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墨書 Inktalez
A Chen looked down on the people under the Yellow Witch with disdain, even snorting dismissively at them, too lazy to speak.
I had thought that A Chen was different from Third Granduncle Master and his crew, at least more humane and caring. But in that moment, I realized that deep down, they possessed a kind of old-school confidence—or perhaps arrogance—looking down on anyone and everyone. They held a sense of superiority over others, even those partners they relied on. There was always an underlying suspicion and contempt towards those around them, maintaining a distance while simultaneously exploiting them. The previous grouping of Third Granduncle Master's personnel was a perfect example of this. A Chen was merely slightly friendlier towards me.
However, I began to suspect that A Chen was deliberately trying to get close to me under Third Granduncle Master's orders. What he hoped to gain from me remained unclear. In any case, I had nothing to rob—certainly not wealth or anything else!
As I pondered this, our boat reached the spot where Dali and the others had passed earlier. Upon seeing the mural on the stone wall, I finally understood why Dali had bitten his tongue earlier—at the end of the forest, another group of child laborers was carrying large bamboo baskets, transporting stones piece by piece to the construction site.
The mural depicted this vividly; the children's heights barely reached the baskets on their backs. Once filled with stones, the weight bent them over, sweat streaming down their foreheads to their ankles. They wore no shoes, trudging under the scorching sun, leaving footprints behind.
I couldn't help but recall how Emperor Qin Shi Huang had mobilized nearly a million laborers to construct the Lishan Royal Tomb. I wondered which situation was more tragic compared to what was depicted in the mural. This was the sorrow of laboring people living at the bottom of society under a rigid feudal system... Suddenly, a thought struck me: I remembered the merchant's attire in that mural from the market. I had never paid attention to such details before, but Yellow Witch's analysis had made me look closer.
I recalled that he wore a loose robe that reached his feet, with a wide collar and a belt cinching at the waist. The sleeves were large but tapered at the cuffs, and he had his hair tied up with a scarf... This must have been traditional attire of the Qin people. However, I couldn't recall how the buyer was dressed... Oh right! I remembered his study where he was discussing matters with someone; there was a fine wine pot and two wine cups on the table.
No, more accurately, it should be called a "jue," a three-legged vessel with ears commonly used for drinking during China's Bronze Age—a sign of nobility for those who possessed it.
Since my shop had once dealt with replicas from the Qing Dynasty (which were indeed fakes made during that period), I recognized it immediately.
One could only wonder why a noble lord would buy a batch of child laborers late at night to build garden villas? Could it be... that Emperor Qin Shi Huang had secretly ordered it? Had he built another palace for himself beyond Li Mountain?
Unfortunately, with limited information and no one around to discuss this with, I could only keep my thoughts to myself and continue observing what lay ahead.
In the brief moment I was distracted, I realized that I had already missed most of the painting before me. I hurriedly glanced at it; it seemed to depict the construction process of this palace, which was rather dull. There was no point in lingering on it. The next piece, however, was significant—it illustrated events after its completion.
The young nobleman stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out at the grand palace grounds before him, a look of immense satisfaction on his face.
Further along was a detailed introduction to the interior of the palace. The artist had cleverly created an aerial view, but unfortunately, just as the scene displayed beautiful fields and flowing streams, it was about to transition to the buildings behind when dark scorch marks appeared on the stone wall again. Damn it, everything was obscured.
Sixth Brother cursed loudly, “Damn it! Who is the bastard responsible for this? I’ll make sure to deal with him!”
This was meant as a venting remark without targeting anyone in particular, but Sixth Brother suddenly turned his head, kicked against the dragon bone beside A Li, and shot me a piercing glare as if he believed I was the culprit.
Though I had nothing to fear with a clear conscience, A Li was sitting right next to him. If he went mad and did something harmful to her, no amount of pleading would save me.
I straightened my back and said, “Why are you looking at me? This is my first time here too. Use your pig brain to think; you know I didn’t do this.”
Surprisingly, Sixth Brother didn’t get angry this time. He probably realized A Li was under his control; I could only vent my frustrations but couldn’t do anything more.
He raised an eyebrow at me and, without me noticing when he did so, produced a dagger that he began to play with skillfully between his fingers. “Don’t act innocent! Last time in the Manshan Underground Palace, wasn’t it you who ruined that painting on the wall? Now you’re pulling the same trick again?!”
His words jogged my memory. That incident had occurred in the Bagua Underground Palace within the Dui Palace's ghostly tomb chamber. The walls were etched with an image of a Snake King who could command water serpents to carry him in a palanquin. The Snake King had mastered a secret technique for immortality by placing himself in a coffin filled with snakes, allowing them to cover his body while only his eyes remained visible.
At that time, Old Qiao was still Third Granduncle Master ’s strategist. He speculated that the fourth mural depicted the specific workings of this technique. Yet that mural had been destroyed by fire! Coincidentally, this fire had been set not long ago; standing by the wall, one could still smell sulfur.
Old Qiao seemed to imply that either I or my junior disciples were responsible for this incident. Third Granduncle Master already harbored doubts; with Old Qiao’s insinuation, he became even more convinced that I was the mastermind behind it and ended up beating me severely on the spot—my leg nearly broke. In self-defense, it was then that I resorted to using poison. However, it was merely a weak toxin capable of temporarily softening one’s muscles and bones without causing any lasting harm. That incident marked the bitter end of my relationship with Third Granduncle Master and the others.
However, this matter was indeed not my doing. I had intended to ask my junior brother about it after coming out, but there were too many things happening at the time, and I forgot all about it in the hustle. The next time I run into that guy, I must remember to ask clearly; otherwise, it would be too unjust for me to bear this blame.
My mind raced quickly as I said, "Is it that thing on the wall of your tomb chamber? Huh, I thought you guys had made it!"
Liuzi cursed, "You really won't shed a tear until you see the coffin! To be honest with you, we found this in that secret room." Liuzi reached into his pocket and pulled out an object. Holding it up to the flashlight, I saw it was a bronze block shaped like an arch. On the side facing me, there was a seal script character "Dui" engraved on it.
It looked somewhat familiar to me. After a moment of thought, I remembered that the shape of this bronze block perfectly matched the groove on top of the bronze square box that had been snatched away by the man in black.
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