Chapter Thirty: Buried Civilization (Part One)

“Mmm—”

Guan Qian awoke from the haze of unconsciousness, and as he returned to his ordinary state, a faint soreness crept through his body. The darkness before him was so thick he could not see his own hand; the cold, silent surroundings felt empty and oppressive.

“Crack—”

“Crack—”

He moved his numb, stiff legs slightly, and the sharp sound beneath his feet nearly made him stumble.

“Tang Ru Yan—Mo Han—”

“Tang Ru Yan—Mo Han—”

Guan Qian called out again and again, his voice echoing endlessly in the icy air, but the darkness remained still, lifeless.

His heart sank. Could it be that Tang Ru Yan and Mo Han had met with disaster?

Indeed! To fall into such a deep abyss and survive was a miracle in itself; it was entirely possible they had perished.

So where was this place?

Guan Qian could no longer care about the fate of the others; the chilling atmosphere grew heavier, and he felt a cold draft seep through his thin clothes.

“Pa—”

Suddenly, a hand grasped his ankle, icy cold, and Guan Qian instinctively kicked out in panic.

“Ah—”

A rough male voice cried out in pain.

The familiar sound made Guan Qian’s heart skip—this was Mo Han’s voice.

“Mo Han!” Guan Qian crouched down and quickly reached out to feel, soon grasping a pair of strong hands.

“Guan—Guan Qian, you really kicked hard,” Mo Han grumbled, rubbing his chest with effort.

“Ah, my mistake, my mistake,” Guan Qian chuckled awkwardly. In this pitch-black darkness, that hand had truly startled him.

Unable to bear the blindness any longer, Guan Qian activated his White-Eye state. The severe visual obstruction made him uneasy.

With a blink, a crackling sound echoed, and Guan Qian’s White-Eye state returned.

Opening his eyes, now shining with a white glow, he saw Mo Han’s body half-buried in earth. Everything below his chest was out of sight, his upper body still covered with sparse soil and dust, making him look utterly forlorn.

“Quick, pull me out. I can hardly breathe in here,” Mo Han struggled as he spoke.

“Hang in there, I’ll get you out right away,” Guan Qian replied, already scooping away the thick layer of soil with both hands.

The loose soil was cold and damp, grave earth laid by the giant hand of heaven, now freezing Mo Han to the bone. His slightly purple lips showed just how icy it was.

A mysterious mass grave—who had built it? And beneath it existed such a hidden chamber; Guan Qian’s heart was full of doubt and suspicion.

He quickly dug Mo Han out, while his White-Eye searched for Tang Ru Yan’s figure and observed the surroundings.

The blackness was like a hell that robbed all sense of sight, but Guan Qian, unimpeded in his White-Eye state, could see everything clearly, and what he saw astonished him.

It was an empty underground room, so barren it contained not a single decoration. On the ground where he had awoken, leaning against the wall, lay some scattered white bones.

The bones were well preserved; from their skulls and frames, it could be guessed they belonged to two humanoid creatures.

Looking closer, he realized they were exactly like the pile of bones he had found upon entering the domain gate!

Across the uneven walls, simple stone drawings were carved, and beside them were inscriptions in unknown scripts.

Guan Qian stared intently at the writing, and suddenly discovered that within them were fragments of ancient Chinese oracle bone script. Though the number of characters was small and many were broken and disconnected, making them difficult to read or piece together, Guan Qian’s shock grew ever greater.

As a scholar of ancient scripts, he knew all too well the significance of oracle bone script in Chinese history. To see these characters, known to exist on Earth, appear in a spatial domain gate—when this place was not Earth—was beyond belief.

What could this mean?

Could it be that the humanoid bones here had once visited Earth?

Had they brought oracle bone script to humanity millennia ago? And through generations, humans inherited and developed its essence?

Was this mass grave built by these humanoids as their own tomb?

Guan Qian’s White-Eye flickered, his heart a tangled mess.

So many unknowns clouded his mind, and all the mysteries would require time and effort to unravel.

“Guan Qian, have you found Tang Ru Yan?” Mo Han asked, shivering and rubbing his hands, unable to remain silent in the darkness.

“No, there’s nothing here, it seems we’re trapped—wait, what’s that—” Guan Qian replied, suddenly spotting a trace of white cloth in the corner.

“Could it be—” he murmured, darting over and grabbing the scrap of fabric protruding from the grave soil, his expression grave.

“Tang Ru Yan!” Guan Qian realized in shock it was Tang Ru Yan’s white dress.

Tang Ru Yan was completely buried beneath the grave soil, her life in peril.

Guan Qian had no time for further thought, his hands digging feverishly through the cold earth, his heart aching for the deeply buried Tang Ru Yan.

She was a cold woman, devoid of desire or excessive emotion, her life lived wholly for the Prophet. It was her mission, her entire existence.

Yet through gradual acquaintance, from mystery to mutual dependence, Guan Qian felt shame—he could not even protect her, let alone anyone else.

White Witch—Guardian of the Prophet—was she doomed to sacrifice herself for the Prophet? A wave of sorrow swept through Guan Qian’s heart.

“Hold on, please—please don’t die!” Guan Qian cried inwardly, disregarding the cold, coarse grave soil and digging ever faster.

Soon, most of Tang Ru Yan’s body was excavated, but her face, pale as frost, revealed she was in grave danger.

Her faint, barely-there breath showed her life was hanging by a thread, like a flickering lamp fighting for its last drop of oil.

“Tang Ru Yan—wake up—wake up—” Guan Qian cried, holding her in his arms, warming her stiff, cold body with his own.

But no matter how he called her name, there was no response.

Tang Ru Yan’s life force was fading fast!