Dragon Vein Storyteller

Chapter 15 Soul Sealing

I squatted there, staring at his one nearly extinguished eye for a full three breaths.

Back then, I hated him so much when he blew up the tomb raiders' tunnel; but now, on his deathbed, he didn't hide anything, handing over all the information he knew and even voluntarily revealing his mutation. This decisiveness is more dignified than many living people. Grudges are grudges, rules are rules, and a tomb raider's bottom line cannot be crossed.

"Here's what we'll do." I stood up, brushing the mud off my knees. "We'll take your head with us. If we can't get out, we'll all die out there, and nobody's going to get a proper burial. If we do get out, we'll consider it fulfilling your last wish and give you a proper burial."

Cui Dake was silent for a moment, then his single eye suddenly lit up, a light that didn't seem like that of a dying man, but rather like an oil lamp about to go out that had its last drop of oil added, causing the wick to suddenly leap upwards.

"Fine...you little bastard..." He grinned, his mouth full of blood and spittle from missing front teeth, "I like you."

As he spoke, he pulled a knife from beside him with his right hand… It was the knife he had taken from the main tomb chamber of Lama Gully when we went down into the tomb together years ago; his name was still engraved on the handle, and now he gripped it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Without a moment's hesitation, he raised his hand, held the knife horizontally, and slashed his own throat. That slash was so resolute, it didn't seem like something a wounded man could make. As the blade cut through his flesh, he didn't even close his eyes; that ugly smile still lingered on his lips. The moment the blood gushed out, he finally collapsed completely, slumped into the pile of rotting flesh, and fell silent.

Where the blade had cut, the white, thread-like things were still moving, like worms that weren't quite dead, wriggling in the blood.

The knife fell to the ground, bounced, and rang out with a sharp "clang," piercing the dark silence. Immediately afterward, a muffled roar came from the river, as if the scaled creatures were responding to the sound. The torches crackled and popped, casting flickering light on Cui Dake's smile and our shadows swaying on the stone tablet.

Neither of us said a word.

Feng the Cripple was the first to move. He didn't rush over, but instead, leaning on his crutch, walked to Cui Dake's mangled, fleshy body and pulled half a piece of dry rations from his pocket… It was what we'd saved that morning, as hard as a rock. He squatted down and gently placed the rations beside Cui Dake's hand, which was still clutching the knife, and lightly pushed it into his palm with the end of his crutch. He didn't speak. This was an old custom: before the dead depart, you have to give them something to eat, lest they starve to death.

Liao the Bald was the second to move. He squatted down, first wiping the blood from Cui Dake's face, then took out a lump of wet mud from his bag... it was the mud left over from when we crossed the bridge, and he smeared it little by little on Cui Dake's head. He paused, then suddenly laughed, his voice hoarse: "Back when you blew up the tomb, I even said I'd dig up your ancestral graves... Well, now I'm personally sealing your soul, what kind of situation is this?" He then untied his hair tie, wrapped it tightly around his head, and muttered under his breath: "Sealing the soul, so you won't get lost, so you won't turn into scales."

"Sanjin, give me the shovel," I said in a low voice. Sanjin hesitated for a moment, then immediately handed me the folding shovel. I shook my head and didn't take it... The shovel was too blunt and too sharp; it could easily injure the bones. Removing a head was dirty work, but also a skilled job, so I had to do it. I took out the short dagger I used to cut hemp rope and open coffin nails from my waist, held it up to the torch to heat it, and the flame licked the blade, giving it a cold gleam that dispelled some of the chill.

"Uncle Feng, lend a hand and support his shoulder," I said to Cripple Feng.

Feng the Cripple didn't speak. Leaning on his crutch, he slowly squatted down, his calloused, scarred hand firmly resting on Cui Dake's shoulder. At that moment, the gloom on his face faded, and his eyes held no hatred, only a solemn farewell to a fellow man... They were all tomb raiders, none of them could escape the fate of being buried underground. Dignity was the last respect left for their colleagues.

I took a deep breath, crouched down, and gently pressed the blade of my short dagger against the severed neck, avoiding the cervical vertebrae. The moment the blade touched the cold flesh, Cui Dake's body trembled involuntarily, as if a lingering instinctive reaction. Without hesitation, I gently rotated my wrist, the blade slowly sliding into the vertebrae… This was a rule passed down from the elders: decapitation must not break the bones; if the bones are broken, the soul will scatter, and even a hundred burials will be useless. The slippery sensation of cutting through cartilage traveled from the hilt to my palm, icy cold, even my breath smelled of blood.

A few seconds later, a heavy object landed in my hand. I gently touched Cui Dake's still-open eye with my fingertip and closed his eyelid: "Let's go, no more lingering thoughts." Then I quickly wrapped it tightly with the black cloth I had prepared beforehand, round and round, binding it securely, finally tying a knot... This was the final step in sealing the soul, to prevent any evil energy from getting in. As soon as the black cloth was wrapped, I could see faint specks of silver-gray showing through the fabric, as if those thread-like things were still trying to get out of the cloth.

Meanwhile, Sanjin and Xiaojizi weren't idle either. They didn't dig a pit... Bai Zang didn't need to be buried. They squatted to the side, carefully digging at the wet mud on the bank with shovels, picking out a few clean, sticky pieces, and handing them to Baldy Liao so he could complete the mud layer for sealing the soul. Xiaojizi, on the other hand, gripped his little carving knife, shaving the mud into small pieces and carefully filling the gaps in the black cloth covering. His little face was covered in mud, but he still kept his jaw taut, without a trace of fear.

"Alright." I stood up and handed the package to Baldy Liao. "You carry it, be careful not to tear it."

Baldy Liao took the package and carefully tied it inside his own bag, muttering under his breath, "You better pray we get out of here alive, or I'll throw your head into the River of Oblivion to keep those scaled creatures company. I hold a grudge against you for cheating us back then; but I respect you for not keeping anything from us before you die. On your journey, don't become a scaled person, and don't do anything to cheat others again."

I lit the torch and turned my back to the River of Oblivion. The phosphorescent light still flickered eerily in the river, and the scaly figures in the water still looked up, their white eyes gazing at the dark dome. But I looked at them no longer.

"Let's go," I said in a deep voice, "Let's go through the Forest of Steles and find the statue of Nuwa."

Ahead lay a dense forest of steles, their inscriptions flickering in the firelight like countless eyes blinking in the darkness. At the far end of the forest, a colossal silhouette could be vaguely seen—not a mountain, not a stone, but a seated human figure, perched in the deepest part of the darkness, having waited for countless years.

And at its feet, I knew, a fierce battle was taking place.

It's not a fight between people, but a battle between creatures that have already grown scales, devouring and eating each other!