Tomb raiding live stream: Starting as the mute Zhang

Only the beam of a flashlight trembled in the dust, illuminating the seated skeleton and the shocking words on the tortoise shell.

"Zhang...Qiling?" Fatty Wang's voice broke the silence, trembling with disbelief. He looked at the skeleton, then at the living Zhang Qiling squatting in front of it, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. "This...this is...a coincidence of names? Or..."

Wu Xie was completely stunned. Of course, he knew what the name "Zhang Qiling" meant to the Zhang family. It wasn't just a name; it was a code name, a responsibility, and a legacy. But he never imagined that he would encounter another "Zhang Qiling" in this way in a corner of this ancient building deep in the mountains—a "Zhang Qiling" who had long since turned to bones and left behind desperate last words.

Xie Yuchen and Huo Xiuxiu's expressions were extremely solemn. They knew more than Wu Xie about the secrets of the Zhang family's generations of inheritance and the special nature of the title "Clan Chief." But witnessing firsthand the desperate letter left by another "Zhang Qiling" from another era was still a huge shock.

A Ning and Jiang Xun Gu were completely shocked and bewildered. They stared at the skeleton, then at Zhang Qiling, utterly unable to comprehend the situation before them. The same person? How could that be? But that name…

The blind man squinted behind his sunglasses, and his usual roguish smile vanished. He silently lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and the smoke rose slowly into the stagnant air.

A levitating live-streaming sphere hovered in the center of the stone chamber, the camera slowly panning across the skeletons, tortoise shells, and each face with its own unique expression. After a brief explosion, the live-stream chat exploded with countless "???" and incredulous exclamations, but was quickly drowned out by more comments demanding "calm down" and "keep watching."

Zhang Qiling slowly stood up. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were deeper than usual, like two bottomless ancient wells. He looked at the skeleton again, his gaze lingering for a moment on the left hand bone missing its little finger, then looked away and at the tortoise shell in Xie Yuchen's hand.

Zhang Qiling remained silent. He stood half a step behind Zhang Qiling, also looking at the skeleton, his brows slightly furrowed, his eyes filled with complex emotions. It wasn't fear or sorrow, but a deeper, more solemn weight, as if he had witnessed some predetermined destiny. He reached out, not to touch the tortoise shell, but to gently brush against the hilt of the rusted dagger beside the skeleton. His fingertips felt the cold, rough texture, and a faint, almost vanished, familiar scent.

"It's him," Zhang Qiling said with a low voice, withdrawing his hand.

"Hmm," Zhang Qiling responded. Of course he knew "it was him." Not only the name, not only the handprint, but also the almost imperceptible trace of the same bloodline on the relic, on the verge of collapse and contamination, all silently conveyed the same message.

"What on earth is going on?" Wu Xie finally found his voice. He looked at Zhang Qiling, then at "Zhang Qiling," trying to find the answer in their faces. "Brother, this name...did you already know it...?"

"Zhang Qiling, it's a title," Xie Yuchen answered for them, his voice dry. "The title of each generation of the Zhang family patriarch. Passed down through generations. We knew a little about it before, but we never expected..." He glanced at the skeletons on the ground, "to encounter... the previous generation, or even earlier, here."

"A name?" Fatty Wang gasped. "You mean... Little Brother and the others weren't the first to have this name? Then this..." He pointed at the skeleton, "...was it the previous Little Brother? Then Little Brother and you..."

"We are the last," Zhang Qiling said calmly, interrupting the fat man's chaotic thoughts. He paused, then added, "The Zhang family is gone. Only we remain."

These words, spoken calmly, chilled the air in the stone chamber even further. Only they remained… meaning the era, the people, and everything they had protected and fought for, represented by the skeleton before them, had long since vanished. Only two “last” individuals, who had inherited the title but lost most of their memories and their origins, stood on the burial ground of their ancestors, facing the same despairing warning.

"So," Black Bear exhaled a smoke ring and slowly said, "this old senior came here many, many years ago with the 'key' and the 'catalyst' to try to 'sever the root cause,' but he messed things up and got contaminated by that 'nuclear' stuff. Knowing he was going to die, he hid here and ended his own life, leaving behind a message for future generations not to go and die?"

His summary was simple and blunt, but the meaning was basically correct.

"The inscription on the tortoise shell says, 'The clan precepts are flawed; the gate cannot be guarded, only severed,'" Huo Xiuxiu pointed to the writing on the tortoise shell. "This means that, at least in Zhang Qiling's era, they had already discovered that the generations-long precept of guarding the 'gate' might be wrong; the 'gate' itself cannot be truly guarded. The only way is to completely 'sever' the root. They came here with the 'key' and the 'catalyst' to carry out this 'severance' plan. But clearly, they failed. The 'core' has undergone an uncontrollable mutation, and even the executors have been corrupted."

"The key and the trigger..." Wu Xie looked at Zhang Qiling, "Is it the jade eye and bone fragment we have? Or something in the jade box? Or something else?"

"Perhaps," said Zhang Qiling. He looked again at the scattered items around the skeleton. Besides the dagger, water pouch, and tortoise shell, there seemed to be something else in the corner, half-covered by dust.

He walked over, squatted down, and carefully brushed away the dust. There were several copper coins that had oxidized and turned black, and a small, flat bronze box, no bigger than the palm of his hand. The box was engraved with cloud patterns and had no clasp, so it seemed to be a single piece.

Zhang Qiling picked up the bronze box; it was very light. He looked at it, then handed it to Zhang Qiling.

Zhang Qiling took the box and slowly ran his fingers over the cloud patterns on its surface. It felt cool to the touch, and there seemed to be extremely fine indentations deep within the patterns. He tried pressing on several specific spots, but there was no response. He then gently pried along the edges of the patterns with his fingernail, but it still fit perfectly.

"Can't open it?" Zhang Qiling asked.

"It's sealed," Zhang Qiling said. He carefully sensed the texture of the box and the extremely subtle gaps inside. "It's not a mechanical lock, it's... a blood seal. Or, it requires a specific 'spirit' to open."

"What he left behind?" Zhang Qiling looked at the skeleton.

"Possibly." Zhang Qiling put the bronze box away and placed it in his inner pocket. He then carefully examined the copper coins. They were from the Ming Dynasty, with severely worn edges, which only proved their age and provided no other information.

"What do we do now?" Ah Ning asked, remaining vigilant and watching the entrance to the stone chamber and the sounds outside. "This senior left a warning, telling us to leave immediately and never return. Should we continue going in?"

Everyone looked at Zhang Qiling and "Zhang Qiling". Should they heed the fatal warning from hundreds of years ago and immediately retreat, or continue to delve deeper and face the "core" that drove even a generation of "Zhang Qiling" to despair and suicide?

Zhang Qiling remained silent. He looked at the skeleton again, his gaze seemingly piercing through time and space, meeting the eyes of the person with the same name who had left bloody handprints and inscribed their final words amidst despair and pollution, and then sat quietly here awaiting death.

Zhang Qiling remained silent, but he tilted his head slightly, as if listening or sensing something. After a while, he said in a low voice, "The 'core' is still there. The fluctuations... are very stable, but deep. Underground, very deep."

"He failed," Zhang Qiling finally spoke, his voice still calm but carrying a resolute tone, "and so might not."

"Moreover," he looked at Wu Xie, Fatty, Xie Yuchen, Hei Xiazi, A Ning, and Jiang Xun Gu, his gaze sweeping over each of them, "we have no way out. The 'key' is in our hands, and the 'trigger' may also be there. If we don't figure it out and solve it, trouble will keep following us and going after someone else."

That's true. From the jade disc warning from the sacred tree of Qinling to this final letter, they all point to the same terrifying possibility—that "core," that "door," is a constantly spreading source of pollution and disaster. If it's not addressed, it will inevitably erupt in an even more uncontrollable way sooner or later.

"Then let's continue!" Fatty Wang gritted his teeth, his face still a little pale, but he stubbornly said, "We're already here! If the seniors couldn't handle it, maybe we can! I, Fatty, refuse to believe it!"

"Fatty's right," Wu Xie said, composing himself and adjusting his glasses. "We can't back down. At the very least, we need to figure out the situation. This senior mentioned 'the clan precepts are wrong,' perhaps what we've found is an opportunity to correct those mistakes."

Xie Yuchen and Huo Xiuxiu exchanged a glance and nodded. Hei Xiazi shrugged indifferently. A Ning and Jiang Xun Gu indicated they had no objections.

"Let's go." Zhang Qiling took one last look at the skeleton, nodded slightly, as if in a silent farewell and promise. Then he turned and walked to the other side of the stone chamber.

Apart from the wooden door they had entered through, the other wall of the stone chamber appeared to be a complete stone wall. However, Zhang Qiling walked to the wall and reached out to press on several seemingly random spots that actually corresponded to specific textures.

A soft "click" sounded.

A stone slab, about half a person's height, slowly receded inward on the stone wall, then slid to one side, revealing another, narrower, and deeper stone staircase leading downwards. A stream of air, colder than inside the stone chamber and carrying a heavy dampness and a faint smell of sulfur, flowed out of the passage.

The suicide note signaled their departure, but they chose to continue downwards.

Heading into that unknown depths, the place that drove a generation of "Zhang Qiling" to despair and suicide.

The levitating live-streaming sphere followed, flying into a new passage, its green light casting flickering shadows on the steep, descending stone steps. The camera glanced back one last time at the silent stone chamber and the eternally still skeleton.

A line of text slowly floated across the screen:

"Is this the right path?"

No one can answer.