The World Below Surface

So, who painted that picture in the village chief's house?

He scrutinised the mural with a keen eye, looking for clues. It was a strange and unsettling work of art; it seemed to consist of two separate scenes that overlapped and blended into each other, creating a third one that mirrored the first.

The archaeologists were making slow progress, brushing away the dust and mud that covered the wall with painstaking care. They were short on manpower, and Lu Yan offered to lend a hand. He had to persuade them to let him join, and they finally gave him two sets of tools with some reluctance.

He worked fast, speeding up the process considerably. The other three taskers knew they had to hurry; they were looking for a jade pendant that was their only key to returning home. They put aside their reservations and helped him out.

The mural revealed itself bit by bit.

It seemed to revolve around a mountain. The first part was just a bland depiction of the landscape, but then animals started to appear.

Then came the human figures. The mural changed drastically, as if someone else had taken over the painting. The strokes became childish, the lines crude. Lu Yan followed the expert’s lead, working and listening at the same time.

He had learned painting; he had many skills that he picked up for survival. He knew enough about art to tell that this mural told the story of a “king.”

The king was sitting on a high throne, enjoying his life. The images were almost comical, showing him riding horses, hunting, surrounded by lucky clouds. People loved him; two groups of them formed a circle around him, waving their weapons in the air. Two young girls, maybe sisters or lovers, were always with him. They were painted in bright red, their faces blank, but their beauty was obvious as two groups of people danced around them, holding weapons as well.

The story became more complex as it went on. Two animals joined the girls, and below them, a lot of clouds created a heavenly or supernatural backdrop. The girls and the king parted ways, both looking sad, but their mouths were smiling, creating a weird contrast. Lu Yan moved on, using a small brush to gently clean the stone wall, uncovering more details.

As they gazed at the crimson streams that looped around the mountain twice, they felt a chill run down their spines. A young girl, half-submerged in the blood, stared back at them with lifeless eyes. On the shore, a mob of angry people brandished their weapons and yelled curses.

"This appears to be some twisted sacrificial ritual," the expert muttered. Squinting through his dusty glasses, he leaned closer to the wall.

The following images sent shivers down his spine. Jagged lines depicted bolts of lightning striking the peak of the mountain. Fiery arcs scorched the centre. Tiny figures, buried up to their necks in the dirt, had mouths agape in silent screams. Subsequent scenes showed the mountain splitting apart, with a horde of black stick-men—representing the deceased—trapped in the middle, as if... the mountain had swallowed them.

Initially, everyone was preoccupied with their own tasks, but as time passed, they all gravitated towards the wall, captivated by the gruesome spectacle.

The expert continued his commentary. As dust trickled from the wall, his voice grew softer. The wall art transitioned from mostly pictures to predominantly words, with only a few sketches as accents. Although he couldn't decipher the symbols, his words flowed effortlessly, as though he was not merely translating crude drawings but reliving the dark secrets concealed within those scenes.

"They sacrificed countless lives to attain wealth and harmony with nature... but then, their empire crumbled, their god was defeated. They fled to the mountains and concealed themselves there..."

"...This mountain is the gods' final blessing. It is said that those who reside within the mountain are immortal. Even in death, they can be revived if they are buried in the mountain..."

However, as they continued to remove the dust, the wall became blurred, and they were unable to discern the original shapes.

"So, what happens next?" Two curious archaeologists inquired, craning their necks eagerly to hear more from the individual who had been explaining.

He hesitated momentarily, then resumed his narration, facing the dimly lit walls. "They sought refuge in the mountains and kept their faith concealed. They laid their ancestors to rest, including their king, right here..."

"But, to their astonishment, the king returned after sixty years... That was when they comprehended the true meaning of eternal life within the mountain..."

They followed the mural and turned a corner.

A little further ahead, there stood a small tomb, securely sealed. Opening it should have been someone else's responsibility, but they were preoccupied with the mural and had forgotten about it.

They walked past the tomb without a second glance and ventured deeper into the tunnel.

The doors of the burial chamber creaked open, revealing a ghastly scene behind them.

A jumbled mess of bones, both human and animal, lay on the floor. Two bronze warriors, armed with swords and halberds, stood at the entrance. Their faces were frozen in a grimace, eyes closed, as if they were dead.

But they weren't dead. Their eyes flickered open, and they turned their heads to follow the explorers with keen sight.

A rustling sound echoed in the tomb, as if a beast was awakening from a long slumber. Sand and dust fell from the ceiling, and the walls trembled. The bones on the floor rattled, and the instruments on the sides jingled.

However, the explorers remained oblivious, too engrossed in discussing the mural's story and the mysteries of the tomb to notice the ominous signs. They bravely ventured deeper into the dark tunnel.

Two skeletons emerged from the pile of bones, shaking off the dust. Then, two more skeletons joined them, standing tall and upright. Four pairs of eyes gleamed in the darkness.

At the entrance, the two bronze warriors turned their heads once more, and then marched out of the tomb in perfect harmony, like a loyal army.

They were the tomb's guardians, whether they were made of flesh or metal, they were faithful to their master and his treasures.

They had been waiting for this for years, without knowing why. It was their duty, their destiny, their doom.

As they passed by the next two tombs, the door of one of them squeaked open, as if inviting them in.

Two cold breezes swept out of the tomb, sending shivers down their spines. The line of people following the taskers grew longer and longer.

Lu Yan had a bad feeling about this.

Where the hell were they? What had gone wrong?

He tried to pay attention to the expert's endless babble, but he felt distracted. He heard other noises, faint and eerie.

What were they?

*

*

Lin Chu had been hiding in her room for days, but now she was out.

An Ru trailed her stealthily, keeping a low profile. He was a master of surveillance, and he knew how to avoid detection. He watched her every move, curious about her destination. She headed straight for the library. There, she settled in a quiet corner, immersed in a book.

It was the Lunar New Year, and the library was almost empty. The tables were spacious, but only two people occupied them. Lin Chu was one of them.

She read like a maniac, devouring two books in a flash and then returning them to the shelves. She grabbed two more and started again.

An Ru lurked behind the bookshelves, gazing at her intently.

An Ru was seized by a sudden curiosity about the books that Lin Chu had been poring over. He bided his time until she returned one to the shelf, then grabbed it discreetly.

As he leafed through the book, his eyes widened.

The books Lin Chu had been engrossed in were not what they appeared to be. They were filled with myths, hauntings, and mysterious secrets.

Lin Chu finished her book and slammed it shut. She spun around, her eyes flashing like lightning. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, what are you up to, following me around?”

She held two small knives tightly in her hand, ready to attack.

An Ru stepped out from behind the bookshelf and locked eyes with Lin Chu.

He had aged terribly in a few days. His son, An Xing Yu, had vanished without a trace, and his wife had gone after him. He was tormented by grief and guilt, and it showed on his face. He no longer resembled his son, An Xing Yu, at all.

Lin Chu had no idea who he was, only that he had been tailing her for a while. She confronted him with two steps and a question: "Why are you following me?"

She had deliberately chosen the library, attracted by its silence and spaciousness, thinking it would be a suitable place to handle any trouble. But she was surprised to see an old man, which threw her off and made her hesitate.

An Ru's eyes grew cold as he stared at her. After a pause, he smiled and said, "I'm An Xing Yu's father." He watched Lin Chu closely, aware that she was a clever girl who could conceal her emotions.

Lin Chu acted as if nothing was amiss, but An Ru sensed a slight tension in her body.

Behind them, on the other side of the bookshelf, two books slid out and moved to a different position.

But... there was no one behind the bookshelf.