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墨書 Inktalez
Indeed, a faint chime echoed from beneath the ground. But this sound was different from before; it was neither haunting nor melodious, but carried a certain allure that tugged at the heart.
Yang Su looked at Zhou Yue before him, knowing he had to make a choice. Should he suppress this power with his artifacts and restore peace, or accept her proposal and follow the call of the Bloodline?
He gazed down at the copper coin and jade pendant in his hand. Under the moonlight, the glow of the two artifacts seemed to dim. Meanwhile, the purple light radiating from Zhou Yue grew stronger, exuding an irresistible attraction.
"Make your choice," Zhou Yue said, her eyes shimmering with Purple Light. "You feel it too, don't you? This power is not a curse; it is a gift. We can use it to protect rather than harm, to inherit rather than destroy."
Yang Su looked at the artifacts in his hand and then at Zhou Yue's outstretched hand. In that moment, he seemed to see countless generations flowing through the Bloodline, glimpsing a deeper meaning behind the choice.
"Perhaps," he said slowly, "the true choice is not about acceptance or rejection, but how to maintain one's true self within acceptance."
In the distance, the morning bell began to toll. The sound reverberated through the valley, lingering on.
As winter gave way to spring, Zhonglou Village quietly changed. After the bell tower that had stood for three hundred years collapsed, many villagers left. Teacher Li resigned from his position and moved south for recuperation. Zhang San Shui vanished, leaving behind a pile of incense burners and talismans in a small house behind the bell tower.
Only Old Woman Zhong remained, but strangely, her stall had moved to beneath the Old Huai Tree at the village entrance. Every evening, she could be seen sitting there fiddling with her Playing Cards as if nothing had happened. However, when she read fortunes for others, she no longer mentioned the bell or bowed in the direction of the tower.
The ruins of the bell tower were cordoned off and became a forbidden area for the village. Late at night, one could occasionally hear faint sounds of water flowing from underground, as if some liquid were moving.
Yang Su did not stay behind. After the incident at the Underground Altar, he left with Gu Linshan. According to Zhou Yue, they went to a remote temple in the northwest where an Ancient Sect specialized in studying Bloodline inheritance. The copper coin and jade pendant were taken along as they sought more awakened individuals.
As for Zhou Yue, she continued teaching at the village's elementary school. Yet on every full moon night, people often saw her wandering alone near the ruins, her eyes glimmering with a faint Purple Light. Sometimes she would stand there for long periods as if listening to something.
"Perhaps we misunderstood from the very beginning," she often said while recounting the legend of the Ancient Bell to her students. "This is not a dichotomy of curse and protection but a cycle of inheritance and choice. Each generation must face its own destiny; however, destiny does not bind us but offers us opportunities for choice. Just like this Ancient Bell—it is both a tool for suppression and a medium for awakening. The key lies not in the power itself but in the heart of those who wield it."
When students asked her why she chose to stay in the village, she would always look up toward the direction of the ruins and say, "Those White-Clad Women dancing underground may not be forced at all. They simply chose another way to fulfill their mission. My choice is to remain here and guard this inheritance until the next person who hears the bell appears."
The sound of the bell also transformed. It was no longer a midnight terror but rather an indistinct tremor hidden within the wind and rain. Some said it was an echo from below; others claimed it was a call from the Bloodline; still others believed it signaled a new cycle beginning.
The village children gradually spun new legends. They said that on full moon nights, one could see a group of women in white dancing atop the ruins—not terrifying specters but graceful fairies celebrating some kind of rebirth under the moonlight.
No one knew exactly what had happened. The Ancient Runes, mysterious Bloodline secrets—all were buried with the collapse of the bell tower.
The winds of Lunar December still swept through ancient streets carrying a faint herbal scent. Yet now, no one feared because of the bell's sound anymore. That sound had become part of the village—a kind of eternal whisper telling ancient stories about Bloodline, inheritance, and rebirth.
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