Dragon Raja 2; Chapter 121: The Dragonbone Cross (6)

Dragon Raja 2

“I’ll pass. Where’s the intruder now?”

“They entered through the recirculating water system, heading towards the bottom level of the ice cellar.”

“The Well of Oblivion? Got it.” The man jumped up, shrugging off the coat draped over his shoulders. His knotted muscles rippled under his skin as if about to burst out. His fists made faint cracking sounds as he turned and left.

“Be careful when using Yanling. Too much muscle strength puts a lot of pressure on your bones,” EVA reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Sometimes I wonder if I loved you because of some weird mother complex—you’re just like my mom.” The man waved helplessly. “I’m not old enough for osteoporosis yet. Besides, I take my calcium supplements every day as you suggested!” He grinned.

A shadow moved like a fish inside the stainless-steel pipes. These two-meter-diameter pipes, divided into freshwater and seawater sections, supplied water to Anjou’s huge garden and aquarium. Every few hundred meters, there was a tough alloy net, but these had all been easily torn apart. The alarm devices inside the pipe walls no longer flashed red, and most of the defenses of the “ice cellar” had been disabled.

The shadow flipped over, attaching its knees with suction cups to the smooth inner wall. A domain was released, and transparent ripples radiated out. The water instantly stopped flowing; this domain solidified and sealed the water. The shadow clenched its fist and struck the pipe wall, shattering the water, the pipe wall, and the rock outside, like an “old master” using a supreme martial technique like the “Great Stone Breaking Hand.” The water resumed flowing, and the shadow was “squeezed” out by the enormous water pressure.

It swam gently through, its voice echoing in the vast darkness.

The “Well of Oblivion”—the lowest level of the ice cellar—was said in myth to be where the three Fates wove, stretched, and cut the threads of life. It was a place where everything was to be obliterated, silent as an ancient karst cave, with only the omnipresent sound of water.

The shadow took out two flares, lit them, and threw one into the air. It flew like a burning meteor across the sky, but couldn’t pierce the heavy darkness above. It was an enormous space, an underground cavern formed by millions of years of water erosion. The flare fell into the water ahead and was extinguished.

The shadow raised the remaining flare, illuminating the surroundings. The ground was actually made of bronze, with deep grooves etched into it, intertwining like snakes. Bluish-green water flowed through these grooves. The pattern formed by the grooves resembled a flourishing vine, branching, rebranching, and constantly intertwining until they converged into a silent lake up ahead. Seen from above, the shadow stood at the root of the vine, with endless symbols faintly hidden in the branches of the vine, forming a perfect circular totem encircling a small lake.

In this place, one could look up but not see the sky. With metal as the ground, time seemed frozen; everything was isolated and sealed. No wonder there weren’t strict defenses here—the metallic vine beneath was the strongest defense.

A powerful “domain” filled the entire space, triggered by the metal patterns underfoot. The so-called vine was an unparalleled Yanling formation. This was an alchemical miracle, using symbols and elements to create a domain in a perpetual cycle. Maintaining this domain required no life—this was a privilege that transcended all religious doctrines, belonging to the divine.

“Humans can push alchemy to such an extreme, huh?” the shadow murmured.

Where the intricate lines on the ground tangled densely, there were small domains. They were strange circles containing power, suppressing the restless force within. The circles contained various relics—unknown mechanical devices, stone coffins covered in runes, even half a dried mummy whose arms were locked to a half-iron pillar by some kind of bone shackles. The mummy, along with the iron pillar, was soaked in a formaldehyde solution, kept in an ultra-low temperature quartz glass container. A metal plaque indicated that it was excavated from Egypt’s Valley of the Kings in 1836 and was a burial item for a pharaoh.

“Junkyard.” The shadow glanced at these relics, which could shock the world.

She slit her wrist, letting thick blood drip into the groove. Her blood was heavier than the bluish-green water, sinking immediately and spreading along with the water. The bluish-green vine took on a new color—the dark red of blood. Gradually, the blood at the bottom began to glow, mottled and bright, and bubbles rose from the water as if undergoing a violent chemical reaction. The reaction quickly heated the water to boiling, bubbles and splashes jumping together. The Yanling formation was activated, the bloody light pulsing rhythmically like a heartbeat.

The shadow’s deep chanting filled the entire space. Under the ancient and grand Yanling, the bloody light grew richer, until finally the metallic vine shone as if it were red-hot metal.

Suddenly, the light went out, and all the grooves simultaneously emitted dark red steam. The bluish-green water evaporated, and the dried grooves looked as if they had been corroded by strong acid.

The alchemical domain was destroyed. The sealed space regained its freedom, and everything felt lighter and fresher, and then… it was as if demons were dancing wildly!

The relics came to life, each in its own way. A bronze mask silently moved its lips, as if singing an ancient priest’s hymn; the mummy writhed on the iron pillar, seemingly trying to break free of its shackles; in the dark golden hourglass, the golden sand that had all fallen to the bottom was now being mysteriously drawn back up to the top; an old music box began to play again, new tiny protrusions appearing on the silver cylinder that recorded the sound—a brand new tune.

This was supposed to be a place where all things were obliterated, like a coffin, but now it was bustling like a temple fair.

“Shut up!” the shadow barked.

Her command swept through like a military order, and wherever it went, the relics trembled and fell silent again. Hidden among the relics were “living spirits” that, having just awoken, felt the overwhelming pressure from the shadow—far more terrifying than eternal slumber.

“You keep playing,” the shadow pointed at the music box. “Play a grand piece—this should be a momentous reunion.”

The music box made a few odd noises, as if tuning itself, then began to play a majestic march that resonated throughout the space, solemn as a tolling bell.

The shadow stepped forward slowly, entering the pool. Here, the bluish-green water and blood fought their final battle. The shadow waded through calmly, the boiling liquid unable to harm him. She gazed straight ahead, like a pilgrim.

In the center of the pool was a round metal altar. She climbed the altar, looking at what lay before her. “We meet again. I still remember our blood pact, the vow to fight side by side until our blood ran dry. Yet now, when I see you again, you’ve withered.”

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