138: Chapter 138 Mysteries

As Chen Zilong approached the Ancient Well, a wave of cold, damp air washed over him.

It felt almost tangible, like countless icy needles drilling straight into the marrow of his bones.

He couldn't help but shudder, slowly crouching down.

The rough stone rim of the well dug painfully into his knees, but he seemed not to notice, his gaze fixed on the bottomless darkness below.

He took a deep breath.

The air was a mixture of decay, dampness, and an indescribable scent of sorrow that rushed into his nostrils, churning his stomach.

"I know who you are,"

His voice cut through the deathly silence with startling clarity, echoing slightly as it bounced off the well walls. "Princess Zixia, and you... the daughter of Top Scholar Wang Lin."

There was no response from the well.

Only the impenetrable darkness and silence remained.

It felt like a heavy swath of black velvet, blocking the well's mouth and pressing down on his heart.

He could even hear the frantic thumping of his own heart in his chest.

Chen Zilong paused, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He continued, his voice softer now, tinged with cautious probing:

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Do you need... me to bring your son to you?"

As he spoke these words, the horrific image of the boy mutilated into a 'human swine' in the pigsty flashed before his eyes.

His heart felt as if pierced by a sharp needle, a stabbing pain.

Still, there was no sound.

Only the faint, mournful sigh of the wind through the withered grass around the well.

The sound was low and sorrowful, as if weeping silently for the souls wronged for a millennium below, adding to the desolation.

Chen Zilong waited for a long time, so long that his legs began to grow numb, feeling as if countless tiny insects were crawling over them.

He stopped waiting, let out a heavy sigh filled with lingering doubts and a weary sense of temporary relief, and prepared to stand up.

Village Chief was dead.

The greatest threat looming over him had been temporarily removed.

He had plenty of time to peel back the layers of darkness shrouding Tianji Village, piece by piece, until everything was laid bare.

The contents of the jade slip, though horrifying, had answered most of his questions.

But it was like a giant puzzle, still missing the most crucial pieces.

What was the Tianji Sect's ultimate goal, going to such great lengths, creating such a spectacle, causing so many deaths?

Could it really be just to rule this godforsaken place as a local tyrant?

The thought was dismissed as soon as it surfaced.

Impossible!

It couldn't be that simple.

Just as he turned and was about to step away, the soles of his shoes scraping lightly against the gravel on the ground with a soft 'shush' sound—

"...It's... not... over..."

An extremely hoarse, broken, female voice, as if vocal cords had been ground down by coarse sandpaper a thousand times over, drifted up eerily from the depths of the well.

It carried a hollow, rippling echo that made one's scalp tingle.

It was Princess Zixia's voice!

The voice was saturated with a millennium's worth of pent-up agony and a chilling, ominous warning.

Chen Zilong whirled around, his movement so swift he nearly lost his balance.

He crouched down again, his hands gripping the cold well rim tightly.

He stared intently into the light-devouring mouth of the well, urgently pressing, "What's not over?"

"You... must... be careful..."

The voice was intermittent, weak, as if it might cut off at any moment. "I... sense... they... are... ready..."

Ready?

They?

Chen Zilong's brow instantly furrowed into a deep knot, a fine sheen of cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Hadn't Village Chief already been executed?

Could she still have accomplices lurking in the shadows?

And from the sound of it, it seemed to be a feminine 'they'?

Where the hell did these come from?

His mind buzzed as if stuffed with a tangled, waterlogged mess of hemp rope, becoming more chaotic the more he tried to unravel it.

The historical injustice of the village was now clear.

But the true motive of the Tianji Sect remained shrouded in layers of mist, its truth obscured.

They were using this towering resentment to set up this bizarre and sinister formation.

Surely it wasn't for the purpose of universal salvation and achieving Buddhahood on the spot?

The absurdity of the thought almost made him laugh, yet he couldn't bring himself to.

"Who is ready? Ready to do what?" Chen Zilong suppressed his rising anxiety, his voice involuntarily rising a few notches, echoing in the empty space around the well.

But no further sound came from the well; deathly silence descended once more.

As if those few exhausted warnings had been nothing but a hallucination born of extreme tension.

Chen Zilong knew it was futile to ask further.

He took a deep breath of the cold, decay (fǔxiǔ)-scented air, forcefully pushing back the surging doubts and that inexplicable unease into the depths of his heart.

For now, he needed to return and regroup with Senior Sister Lu and the others, to assess the situation.

He cast one last deep look at the deep well that seemed to devour all light and sound.

The well's mouth resembled a giant, eerie eye, coldly observing everything above.

Without further hesitation, he moved.

The Thunder Spirit Power within him circulated, transforming into a streak of not-so-bright lightning that skimmed the ground, speeding swiftly in the direction of Village Chief's residence, his figure soon disappearing into the deepest darkness before dawn.

Not long after Chen Zilong left, from the shadows not far from the well, a slender figure that almost merged with the darkness slowly emerged.

Her steps were eerily light, making no sound upon landing, as if she had no weight.

She walked to the side of the well, tilting her head slightly as she peered down.

The dark well water rippled slightly, yet it failed to reflect her face clearly.

Only in the ripples on the water's surface was a faint, upward curve of the mouth vaguely outlined.

The smile was filled with utter satisfaction and a cold, mocking glee, like a cat playing with a mouse.