Chapter 79: The Painting in the Burial Hall

Chapter 79: The Painting in the Burial Hall

After passing through the doorway and entering the underground region, not a single trace of natural light remained before Klein’s and Alger’s eyes. The ceiling here was quite intact, lacking openings, so the crimson moonlight piercing through the fog could not shine in.

Alger immediately raised the lantern in his hand a little higher, dying the wide corridor before them—one whose end could not be seen—with an obvious dim yellow.

With one glance, Klein discovered at least six stone statues. There were men and women among them, their entire bodies gray-white, even their clothes seeming as though they had been carved from stone.

Among these statues were elves, giants, and humans whose style leaned ancient. Aside from the fact that their expressions were all frozen in pain and despair, they shared no similarities.

Being stared at by them in that way, their eyeballs unmoving, and recalling that they might once have been living beings, Klein felt a chill run down his spine. He had the feeling that in the depths of the corridor, in the place ruled by darkness, some terrifying monster had already opened its mouth and was waiting for the two of them to voluntarily walk into its belly.

Restraining the fluctuations in their emotions, neither Klein nor Alger spoke. They passed between the gray-white statues with twisted faces, moving forward step by step.

After walking for more than ten seconds, thanks to the lantern’s glow, Klein did not need to borrow the Wraith Senor’s night vision to see the murals on the walls to both sides. They were broken, dim, and faded.

Among them, several were relatively intact, allowing one to distinguish what they depicted. Their main subjects were, without question, the enormous cross shrouded in layers of radiance, and the majestic figure standing before it.

This blurred yet solemn figure either faced a flood that had drowned city-states and risen halfway up the mountainside, or stepped upon earth split into countless pieces, or looked up toward the starry sky, staring at one mad, wicked eye after another that peered out from the deep darkness.

Images of the ancient Sun God saving the world when doomsday arrived? These are somewhat similar to the murals little Sun and the others discovered inside the True Creator’s temple… Or perhaps this is a case of both sides borrowing from each other, neither side abandoning efforts in this area, because either way they must emphasize that they were once the savior and the deity most worthy of faith…

Klein’s gaze moved quickly across the walls while his own body slowly entered the corridor’s depths.

Alger was also observing the broken murals. Suddenly, he lowered his voice and spoke in a deep tone.

“I suspect the True Creator—the Fallen Creator—borrowed from these contents in His description of Himself.”

As expected, everyone’s view is the same…

Klein let the Death Knell revolver hang diagonally downward and smiled.

“If we see something related to the True Creator ahead, I would not find it surprising.”

“He very likely has some kind of connection to the Creator worshiped by the City of Silver,” Alger said, agreeing with Gehrman Sparrow’s judgment.

The two continued forward, doing their best to lighten their footsteps. Yet even so, faint echoes still rose around them, rippling into the distance in that extremely quiet atmosphere.

Just then, Klein’s spiritual intuition stirred. He immediately took two steps forward, blocking Alger and covering most of the lantern light.

Less than two seconds later, he heard muffled sounds approach from far away.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The ground trembled faintly, the shaking becoming more and more distinct. Then, Klein saw a nearly four-meter-tall figure walk out from the darkness ahead.

Its entire body was similarly gray-white. Its surface was carved with scale-like patterns. A pair of sharp goat horns grew from its head, while its mouth resembled that of a hound, revealing fangs between being half-open and half-closed.

Yet what drew the most attention were its eyes, burning with red light, and the six pairs of gray-white membranous wings on its back.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The monster carried a stone halberd seven or eight meters long and slowly entered the corridor. Every step it took made the earth shake, sending a heavy sensation through the surroundings.

Although Klein had never seen the real thing before, he recognized what it was with a single glance.

This was a six-winged gargoyle!

Its core crystal was one of a Marionettist’s main ingredients. Its Beyonder abilities were bound to be highly unusual and difficult to guard against!

And judging from its exterior, size, and the material that formed its body, its frontal combat ability must be very strong as well. It would not fear most forms of damage… As long as it slid forward and rammed into someone, then brought that heavy stone halberd crashing down, it could cause terrifying destruction…

Klein flexed his left hand slightly but did not rush to react.

He and Alger remained motionless where they stood, one using his body and the other his clothing, covering the lantern’s light until it was extremely faint.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The six-winged gargoyle did not look toward where the two of them stood. It crossed the corridor sideways, and the sound of its footsteps gradually receded.

As expected, its senses are not strong… No wonder Qilangos could go deep underground and return successfully…

Only when the footsteps could no longer be detected did Klein continue forward, crossing that intersection.

In truth, with his current strength and equipment, and with his understanding of the target, killing a six-winged gargoyle would not be too dangerous. He also had the Hanged Man to provide assistance. The reason he gave up attacking was that he did not know how many six-winged gargoyles existed in this underground region. If a fight broke out and the commotion was too great, they might be surrounded. In that case, they could only rely on Travel to forcibly escape. And if they awakened whatever existence made the nearby extraordinary creatures dare not approach these ruins, the trouble would grow exponentially.

Controlling one’s own greed was one of the prerequisites for adventuring and exploration.

Seeing the mad adventurer display such calm and rationality, Alger felt rather gratified. He increasingly suspected that the other party bore certain orders from Mr. Fool, which was why he had restrained the impulse to attack the six-winged gargoyle.

The calmer he appears now, the madder he will be when he encounters his true target…

As that thought flashed through Alger’s mind, he followed Gehrman Sparrow across the intersection and straight onward.

The murals to both sides remained broken and continued, from time to time, narrating the greatness and sanctity of that ancient Sun God.

At last, Klein and Alger reached the end of the corridor. There stood a pair of stone doors seven or eight meters tall. On them were carved all kinds of symbols related to death, slumber, endings, rebirth, and beginnings.

“A burial chamber?” Klein turned his head toward Alger and asked.

Alger gave a nod.

“It may also be a temple.”

Clearly, he also suspected that the temple and burial chamber here were unified.

The gray-white stone doors before them were not completely closed. A gap large enough for a child to pass through remained exposed. Alger glanced at his own build, took the initiative to walk over, set down the lantern, put away his short blade, and pressed both hands against one side of the door.

He slowly inhaled, bent his knees, and the muscles of his arms suddenly swelled.

Silently, the gap widened considerably.

Seeing this, Klein raised his brows slightly, rather surprised, because the Hanged Man had not produced the slightest sound while pushing the door open.

He did not doubt the strength of an Ocean Songster, but he also did not think this pair of stone doors had no contact with the ground.

Lowering his gaze, Klein saw a puddle of rather viscous liquid in the crack beneath the door.

He quietly created a lubricating effect… Mr. Hanged Man really is meticulous… Is this a Navigator’s ability, or an Ocean Songster’s? Mm, he probably also used the Wind-blessed abilities to create an “air cushion,” which is why opening the door just now made no sound…

Klein roughly understood the reason.

He leaned closer to the stone door but did not rush inside. Through the widened gap, he examined the scene within.

What entered the Wraith’s vision first was a side area, where a row of gray-white stone coffins stood.

As expected, this is an underground burial hall… Whether it has been merged with a temple remains unknown for now…

As Klein thought this, he used his left hand to draw out Leymano’s Travels, which contained Beyonder abilities suitable for dealing with things related to the death domain.

At the same time, he swiftly used a silver dagger to create a wall of spirituality around the iron cigarette case, sealing it off so that Azik’s copper whistle inside would not cause the sleeping dead to climb out one after another.

Alger also drew his short blade again and swept his left palm along the side of it.

A faint crackling sound rang out, and silver-white electric serpents twined around the short blade, baring claws and fangs.

The two quickly completed the corresponding preparations. Then Klein, acting as the mad adventurer Gehrman Sparrow, was the first to pass through the gap and enter the burial hall.

Of course, before he entered, the Wraith Senor had already served as a “scout,” making nearly half a circuit inside the burial hall.

For a Marionettist, once one had a marionette, there was no need to risk oneself in many matters!

Water seeped down from high places in this burial hall, making it rather damp. The interior was divided into left and right sections, each holding twelve dim gray-white stone coffins. At the center lay an empty circular region. The corresponding floor seemed to contain an exquisite and complicated painting.

Klein did not approach. He raised a hand to stop Alger, then controlled the Wraith Senor to reveal himself and quickly float above the circular region.

Admiral of Blood… Alger’s facial muscles abruptly twitched.

Although he had already guessed as much, seeing it with his own eyes still made it difficult to control his instinctive reaction.

At that moment, Senor lowered his height and clearly saw what was depicted on the ground of the central area.

The painting’s tone was dark. Its background consisted of vague figures, overlapping shadows. Its main subject was a long table.

On the long table lay a figure bearing a radiant cross upon His back. Around Him stood three people shrouded in shadow.

One was handsome and full of vigor. Another was majestic and heroic. The last had a white beard and seemed full of wisdom. Yet their three pairs of eyes all carried an indescribable wickedness, and their actions were just as sinister.

One tore off the figure’s arm, stuffed it into his mouth, and bit until blood filled his lips. One held up the head and sucked out the brain matter. One dug out the still-beating heart and devoured it hungrily.

Opposite them, in the figure’s chest and abdomen, a long, wide gash had opened. Within it sat a gloomy, pitch-black infant, chewing on a section of intestine while fresh blood dripped down.

These four seemed to have detected someone peering at them. Their gazes simultaneously turned upward, as though staring at every living being who saw this painted scene!