vstars Chapter 181 Supplement to the Main Column
Chapter 181 Supplement to the Main Column
The wind outside the Water Curtain Cave is quite strong tonight.
The old stone steps in front of the mountain gate were constantly wet and slippery. Chen Fan carried the blue lantern ahead, the flame low in the steam, as if it might go out at any moment. The white-bearded old deacon, carrying the iron box, was panting heavily, his shoes slipping twice, almost causing him and the box to fall onto the threshold.
Sun Wukong did not help him up.
He stood in front of the water curtain door and first looked up.
That door is still the same door.
White water cascaded down, making a loud booming sound.
The same old cracks remained on the stone wall, all caused by the blows he had struck with his staff before he left the mountain. He stared at it for a long time, but his gaze didn't wander inwards; instead, it seemed as if he was recognizing someone.
The Bull Demon King coughed.
"Seventh Brother, what are you standing there for?"
Zhu Ganglie slammed his nine-toothed rake to the ground and exhaled a heavy breath through his nostrils.
"I've looked at this door for a long time, but I can't see anything special about it."
Six Ears stood the quietest.
He was closest to the door, and also closest to Sun Wukong; the downy hair on his ears was damp with water vapor. He didn't interrupt, but just tilted his head to listen.
Chen Fan placed the green lamp on the stone platform.
"Don't touch the door."
After he finished speaking, he reached out his hand to the old deacon.
"key."
The old deacon quickly handed over the iron box.
The box wasn't large, its edges covered in black brass. It had no keyhole, only nine grooves, like a miniature version of the nine-lock master plan from before. Chen Fan pressed his palm on it, and three thin lines slowly lit up in the nine grooves, then stopped moving.
The white-bearded old deacon's Adam's apple bobbed.
"Only three lines were opened."
That's enough.
Chen Fan raised his finger and tapped the center of the box lid twice.
With a click.
The box opened by itself.
There was nothing else inside, only half a golden hoop.
It's not a complete circle.
It was just a fragment, like a piece that had been broken off from the middle. The gold on the surface had long since darkened, and fine cracks had appeared along the edges. A trace of old red floated in the cracks, as if it had seeped in many years ago and could never be wiped clean again.
Sun Wukong's eye twitched.
He subconsciously touched the broken headband mark on his head.
The mark is no longer visible; it usually appears as just a shallow scar. But when touched, a sudden surge of heat bursts forth from within it.
The next moment, the half of the golden hoop in the box made a humming sound.
Not big.
But it was very jarring.
Zhu Ganglie immediately covered his ears and took two steps back.
"Damn it, is this thing trying to establish family ties?"
The Bull Demon King frowned and raised his arm to block in front of his chest.
"This shout wasn't directed at anyone else, it was only aimed at the monkey."
As soon as he finished speaking, the broken headband on Sun Wukong's head trembled again.
This time, it wasn't just him.
Liu Er also let out a muffled groan, pressing his fingers behind his ears, and a few bloodshot veins appeared in his eyes.
Chen Fan glanced at him.
"You heard that too?"
Liu Er nodded.
"Like someone inside the door scraping a stone with their fingernail."
"Only monkeys have the ability to hear."
Chen Fan said.
Zhu Ganglie was immediately unconvinced.
"What's this 'monkey-type source body' nonsense? Am I, Old Pig, not worthy to hear it?"
The Bull Demon King glanced at him sideways.
Do you have a tail?
Pigsy opened his mouth, muttered curses, and then shut it up.
At this moment, the water curtain door suddenly receded inward by an inch.
It's not that the water flow has stopped.
It's behind that door; it looks like something has come to life.
The stone wall trembled slightly, and the waterline parted to both sides, revealing a black stone that had never been seen before. The black stone was not tall, resembling a monument or a desk. First, a line of old characters appeared on it, and then a second line was slowly added.
Current mountain master: Sun Wukong.
Original Mountain Lord: Vacant and locked.
The area in front of the door suddenly fell silent.
Even Zhu Bajie didn't say a word.
The Bull Demon King stared at those eight characters, and a vein on his forehead twitched slowly.
"I understand the current one."
"What does 'native void' mean?"
Chen Fan did not answer.
He was also looking at the black stone. The light reflected into his eyes, but instead of illuminating it, it made him feel even heavier.
Vacancy locked.
These four words don't sound like "no one is here."
It's more like someone stood in front of it, only to have their image erased.
Sun Wukong stared for a long time, then suddenly laughed.
There was no joy in that smile.
"Old Sun only considers himself a current member of his own faction?"
No one responded to his statement.
Because the things inside the door haven't stopped yet.
The half of the golden headband in the box floated up on its own and hovered in front of the black stone. At the same time, the broken headband mark on Sun Wukong's forehead seemed to be pricked by a needle. A flash of golden light appeared, and a very faint shadow rose from the top of his head, connecting with the half of the golden headband from afar.
It wasn't fastened properly.
Just a touch.
A crack-like ray of light immediately appeared on the black stone, climbing inch by inch from top to bottom.
Chen Fan whispered, "The Mountain Lord locks the first level."
The white-bearded old deacon's legs went weak from listening.
"It really...it really has a lock."
As soon as he finished speaking, the surface of the black stone rippled twice, like the surface of water.
A shadow slowly emerged from within.
First, his back view.
Tall, not particularly strong, wearing an old armor of indeterminate color. His shoulders were hairy, but he carried no staff. His shadow stood straight, as if gazing beyond the mountains, or perhaps at the Flower and Fruit Mountain of many years past.
Pigsy swallowed hard.
"Who is this?"
The shadow didn't turn around; its voice came first.
"Before the Heavenly Emperor, there was the Lord of Zhenyuan."
Liu Er's ears twitched, as if he had heard some old voice. He took half a step forward, then stopped abruptly.
Sun Wukong's eyes had darkened.
"Who are you?"
The shadow still didn't turn around.
"You've taken the seat of the mountain lord."
"You've broken your five-finger pressure."
"You led a horde of demons, carried heavenly soldiers, overturned Buddhist amulets, and also dismantled old grievances."
"You have done a lot."
"But you only filled in the name after the name, not the name before the name."
With each word he spoke, the light on the black stone brightened a little more.
The voice wasn't loud, but the words sounded like they were being slowly hammered out with a stone chisel, sounding very hard.
The Bull Demon King frowned and asked, "What do you mean by 'predecessor'?"
The shadow ignored him.
Chen Fan, however, looked up and answered the question.
"Qi Tian is his later name."
"The mountain lord is in the middle position."
"There's still a primary location ahead."
Pigsy was dumbfounded.
Speak like a human.
Chen Fan pointed to the black stone.
"His current position as the mountain lord is a replacement."
"It's not something you're born with."
After he finished speaking, Sun Wukong didn't move.
A layer of veins appeared on the back of his hand.
He stared at the shadow, speaking slowly and deliberately.
"You mean Old Sun, is he a substitute?"
The shadow finally turned slowly.
That face bore a striking resemblance to Sun Wukong.
Not that arrogant face I see now.
Older, and colder. No headband on his forehead, brows drawn low, eyes devoid of fire, only a deep, well-like darkness. If Sun Wukong is like a burning lump of iron, this shadow is like a piece of ore buried deep within a mountain for many years.
Liu Er, who was standing nearby, paused for a second when he saw this.
"picture……"
The Bull Demon King then uttered the second half of the sentence.
"Like your ancestors."
Zhu Bajie almost burst out laughing, but seeing Sun Wukong's expression, he forced himself to hold it back.
The shadow looked at Sun Wukong, its expression unchanged.
"I am not your ancestor."
"I am the piece of you that is missing."
The faces of the people standing in front of the door all changed.
Chen Fan wasn't surprised.
When that black line appeared on the Nine Locks map, he had guessed that the line representing Flower Fruit Mountain wasn't just a mountain gate, nor simply the title of Monkey King. But even though he had guessed it, hearing the words "a section is missing" still sent chills down his spine.
Sun Wukong suddenly took a step forward.
The soles of my shoes made a dull thud as they stepped on the wet stones.
"Stop playing riddles with Old Sun."
"Please specify which section is missing."
The shadow raised its hand and pointed to his heart.
"Anti-Bone Source".
As soon as those three words were uttered, half of the golden hoop trembled violently.
The broken headband on Sun Wukong's head also glowed.
One light shines, the other dims, like two things acknowledging each other's identities.
Liu Er closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, his voice was a little hoarse.
"So it wasn't a hoop after all."
"It's a lock source."
Chen Fan looked at him.
"What do you know?"
Liu Er shook his head.
"I only heard a slight crackling sound."
"It sounds like a lot of monkey calls. It's not shouting, it's not crying, it's the sound of something being suppressed and still pushing upwards."
The Bull Demon King couldn't help but curse.
"How many old things are buried in Huaguo Mountain?"
The shadow then spoke again.
"The mountain master is in charge of the mountain."
"The location of Zhenyuan is to suppress the source."
"You have the name of the mountain lord."
"No Zhenyuan Bone."
"You can open the door, but you can't continue."
Upon hearing this, Chen Fan finally understood.
Huaguo Mountain is not as simple as just a mountain.
The Water Curtain Gate isn't a place anyone on the throne can enter.
Sun Wukong now bears the name of the Queen Mother of the West, the name of the Queen Mother who wreaked havoc in Heaven, the name he took after being imprisoned under the mountain. This name is resounding, ruthless, and powerful enough. But before that, there is a root that has not been repaired.
The Lord of Zhenyuan.
It wasn't sealed off.
It grows in the mountains.
Zhu Ganglie was starting to figure things out.
"Wait a minute."
"You mean, even with Monkey King's current skills and position, he's still missing something?"
The shadow nodded.
"Missing the earliest bone."
The Bull Demon King looked at Sun Wukong, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper.
"Seventh Brother".
"When you were born from a stone fetus, was there anything you couldn't remember?"
Sun Wukong did not reply.
He acted as if he hadn't heard.
From the moment the shadow uttered the word "the source of rebellion," he fell silent. A silence rarely seen before. Normally, if he was unhappy, he would first sneer, then curse, then swing a stick. Tonight, none of that happened. He simply stared at the shadow, as if staring at an unattainable void in his own mind.
After a long pause, he finally spoke.
"How to replenish it?"
The shadow answered decisively.
"First, pass the trial."
"First, address the root cause of rebellion."
A second line of text then appeared on the black stone.
The first layer of the mountain's lock has been opened.
The one who replenishes the source: Sun Wukong.
Audience seats: Bull Demon King, Pigsy, and Six-Eared Macaque.
Lock inspector: Chen Fan.
Upon seeing the last three words, the white-bearded old deacon's legs went weak, and he collapsed to the ground.
"It's really open..."
He hugged his knees, his face was deathly pale, and he kept muttering to himself.
"There's no mistake in the ancestral register, there's no mistake in the ancestral register..."
Chen Fan ignored him.
He took half a step forward, stood next to Sun Wukong, and looked up at the black stone.
"Where do I enter the trial?"
The shadow glanced at him.
the first time.
That glance was short, yet it felt like he saw him from head to toe, and from toe to the very marrow of his bones.
"You're not a monkey."
"You are the one outside the tent."
"But you bear his name on your hands and are also burdened with his old debts."
"You can verify the lock, but you can't take it away on your behalf."
Chen Fan smiled.
"I didn't intend to take his place."
After he finished speaking, he turned to look at Sun Wukong.
"I heard you."
"You'll have to go in by yourself this time."
The Bull Demon King immediately stepped forward.
"I'm going too."
Blackstone did not react.
Pigsy was also getting anxious.
"Can't I go play the drums too?"
Still no response.
Liu Er walked to the door and touched the black stone. As soon as his hand touched it, a shallow ripple appeared on the stone's surface, spreading outwards like water ripples.
Shadow then said, "Those who listen in may enter the outer ring."
Only one person can touch the lock.
Sun Wukong looked at the circle of patterns, then suddenly raised his hand and pressed down on the faint, lingering headband on his head.
With a snap.
The phantom image did not shatter.
But he forcefully pressed it back onto her forehead.
"Just one."
He raised his eyes, looked at the shadow, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.
"In my life, the thing I'm least afraid of is making up for debts."
The shadow neither laughed nor felt cold.
"If you can't make up for it."
The current head of the mountain monastery will retire.
"The original position remains vacant."
"The mountain gate seal on your body will also crack."
The Bull Demon King's expression changed.
What will happen if it cracks?
This time it was Chen Fan who answered.
"Huaguo Mountain no longer recognizes him."
That's not a strong statement.
It fell down and was heavier than a mountain rock.
Zhu Bajie gasped, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back. Liu Er stood to the side, his ear tips twitching, his gaze fixed on Sun Wukong's profile, his expression unusually serious.
Sun Wukong, however, seemed not to have heard the consequences at all.
He simply raised his hand and hooked at Chen Fan.
"Bring the lamp."
Chen Fan handed over the green lamp.
Sun Wukong took it and weighed it in his hand.
"Lock inspector, stand closer."
"In case the people inside speak in a confusing way, I'll go so someone can remember my words."
Chen Fan looked at him and hummed in agreement.
"I remember."
Sun Wukong then turned around to face the water curtain door.
The black stone in the doorway had receded half a foot, revealing a very narrow, dark crack. There was no wind or light in the crack, only a damp smell that had been trapped in the mountains for many years slowly escaping. It wasn't a musty smell, but more like the smell of an old stone that had been baked by fire and then soaked in water.
He stood in front of the door and suddenly turned around.
"Old Ox".
"exist."
"If I stay inside for too long, don't cause any trouble on the mountain."
The Bull Demon King's throat tightened, and he responded in a deep voice.
"I'm here."
"Bajie".
"Hey Monkey Bro, I'm here."
"Keep your mouth shut and listen carefully."
Pigsy grinned.
"I'm good at this job."
"Six Ears".
Six Ears Raises Its Head.
Sun Wukong stared at him for two breaths.
"You can hear the cracking sound."
Write it down for me later.
Liu Er nodded.
"it is good."
Finally, Sun Wukong looked at Chen Fan.
The two exchanged a glance, neither of them saying a word.
Chen Fan simply raised his hand and pressed down on his shoulder.
"go."
Sun Wukong turned around and stepped into the dark crevice.
The moment the foot landed, half of the golden hoop whizzed in. The water curtain immediately closed, and white water poured down again, sealing the gap tightly.
The last line of text lit up on the black stone.
First trial: Seeking the source of the rebellion.
Several people outside the door watched in unison.
No one spoke anymore.
Only the green lamp was left by the door, its flame flickering gently, shrinking to the size of a bean amidst the sound of water.
Chapter 606 The Change of Accounts
Even after the water curtain door closed, the words on the black stone remained lit.
First trial: Seeking the source of the rebellion.
Sun Wukong had already gone inside, and the people outside froze for a moment. The water splashed against the door with a muffled sound, like someone beating a drum through the wall.
Chen Fan picked up the green lamp and turned to walk back.
"Don't stand there."
Si Mo followed, flipping through the old ledger as she walked. She flipped through it quickly, the pages rustling loudly. Halfway there, she stopped and suddenly handed the ledger under the lamp.
"here."
Chen Fan looked down.
At the bottom of the first page, there's a very narrow stripe hidden within the cover. I'd looked at it several times before, always mistaking it for watermarks from pressing the paper. Only now, when I tilted the lamp wick forward, did the text become visible.
If a sample proves to have the right to self-description, it can be converted into a live account.
Si Mo looked up at him.
"This is the opening."
The white-bearded old deacon also leaned closer, his beard almost brushing against the account pages. After reading it, his hand trembled slightly, and he quickly withdrew his fingers.
"There really is such a thing."
"When I was young, I only heard my superiors mention it once. They said it was a hidden opening left for a chance to turn things around."
Chen Fan asked, "How do I open it?"
The white-bearded old deacon swallowed hard, his voice low.
"The right to self-narration requires three layers of evidence."
"The first layer is the personal register. It needs to be proven that this person was originally registered and that the name wasn't created out of thin air."
"The second level is the witness. There must be someone who can identify the person in the general ledger and say that this person lived and can tell where they came from and where they went."
"The third level: breaking away from the original will."
Si Mo frowned: "What kind of talk is this?"
The old deacon raised his hand and gestured below his neck.
"Those who return to the granary will be dragged back to the original site. Those in the fire want to go back to the fire, and those in the well want to sink to the bottom of the well. The accountant acknowledges that he wanted to come out on his own, not that others forcibly dragged him out."
"He needs to say it himself, that he wants to take it off."
There was a dampness in the wind, and the lights flickered twice.
Chen Fan stared at the thin railing, remaining silent for a long time.
The port area's revival line has finally reached its true threshold.
However, the entry barrier is not low.
My name is on the register, I am a witness, and I am detached from the original will. None of these three things can be missing.
Si Mo first thought of the most troublesome part.
"Many of those who returned to port were salvaged from scattered ships. The roster is incomplete."
"Some of them don't even have half a surname."
The white-bearded old deacon smiled wryly.
"It's more than just incomplete. A few years ago, when we were changing warehouses, the old port was in a fire. All the accounts that could be covered by the new ones were covered, and the rest were stored in the bottom warehouse of the old one. That place hasn't been opened in a long time."
Chen Fan looked up.
"Where is the old warehouse?"
"Behind the West Embankment, below the Sunken Wood Warehouse."
Who has the key?
The old deacon paused for a moment, reached for his waist, pulled out three copper keys, and then quickly shook his head.
"These are the three gates on the outer side. There's another seal inside, which isn't under my jurisdiction."
"To whom does it belong?"
The old deacon glanced at him but didn't dare delay.
"Return to the author of the first page."
After he said that, everyone fell silent.
The author of the first page, without a doubt, is Chen Fan, the one under the lamp.
Si Mo sneered: "We've come full circle, back to him again."
Chen Fan didn't say anything, but reached out and took the ledger, turning back to the first page.
Below the narrow margin is a blank space, as if reserved for later annotations. The ink is old, but the edges are still clean, as if someone has been waiting for someone to add this stroke.
Give me a pen.
Si Mo handed over the short brush.
Chen Fan dipped his finger in lamp ink and tried to write four characters in the blank space.
Port area trial transfer.
As soon as the last character "转" was written, the entire page suddenly sank. The ink didn't spread; instead, it receded inward, as if held down by something. Immediately afterward, an old seal emerged from the center of the page.
The print was very faint, as if it had been pressed into the paper fibers for many years and was usually invisible.
There were only two words printed on it.
Chen Fan.
No one in the room made a sound.
Si Mo reached out to touch it, but as soon as his fingers touched it, the entire ledger snapped shut on its own.
She cursed, her hand going numb from the shock.
"He left his mark in advance."
The white-bearded old deacon's face turned pale.
"Old card, new pen—this is about wielding the pen and seizing control. The first page wasn't given up."
Chen Fan weighed the account book in his hand, not annoyed, but his eyes darkened slightly.
The person under the lamp wasn't playing games with him, trying to be honest or deceitful.
This has been sealed off layer by layer.
If he wanted to change the first page, he'd have to chop off that person's hand first. But Sun Wukong has already entered the first trial, and things can't be delayed in the port area. If it drags on too long, the returnee line will be doomed.
Si Mo looked at him.
"What should we do?"
Chen Fan unfolded the account book again and lit a lamp to illuminate the old seal. There was a small chip on the edge of the seal, as if the corner of the seal had been cracked on the day it was stamped.
He remembered this habit.
I used to always press my stamp half an inch to the right of the paper. If the ink wasn't even, I'd rub it on my fingertip first. Chen Fan under the lamp hadn't even corrected that habit.
He suddenly smiled.
"He's quite nostalgic."
Si Mo sensed something was off about his smile.
"Don't tell me this can be considered a good thing."
"The fact that he was able to leave an old mark means he didn't hold the first page firmly."
Chen Fan gently tapped the notch with the pen.
"A person who truly dies sitting on a nail will not leave such a nail for future generations."
The white-bearded old deacon didn't understand.
"This...this is a nail?"
"That's true."
Chen Fan moved the green lamp closer and whispered towards the old seal, "Can you hear me?"
There was no response from inside the house.
The sound of water was even louder outside.
Chen Fan wasn't in a hurry and continued, "You're using the old seal to suppress my new pen, which means only two things: either you're unwilling to relinquish power, or you can't relinquish it."
This time, the corner of the ledger page suddenly curled up a little.
It was as if someone on the other side was scraping the paper with their fingernails.
Si Mo's gaze sharpened, and he immediately took half a step back, his hand already resting on the short knife.
The white-bearded old deacon was even more direct, pressing his back against the counter and holding his breath.
The next moment, a voice came from inside the pages.
It's neither high nor floating.
It's Chen Fan's voice under the lamp.
"You're not completely stupid."
Si Mo raised his hand to chop the curtain.
Chen Fan reached out and stopped her.
"Let him speak."
The voice chuckled.
"The first page can be edited."
"Not now."
"I didn't leave the old seal to cause you trouble on purpose; it's just the last bit of power I have left. If you try to force your way through, the first page will crack, and all the accounts in the port area will be ruined."
Chen Fan asked, "Then what do you want?"
The ledger pages sank for a moment.
"First, get me back the pen rights for the second page."
The white-bearded old deacon's eyelids twitched violently when he heard the words "page two".
"Wasn't the second page sealed?"
The voice ignored him and continued speaking to Chen Fan.
"The first page manages registration and registration."
"The second page governs the judgment and the destination."
"Without a second page of pens, even if you convert all the port residents into active accounts, they will only be stuck in the port, unable to leave the warehouse or enter the register of people."
"By then, whether they're alive or dead, the entire port area will be a mess."
Si Mo asked in a deep voice, "Where is the penmanship on the second page?"
"The original court."
"Who's holding it?"
"In the hands of the former master of the mountain lord."
As soon as those words were spoken, it felt as if something had pressed down on the room.
Chen Fan's eyes flickered.
The Ninth Original Field, the Later Supplementary Mountain Main Field, and the Nine Locks General Map were not originally separate. All those accounts from before are waiting to be reconciled here.
Under the lamp, Chen Fan continued, "Didn't you just send the monkey into the first test?"
"Once he finds the source of the rebellion, the Mountain Lord will reveal an old path. Follow that path, and you can enter the outer treasury of the former Judicial Office."
"The pen on the second page is hanging there."
After listening, Chen Fan only asked one question.
"I'll get it back for you, and you're just going to give up the first page?"
There was a long silence on the other end.
So long that the white-bearded old deacon thought the voice had stopped and was about to peek out when a sentence came again from the paper.
"It's not about letting."
"It is written in parallel."
"Neither of us can stomach the entire first page. Only by combining our writings can we open up new avenues for reconciliation and judgment."
At this point, a line of very faint text appeared on the edge of the ledger, like a temporary travel permit.
Access the old archives. First, compile a roster.
The witnesses were taken from the old residential area of the port district.
Once the pen is returned to its proper place on the second page, the accounting will be opened again.
After reading it, Chen Fan memorized those lines.
Si Mo asked, "Trust him?"
"Use it for now."
"What if he turns hostile?"
Chen Fan closed the ledger and handed it back to her.
"Then smash his lamp."
He spoke casually, as if he were saying he'd change the lock later.
Si Mo's lips twitched slightly, which was taken as an agreement.
Only then did the white-bearded old deacon dare to catch his breath, and hurriedly wiped his forehead.
"So... are we still going to the old warehouse?"
"go."
Chen Fan picked up the green lamp and turned to walk out.
"Open it tonight."
"Get the roster out first. The accounting office can't be left empty."
The group stepped outside, the sea breeze hitting them and carrying the salty smell of the harbor. In the distance, warehouse lights twinkled, like eyes opening on the dock.
As Chen Fan walked down the corridor, he suddenly stopped and glanced toward the water curtain door.
The door was still closed.
The words on the black stone remain unchanged.
First trial: Seeking the source of the rebellion.
He looked at it for a couple of moments, then looked away.
"Si Mo, take some men to the old neighborhood and find all the elderly people who still recognize those who have returned to their homes. Make a list of all the ones whose names you can remember."
"Old deacon, lead me to the sunken wood warehouse."
"Starting today, we'll start to revise this deadlock in the port area."
The white-bearded old deacon nodded hurriedly, grabbed the keys, and jogged away, his shoes making a loud thud on the wooden planks.
Si Mo, clutching the account book, hurried towards the other end. After walking a few feet, she turned back and called out again.
"Chen Fan".
"Um?"
"If we really get the second page back, whose name will you write first?"
The wind made her voice sound a little shaky.
Chen Fan didn't think about it for long.
"Let's start with the kid in the harbor who doesn't have a surname."
"He cried at the warehouse gate for three years; we have to let him go home first."
Si Mo was stunned for a moment, then left without saying anything, clutching the ledger tightly.
Soon only Chen Fan and Qingdeng remained in the corridor.
The lamplight illuminated half of the back of his hand, and also the dark path leading to the old warehouse. The path was damp, with a thin layer of moss growing on the wooden planks; when you stepped on it, you could hear water squeezing out from the cracks.
Chen Fan moved the lamp forward a little and stepped down.
The keys were rattling in front of me.
The doors of the old warehouse will open tonight.
Chapter 607, Page 2, Pen Rights
When the door to the old warehouse was pushed open, the wooden axle made a dull sound first.
A wave of dampness suddenly rushed out.
It wasn't a musty smell, but rather the stuffy smell of paper that had been pressed down for too many years. When it touched your face, it felt like someone had wiped your nose and mouth with a damp cloth.
Chen Fan carried the lantern inside.
The light shone forward, first illuminating two rows of iron racks. On the racks were black boxes, bamboo tubes, and clay seals. Further in, there was a deep drag mark on the ground, stretching all the way to the innermost brick wall.
The white-bearded old deacon followed in, his steps unsteady.
"I've been guarding this place for forty years, and the innermost room has never been opened."
Si Mo, holding the tent flap, glanced down at his feet.
"It's not like we haven't driven it before."
She touched the mark on the ground with the tip of her shoe.
"It was driven. But the person who drove it never came out to document it again."
The old deacon's lips moved, but he didn't dare to take it.
Chen Fan continued walking inside.
The further in you go, the smaller the lights seem. At the far end of the brick wall hangs a lock, not very big, dark and old, with no patterns on the surface, except for three very fine lines engraved around the keyhole, as if someone had painstakingly drawn them with a needle.
Yang Jian stood by the wall and raised his hand to brush away the dust from the lock.
"That's it."
Chen Fan glanced at it.
"Named locks?"
Yang Jian nodded, but didn't rush to touch it. He first pressed a line away from the wrinkles around his eyes on his forehead.
The moment that third eye opened, the old warehouse seemed to be rinsed with cold water. The dust on the walls, the paper on the shelves, and the patterns on the locks all showed a bluish edge.
Yang Jian stared for a few moments, his brows slowly furrowing.
"Not one floor."
"What do you mean, not one floor?"
"Lock."
He raised his hand and made three cursory gestures in the air with his fingertips.
"The outer layer recognizes the birth name. The middle layer recognizes the record name. The inner layer recognizes the operator name."
Si Mo understood half of it.
"I understand the record name; it's the name that's filed in the general ledger."
"Where is the operator's name?"
Yang Jian looked at Chen Fan.
"Whoever wrote it down, whoever revised it, whoever touched the page will leave a mark. That mark isn't based on what people say, but on how the record is kept."
The white-bearded old deacon gasped.
"And what about a person's birth name? Once a person is born, who has the right to show it to the lock?"
Yang Jian didn't answer that pointless question.
He stared intently at the thin thread around the lock, his voice very low.
"The right to write on the second page is sealed in the outer layer."
"It wasn't sealed in this time."
"It's the permissions left over from the previous nine times, stacked together, stuck on the outer shell of the naming lock."
Chen Fan's eyes darkened.
The first nine times.
He'd heard those words enough these past few days.
Every time I hear it, it feels like a thorn is twisting inside my heart.
Chen Fan stood by the door under the lamp, the lamp resting on the broken cabinet, without moving forward. He seemed to know what he was going to see, showing no surprise whatsoever.
Chen Fan turned to look at him.
"You knew all along?"
"I only know half of it."
Which half?
"I know the second page isn't after the first page."
Under the lamplight, Chen Fan raised his chin.
"It hangs outside the name. Whoever's name isn't complete can't even touch it."
Si Mo frowned.
"The name is incomplete?"
Chen Fan didn't say anything, but directly reached for the lock.
The lock didn't make a sound as soon as my fingertip touched it.
The lights suddenly dimmed by half.
The next instant, a layer of fine gray-white characters appeared on the lock face, densely packed, row upon row, like old ink soaked in water suddenly rising to the surface.
Si Mo, who was closest to the text, read it aloud first.
"Chen Fan... Chen Fan... Chen Fan..."
She read three lines, and a chill ran down her spine.
The entire lock was locked, and all that appeared were these two words.
The only difference is the handwriting.
Some are neat and upright. Some are rushed. Some are meticulous. Some look as if they were carved with a knife.
The white-bearded old deacon's throat was dry.
"How many Chen Fans would that be?"
Yang Jian opened his Heavenly Eye a crack again and suddenly said, "Something's not right."
"What's wrong?"
"Your birth name is not listed here."
These words were spoken by Chen Fan.
The old warehouse fell silent.
Even the wind blowing in from outside seemed to pause for a moment.
Chen Fan's hand was still on the lock, and he could feel the lock getting colder and colder. He stared at the names, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"Did you see clearly?"
"I saw it clearly."
Yang Jian spoke very frankly.
"The general ledger recognizes you by the carrier name. After you're registered, you use the name of this body. The outer layer doesn't recognize this."
Si Mo subconsciously looked at Chen Fan.
She wanted to ask, "What was your original name?", but swallowed the words back.
That's a stupid question.
The fact that someone who has traveled through time remembers their surname and given name from their previous life does not mean that the general accountant recognizes them.
If the general ledger doesn't accept it, then the lock won't accept it either.
Chen Fan withdrew his hand and looked down at his palm.
There was a bit of black ash stuck in the lines of my palm.
Like you've just touched a tombstone.
"In other words, I can now change the first page, manipulate the current accounts, and review the old accounts."
"So you can't open the outermost layer?"
"right."
Yang Jian said.
"You are missing that first name."
The white-bearded old deacon grew anxious.
"What should we do then? We can't just stay stuck here, can we?"
"It can be opened."
It was Chen Fan under the lamp who spoke.
He walked over from the doorway and stood beside Chen Fan, neither too far nor too close. Their shadows overlapped on the wall, making even Si Mo look a little disoriented.
Under the lamp, Chen Fan looked down at the two characters "Chen Fan" on the lock, his tone flat.
"You're not the first person named Chen Fan."
Chen Fan turned his head and stared at him.
"Explain it clearly."
"Even if I explain it clearly, you might not want to hear it."
"explain."
Under the lamplight, Chen Fan raised his hand and gently tapped the lock.
"In the previous nine attempts, more than one person got here. And more than one person kept searching with this name on their head. Some died on the first page. Some died in the later entries. Some reached the second page, their hands were broken, but their names were still hanging there."
"Your current identity is not fake. It's just a step too late."
"Your name is meant to be followed, not used as a starting point."
Si Mo felt a chill run down his spine.
"So, who has the actual starting name?"
Chen Fan smiled under the lamp but did not answer.
Chen Fan stared at his slight smile and suddenly understood.
"It's here with you."
The air in the old warehouse seemed to have become even heavier.
The white-bearded old deacon took half a step back, almost stepping on the footrest.
Yang Jian didn't move, but he suppressed the light from the Heavenly Eye a little.
Chen Fan did not deny it under the lamp.
To be precise, it's not entirely with me.
"I have old debts. You have current debts."
"The outer layer recognizes the birth name; I can help you pry open a crack. The middle layer recognizes the record name; you'll have to verify that yourself. The inner layer recognizes the operator's name; that's the most troublesome layer."
Chen Fan frowned.
Why?
"Because you and I aren't the only ones who've touched the second page."
Under the lamp, Chen Fan looked at the floating characters on the lock.
"The power to hold the pen left over from the previous nine times won't be held for nothing. Whoever held the pen will leave a hook inside. If you go in alone, you'll be held back by the old names. If I go in alone, I'll be kicked out by the current accounts."
He turned his head to the side and spoke so clearly for the first time.
"This hurdle requires two people to overcome together."
Si Mo slowly hugged the tent tighter.
She finally understood.
It's not just about joining forces verbally.
Not one can be missing.
Chen Fan remained silent for a while, then suddenly asked Yang Jian.
"Can we forcibly demolish it?"
Yang Jian glanced at him.
"Yes. If the lock breaks, the second page will follow suit. The little bit of writing power gained in the first nine attempts will also dissipate."
"You can edit the first page, but the rest will be cut off."
Chen Fan didn't ask any more questions.
That leaves you with no choice.
He squatted down to examine the seal clay on the bottom of the lock.
The seal was cracked at one corner, revealing an extremely fine gold thread inside. The end of the thread was twisted into a small character, resembling both "name" and "command".
He stared at it for a few moments, then asked, "Why is the second page sealed on the outer layer?"
This time, Chen Fan answered quickly under the lamp.
"Because the first page is about changing the accounts. The second page is about changing the person who wrote it."
"Whoever gets the right to write on the second page can re-sign names on the general ledger, or even delete certain operator traces."
"The thing that wanted to change its shell was most afraid that the first page wouldn't be altered, but that someone would uncover all the traces of its previous writing. So it put the second page on the outside, using the name to deter people first."
Si Mo's expression changed.
"Didn't it anticipate that someone would investigate it?"
"It wasn't something I foresaw."
Chen Fan responded with that sentence.
"It was always defending against the previous nine attacks."
He slowly stood up, finally managing to pull a thread out of the tangled mess in his mind.
The first page is important.
However, the first page cannot be completely revised at the moment.
Even if the gap in your own name isn't filled, they'll still turn around and bite you after you change it.
The penmanship is different on the second page.
Get it first, and at least you can capture the name and the operator's trace together.
Only when you turn back to the first page will you have a knife in your hand.
He looked up and gazed at Chen Fan under the lamplight.
How much can you push open the outer layer?
"Half a cup of tea."
Is that enough?
Yang Jian replied, "It's enough to see the middle layer of the meridian."
Si Mo continued, "I can spread out the ledger and record the names."
Seeing that everyone else had made their decisions, the white-bearded old deacon quickly asked, "What about me?"
Chen Fan glanced at him.
"You stand at the door. If someone comes, hold the door shut."
The old deacon hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
"OK."
Chen Fan then looked at Yang Jian.
"Keep an eye on all three floors. If any floor is in disarray, just tell me."
Yang Jian nodded.
"it is good."
Finally, his gaze fell on Chen Fan's face under the lamplight.
This face is exactly like his own, and seeing it right in front of him still makes him uncomfortable. It's like looking in a mirror and the person in the mirror blinks before you do.
But this time, he didn't go around in circles anymore.
"You start."
Chen Fan hummed in agreement under the lamp, picked up the green lamp, and placed it in front of the lock.
As the firelight shone close to the lock, the entire "Chen Fan" character on the lock seemed to come alive, each stroke trembling slightly.
He reached out and pressed his palm against the left side of the lock.
"Don't get distracted when the lock opens."
"What are you going to do?"
"Pull out your record name."
"If you see any other words along the way, don't recognize them, don't answer, and don't continue."
Chen Fan also placed his hand on it.
"And you?"
Under the lamplight, Chen Fan said calmly, "I'll take responsibility for acknowledging old debts."
As soon as he finished speaking, his palm sank.
A very low, crisp sound immediately came from the lock.
It's like someone far away broke an old pen in half.
Yang Jian's third eye on his forehead suddenly opened.
"It's open."
The first thin line around the outside of the lock lit up.
Chapter 608 Old Warehouse Files Transfer
As soon as the main door of the old warehouse opened, a wave of dampness rushed out.
It's not the salty smell of the sea breeze.
Like a pile of wet sacks left in the dark for too long, moldy with stale ink and old wood chips mixed in.
The white dragon horse raised its hand to cover its nose, but without stopping, it stepped inside first.
The tower keeper carried a lantern, its shade covered in dust. He walked steadily, his shoes creaking as they pressed against the wooden planks. Bai Ya followed behind, carrying the white-bearded old deacon on his shoulder. The old man's legs were weak; he almost tripped on the threshold as he entered, muttering to himself.
"The main warehouse has been sealed for over forty years... no one should still be touching it..."
"Enough with the nonsense." Bai Ya shoved him forward. "Where are the warehouse receipts?"
The old deacon raised his hand, his fingertips trembling violently, and pointed to the third elevated road on the left.
"A3, A4, and there's another row of supplementary recordings."
The White Dragon Horse has already passed.
He didn't flip through the pages one by one like Chen Fan.
He simply dragged the entire bundle of old sheets down and slammed it onto the long table. The rope was cut, and the papers scattered across half the table. The edges of the papers were damp and curly, crumbling at the slightest touch. The tower keeper moved the lamp closer, glanced down at the first sheet, and his brow quickly furrowed.
"The return date doesn't match."
Baiya also came over.
"What's wrong?"
The tower keeper pointed to a line of small print below.
"The goods were received in March, but the batch was recorded as the last order of December. Nine batches are missing in between."
The white dragon horse flipped through the pages quickly, its fingers rustling as it swished through them.
"It's here too. The original annotation for the juvenile monkey specimens was 'returning to the old veins of flowers and fruits,' but it was later covered up with ink. It was changed to 'Unnamed Sample Seven.'"
Bai Ya's face darkened.
"Keep looking."
The group split up and stood on three sides.
Three stacks quickly piled up on the table.
One stack is original stock.
One stack is for replacement orders.
There was another stack of scrapped forms with altered wording. Those papers should have been burned, but for some reason they weren't completely burned. They were stuck in the innermost layer, stuck together by moisture, and tearing them apart felt like peeling back old wounds.
The more the tower guards searched, the less shrewd they became.
He used to guard the tower, relying on the spirit fire and the number. He wasn't exactly familiar with these minor details. But the less familiar someone is with something, the easier it is to spot its flaws.
"This batch of human infants was initially marked as being transferred to the medical shed on the south bank. Later, it was changed to 'Thirty-one unnamed samples'."
"This batch of demon bone test materials was originally labeled as the Northern Ridge Wolf Pack, but it was changed to the nameless sample nine."
"This batch..." He paused, turned the paper over to show everyone, "...didn't even leave a trace of its origin, only fingerprints."
The white dragon horse reached out and pressed down on the paper.
There was a black mark on the corner of the paper.
It's neither square nor round, like someone casually pressed some wet mud into it.
The white-bearded old deacon's face paled upon seeing this, and his lips trembled.
"This is not a mud print."
"What is that?"
"Print the sample".
The room fell silent.
Even the sound of water dripping from the top of the wooden frame sounded crisp.
The old deacon took a breath, as if he had said something he shouldn't have, and his back hunched over.
"The old rules from years ago. The test materials had no names, and after they were burned, their origins and place of origin were not recorded. Only a gray mark was left, which was considered... considered as having been stored in the warehouse."
Bai Ya grabbed him by the collar.
"Who made this old rule?"
The old deacon was pulled off his feet, and managed to squeeze out two words.
"Lord of the Port".
The white dragon horse slowly laid the paper flat.
There was no fire in his eyes, and his voice wasn't loud.
"Which port owner?"
The old deacon dared not look at him.
"After the first generation, the one who took over the main treasury was called the 'Lord of the Harbor' by outsiders, but insiders only recognized the seal, not the name. Later, people from the Buddhist sect came, and the Heavenly Court also sent a seal. The rules were changed more and more drastically. Those who failed were all erased."
The tower keeper paused in his flipping through the paper.
"fail?"
The old deacon closed his eyes.
"Failed to open the meridians. Failed to change bones. Failed to transfer blood. Failed to borrow a name. In short, all those that failed are considered nameless samples."
Bai Ya clenched his fist, cracking the wooden corner of the table.
"Are monkeys considered test subjects?"
"Yes, they count." The old deacon's voice lowered. "Humans count, demons count, mountain spirits and water monsters count too. What the port area needed to fill all those years ago wasn't the warehouse, but the gap in the system above."
The white dragon horse raises its head.
Which one has the gap?
The old deacon's Adam's apple bobbed.
"Spots".
As soon as those two words were uttered, the lights in the room seemed to dim a little.
The white dragon horse stopped asking questions and turned around to continue flipping over.
When he turned to the last page of page four, his fingers suddenly stopped.
That's not a form.
It was a thin copper seal, sandwiched between two discarded sheets, its edges worn smooth, with a half-circle of red markings still visible on it.
"Sample print," the old deacon blurted out. "Why is it still here?"
Baiya immediately went over.
"it works?"
The tower keeper was faster and answered first.
"Yes. Without this seal, all those alteration sheets would only be considered handwritten. With the seal, we can force the original records to be produced."
The white dragon horse held the bronze seal in its palm, turning it over and over to examine it closely. The seal was small, with a crooked "乙" character engraved on it, and a crack below it, as if it had been dropped later.
"How do I use it?"
The old deacon swallowed hard.
"Deep inside the main storeroom is a cabinet. If you press the old seal up, the ledger will pop out."
"lead the way."
The four people immediately went inside.
The deeper you go, the narrower the path becomes.
The wooden frames on both sides were replaced with iron cabinets. The cabinet doors were rusted, and upon closer inspection, shredded talismans could be seen stuffed in the cracks. The tower keeper swept his lamp over them and snorted.
"What's being sealed off isn't the accounts, it's the mouths."
The innermost low storage room has no door.
There was only a black iron plate nailed to the wall. Nine small grooves were embedded in the center of the plate, like a lock or some kind of marking. Upon seeing it, the white-bearded old deacon immediately took half a step back.
"Don't touch it."
What will happen if I touch it?
"A self-destruct lock." The old deacon's voice was dry. "It was left by the port owner before he left. If the seal is not in place, the cabinet core inside will burn directly."
Baiya cursed.
"No wonder so many orders ahead only have half left."
The tower keeper looked around with his lantern, then suddenly squatted down, rubbed his fingers in a crack in the ground, and smelled them.
"It was just moved."
The white dragon horse turned its head to look at him.
"how long?"
"It won't take more than three days."
Bai Ya's eyes immediately turned cold.
"Someone else beat us to it?"
The tower keeper didn't return; he raised his lamp and shone it on the lower right corner of the iron plate.
There was a fresh, shallow scratch, like someone had pressed a mark on it and then slipped because it wasn't steady. There were also some gold powder and grayish-white residue around the scratch, mixed together, giving it a strange color.
The white dragon horse narrowed its eyes.
"Old gold of the Buddhist community".
The tower keeper pointed to another spot.
"This is the Heavenly Court's Seal of Ashes."
The two marks were very close together.
It's not like the marks were left one after the other; it's more like someone overlapped two marks and pressed them on, trying to pry open the lock directly.
Bai Ya cursed under his breath, "Those old bastards up there, they're quick to get involved."
The white dragon horse didn't reply, and directly pressed the sample into the third slot in the middle.
"Step back."
With a click.
The first spring snaps up.
It didn't explode.
The old deacon's knees buckled, and he almost sat down on the ground.
The tower keeper's eyes lit up, and he immediately took two steps forward and pried open the rusty fragments stuck in the fourth slot on the left.
"It wasn't that all nine seals were fully opened. It was altered. The port owner left a false statement before he left."
Baiya asked, "How did you know?"
The tower keeper didn't look up.
"Those locks in the tower, if they want to survive long, they have to learn to read people's hearts. If they really wanted to lock everything up, they wouldn't leave a sample outside. If they did leave one, it's for their own people to use when they need to collect their debts."
After saying that, he reached under the iron plate and pushed it upwards.
Another muffled sound.
The entire iron plate sank inward by half an inch.
A narrow cabinet popped out from behind.
There was no gold or silver, nor any other objects, in the cabinet.
There was only one row of scrolls, all with gray-black covers and old staples along the edges. The top scroll had four small characters written on its seal.
Ding Twenty-One.
Upon seeing these four words, the tower keeper's hand tensed up immediately.
"Found it."
Baiya paused for a moment.
"Is this what you've been looking for?"
"The entire register." The tower keeper brought out the register, his voice low. "A group of nameless people died in the tower. They were all recorded in Ding Twenty-One Li. I thought they were long gone."
The white dragon horse took it and untied the sealing rope.
As soon as the first page was unfolded, none of the people spoke.
The number above is not a number.
It's a name.
One by one, they wrote slowly, like an accountant afraid of forgetting. Following them were birth details, bone age, time of admission, and even a crooked, illegible note about who had cried, who had bitten someone, or who had called for their mother at night.
Bai Ya stared at one of the lines, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"This is not an account."
The tower guard grunted in response.
"This is the list of burial plots."
The old deacon stood to the side, his shoulders slumped even more.
He looked like he had suddenly aged ten years.
"I was just copying it down... I thought they had all been transferred out..."
The white dragon horse closed the scroll, pressing the copper seal heavily onto the cover.
"You think it's useless?"
"It's working now."
Just then, a very faint tremor came from outside.
It's like there's a big bell in the distance, and someone tapped it with their knuckles.
The tower keeper suddenly looked up.
"Above."
The group quickly rushed out of the deep storage room.
The roof of the main warehouse was originally covered with dark beams.
At this moment, a faint light shone through the cracks in the beams. It wasn't moonlight. The light was half golden and half white, with several intertwined old lines in the middle, like two large seals superimposed on the harbor's sky, their edges still slowly turning.
Bai Ya glanced at it, and his expression changed.
"An old mark of Buddhism."
The tower guard caught it even faster.
"And there's the old seal of the Heavenly Court."
The white dragon horse stood in the courtyard, looking up at the double image, still clutching the sample stamp in his hand. The corner of the stamp hurt his palm, but he didn't let go.
The two marks didn't completely press down.
It's like they're testing the waters, or perhaps they're trying to find their way.
We need to determine how many vaults are left in the main warehouse and whether these old accounts can be completely cleared up.
The wind rushed in through the warehouse door, scattering the old, open sheets of paper all over the floor. The pages rattled against the threshold, one after another, as if someone was rushing to send out names they had kept hidden for years.
The white dragon horse bent down, picked up the most recent one, smoothed it out, and stuffed it into its bosom.
"Seal off the gate."
Baiya slammed the wooden bolt on the main gate shut with a backhand motion.
The tower keeper hugged Ding Twenty-One tightly, dropped the lamp, and walked straight out.
The old deacon staggered behind, took two steps, then looked back at the deep storage room. His lips trembled for a long time before he finally managed to squeeze out a sentence.
"So they really do remember."
No one responded to him.
Above the courtyard, the layer of old imprints had dropped an inch.
The white dragon horse raised its hand, tucked the sample into the leather pouch at its waist, and without stopping, headed straight for the dark road outside.
Chapter 609 Naming Locks
The dark road outside the old warehouse ended abruptly.
There's no door in front of you.
It is a wall.
The wall was incredibly high, covered with countless names.
There are names, nicknames, code names, and even half-written surnames. The ink varies in shade, as if it was applied at different times. Some characters are still fresh, their edges glossy and damp. Others are cracked, with white lines splitting them in the middle like old bones.
The white dragon horse stopped first.
"This is not a monument."
The old deacon looked up and his legs went weak.
It's a naming lock.
After saying this, he took half a step back, as if afraid the wall would hear him.
Chen Fan, carrying the blue lantern, did not immediately approach.
The light shone on a small patch of the wall at the base. There, a thin groove was embedded, and what flowed in it was not water, but a thin layer of ink. The ink flowed to the left, then to the right, swirling back and forth, never quite leaving the base.
Yang Jian stood at the very front, and his Heavenly Eye opened a sliver.
"We can't force our way in."
"Not a killing formation?"
"It's more troublesome than a killing formation." Yang Jian stared at the middle of the wall. "It recognizes people first, then it sets its sights on them."
Under the lamp, Chen Fan tossed the old key into his hand, caught it, and then put it back into his sleeve.
"Don't give your names."
"Don't let your mind follow its thoughts."
No sooner had these words been spoken than a sound was heard from the monument wall.
It wasn't the sound of bells.
It looked like someone had lightly scratched a large stone surface with their fingernail.
The next moment, the entire wall lit up.
Not fully lit.
They took the lead, each displaying a square tablet. Each tablet was taller than a person, a cold white color, with three lines of small characters slowly emerging from the top.
Self-proclaimed.
According to outside sources.
It is stated in the tent.
Si Mo's expression changed upon seeing these three lines.
"It has already begun."
Bai Ya cursed under his breath and took half a step forward, sword in hand. Just as the tip of his blade passed the inkwell, a thin line suddenly fell from the stone tablet, blocking his neck. The line was as thin as a hair, hanging close to his skin. Even without touching it, Bai Ya's Adam's apple bobbed.
At the same time, a line of text was added to the wall.
Before reporting, they crossed the line; their name was cut off at the end.
Baiya paused with his heel, then slowly pulled back.
"OK."
"This place has an even worse temper than me."
No one laughed.
The first one to light up was the White Dragon Horse.
The words on his monument appeared very quickly.
He calls himself Ao Lie.
It is known to outsiders as the White Dragon Horse.
The tent reads: "Western journey transport replaces No. 1."
The white dragon horse stared at the last seven words, its back teeth clenching so hard they made a loud noise.
"Leg strength?"
"Back in the day, I set fire to the palace, chopped off dragon tendons, and survived heavenly lightning. All I have left is my leg strength?"
The old deacon dared not respond, and simply lowered his head even further.
The second one is Yang Jian.
He called himself Yang Jian.
He is known to outsiders as the True Lord of the Pure Source and Wondrous Way.
The tent reads: "Judicial control device."
Yang Jian glanced at it, his face remaining expressionless, but his hand slowly gripped the hilt of the sword.
"A crowd control device."
"So someone even remembered when I would make my move."
When Si Mo's monument lit up, she closed her eyes briefly.
He calls himself Si Mo.
The outside world refers to him as a ghostwriter.
The account states: Second-level supplementary clerk.
After she finished reading it, the corners of her mouth twitched down.
"He's not even a low-ranking official."
Under the lamp, Chen Fan said calmly, "It divides people up, but doesn't give them any face."
Si Mo didn't speak, but his fingers had already reached into his sleeve and touched the ledger.
The next piece is Xuanzang.
The characters on the stele floated slowly, as if the writer was also hesitating.
He called himself Xuanzang.
He is known to outsiders as Tang Sanzang.
The document states: "Take samples of the meridian offset."
After Xuanzang finished reading, he remained silent for a long time.
He stood by the lamp, the hem of his monk's robe billowing in the wind, clinging to his calves. After a moment, he raised his hand and touched the surface of the stele.
"sample."
"It has tried the paths I've walked more than once."
"No wonder some places always felt like I was walking through a dream."
Chen Fan turned to look at him.
Xuanzang didn't look at anyone, but kept staring at the line of words, his voice low but steady.
"It's not a dream."
"Someone left before us and wrote it down."
When it was Sun Wukong's turn, the wall of the stele shone the brightest.
That patch of white was blindingly bright, as if it had just been scraped with a knife. Three lines of text appeared one by one, and when they reached the last line, even the air seemed to tighten.
He calls himself Sun Wukong.
He is known to outsiders as the Monkey King.
The text inside the tent reads: "Template for the Ninth Battle - Wukong."
The area in front of the wall fell silent.
Even the wind seemed to stand still.
Sun Wukong stood still.
He stared at the words, the fire in his eyes slowly dwindling to the size of a pinhead. The fragment of the golden headband vibrated gently against his ear, as if it too recognized the words.
"template?"
He chuckled.
The sound wasn't loud, but it was a bit eerie.
"Old Sun Wukong's feats of conquering the heavens, stirring up the seas, shattering mountains, and overturning palaces—could it be that in his eyes, he was merely a figurehead to be used for show?"
Bai Ya looked at Chen Fan but didn't dare to speak.
Everyone could tell that this wasn't something that could be resolved with a single insult.
The words in the tent were not meant for Sun Wukong to see; rather, they were meant to be a nail driven into the place he disliked the most.
Sun Wukong took a step forward.
The inkwell immediately flipped, like a layer of black oil boiling in a pot. Another line of red characters appeared on the surface of the monument.
Template verification in progress.
Please do not modify it.
"You've altered your ancestors' records without permission."
Sun Wukong raised his hand to smash it.
Chen Fan stepped forward and placed his hand directly on his wrist.
"Don't touch it."
Sun Wukong turned his head to look at him, his fierceness still lingering in his eyes.
"You saw it too."
"I see it." Chen Fan didn't let go. "What it wants is for you to move."
"I won't move; will I just leave it to continue writing about me?"
"If you smash it now, it's like you're acknowledging it as part of your fence."
Sun Wukong's arm was taut, like a fully stretched iron chain. The two remained frozen for a moment, then he let out a heavy breath and finally pressed his hand down.
"Make a note of this."
"Old Sun will settle this score himself later."
Chen Fan nodded and released his grip.
He had just taken half a step back when his monument lit up.
Slower than everyone else.
First the edges lit up, then the middle, as if something was slowly crawling out of the wall. When the top three lines of text appeared, the flame of the lamp suddenly shrank.
He identifies himself as Chen Fan.
Outsiders call him: Accountant.
The document states: "Tenth Error Correction Carrier - Chen Fanshi."
The old deacon only glanced at it before his knees buckled, and he knelt on the ground with a thud.
"Ten...ten times..."
His face was as white as paper, and his lips trembled for a long time, but he still couldn't finish the sentence.
The white dragon horse also turned around, staring intently at the line of words.
"Chen Fanshi?"
"What do you mean?"
No one answered.
Even under the lamp, Chen Fan didn't speak immediately.
Chen Fan looked at the stele, his eyelids twitching slightly. He had expected traces of himself in the account book, expected pseudonyms, pseudonyms, and substitution marks from old pages. But he hadn't expected it to be written so directly.
tenth time.
Error correction carrier.
The things he has done along the way were not his own choice; they were things that others had repeatedly tried and burned before finally putting his version in.
Sun Wukong turned his head, his brow furrowed low.
It says you are the tenth.
Chen Fan hummed in agreement.
"I saw it."
"What about the first nine?"
"Either sit down," Chen Fan said under the lamp, "or settle the bill."
Everyone turned to look at him.
His monument also lit up at that moment.
There was no new word in the self-identification section.
Just two words.
Chen Fan.
He is known to outsiders as "the man under the lamp".
The document states: Remnants of the ninth error correction.
Baiya's throat was dry.
"The ninth time... So, you and him..."
"More or less." Under the lamp, Chen Fan looked at his tombstone with a calm expression. "I didn't make it through; only some scraps were left."
He spoke softly, as if he were talking about someone else's old clothes.
But these words carried a heavy weight in the ears of the crowd.
The remnant of the ninth time.
The tenth carrier.
The gap in the middle is more than just one page.
Chen Fan shifted his gaze from his own monument and looked at Xuanzang first.
"You just said it's fixing people."
Xuanzang had already reached the wall.
He didn't touch the words, but stared at the top three columns of each stele, looking at them twice. After looking at them, he looked up at the entire wall of names, and then at the ink flowing back and forth at the base of the wall.
"I think I understand."
"explain."
Xuanzang raised his hand and pointed to the three columns: "Self-reference", "External reference", and "Tent reference".
"You claimed it yourself, that's what you admitted."
"People outside say it's because others have been calling you that for so long that it's stuck to you."
"The scale in the tent, it was given to you."
"The first two columns can still be changed. Once the last column is closed, there's only one way to write a person's name."
Si Mo felt a pang of anxiety upon hearing this.
"What does 'close' mean?"
Xuanzang lowered his fingertip slightly.
"Complete naming".
"It doesn't just give you a name. It locks you in who you are, what you can do, and where you're going."
"Whoever gets a full name from it first loses the right to rewrite it."
Upon hearing the last three words, the white dragon horse gasped.
"So, by standing here, aren't we just handing it over to finish writing?"
"It's already being written," Yang Jian said, looking at his monument. "It's just missing the last stroke."
really.
When everyone looked again, they saw a thin ink line appearing beneath each of the steles. The line drooped down from behind the inscription "Weighing in the Tent," as if it were about to continue growing downwards.
The line for the white dragon horse is the shortest.
The line drawn by Sun Wukong is the thickest.
Chen Fan's branch, though short, was gradually forking.
It's like someone holding a pen, hesitating about which way to put it.
The old deacon knelt on the ground, his forehead covered in sweat.
"The most ruthless aspect of naming locks isn't in recognizing names, but in filling in the gaps. If you don't respond, it fills in the gaps from the old files. If you respond, it stamps your response. Once the three columns are merged into one, the lock is complete."
Bai Ya, annoyed by the questions, asked directly, "How do we solve this?"
No one said a word.
Naming is something that becomes more and more real the more you talk about it.
If you want to refute it, you have to first acknowledge the name it gave you.
The poison in this place lies precisely in this.
Chen Fan stared at the stele for a moment, then suddenly asked Xuanzang, "What if we don't let its life remain intact?"
Xuanzang was taken aback, then realized what was happening.
"Remove the fence."
"That's right." Chen Fan raised his hand and pointed to the three lines of small characters at the top of each stele. "It relies on the combination of three measures to lock people in place. So let's not let these three columns stand aside."
Si Mo immediately followed up: "Tear apart the self-reference and the tent-side scale?"
"That's not enough." Chen Fan looked at the ink stain under the lamp. "The outside world will also be confused. It uses public opinion to build its fence. What others call you is also a lock."
Sun Wukong grinned, but there was no smile in his eyes.
"That's easy."
"From now on, no one is allowed to call Old Sun by his name."
The white dragon horse immediately replied, "Then I'll call you monkey?"
Sun Wukong glanced at him.
"Better than a template."
This time, Baiya couldn't help but laugh. He quickly stopped laughing, afraid of startling the wall.
Chen Fan had already squatted down, lowered the lamp, and was shining it on the ink trough.
As soon as the light got close, fine lines appeared on the ink surface in the trough. The lines weren't random; they looked like tiny characters written stroke by stroke, only too small to be seen completely.
He stretched out two fingers and gently wiped the edge of the trough.
A speck of black got on my fingertip.
The black ink didn't seep into his skin; instead, it spread across his fingerprints, slowly revealing a single character.
List.
The next instant, Chen Fan grabbed his wrist under the lamp and flung his hand away.
Don't be greedy for this.
Chen Fan didn't argue, and got up to wipe the black spot off in the corner of the wall.
"It is named after the inkwell."
"Yes." Chen Fan released his grip under the lamp. "The old files are in the warehouse, and the new ink is here. Those old names that were brought out earlier are the feed for it."
The white dragon horse's expression changed.
"Those sample imprints inside that skin..."
"Don't move." Chen Fan looked at his waist. "Whoever opens it now gets hit first."
The white dragon horse immediately pressed down on the leather bag and stopped touching it.
Xuanzang took two more steps forward and stood in the center of the wall.
He looked up for a long time, then slowly read a line of small characters carved in a crack in the wall. The characters were so old that no one had seen them before.
"With one degree of fame, the path narrows. With two degrees of fame, the pen moves outward. With three degrees of fame, one enters the tent."
Si Mo felt a chill run down his spine after hearing this.
"This is the lock rule."
Yang Jian asked, "Can I still get a refund?"
Xuanzang shook his head.
"There's no turning back now. Our escape route is already booked."
Everyone turned around.
Sure enough, the dark path we came from had somehow acquired writing. Next to each person's footprints, there was an additional half-stroke, what outsiders would call a character. Walking back, it was as if we were completing the second column ourselves.
Baiya spat.
"Both the front and back are blocked."
Chen Fan, however, did not move.
He stared at the inscription "Chen Fanshi" on his tombstone for a few moments, then suddenly smiled.
It's not happiness.
It's like they've figured something out.
"It's getting anxious."
Everyone was taken aback.
"What's the rush?"
"They're in a hurry to push us into the old enclosure." Chen Fan raised his hand, pointed to Sun Wukong's enclosure, then to his own, "One template, one carrier. They're putting the nails in the two heaviest ones first. They're afraid we'll go any further in, afraid the Ninth Original Arena will really be dismantled."
Under the lamplight, Chen Fan glanced at him, and his eyes finally held a hint of something more.
"so?"
Chen Fan handed the green lamp to Xuanzang.
"You keep an eye on the length of the ink line."
Then she looked at Si Mo.
"Prepare the ledger. When I tell you to write it down, just write down random names."
Finally, he looked at Sun Wukong.
"Don't smash the wall."
Sun Wukong twitched the corner of his mouth.
"Then what should we smash?"
Chen Fan looked down at the black ink flowing back and forth at the base of the wall.
"Smash its pen."
After saying this, he took a step forward.
The black ink in the inkwell suddenly churned up, causing the entire wall of names to tremble. The densely packed names seemed to come alive, sliding down the surface of the monument with a soft, scraping sound that made one's teeth ache.
Xuanzang gripped the green lamp tightly, staring at each ink line that was growing downwards, his voice kept extremely low.
"Soon."
"It's time to fill in the last column."