship and pointed into the distance.
“It’s not a mountain—it looks like a stone pillar… no, more like a stone monument, and it’s even inscribed with characters.”
“My goodness, how can there be such a tall, square, pillar-like stone monument rising alone out of the sea? The part above the water might be over two thousand meters tall.”
“What’s the difference between that and a stone peak?” …
Li Weiyi joined the crowd as they made their way to the ship’s bow. The dark clouds above had nearly vanished completely. The sea, dark as ink, stretched out before them.
Far ahead of the Bronze Ship—for dozens of kilometers—a stone monument rose like a mighty mountain, piercing the heavens. Even from that great distance, its imposing aura could be felt. Amid the endless, vast ocean, it appeared strikingly solitary and abrupt, which only added to its majestic and boundless splendor.
On it were engraved four ancient, vigorous, and peculiar characters, carved deep into the stone as if a heavenly knife had cleaved it—remarkably clear.
“Strange characters indeed… they almost seem like some sort of symbols.”
“Could this still be Earth? I’ve never heard of any sea region on Earth where such a monumental stone peak and stele stand.”
Many had been clinging to a hopeful fantasy that once the dark clouds dispersed, they would see the familiar sea, return to their homeland, rejoin their families, and go back to their schools. But after that fantasy was shattered, some of the scientific team who deeply missed their loved ones began to cry hoarsely.
Cai Yutong stood apart from the crowd, looking upward at the completely cleared sky.
“Don’t you think the starry sky is a bit too low? And… it doesn’t look like the Milky Way. It doesn’t seem like the starry sky we’re familiar with.”
No sooner had she spoken than something eerie occurred.
“Whoosh!”
In the starry sky, billions of clusters of light suddenly fell like dense rain, drifting down onto the endless sea. Up close, these clusters clearly appeared to be… human-shaped. Everyone was stunned by this sudden twist of events, unable to understand what was happening, and filled with a deep, bone-chilling dread.
The stars in the sky were raining down upon us!
“Come look—what’s in the sea?”
Gao Huan waved his arms energetically, beckoning everyone. After the dark clouds finally dissipated, the sea came into clear view. In the vast, inky-black ocean, there was a horrifying scene: countless human figures moving in the water.
And it wasn’t just here; even in the distance they could be seen—too many to count. They were semi-transparent, emitting a faint glow, and included men, women, young and old—mostly elderly. Some floated on the surface while others sank to the depths.
These were not ordinary beings with flesh and blood; they resembled lost souls. Most of these souls had dull, lifeless eyes and wandered in a daze. Yet some were unusually active, swimming around the sea and preying on others.
“Heh heh!”
“Roar!”
One of these souls—a gaunt, long-haired old man—feeling the numerous gazes from the ship, raised his head and let out a fierce, ear-piercing cry. With that, he leapt from the sea and headed straight for the deck, which was more than a hundred meters above. Who among them had ever encountered such a bizarre occurrence?
In shock, people began to retreat. Some were so terrified that their legs buckled, and they couldn’t move, only to be jostled and even trampled.
“Rip!”
Just as the ferocious soul neared the Bronze Ship, coming within a single zhang (about three meters) from the deck, a mysterious streak appeared out of nowhere. It tore the soul apart, causing him to burst into a flurry of light particles.
It was as if a crack had suddenly appeared in the very fabric of space—a crack in a pane of glass. In an instant, it was gone. The other ferocious souls, who had been about to make their move, showed expressions of sheer terror and let out eerie cries before scrambling away from the Bronze Ship.
“There’s an unknown force guarding the Bronze Ship; they can’t get on board,” Li Weiyi called out, urging calm among everyone, as he, along with Cai Yutong, helped the two elderly professors who had nearly been trampled.
After that ferocious soul disintegrated into light particles and scattered into the sea, many of the mindlessly wandering souls began to frantically rush and devour the light particles. Water splashed everywhere. It was impossible for everyone to remain calm; panic gripped many, their hearts pounding in terror.
Strange, uncanny, terrifying—what kind of world was this? All the joy from the dispersal of the dark clouds had now completely vanished. Director Yang couldn’t help but gaze upward and sigh deeply, “In this endless black sea, billions of souls drift.
Beneath a sky filled with countless stars, a ship shrouded in ancestral mystery sets sail. Where is the end? Where can we ever find a shore to land on?”
Someone grimaced in pain after having his arm twisted roughly—a painful confirmation that the scene unfolding before their eyes was indeed real.
“We’re no longer in the Arctic, or even on Earth. We have arrived in what is said to be the Underworld of legends—the Ghost Wasteland World,” Xie Tianshu said, his eyes showing no trace of despair or sorrow.
Instead, an excited glimmer shone in them. His gaze met with some others in the crowd; they all felt that the time had come. Without any further hesitation, they could begin to act! …
The sea of souls was vast and unbounded, drifting without knowledge of where they belonged or where they would return. With a deeply conflicted heart, Li Weiyi mused, “Is this where the souls of Earth’s dead gather? But then, how could there be more than billions of souls in the sea, when on Earth there aren’t that many departed?”
“Within the vast universe, among the endless stars, perhaps the souls from every planet converge here,” someone said while staring at the starry sky, guessing thus.
Both the scientific community and many religious believers were firmly convinced that Earth was definitely not the only planet in the universe to nurture life. The sky, filled with densely scattered stars, shone brilliantly amidst the rain of light clusters and souls.
Yet these “stars” hung so low above the sea; they were not as distant as true cosmic bodies would be. They didn’t quite resemble traditional stars; they were more like “Doors of Light,” “Passages for Souls,” or “Wormholes in the Starry Sea.”
It was precisely because so many light clusters—the falling souls—seemed to shoot from these “stars” and then scatter over the dark sea that some dared to boldly speculate that “the souls of the dead from across the universe all converge here.”
(End of Chapter)