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墨書 Inktalez
On the winding path leading deep into Daxing'anling, the biting cold wind howled past, swirling the snow on the ground into a wild dance.
A Ling's figure quietly appeared at the end of the road, as if she had materialized from the icy landscape itself, a shadow born of this frigid world.
She wore a black bodysuit, made of thick and highly flexible material, clearly chosen with care to withstand the harsh and complex environment of Daxing'anling.
The fabric bore faint, intricate patterns that resembled the mysterious totems of ancient tribes. In the dim light that occasionally filtered through the dense trees, these patterns shimmered with a cold and profound luster, as if she were inherently one with the ruthless chill of winter, adding an air of inscrutability to her presence.
A Ling's face seemed to have been sculpted by the eternal ice and snow of Daxing'anling, exuding an aura of coldness and detachment. Her fair skin resembled mutton-fat jade, contrasting sharply with her dark, smooth hair that was casually tied back, enhancing her ethereal beauty as if she were a celestial being descended from the heavens.
Her almond-shaped eyes were deep and sharp, like a solitary star hanging in the cold night sky—dim yet bright, as if with a mere glance she could see through all the falsehoods and schemes of the world, uncovering even the most hidden secrets of the human heart. Beneath her high nose, her thin lips were habitually pressed together in a slight line, radiating determination as if no challenge could shake her resolve—a fierce commitment to not rest until her goals were achieved.
She was not here by mere chance.
With her focused demeanor and purposeful steps that seemed to carry a certain rhythm, it was clear she was headed for the recently discovered ancient tomb in this village.
Yet no one knew how she had come by this information or what mysterious forces beyond ordinary understanding had drawn her here—perhaps it was a mission destined by fate itself.
A Ling slowed her pace at the edge of the village, resembling a stealthy leopard quietly observing every move of the villagers.
At that moment, Old Hunter Uncle Zhao approached with a polished hunting rifle slung over his shoulder.
Having lived in this village for most of his life and seen all kinds of people, Uncle Zhao still paused when his gaze fell upon A Ling, his eyes instantly filled with wariness.
"Miss, where are you from? What are you doing here?" Uncle Zhao shouted, his voice rough and resonant in the cold air, carrying an undeniable authority.
A Ling turned her head slightly, her gaze calm as water as she looked at Uncle Zhao. Unhurriedly, she replied with clear enunciation, "Uncle, I am a traveler. I heard there are some peculiar happenings near this village, and I was curious to come and see." Her voice was cool yet held a unique charm that was difficult to grasp.
Uncle Zhao frowned, the wrinkles on his face deepening. He muttered, "What’s there to see? Just some ghostly legends. You’re a young lady; it’s best not to wander around here. You should leave quickly."
To Uncle Zhao, the matter of the ancient tomb felt ominous, and he didn’t want this young girl to get involved.
A Ling smiled gently, her smile like a spring breeze brushing over a lake, creating ripples that vanished in an instant, leaving its deeper meaning elusive.
She said, "Uncle, some things become more intriguing the more mysterious they are. I just want to learn more. Ever since I was young, I’ve been interested in these ancient mysteries. I've read many related books and visited numerous places. Hearing about the situation here, I simply couldn’t suppress my curiosity." As she spoke, she slightly lifted her head, her eyes revealing a hint of longing for the unknown.
Seeing that he couldn’t persuade her otherwise, Uncle Zhao shook his head helplessly, inwardly sighing at the girl’s stubbornness.
He hoisted his hunting rifle again and muttered, "Miss, you really should listen to advice. This place is quite sinister; if something happens, don’t blame me for not warning you." With that, he strode away.
A Ling remained standing in place, her posture straight as a pine tree, resembling a statue as she quietly listened to the villagers discussing the ancient tomb in animated exchanges. Her gaze seemed casual but absorbed every detail.
When she heard someone excitedly describing the treasures that might be hidden within the tomb, a subtle smile crept onto her lips—a smile that hinted at her confidence regarding the secrets of the tomb as if everything were within her expectations. It also seemed to conceal a meticulously planned scheme with intricate connections.
She stood there quietly as if she had stepped out from an ancient scroll of mystery—out of place amidst the village's ordinary clamor yet somehow intricately linked to the thrilling story about to unfold in the tomb. It was as if she were the director behind this grand performance while everyone else were mere pieces on her chessboard, waiting for her command to set the game in motion.
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