Chapter Thirty-Two: The Buried Civilization (Part Two)

A chill wind blew from an unknown darkness over the faintly glowing fire atop the bone. Instantly, the ghostly flame flickered violently within the bone, erupting in a burst of phosphorescent light that cast an eerie glow across Mo Han’s face, nearly making him throw the bone away in fright.

“Damn! That scared the life out of me!” Mo Han steadied his pounding heart, cursing under his breath. He eyed the now-stabilizing ghostfire warily, suspicion and uncertainty mingling in his expression.

“Mo Han, do you think the inscriptions and petroglyphs on these walls were etched by those two skeletons while they were still alive?” Guan Qian scrutinized the surrounding walls, pondering aloud.

Though the darkness here was impenetrable, it did not hinder Guan Qian’s sight. In his pale eyes, the enigmatic images and scripts were as clear as day.

“Maybe! Look at these four circular walls—aside from those two skeletons and the cold, grave earth, the place is utterly empty. Perhaps we should study these carvings closely; maybe they hold a clue to finding a way out.” Mo Han stroked his chin, holding the glowing bone closer to the walls to examine the mysterious images and symbols.

He had noticed the carvings earlier, and they had left him at a complete loss. The petroglyphs were myriad and strange, their meanings blurred and indecipherable. The annotations beside them, too, were utterly baffling. The occasional fragment of oracle bone script provoked a moment’s wonder but failed to yield even a single coherent word, let alone a phrase.

“We can’t make head or tail of these carvings and inscriptions—they seem to be records from another civilization. This can’t be anything from Earth. But why are there fragments of Earth’s oracle bone script mixed in?” Guan Qian mused deeply.

His thoughts returned to the moment they had awoken beneath this mass grave and first discovered the carvings, and now his doubts only grew heavier.

Guesses and conjectures flooded his mind, leaving his thoughts in disarray.

“Guan Qian, come look at this!” Mo Han suddenly called out. He was crouched in a corner by the pile of bones, shining the ghostly fire onto a shadowy section of the wall, his eyes wide with shock at what he had discovered.

With a whoosh, Guan Qian was at his side in an instant.

His gaze swept the corner, and his pale eyes flashed. There, carved into the dim stone, was a sequence of Mayan script.

As a scholar of ancient languages, there was no mistaking the radiant, mysterious markings of the Mayan civilization. Familiar symbols and signs jolted his mind, and in a moment he deciphered the passage. Though some words were obscure, Guan Qian managed to translate the meaning:

‘Out! Out! We must get out!’

‘We come from the land of blue, led here by our God of Faith. Our new civilization was reborn on this strange land, but disaster struck. Demons—demons have come—’

‘God of Faith, your loyal servants beg for your aid, come—come save us!’

‘We have waited and waited for our God of Faith to deliver us, but—’ The script faded here, and Guan Qian felt a chill of foreboding.

‘We have suffered grievous losses, all is on the verge of ruin. We have retreated underground, and now the world belongs to the demons.’ The script here was distinctly different—clearly the work of the other skeleton.

‘God of Faith, where are you? Your servants call to you, hurry—hurry!’

‘We have been discovered. In this final chamber, only the two of us remain. We have sealed ourselves away. O God of Faith, have mercy upon us.’

‘The one hundred and ninth day—so weary, so tired. Still, we call—’

‘Faith…’ The last word was warped and broken off, incomplete.

Every theory and hypothesis Guan Qian had entertained was overturned. A tremor ran through his body and soul.

“The land of blue, the land of blue—Maya, Maya…” Guan Qian murmured, his pale gaze lingering on the lines of Mayan script, a world-shaking speculation now confirmed.

The Mayans had been led away from Earth by their so-called God of Faith, brought to this land to forge a new civilization—only to be attacked without warning by demons. War ensued, ending in the Mayans’ annihilation.

So it was that the mysterious disappearance of the Mayan people from Earth was not a mystery—they had been taken en masse to this place. And this place was likely another world.

Who, then, was their God of Faith?

Once, the Mayan civilization had shone with such brilliance—it defied belief. Was it all the gift of this God of Faith?

No one could have imagined that such an advanced civilization would meet its end here, buried and forgotten. Was the tomb of ten thousand souls built by the Mayans themselves?

The mass grave, meant to give rest to their dead, yet why did a monument bearing a single eye stand there? That lifelike eye was identical to the one on the palm-sized stone he carried—a stone passed down from his ancestor, the first Prophet.

Could there be a connection between the God of Faith and the Prophet?

Guan Qian’s thoughts grew heavier, his brow furrowing ever deeper.

“It’s incredible—these two skeletons are actually Mayan remains.” Mo Han had already deciphered most of the inscription in the corner. He crouched by the jumbled bones, glowing bone in hand, his expression a mix of excitement and tension.

The Mayan civilization belonged to a distant age, dazzling and brilliant, as if it had descended from the heavens. Yet at the height of its glory, it vanished abruptly. Only three ancient texts remained behind, filled with mythology and legend, leaving later generations unable to unravel the secrets of this great legacy.

Before Columbus discovered the Americas, this great and enigmatic nation had already vanished. Their spectacular culture ended in an instant, leaving the world with an unsolvable riddle, a mystery that endures to this day.

Whence they came, whither they went! The enigmatic Mayan people drove the world to fascination and regret in equal measure.

If Fang He were here, he would have seized these Mayan remains without hesitation. Their value would shake the world, and he would become the center of global attention.

“From the looks of it, this chamber was sealed by their own hands. Escaping will be extremely difficult.” Guan Qian set aside his thoughts, analyzing their predicament.

If the Mayans themselves could not escape this sealed room, how could they? To linger here was certain death, and Guan Qian still had to find the Gate Key, rescue Jiang Qiang from the false Prophet, and locate the missing Fang He.

There was no time to waste in this dark chamber. He had to find a way out—but at present, their situation offered no hope, and his brow remained knit in worry.