Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 248: Divine Hall of Murals (2)

Dragon Raja 3

“What can you tell from the scene?”

“It was fast, the whole process didn’t take more than ten seconds. These people had guns, but none of them managed to draw them before they were killed,” Caesar replied. “Of the people I know, only one person can move that fast: the Principal.”

Chu Zihang agreed with Caesar’s assessment. If they had arrived just a few minutes earlier, they would have been dead as well. Even with “King’s Blaze,” he wouldn’t have had time to activate his Yanling ability; he would have bled out before he could even use his powers. Caesar might have had a slightly better chance, as he could sense the attack beforehand, but he wouldn’t have been able to fend off such a fast assault. Like some martial arts novels say, there is no invincible technique, only invincible speed.

“Who would dare massacre the Execution Bureau inside the headquarters of the Yamata no Orochi clan?”

“Probably an art lover,” Caesar shrugged. “Hand me the flashlight.”

With the flashlight turned on, Caesar raised it over his head and walked along the wall, illuminating the grotesque yet vibrant murals. The wall seemed to unfold like a long historical scroll before them, much like the partition wall earlier. The paintings stretched out endlessly in shades of rust-red and indigo, depicting human-serpent beings in an endless procession of ritualistic worship. Some held torches, others long staffs, and some even rode dragons with wings. They danced around a giant pit, inside of which lay enormous bones. The artist had painted the skeleton in molten gold—its left eye depicted as the sun, its right eye as the moon.

Chu Zihang stood under the mural, gazing up for a long time without speaking. The painting on the partition wall had already been breathtaking, but the countless murals here, connected as one, described an unimaginable world.

“There’s nothing here except these paintings. This empty hall was clearly built to display these murals, so they cleared out an entire floor just for them,” Caesar said. “When the Japanese indulge in extravagance, they sure don’t hold back.”

Chu Zihang touched the mural with his fingers, and a red powder came off onto his fingertips. He sniffed it. “The pigment is made from iron oxide.”

He took the flashlight from Caesar and walked forward slowly, studying each mural without saying another word.

“See anything yet?” Caesar had been following behind Chu Zihang for a while and finally couldn’t resist asking.

It was unusual for the Gattuso heir to lower himself to the role of a sidekick, but Caesar had to admit that Chu Zihang had far more knowledge in this area. His curiosity about the murals was too strong, so he set aside his pride and asked.

“These look like jataka paintings from Buddhist art,” Chu Zihang mused after a long pause. “The paintings weren’t made here originally. They were painted on the plaster walls of an ancient temple, and someone used glue and chemicals to peel the murals from the decaying walls and relocate them here. This method, known as ‘detachment,’ is an extremely delicate process in artifact preservation.”

“What are jataka paintings?” Caesar asked.

“In Buddhist art, there is a special form known as jataka paintings, usually a series of works depicting the previous lives of Buddha, before he became Shakyamuni. These are common in the Dunhuang caves—famous examples include ‘The Tale of the Hungry Tigress’ and ‘The Story of the Nine-Colored Deer.’ Judging by the painting techniques, these murals are similar to those from Dunhuang, possibly using pigments like iron oxide, lapis lazuli, mica powder, and verdigris. These are techniques popular in China during the 3rd and 4th centuries. Historical records show that Queen Himiko of Yamatai sent envoys to the Han dynasty around the 3rd century, likely bringing these painting techniques back to Japan for these murals,” Chu Zihang explained. “In other words, these murals are nearly two thousand years old.”

“I’m not interested in their artistic value or techniques—I just want to know why they are so important that the Yamata no Orochi clan would dedicate an entire floor to display them.”

“For Buddhists, jataka paintings depict Buddha’s reincarnation history before becoming Shakyamuni. As for these murals, I believe they depict the Yamata no Orochi clan’s… true history.” Chu Zihang raised the flashlight, illuminating the entire mural. In the vast ocean, dragons and serpents intertwined, while towering cities stood on the land. Roads crossed the seas, and a black dragon and a white dragon hovered side by side in the sky, each extending a hand to grasp the same golden scepter.

“The Black Emperor… and the White Emperor!” Caesar whispered after a long silence, his breath thin, as if afraid of waking the ghosts of history.

At first, when Caesar had seen the large mural on the partition wall, he had thought it was just a fantastical depiction from the artist’s imagination. In ancient times, people often imagined gods and demons waging great battles, with human civilizations rising from the ruins. But now, seeing this mural, he agreed with Chu Zihang’s judgment—this wasn’t mere imagination. It was a record of real history, painted by people who knew of a lost civilization.

Cassell College had theorized a history of the dragon race, pieced together from myth and legend. The college believed that there was once a peaceful and glorious age in dragon history, where the Black Emperor, as the progenitor, led the dragons, and the White Emperor acted as a priestly advisor. During this era of dual kingship, even the violent dragon race dared not provoke war easily. Authority radiated from the black and white thrones in the north, and the dragon aristocracy bowed under the weight of this power.

This mural is essentially a map, outlining the territories covered by the dragon civilization at the time, even marking major routes and the rulers of that era. What the Secret Party spent thousands of years researching was already depicted on this ancient mural in a Japanese temple.

“See the fine-lined characters at the top left of the painting?” Chu Zihang pointed. “Those are in ancient Chinese seal script. Two thousand years ago, the Japanese language hadn’t been invented yet, so the artist used Chinese characters to annotate the painting. The title of this mural is Gu Zhi Kanyu—‘Ancient Kanyu.’ Kanyu originally referred to the study of terrain and topography, and later became associated with geomancy. Ancient Kanyu translates to ‘ancient map.’ This is a world map from the time when the dragon race ruled the world!”

“Whoa! If they auctioned off these murals, the Principal and my father would probably end up fighting over them,” Caesar muttered, standing beside Chu Zihang, staring up at the mural.

Looking at these murals felt like time itself had rewound, revealing a flourishing dragon civilization, blooming like a flower across the earth. According to modern history books, this was the end of the last Ice Age, a time when the land was barren, the polar ice caps stretched far inland, and surviving animals barely clung to life on the southern tip of the continents. But in these murals, it was a time of thriving civilization. A great race raised towering bronze pillars that pierced the skies across the continents. Cities were built around these pillars, and temples sat atop towering ziggurats. Vast imperial roads connected these distant cities.

Chu Zihang pulled out a camera from his coat.

Caesar blinked. “Where’d you get a camera?”

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