ATPnovel Chapter 179 Old Warehouse Files
Chapter 179 Old Warehouse Files
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."
Chapter 610 No Name
The name wall trembled, and black ink slid down the surface of the monument like a swarm of insects eager to find their owner.
The first character that appears in the top column is "Chen".
Chen Fan looked up but didn't back down.
He knew it very well.
This lock doesn't recognize people.
It recognizes who is willing to hand it over.
The second character then appeared.
"Ordinary".
As soon as the characters were finished, the inkwell in the wall made a sound, like someone breathing on a deep well. All the old names around it tilted in this direction, a dense mass that made one's scalp tingle.
Xuanzang raised the green lamp forward.
"It recognizes you."
"You recognized him too early."
After Chen Fan finished speaking, he suddenly raised his hand and pulled off the old wooden plaque from his waist.
The edges of the wooden sign were polished to a shine, and three characters were engraved on it.
Chen Fanshi.
This is the account name given to him in the accounting office.
It was also a shell that the general ledger had forcibly put on him in order to complete the tenth record.
Sun Wukong understood immediately and muttered a curse under his breath.
"It's using this to seal you off."
Chen Fan did not respond.
With a flick of his fingers, the wooden sign snapped in two.
The crack was uneven, and a splinter pierced his fingertip, drawing a little blood. He didn't even frown; he simply tossed the broken plaque into the inkwell.
Snapped.
As soon as the wooden sign fell, the black water swelled up briefly before sinking deeper.
The last stroke of the newly added character "Chen Fan" on the wall suddenly fell apart.
It's like someone who was writing when their elbow was bumped and twisted.
Si Mo reacted the fastest, already having copied it down in his hand with a red pen.
"Not enough."
As she spoke, she rushed to the tent on the side wall and added four characters after "Chen Fanshi".
The self-description is undetermined.
It was bright red.
As soon as those four words were written, the paper in the ledger immediately curled up around the edge, like a live fish jerking. Immediately afterwards, a series of soft crackling sounds came from the name wall, like a row of small porcelain shards cracking in the heat of a fire.
Yang Jian had a vertical "third eye" on his forehead.
"It's stuck."
The white dragon horse suddenly turned its head.
"Where is it stuck?"
"The last hook."
Yang Jian stared at the top of the wall, his voice very low.
"The naming lock must be closed, there must be a complete name, an order, and a person who wrote it."
"He deleted the tenth accounting entry, and Si Mo added an undetermined entry."
"It only recognizes half of them now."
Sun Wukong got annoyed by the noise and had already placed his golden cudgel across his shoulder.
Speak like a human.
Xuanzang accepted it for him.
"I wanted to give Chen Fan a name for this lock."
"The current situation is not entirely secure."
"The door won't close."
As soon as he said that, the entire wall suddenly shrank inward.
It's not falling.
It's like someone behind a wall is inhaling hard, pulling all the words on the wall inwards.
A narrow opening immediately appeared in the main seam in the very center.
It's not wide; you can only fit half a finger in.
But what peeked through the crack wasn't black, but a layer of very old yellow paper.
Chen Fan's pupils contracted slightly.
Page Two.
He recognized him.
That's not ordinary accounting paper.
It is the spine of the second page of the general ledger.
Throughout this pursuit, everyone has been searching for control of the pen. The first page had already been seized, and the subsequent reversals were all based on borrowed power, not a truly secure hold. Now that this crack has opened, a small portion of the old seal inside has been revealed, dark and heavy, as if it had been pressed down for many years.
Baiya took half a step forward.
"I'll split it open."
"no."
Chen Fan raised his hand to stop him.
"This isn't just a crack in the door; it's a sign of recognition."
"If you try to chop it hard, it will just bite randomly."
As soon as he finished speaking, a black thread emerged from the crack and shot straight towards his brow.
The speed is frighteningly fast.
As soon as Yang Jian's third eye opened, Xuanzang flicked the green lamp in his hand upwards. The flame, instead of being extinguished by the wind, stretched out a wisp of bluish-white fire, which blocked Chen Fan's path.
The black silk stockings collided with it, and with a soft "plop," they scattered into a few drops of ink-like rain.
Those few drops didn't fall to the ground; they hung in mid-air, slowly forming three small characters.
Who are you.
Sun Wukong was furious when he saw it.
"What the hell are you asking!"
The golden cudgel slammed down on the edge of the inkwell with a loud thud, shaking the entire old warehouse. The hundreds of old names on the wall trembled, actually dampening some of the momentum for adding names.
But those three words are still there.
Who are you.
Chen Fan stared at it without saying a word.
He knew this wasn't a question.
This is the last claim that the lock is set up to collect.
Once you answer, it can lock down the name based on the sound.
Si Mo noticed it too, and holding the red pen, he was so anxious that sweat beaded on his forehead.
"Don't answer."
"If you agree, then everything is over."
Chen Fan, of course, would not agree.
If it doesn't work, something else has to take its place.
Otherwise, the tear will immediately shrink back, and the chance to pry open that half-inch will be gone.
The green lamp swayed gently in Xuanzang's hand.
Under the light, the old wax dripped out little by little, landing on the edge of the copper base and piling up into a crooked white border.
Chen Fan suddenly reached out and took the lamp.
Xuanzang paused for a moment.
"What are you going to do?"
Chen Fan looked down at the lamp.
The lamplight was steady, as steady as the old friend who had always stood behind him.
From Chapter 601 onwards, he understood that the "Chen Fan" under the lamp was none other than himself.
It's a fragment of myself left behind from the old accounts.
It is an old memory that has been repeatedly recorded, worn down, and suppressed by the general ledger, but has not yet completely dissipated.
That person went along with him to settle accounts, acknowledge the debts, and test the waters for him.
Now, it's time to put it to good use.
"I'll lend you some money."
Chen Fan spoke softly into the light.
The light flickered slightly.
The next instant, a figure slowly emerged from the blue flames.
Not tall, not fast; when she stands out, her shoulder line is revealed first, followed by half of her profile. She's still wearing the same old clothes, and still has that look of indebtedness towards everything.
Chen Fan under the lamp.
The white dragon horse's Adam's apple bobbed.
"Can they really get out?"
"I never left in the first place."
Chen Fan glanced at him under the lamp, then turned his gaze back to Chen Fan.
"Have you thought it through?"
Chen Fan nodded.
"This time I won't recognize the name."
"You'll take my place for a while."
Chen Fan smiled under the lamp.
"You sure know how to pick your targets."
"Aren't you me?"
"Old things are always more durable than new ones."
After saying this, he took a step forward and stood directly under the three characters "墨" (mo).
Who are you.
Under the lamp, Chen Fan looked up and answered the first question.
"I'm someone who's been given nine demerits."
The sound of ink from inside the wall stopped.
Those three words scattered for a moment, then came together again.
Who are you.
"I am someone who has sat under the lamp."
The third question came even more urgently, and the characters started to distort.
Who are you.
Under the lamplight, Chen Fan raised his hand and pressed it against his chest.
"I'm the part where Chen Fan stayed behind to pay off his old debts."
As soon as he finished speaking, the flame in the lamp suddenly dimmed by half.
It's as if a heavy stroke was forcibly drawn from the wick.
Chen Fan's palm burned, and he almost lost his grip.
He saw that Chen Fan's figure under the lamplight had faded, and the edges of his shoulders were beginning to glow. That wasn't an injury; it was him taking on the price of being "named."
Old memories are passed down.
The living person withdraws.
This was the last thing the person under the lamp could give him.
The name wall made a muffled sound.
The crack immediately widened by about an inch.
This time, not only the paper spine was exposed, but also half a seal.
The seal is square, with a small hole missing at the bottom corner, and two ancient characters pressed on its surface.
The power of the pen.
Si Mo took a breath.
That's enough.
"Almost there."
Chen Fan stuffed the green lamp back into Xuanzang's arms, then rushed to the seam and reached inside.
The crack was deeper than it looked.
It was as cold as an icebox inside, with paper edges that chafed against his hands on all sides. When he first reached in, it felt like many hands were pulling at his wrists, layer upon layer, each bearing one of those previously unresolved names.
Chen Fan gritted his teeth, and the veins on the back of his hands bulged out.
Sun Wukong could no longer hold him back.
"I'll stretch it out for you!"
"Don't break down the wall!"
Chen Fan didn't turn his head and shouted.
Sun Wukong forcefully turned the tip of his staff around and slammed it into the main inkwell next to him with a loud bang.
Ink splattered.
The entire name wall is crooked.
With this slight tilt, Chen Fan's fingers finally touched the edge of the seal.
Rough and cool, like touching a stone that has been buried at the bottom of a well for many years.
He pulled suddenly.
A piercing screech suddenly erupted from the crack, like hundreds of pens simultaneously tearing through paper. The black ink crawled up his wrist, trying to drag him back in.
Yang Jian's Heavenly Eye suddenly opened, and a beam of white light pinned the upper edge of the crack.
Si Mohong continued writing, adding three more lines of judgments to the edge of the account book, all of which were "undecided," "temporarily suspended," or "to be implemented later." With each stroke, the ink on the wall slowed down by half a beat.
Xuanzang held the green lamp and muttered something under his breath.
It is not scripture.
These are the old account names left behind by those who came before.
Read them one by one.
It was as if they were shielding Chen Fan from those rushing over to claim him.
The white dragon horse and the white cliff stood on the left and right, firmly holding the sides of the wall.
The old deacon's legs went weak watching from behind, but he still managed to swing the key chain and wed it into the lower auxiliary lock, forcefully holding the base lock in place.
Everyone was fighting for his life.
Chen Fan felt a metallic taste rising in his throat and abruptly pulled his hand out.
Snapped.
Like an old scab finally being torn off.
He forcibly ripped out the seal on the second page.
As soon as the seal was removed, the entire old warehouse fell silent for a moment.
Immediately afterwards, a long crack appeared in the middle of the name wall.
Not fully open.
It's only half open.
The upper half was still locked, but the main lock on the lower half had come undone, revealing a corner of the second page of account paper. The edges of the paper were yellowed, but the bottom of the page was covered with fresh ink, as if someone else had continued writing on the old account.
Si Mo quickly stepped forward, took the seal, glanced at it, and handed it back to Chen Fan.
"Genuine product."
"Can manage the second page."
"It can only cover half the problem."
Chen Fan wiped the ink off his hands.
The ink hadn't completely washed away; the lines on my palm were still black.
"We need to find the real origin of the half-lock at the back."
Xuanzang frowned.
"Name of the place?"
"It wasn't the name given by the accountant. Nor was it added later or a certain number of times."
Chen Fan stared at the half-open crack in the wall and spoke slowly.
"It's the earliest one."
"Where did it come from? Who wrote it before? Why did it fall on my shoulders?"
"If you can't find it, the lock can only be opened halfway."
Sun Wukong walked over carrying his staff and glanced at the crack.
"That works too. We can open it halfway first, and we'll still be able to get in."
"It's possible to get in."
Yang Jian withdrew his Heavenly Eye, his voice deep and resonant.
"If it's half-open and half-locked, what's inside will only tell you half the truth."
"That's enough."
Chen Fan held the pen and seal in his palm.
As soon as the seal touched my hand, the surging ink in my arm finally subsided a bit. It was as if there was a hand at the head office that had been trying to press me into a certain name, but now it had loosened its grip slightly.
He turned to look at the green lamp.
The light is still on.
The only problem is that the wick is much shorter.
Chen Fan was no longer visible under the lamp.
Only on the inside of the lamp wall, there was a small, very faint gray shadow, like someone sitting inside, leaning against the wall, resting with their eyes closed.
Xuanzang watched for a while, then asked in a low voice:
"Will he be able to get out?"
Chen Fan remained silent for a moment.
"able."
"Once I remove the back half of the lock, he won't have to sit under the lamp for me anymore."
After he finished speaking, no one responded.
In the old warehouse, only the soft cracking of the name wall and the sound of ink flowing back down the trough remained.
Si Mo tucked the red pen behind his ear and let out a long sigh.
"So how do we calculate it now?"
Chen Fan picked up the broken half of the wooden sign and stuffed it into his sleeve.
"From today onwards, Chen Fanshi will not be in the accounts."
"If anyone writes like that again, I'll cross it out."
He spoke calmly.
The remaining ink on the wall then splashed off in a flash.
Even the head accountant himself heard it.
The old deacon stood at the back, his throat bobbing for a long time before he finally managed to squeeze out a sentence.
"Then... what do you record in your accounts?"
Chen Fan turned around and looked at the half-open second page. His palm pressed down on the ink mark of the pen, and his voice was not loud, but very steady.
"Remember the nameless one first."
"Before I find my name, it can't hold me back."
Having said that, he stepped forward and first crossed the half-open threshold. Sun Wukong followed with his staff, Si Mo carried the tent flap, and Xuanzang carried the lantern. The group walked one after another, stepping over the shards of ink scattered on the ground.
The wind lifted a corner of the old paper behind the wall.
There's only one line of text at the top, and it's not finished yet.
Chen Fan saw it, but didn't stop.
He simply pressed the seal in his hand tighter and stepped into the yellowed light of that half-page.
Chapter 611 The Source of Rebellion
The yellow light was not wide, only enough for two people to stand side by side.
Chen Fan stepped inside, his feet sinking into a layer of old, ash-like dust—soft and stifling. Taking another step forward, he found himself surrounded by upright structures.
It's not a wall.
It is a series of suspended lock rings.
Each lock ring contains half a word, as if someone had written something and then abruptly cut it off.
Sun Wukong looked up and glanced at it, but didn't say anything.
The half of the golden band on his shoulder moved first. The golden piece left his shoulder, flew along the innermost ring, and finally, with a "clang," stuck into a black stone in the center.
The stone surface trembled.
A thin crack appeared.
Si Mo followed in carrying the ledger, and as soon as he stood still, the ledger pages turned by themselves.
It's not about flipping to the name page.
It was an old file I'd never seen before.
The paper was blackened, with burn marks on the edges. There were only three columns in the middle, like knife marks, and behind each column was an old seal.
Xuanzang brought the lantern closer and read it aloud first.
"Original Mountain Owner's Cutting Record".
Upon hearing these words, the white dragon horse paused, its expression immediately changing.
Chen Fan reached out and pressed down on the ledger page.
"Read it all."
Xuanzang looked at the three columns and read them down word by word.
"First category: Combat readiness."
"Second column: Anti-Bone Source."
"The third column, Zhenyuan's authority."
After reading it aloud, the old paper seemed to be blown by the wind, and a line of small characters slowly emerged from under the paper.
"To prevent the old mountain lord from awakening on his own, the three were separated and placed in different locations. The combat capabilities were released externally, the source of rebellion was secretly sealed, and the authority of the source sank into the depths of the original field."
The surroundings suddenly became quiet.
Only the soft glow of the lamp remained.
Sun Wukong stared at the few lines of text without even blinking. After a couple of breaths, he raised his hand and tapped the black stone with his knuckles.
Speak like a human.
Chen Fan stared at the paper, his voice flat.
"That means with your current skills, you've only managed to get one piece."
"You can fight, you can kill, you can charge into battle."
"This is all about combat readiness."
The other half isn't with you.
Si Mo continued.
"Anti-Bone Source is not just about being anti-".
"That's the root of severing the old chain and establishing a new one."
"Without this, no matter how strong a person is, they are just a weapon pre-written by someone else."
Sun Wukong grinned.
"weapon?"
No one responded with a laugh.
Because a figure emerged from behind the black stone.
Like a monkey.
It was like a fragment of a shadow that had been soaked in old water for too long. The hair was indistinct, the face was not real, only the two eyes were very bright, like sparks pressed into a crack in the stone.
It walked slowly, stopping three steps away from Sun Wukong.
Then he opened his mouth.
The voice was hoarse and harsh.
"She's right."
"Right now, you're just the best piece of iron available."
Sun Wukong tilted his head to look at it.
"And who are you?"
The monkey figure raised its hand and tapped the cutting record.
"I am the old echo that has been cut off."
"The shadow left behind by the original mountain lord in the lock."
"You took the fighting spirit, like it."
"You didn't take the source of the anti-heroism, which isn't like you."
The golden cudgel in Sun Wukong's hand tilted by an inch.
I'm not going to smash it.
I lifted it up a bit out of habit.
The monkey didn't hide, it just kept talking.
"You can beat a lot of people."
"You can break a lot of locks too."
"But all you do is smash forward."
"Whoever gives you an enemy, go and fight that enemy."
"Even if someone changes the roster or the venue, you'll still end up there as a knife."
These sentences are very straightforward.
Even Xuanzang didn't say a word.
Chen Fan looked at Sun Wukong.
He knew those words were hurtful.
That's all I can say.
With so many things happening ahead, Sun Wukong kept changing his ways, yet he was still on the same old path. Smashing mountains, attacking the Heavenly Gate, scaling the Famous Wall—all were aimed at overcoming the obstacles in front of him. To truly ascend to the position of mountain master, he not only needed to know how to smash, but also how to break.
Whose pen will be broken? Whose path to fame will be cut off? And who will be the hand that puts the straitjacket on his head again?
This is not the same thing.
Sun Wukong stared at the monkey's shadow for a while, then suddenly asked.
"Where is Zhenyuan's authority?"
The monkey's shadow raised its hand and pointed downwards.
"Deep within the original field."
"The old well at the very bottom."
"The mountain lord's last seal is pressed there."
"You can't unlock the succession lock without it."
Chen Fan's eyes darkened.
"The source of rebellion and the authority to suppress it are not in the same place?"
"Not here."
The monkey shadow said, "It separated when it was cut."
"The original bone source was transferred first and used as a replacement."
"Zhenyuan's power is buried deep, specifically used to suppress the mountains."
"These two items were originally meant to prevent you from taking them all later."
"What they're afraid of is never that you can fight."
"They're afraid you'll figure it out."
As soon as these words were spoken, half of the golden hoop suddenly trembled.
It wasn't Sun Wukong who did it.
It was Liu Er, who had been silent all along, who suddenly raised his head.
He had been standing at the back, his shadow falling outside the lamplight. But now the old crack on his forehead seemed to glow, as if a thin thread was swimming inside it.
Baiya saw it first and took half a step forward.
"Six Ears".
Liu Er did not respond.
The tuft of gray hair behind his ear bristled slightly, and his breathing became heavier, as if he were listening to something far away. Immediately afterward, the broken chain around his waist began to vibrate, the links striking his leg armor with a series of crisp sounds.
Si Mo looked down at the accounting books.
Two words appeared out of nowhere in the corner of the ledger page.
Rebellious.
The next instant, the words were scratched off by someone.
Liu Er raised his hand and pressed it against the side of his ear, his jaw clenched tightly.
"There's a sound coming from inside..."
Sun Wukong looked over.
What was that sound?
Liu Er closed his eyes and uttered words intermittently.
That's nonsense.
"Like...knocking."
"Someone is knocking on the door from inside."
Chen Fan immediately turned to look at the monkey's shadow.
"Replacement parts, what does that mean?"
The monkey's eyes slowly turned towards Six Ears.
"The extracted rebellious bone material cannot be stored alone for too long."
"It must be hung next to a living organism, borrowing its shell, its voice, and its ability to navigate."
"The safest way is to make a listening hook."
Xuanzang frowned immediately.
"Six ears?"
The monkey's shadow nodded.
"Having six ears and being able to hear perfectly is not something one is born with."
"One section was added later."
"The added section is the remnant hook."
Once these words were spoken, everyone understood.
Why is it that Six Ears can always hear the sound behind the lock before anyone else?
Why does he feel pain first when the wall is opened?
Why is it that whenever Half a Golden Hoop sees him, there's always that inexplicable urge to pull him away?
It's not an enemy.
It is about recognizing the source.
Liu Er kept his head drooping, his hands still pressed against his ears, and it took him a long time to raise his eyes.
Her eyes were a little red.
"You mean, I'm carrying half of his bone with me?"
The monkey shadow said, "It's not a bone."
"That's the spirit."
"The first breath of refusal to back down."
Upon hearing this, Sun Wukong's face finally darkened.
He didn't go to see Liu Er.
First, look at that half of the golden headband.
The gold sheet was now firmly nailed to the black stone, its edges trembling slightly, as if it wanted to fly away but was held back by something.
Chen Fan took two steps closer and reached out to touch the edge of the crack in the stone.
With a touch of the fingertip, a tiny speck of gold dust is drawn up.
It's the same color as half a piece of gold hoop.
"Successor lock".
He said in a low voice.
"This isn't just for Wukong."
"This was made to align the two remaining parts."
Si Mo realized what was happening and quickly flipped through the tent.
Sure enough, after cutting the record, another line of supplementary notes slowly appeared.
"Succession Lock Activation Conditions: Combatant Presence, Residual Source Hook Resonance, Half-Imprint Return to Position."
The white dragon horse looked at the words and let out a sigh of relief.
"Half of the seal is that half of the golden hoop."
"The Remnant Hook is the Six Ears."
"Fighting spirit, that's a monkey's."
Xuanzang moved the green lamp forward a little.
"Not a single one can be missing."
Liu Er looked up, staring at the black stone, his voice a little hoarse.
"What if I don't go?"
The monkey's shadow looked at him.
"That rebellious spirit will forever remain locked."
"The knocking on the door will get louder and louder every year."
"In the end, either it will emerge, or you will shatter."
There was absolutely no room for ambiguity in what they said.
Liu Er chuckled briefly, but the smile was short-lived.
"OK."
"Finally, it's my turn not just here to make up the numbers."
Only then did Sun Wukong turn his head and glance at him.
"Once you're inside, don't listen to anything."
Six Ears Raises an Eyebrow.
"How dare you say that to me?"
Sun Wukong struck the end of his staff.
"At least I can hit accurately."
"You listen to a bunch of people, and who knows where you're headed?"
After those two clashes, the situation actually calmed down a bit.
Chen Fan stopped them from continuing their charade.
He withdrew his hand from the black stone and turned to the monkey's shadow.
"Where is the road?"
The monkey figure raised its hand and waved.
Beneath the black rock, an even narrower crack immediately appeared. There was no light in the crack, only the sound of old water rolling downwards, like a deep well, or like someone pressing down the breath of the entire mountain.
Three words appeared at the seam.
Successor lock.
Further down, another line of small text appeared.
"There are two who enter, and one who holds the seal."
Si Mo frowned as soon as he saw it.
Only two can enter.
Bai Ya said first, "I'll go."
"No," Chen Fan shook his head. "You don't have resonance."
Xuanzang looked at Liu Er, then at Sun Wukong.
"Those are the two of them."
Monkey Shadow added a sentence.
"Someone needs to keep things under control in India."
"Otherwise, the lock will spring back."
"The person outside must be able to admit the truth and also be able to overturn the verdict."
Several pairs of eyes fell on Chen Fan at the same time.
This job can only be done by him.
Chen Fan didn't waste any words and went straight to assigning tasks.
"I will guard the outer lock."
"Wukong, Liu Er, get down."
"Si Mo, take the ledger and stand to my left. Read the supplementary characters when you see them."
"Xuanzang's lantern, don't put it out."
"White Dragon Horse and White Cliff are guarding the crevice. If anyone comes out and it's not right, detain them first."
Sun Wukong slung his golden cudgel over his shoulder and started walking towards the crevice. Halfway there, he stopped and looked back at Chen Fan.
"What would happen if I obtained the source of the anti-heroic spirit?"
Chen Fan looked at him.
"You'll be harder to manage."
Sun Wukong twitched the corner of his mouth.
"Do we even need to take this?"
Chen Fan also twitched the corner of his mouth, but then his expression returned to normal.
"Only when you get it can you complete the task."
"If you can't get it, you'll always just be the best fighter."
"This is not the mountain lord."
After listening, Sun Wukong didn't ask any more questions and turned to leave.
Liu Er followed behind, and when he reached the edge of the seam, the glittering pattern on the side of his ear flashed again. He paused for a moment, but still stepped inside.
Two figures, one after the other, sank into the layer of black water.
Half of the golden headband was pulled off the black stone. Instead of going with Sun Wukong, it fell back above the seam, like a broken piece stuck in a keyhole, hanging there motionless.
Si Mo took a deep breath and spread out the living account.
The ink on the ledger pages had already started to drip down on its own.
Chen Fan stood directly in front of the crack, pressing his palm against the seal of the brush, and placing his other hand on the black stone.
The stone surface was so cold it was sharp to the touch.
He heard the knocking from inside this time.
thump.
thump.
Unhappy.
It's like someone deep inside is using a piece of old bone to tap against the well wall.
Chen Fan looked down and saw a new line of words emerging from the edge of the crack in the stone.
"First, check the original files of the Six Ears and the Half-Golden Hoop."
He stared for two breaths, his voice very low.
"it is good."
"Let's bring up this old grievance first."