After the gloomy mist dispersed, the Graveyard Forest still drifted with strands of nether fog, yet it no longer covered the skies in the way it once did. The view had become clearer and broader, evoking the feeling of walking among a disordered burial ground. Grave mounds, seven or eight meters high, were scattered here and there.
Stone tablets, ancient and weighty, towered far above Li Weiyi as he passed beneath them. In front of some tablets, ghost flags were planted; before others, spectral banners stood, sending strange sounds swirling in the wind. What kind of people were buried here?
Why were they interred upon a ship? Was it to return them to their roots, or maybe a unique method of burial? How had they died, and who had built these tombs and raised these tablets?
And where had the builders of the graves gone? The Bronze Ship exuded mystery from every corner. There must lie an ancient and tragic story behind it—one forged by someone long forgotten, a tale of past glory now silent upon the Earth for a thousand years.
Is it now meant to return to where it began, or is it destined to continue on an ancient journey? Li Weiyi, full of curiosity and the desire for knowledge, searched the Graveyard Forest for half an hour until he finally heard the sound of wind chimes.
“Ding ding!”
The bone wind chimes dangled from a stone tablet more than three meters high, their tone clear and pleasing. Though said to be made of bone, they shone like jade—crisp and translucent—with mysterious inscriptions carved on them that defied recognition. The string holding the chimes was woven of silver thread, immortal through the ages.
Upon the stone tablet, there was also a painted portrait; it was not known what pigment was used, for it hadn’t faded in the slightest. The colors were dazzling and lifelike. In the painting, swirling auspicious clouds of many hues framed an immortal maiden, ethereal and dazzling.
She looked as if she were an immortal maiden standing on a cloud, gazing down upon the mortal realm. In her vivid red robes, with cloud-like hair and exquisite adornments, her eyes were so expressive it made one feel she might step right out of the stone.
“Could it be that the tomb holds a once peerless, breathtaking immortal beauty?”
Li Weiyi’s gaze returned to the string of bone wind chimes. He intended to pluck one for further study—it should be considered an immortal relic, shouldn’t it?
“Whoosh!”
He put power into his legs and leaped upward. Suddenly, a surge of scorching qi poured out from the sole of his right foot. His body grew light as if buoyant, slicing through the wind until he astonishingly landed atop the stone tablet over three meters high.
Wobbling but steady, Li Weiyi held his breath as he peered down from what seemed like the height of a one-story building, utterly amazed. Now that he had managed to cultivate an extraordinary technique, could he really walk the walls and eaves of a palace?
Such a sensation was so delightful that anyone would feel their heart surge and their spirit soar. After regaining his composure, Li Weiyi reached out to pluck the wind chime. But as soon as his hand brushed against the bone piece of the chime, a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him.
In his vision, a peerlessly beautiful red-clad immortal maiden appeared. With a slender and stunning figure, her layers of garments sweeping elegantly, she pressed in upon him.
“Bang!”
Li Weiyi fell from the stone tablet, his head reeling as if he had been on a bumpy mountain path for hours.
“This thing is truly strange; I shouldn’t have touched it!”
He thought, realizing that if it were so easy to pluck, other scientific expedition team members would have already taken the white-bone wind chimes long ago. Yet his curiosity and investigative nature had driven him to risk the attempt.
Using the Jade Void Breathing Technique, Li Weiyi channeled the scorching qi from the sole of his right foot along his thirteen silver lines, sending it rushing toward his head. Moments later, the vertigo subsided and he recovered his senses. He respectfully bowed to the portrait on the stone tablet, saying, “I meant no disrespect, esteemed predecessor…
Hmm, I must retrieve the Dao Ancestor Taiji Fish and the Yellow Dragon Sword. I fear I shall have to risk offending you once more. As an immortal celestial being, surely you would not hold a mortal’s actions in the same light?”
After performing three solemn bows, Li Weiyi climbed to the back of a huge grave mound behind the stone tablet.
“Senior, it shouldn’t be buried too deeply… I’ve found it!” he murmured.
In the ashen soil of the grave mound, he groped inch by inch until, at the top of the mound, his fingers touched a hard metal object. Brushing away the dirt, it revealed itself to be the Dao Ancestor Taiji Fish. Its two eyes—one blue and one red—were only the size of beans.
Just as before, it looked like an ordinary ancient ornament, without a hint of special spiritual aura.
“This little fish-eye—could it be that everyone is after the Buddha’s Relic? Its microscopic form is truly like a planet.”
Li Weiyi wondered aloud. And how would one activate it? Before Li Weiyi could put the Dao Ancestor Taiji Fish back around his neck, the sound of wind chimes on the stone tablet suddenly swelled, and a dangerous sense of dread shot through him, as if icy needles pricked his skin and a chilling aura enveloped him.
“Oh no…”
“Shh, shh!”
Before he had time to escape, dark, black strands of hair erupted from the grave soil below and coiled around his legs.
“Is this a resurrection tactic? But I clearly paid my respects a moment ago… This predecessor is so petty!”
The black hair grew at an astonishing pace, wrapping from his legs to his waist, and creeping onto his arms and head. Li Weiyi summoned the scorching qi from his right foot, channeling it along his silver threads in a desperate burst of power to break free, struggling with all his might.
Yet he only managed to hold on for the duration of one breath. With a loud “bang,” the grip of the black hair dragged him, toppling him to the ground as he sank toward the depths of the grave soil. It was over.
What on earth was happening? How could this be? When Cai Xuejie and the others dug graves and modified the earth, they didn’t summon such disasters.
He had simply come to reclaim what was rightfully his—how could he have attracted such a terrifying evil? Could it be that he had inadvertently encountered a petty spirit?
“Meng-ge, Old Liu and the others worked themselves to the point of exhaustion fixing the generator these past seven days. You must tell Captain Gao to provide them with two good meals; today is a day we must celebrate no matter what,” Chen Hong said, trailing behind Zhao Meng as he spoke up on behalf of the engineering technicians.
“Naturally, they deserve it. Their contribution is paramount,” Zhao Meng replied, striding into the cold-storage chamber.
His expression changed in an instant. There, on the floor, lay Old Liu and several other members of the engineering team, all collapsed and unconscious, while only Xie Jin stood with his arms behind his back. The chamber was in disarray and dimly lit, yet one could clearly see Xie Jin’s cold, sharply smiling gaze.
“Bang!”
A security team member—tall, standing at about 1.8 meters and solidly built—had been lying in ambush on the left side of the door. Wielding a steel pipe, he swung forcefully, smashing it against the door frame. Had Zhao Meng been a moment slower, his head might have been shattered on the spot.
“Ambush! Get out of here now,” Zhao Meng urgently whispered to Chen Hong.
As he stepped back from the cold-storage chamber, he raised his gun in readiness to counterattack. Another security team member hidden outside leaped forward, grabbing Zhao Meng from behind, wrapping his arms around Zhao Meng’s upper torso and arms, and emitting a low growl as he attempted to hurl Zhao Meng against the wall of the chamber.
Zhao Meng, having trained in martial arts from a young age and served many years in the military, reacted swiftly. Even as he was hauled upward, his legs struck the wall, and with a sudden surge of force, both he and the ambushing man were thrown heavily to the ground.
Quickly extricating himself, Zhao Meng inverted his body and unleashed a hammer-like punch.
“Bang!”
His fist collided with the face of the security member who had just grabbed him, knocking the man unconscious as blood spurted from his mouth. Still gripping a steel pipe, another security team member charged out and swung with full force. Zhao Meng had no time to draw his gun; he rolled forward and kicked the assailant in the groin.
With a howl of pain, the steel pipe clattered to the ground as the attacker dropped to his knees, his legs trembling. While Zhao Meng picked up the steel pipe, he elbowed into the attacker’s temple, sending him sprawling to the floor. In an instant, he had dealt with two skilled ambushers.
Before Zhao Meng could fully rise, a third person emerged from concealment and fired an electric stun gun at his vest.
“Shhh, shhh!”
Zhao Meng’s whole body began trembling; his muscles numbed, and his body became nearly immobile. At that moment, Xie Jin rushed forward with rapid steps, leaping off the ground and driving his knee into Zhao Meng’s chest with the weight of his whole body—a flying knee strike!
If it landed, Zhao Meng’s ribs would shatter and his heart would be crushed. In this dire, near-death moment, Zhao Meng broke free of the stun gun’s grip from behind and rolled to the side. Although his body felt weak and drained, his will to survive was strong.
Clenching his tongue to stifle a cry, he gathered his strength, and hurled the steel pipe from his hand.
“Bang!”
The pipe struck the hand of the third ambusher, making the stun gun tumble to the ground. Seizing the opportunity, Zhao Meng quickly picked up a rifle from the floor, loaded a bullet, and leveled it at the freshly fallen Xie Jin, his face hard and eyes filled with deadly intent.
“Bang!”
“Crack…”
From the shadow behind him, Chen Hong emerged wielding an iron rod. Both hands wrapped in black cloth, he used all his strength to slam the rod onto the area near Zhao Meng’s right arm at the shoulder, and the sound of breaking bones filled the air. Zhao Meng’s once unyielding, iron-strong physique buckled under the blow.
In agony he cried out as his body stooped, and the rifle clattered harmlessly to the ground. Straining hard not to fall completely, Zhao Meng slowly turned to face Chen Hong, his lips trembling as he looked at him in disbelief. No one knew better than Chen Hong of Zhao Meng’s formidable prowess, and therefore his attack would be merciless.
Speed and brutality were required. At this moment, any brightness had long fled from Chen Hong’s face, leaving only a stern, icy look. With the iron rod again in hand, Chen Hong swung and smashed Zhao Meng’s knees—the very supports of his body.
“Bang!”
The sound of his kneecaps shattering echoed, and his legs buckled behind him. Zhao Meng could no longer stand, the pain nearly overwhelming him into unconsciousness. Chen Hong tossed the rod aside and then picked up the rifle, checking the bullet count.
Satisfied for the moment, he looked upon Zhao Meng’s pale face and the anger, confusion, and unwillingness in his eyes. Inwardly, Chen Hong was far from pleased. He scolded, “I know what you’re about to say—it’s all your fault, isn’t it?”
“Have I ever suggested that you lead our brethren in taking down Gao Xin, then become captain of the scientific expedition vessel, even the captain of the entire Bronze Ship? Then, everyone on board would obey us, no matter what we told them to do. If we tell them to kneel, they’d have no choice but to obey.”
He continued, voice laced with bitter ambition, “Those useless old, weak, sick, and disabled should all be eliminated early on—to avoid wasting precious food supplies. Once we control the resources and their distribution, we can do as we please and see this through to the end.
But… you are too traditional—no heroic ambition or daring at all, still shackled by the old rules. If you won’t take the initiative, I’m the only one who can. I’d rather not die.”
Xie Jin, wary and glancing at the rifle in Chen Hong’s hand, smiled and said, “Well done. With Zhao Meng taken care of, the rest on this vessel will be no threat. Hand over the gun; I’ll claim the credit with our cousin.”
Chen Hong, ever shrewd, knew better than to simply relinquish his gun. Keeping one hand on guard, he unfastened Zhao Meng’s outer garment. Once opened, beneath was a purple leather soft armor.
On the chest was marked a blood-red five-finger handprint design, and within the palm were strange ancient scriptures, resembling the emblem of some secret organization. When one’s fingers touched the soft armor, an icy sensation followed.
“This must be the corpse-cloth leather armor he stripped off those white-boned humans. Armor that does not decay for a thousand years—truly a treasure, no wonder he managed to struggle free even under the shock of the stun gun.”
Chen Hong beamed with satisfaction as he removed the corpse-cloth armor from Zhao Meng and donned it himself.
The armor, seemingly able to adjust in size, clung close even though Chen Hong’s physique was far less imposing than Zhao Meng’s. Xie Jin, knowing there was nothing more to do with Chen Hong at this moment, suppressed his own wrath and softly said, “Quickly search him. Is the Buddha’s Relic on his person?”
Chen Hong patted Zhao Meng over thoroughly, then with a disappointed expression said, “It looks like the Buddha’s Relic is still on that junior fellow of his.” Accepting his fate, Zhao Meng’s eyes burned with quiet fury as he roared, “Chen Hong, if you dare injure my junior brother, I will make sure you vanish without a trace!”
Chen Hong regarded him with pity and said, “If you can stand up, then I would believe you. Meng-ge, you taught me to dare to act boldly, to fight with guts, and not be a useless, enraged fool. How could you forget that?”
Xie Jin stepped closer, stamping his foot heavily on Zhao Meng’s chest. His entire foot pressed down firmly as he sneered coldly, “You’re so fired up—it must mean the Buddha’s Relic is with him, isn’t that so?” Zhao Meng, summoning the last of his strength in his uninjured hand, attempted to prop himself up.
But how could he match off against Xie Jin? Chen Hong remarked, “Forget it; what’s the use in squabbling with a cripple? We haven’t yet completely grasped the situation.
Let’s not waste time here.” Xie Jin stared at Chen Hong, who was now walking away with the rifle, and crouched beside Zhao Meng to search him once more—only to discover nothing.
“Tie them all up and bring them to the deck. By the way, has anyone seen Cai Yutong?”
Xie Jin’s ambitions were far less boundless than those of Xie Tianshu. In his eyes, capturing Cai Yutong was the most important task—even more so than the Buddha’s Relic. A security team member answered, “She seemed to have gone with those grad students to the planting area; she didn’t have the medicated breakfast.”
(End of Chapter)