Tomb raiding live stream: Starting as the mute Zhang

Before dawn, the backyard of the inn was already bustling with activity.

The three mules snorted impatiently, pawing the ground with their hooves. Old Man Hu was doing a final check on the saddle and the cargo straps. He had changed into a sturdier set of old cloth clothes and trousers, put on leggings, carried a bulging old canvas bag, and had a machete and a leather water bag hanging from his waist.

Everyone was ready. Backpacks, raincoats, leg wraps, insect repellent masks. The morning air was damp and chilly, carrying the scent of earth and plants.

"Everything's ready," Old Man Hu patted the mule's back. "Let's go. We need to cross the first mountain pass before noon; it'll be difficult to travel if it gets foggy later."

The group left the inn's backyard, walked through the still-sleepy streets of the town, and headed towards the indistinct mountain road outside the town. Morning mist, like a thin veil, clung to the mountainside and the woods.

A levitating live-streaming sphere flew out of the inn's window, glowing green, silently following the group from the side and above. The camera captured the silent procession and the mist-shrouded, undulating, dark green mountains ahead. The live chat began to scroll:

The prophet said: "We've entered the mountains! The fog is so thick."

To quell the dissatisfaction of so-called experts: The mule looks very sturdy.

Brother's fan club: Husbands, watch your step!

Old Hu led the way: The old guide looks really energetic.

The mountain path initially showed faint traces, worn down by herb gatherers or hunters in the past. It was a mix of gravel and exposed tree roots, making it slippery and difficult to traverse. Old Hu walked at the front, his steps steady, carrying a sharpened hardwood stick in his hand, occasionally clearing away thorns and drooping vines that blocked his way.

Zhang Qiling and "Zhang Qiling" walked in the middle of the group. Neither of them spoke much, just walked silently, their steps light and almost without making a sound.

Their gazes did not deliberately search for a path, but rather fell upon the surrounding environment—the types of trees, the textures of the rocks, the changes in humidity and smell in the air, and… that extremely faint but continuous sense of attraction from the depths of their blood.

It felt strange. It wasn't a sound, nor an image, but a direction similar to "home," or the aura of "kindred spirits," emanating from somewhere deep in the rainforest, like a lighthouse on the sea in the dark, silently beckoning to those with specific "receivers."

The jade eye and bone fragments lay quietly in the backpack, but the bronze compass, pressed against Zhang Qiling's skin, emitted a steady, warm pulse that resonated with the traction sensation.

After walking for more than an hour, the mountain path completely disappeared. Before us lay a true primeval rainforest. Towering trees blocked out the sun, their canopies intertwined, with only sparse patches of sunlight filtering through the gaps. The ground was covered with a thick layer of humus, accumulated over countless years, soft and spongy underfoot, oozing a black sap.

Ferns, shrubs, and vines grew wildly, weaving together into a dense, impenetrable green net. The air was humid and hot, like a steam room, filled with the strong smell of decaying plants and earth, along with the buzzing of countless insects that made one's head ache.

Old Man Hu stopped, used his machete to cut down a few vines that were blocking the way, and glanced back at the group, especially Zhang Qiling and "Zhang Qiling": "Stay close, don't fall behind. In this place, you can get lost in just three steps."

He continued forward, wielding his machete, carving a narrow path through the dense forest, barely wide enough for one person to pass through. Milky white or dark red sap oozed from the broken vines, emitting a pungent odor.

Wang the Fat Man, panting, wiped the sweat and cobwebs from his face, saying, "My god... this road... I'm practically steaming meat with all this fat..."

"Save your energy, Fatty," Wu Xie said from behind him, equally drenched in sweat, his glasses fogged up. "Talk less, walk more."

"I'm using language to distract myself! Otherwise, I'll be even more tired!"

Black Bear walked with ease; his face was obscured by sunglasses, but his steps were steady. He now carried a cane to probe the path, occasionally pushing aside the drooping poisonous and thorny plants. "Fatty, your weight has an advantage in places like this—it makes you more stable and less likely to slip."

"That's right!" The fat man puffed out his belly, then his face fell. "But it also attracts mosquitoes more easily... Ouch!"

He swatted a large, spotted mosquito that was biting his neck, leaving a pool of blood and the dead insect on his hand. "That thing, ruthless!"

Aning and Jiang Xun, behind the ancient hall, vigilantly observed their surroundings. Xie Yuchen and Huo Xiuxiu walked in the middle, trying to conserve their energy.

After walking for about two more hours, they passed through a particularly dense bamboo forest. The bamboo stalks were as thick as bowls, packed tightly together, making the light even dimmer. Old Hu slowed down, stopping every now and then to observe the surrounding trees and rocks, or to squat down and examine the accumulation of moss and fallen leaves on the ground, seemingly trying to confirm their direction.

"Something's not right," Old Hu frowned, looking at an old compass in his hand, its needle swaying slightly from side to side. "The magnetic field here is a bit chaotic. Logically, we should head towards that ravine, but it feels... off course."

He looked at Zhang Qiling and "Zhang Qiling" with a questioning look in his eyes. Along the way, he noticed that although the two were silent, whenever they came to a fork in the road or when he hesitated for a moment, their gazes would always unconsciously look in a certain direction, and they never missed it.

Zhang Qiling looked up at a patch of exceptionally dense vines to his left, an area that seemed almost impassable. Aside from the more lush vegetation, it looked no different from the rest of the place. But he could feel the pull of that bloodline.

It clearly points in that direction. The flow of air, the extremely subtle slope of the ground, and even the growth posture of certain trees all subtly suggest a "road"—a road prepared for a specific person.

"This way," he pointed in that direction.

Zhang Qiling nodded and added two words: "Shortcut."

Old Hu squinted, carefully examining the area, then looked at the compass in his hand, and finally looked at Zhang Qiling: "Are you sure? It doesn't look like there's a road there. If we go the wrong way, turning back will take more time and we might run into other trouble."

"I'm sure," Zhang Qiling said, his tone flat but carrying an undeniable certainty.

Old Hu stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed, revealing teeth yellowed from smoking: "Alright, I'll do as you say. Anyway, in this godforsaken place, the old methods might not work anymore. Let's go, clear the way."

He brandished his machete and led the way towards the patch of vines. The machete struck the tough old vines with a dull thud. Behind the vines, sure enough, lay an almost impenetrable thicket of bushes.

But strangely, when Zhang Qiling and "Zhang Qiling" approached, the tangled shrubs and vines seemed... not so dense anymore.

As if by an invisible force, they slightly "made way" to create an extremely narrow, yet passable, gap. It wasn't a physical movement, but rather a kind of "retreat" in terms of aura.

Old Man Hu slashed a few times and noticed something was wrong. He turned around and looked at Zhang Qiling and "Zhang Qiling" with surprise, but said nothing and continued forward.

The group squeezed through the narrow gap one by one. The gap was very narrow, requiring them to tuck in their stomachs and turn sideways, and their backpacks often got caught. The light was almost completely blocked out, with only the sound of Old Man Hu chopping wood to clear a path ahead and the heavy breathing of the group.

The levitating live-streaming sphere struggled to navigate through the gaps in the foliage. The camera shakiened, showing swaying green leaves, dim lighting, and tense profiles of people. Some viewers in the live chat expressed concern.

Prophet: Is this road passable? It looks terrifying.

A solution to dissuade experts: The plant density is off; it seems to be "making way"?

The guy's fan club: If my husband says we're going this way, we're going this way!

The fat guy is stuck: It seems like the fat guy is stuck! Haha!

After walking for about ten minutes, the view suddenly opened up ahead. They emerged from the densest area and came to an ancient, long-dried riverbed hidden in the dense forest.

The riverbed was made of smooth pebbles, with steep, moss-covered rock walls on both sides. Although it was also covered with fallen leaves and fallen trees, it was much easier to walk than the dense forest we had previously hacked our way through.

More importantly, the pull of blood becomes clearer and stronger here. It's as if following this dried-up riverbed upstream will lead directly to the source.

Old Man Hu stood by the riverbed, looking at the hidden passage, then at the dense forest they had just traversed—a path that seemed impossible to cross—his expression complex. "This path… my grandfather's generation mentioned it, something like 'Hidden Dragon Path,' but it was buried by floods and trees long ago. How… how did you know it was passable?"

Zhang Qiling didn't answer, but instead stepped onto the pebbles of the riverbed. "Zhang Qiling" followed, equally silent.

Some things cannot be explained. Just as fish know the direction of the current, and birds know the route of migration. This is a navigation etched in their blood, which cannot be erased even by amnesia.

Old Man Hu shook his head, asked no more questions, and beckoned everyone to follow.

As you ascend along the dry riverbed, the slope gradually becomes steeper. But the path is indeed much easier to walk on; at least you no longer need to clear a path with a knife. You just need to climb fallen giant trees from time to time, or go around the rubble piled up by landslides.

At noon, the group rested and ate some dry rations under a relatively flat rock face. Sunlight barely penetrated, with only a narrow sliver of sky above the riverbed. The air was still humid and hot, but there was a slight breeze compared to the dense forest.

Old Hu took out his pipe, took a couple of puffs, and looked upstream into the deep riverbed ahead: "At this speed, we can reach the outer edge of Black Wind Pass before dark. There's an abandoned hunter's cabin there where we can spend the night. Beyond that... it's truly 'no man's land'."

He looked at Zhang Qiling and "Zhang Qiling": "Once we get there, my journey will come to an end. How you proceed from there is up to you. I can only tell you that what you see with your own eyes may not be true. And you should be even more careful about what you hear."

"Mmm," Zhang Qiling responded, slowly drinking his water.

Zhang Qiling nodded.

After a half-hour rest, we continued our journey. The afternoon's path was even more difficult, with the riverbed frequently blocked by landslide boulders or overgrown trees, requiring us to climb and detour around them.

But the guidance of that bloodline remained clear, like a lighthouse in the darkness, allowing Zhang Qiling and "Zhang Qiling" to find their way through seemingly hopeless situations.

Find subtle clues to move forward—it could be a shallow chisel mark on a rock face almost covered in moss, a faded engraving on the trunk of a particular ancient tree, or a change in some extremely faint "field" in the air that only they can perceive.

Old Man Hu stopped questioning and simply followed in silence, his eyes filled with growing surprise and seriousness.

As evening approached, darkness fell quickly. It seemed as if night had prematurely descended upon the rainforest. They had finally emerged from the long, dry riverbed.

Ahead lay an even more gloomy and secluded mountain valley, shrouded in tall trees and thick fog. At the entrance to the valley stood a dilapidated wooden hut, almost completely swallowed by vines—the abandoned hunting lodge that Old Man Hu had mentioned.

"We're here." Old Man Hu stopped and pointed to the depths of the mountain valley shrouded in mist, seemingly capable of swallowing all light. "Black Wind Valley. The place you're going to is still inside. Stay here tonight. Tomorrow... you can decide for yourselves."

The wooden hut offered barely enough shelter from the wind and rain. The group cleared a space, lit a small campfire to ward off the dampness and chill. After a simple dinner, they arranged the watchman's order.

Night completely enveloped the rainforest. Outside the cabin, there was boundless darkness and the indescribable chirping of insects and roars of animals. Inside the cabin, the firelight flickered, illuminating the tired and silent faces of the group.

Zhang Qiling and "Zhang Qiling" sat near the door. They weren't asleep; they just quietly watched the campfire, occasionally glancing at the thick, impenetrable darkness outside.

There, the call of blood is as clear as the beating of a drum.

"Home" is just ahead.

But what awaits them at "home"?

No one knows.

The levitating live-streaming sphere hovered in a corner of the wooden cabin, its indicator light emitting a soft, yellow standby glow. It recorded a night in the deep rainforest, and the silhouettes of two returning family members silently gazing into the unknown darkness.