Chapter 1

This was his thirty-first day of being kidnapped, and the fifth day without water or food.

For five days, he had heard no human voices or footsteps.

He did not know if his family had paid the ransom, but one thing was very clear: he had been abandoned by the kidnappers.

Perhaps it was a desolate island deep in the ocean! He could hear the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

There were no windows, but he could still smell the briny scent of the sea.

Thirst and hunger were unbearable!

The salty air, as it was drawn through his nostrils into his lungs, felt like a burning line of fire.

His already worn-out hands continued to dig at the wall, where a rock had already loosened. He had discovered this secret on the first day he was locked in here, but he had not yet managed to remove it from the old wall.

This was his last hope, and perhaps before he lost all his strength, he could move this rock.

His fate was not too bad, at least he had not been violently killed, he quietly encouraged himself, though a voice in his subconscious kept mocking his self-comfort.

Mocking faces flooded his mind.

...

Why did he choose to become a third-rate manga artist instead of inheriting the family business?

This is the last issue, the sales are really terrible!

You have no talent!

I don't have a son like you!

He realized he might be experiencing severe hallucinations, and let out a hoarse roar, pushing with all his strength.

The rock, which had been stubbornly lodged in the wall, finally gave way with a thud, creating a hole the size of a basin in the wall.

The joy in his heart gave him a boost, but when he saw the same dense darkness on the other side of the wall and smelled the even more foul air, his heart sank to the bottom. It was just another prison cell.

With his last hope shattered, he knelt down, his chin resting on the edge of the hole, lost in thought.

A deathly silence.

His mind was on the verge of collapse, and a faint blue glow appeared in his field of vision, like his fragile life, cold and without any warmth.

His dim eyes were illuminated by the faint light. Losing hope meant death, and he could not let that happen before true death arrived!

He took a deep breath and struggled to crawl through the hole. The rough surface of the rock scratched his body, but he did not mind the pain; at least it made him feel that his life still existed.

As soon as he emerged from the hole, he fell onto the hard ground. Without the cushioning of fat, it was very painful!

He lay on the ground, gasping for breath. When his strength had somewhat recovered, he got up and slowly approached the blue glow.

A corpse lay motionless on the ground, the brown robe long rotted. The left hand was pressed under the body, and the right hand was stretched out straight, the flesh of the palm completely rotted away, leaving only white bones. The right hand tightly gripped a white pen about three inches long.

The blue glow came from the tip of the pen. In the faint light, he could see that the pen was carved from bone, with intricate and beautiful ancient runes etched on the shaft. He wondered what these runes meant.

The pen seemed more decorative than practical, but strangely, when he held the bone pen, the light seemed to become more intense.

It was meaningless; no matter how beautiful the light, it could not save him from death.

He looked around the cell, which was the same as his, with no windows and empty walls. However, this room had no door at all.

Without a door or windows, it was a completely sealed chamber, more like a tomb.

How did this person get in?

Using the light from the bone pen, he observed the surroundings and saw an unfinished painting on one of the walls.

A door!

A door painted on the wall, just the outline sketched with a stone.

Next to it were two lines of poetry:

When the earth rises with the wind and thunder,

There is a spirit born from a pile of white bones.

He glanced at the corpse on the ground and recalled the position of the body. The person must have been trying to complete this mural before dying.

He felt a sense of empathy, understanding the dead man's desire to paint a door to leave, a futile hope!

The tip of the pen seemed to glow more brightly, perhaps it was an illusion.

In a short time, he would die like the other man, just like that! There was nothing he could do, nothing he could do.

He lowered his head, preparing to lie down next to the corpse, at least he would not die alone.

But he saw the runes on the pen shaft light up one by one. Was he hallucinating?

He soon discovered the reason: the palm of his hand, which was still bleeding, had stained the runes on the pen shaft, and the runes that were stained with blood lit up one by one.

The light from the pen tip became even more intense, and he was sure it was not an illusion. He picked up the bone pen and lightly traced a line on the outline on the wall. The place where the pen tip touched immediately lit up with a blue line, like a neon light in the night.

He could not understand the chemical reaction, but perhaps he should do something more. At least he could help the dead man complete his last wish, as a compensation for disturbing his peace.

Forgetting his own situation and the impending death, he focused on completing the mural, including the patterns and runes on the door.

Even to a third-rate manga artist, it was not a perfect work, but the flowing blue light made the painting come alive.

It seemed to be missing something. He thought for a moment and signed his name next to the door:

— Qin Lang.

Qin Lang extended his right hand and placed it on the blue-lit mural, silently mourning the youth he was about to lose. If only it were a real door!

He gently pushed, and unexpectedly, the painted door opened a crack. Qin Lang blinked hard and then pushed again.

With a creaking sound, the door slowly opened outward, revealing the unknown outside.

Between the unknown and death, most people would choose the former, and so did Qin Lang.

Heaven had closed a window but opened a door for him; he had to move forward...

Into the unknown, the door behind him closed completely.

No turning back!

The bone pen lost its light, and he felt his way forward in the darkness. The surroundings became narrower, and he had to crouch and then crawl. Fortunately, he soon saw a faint light ahead.

Qin Lang struggled to crawl, the desire to live temporarily overshadowing his hunger and pain.

As he got closer, he could feel the cold, damp air.

And...

The sound of a suona (a traditional Chinese wind instrument).

How could someone be playing a suona on a desolate island in the vast sea?

...

Life is but a fleeting moment, who can predict life and death? The elder brother has gone to a place of freedom, and it will be hard to meet again. Today I send him a mile, the wind blows white flowers onto his mourning clothes, everyone cries until the flowers fall, how tragic is it? Today I send him two miles, the wind blows the willows mournfully...

Qin Lang finally crawled to the exit of the cave. Outside, it was raining, and about fifty meters down the mountain, a funeral procession was moving forward in the rain.

At the front was a band, followed by three men in mourning clothes, and then two red coffins carried by eight men each, the bright red color standing out in the dark night.

The funeral procession had over fifty people, and the three in mourning clothes chanted funeral songs while scattering paper money.

... Today I send the elder brother nine miles, brothers and sisters all gathered, sending the elder brother to the green mountains, the green mountains will mourn for him...

Qin Lang, who had escaped from the clutches of death, was originally overjoyed and ready to call for help, but he was taken aback by the scene and decided to hold back his cry for help.

The rain was not heavy, but the wind was strong, and countless pieces of paper money danced and rolled in the night wind. A few pieces of paper money landed at the entrance of the cave where Qin Lang was hiding, and one piece, soaked with rain, covered his right eye.

Qin Lang reached out to remove the paper money, and when his fingertips touched his face, they made a harsh scraping sound. The skin felt unusually hard and rough, like touching a cold bone.

Surprised, he looked down at his right hand. At that moment, a bolt of lightning illuminated the entire mountain, making it as bright as daylight.

He saw a bony hand, and almost screamed in terror.

A dead person!

He looked around, but there was no one else. An inexplicable fear gripped his heart, and he cautiously moved his right hand, only to see a bony hand, covered in red mud, moving like a spider in front of him.

A deafening thunderclap echoed near the ground, and the sky and earth shook. Then, a purple lightning bolt, like a giant snake, twisted and tore through the pitch-black night.