"The Book of Rites says: 'A pheasant entering the great water becomes a mirage.' The Records of Searching for Spirits also mentions: 'A thousand-year-old pheasant entering the sea becomes a mirage.'" Mu Yiran picked up the long feather. "A pheasant that lives for a thousand years can enter the sea and transform into a mirage. We've all heard of the term 'mirage,' but the ancients had different interpretations of 'mirage.
' The Commentary on the Classic of Mountains and Seas interprets 'mirage' as a clam, while the Compendium of Materia Medica interprets it as a dragon. It says that it 'resembles a snake but is larger, has horns like a dragon, red mane, and scales all reversed below the waist. It eats swallows. It can exhale to form the shape of towers and cities, which appear before rain, and is called a mirage, also known as a sea market.'"
"The ancients believed that mirages were formed from the breath of a mythical creature, and these illusions appearing amidst the clouds and mist were considered the abode of immortals. This led to the historical event of Qin Shi Huang sending envoys to search for immortal mountains and elixirs.
"So, in this light, everything we've experienced can be traced back to this. The ship we're on was sent by Qin Shi Huang to seek immortality overseas. While sailing at sea, it encountered the optical phenomenon of mirages. However, in the understanding of the ancients—or rather, the painters—mirages were formed from mirage energy, and the world depicted in paintings was created according to the painter's will and perception. Therefore, what we encountered was not an ordinary optical phenomenon, but an illusion formed from mirage energy."
"The illusions we experience every night must be what we call mirages. A thousand-year-old pheasant enters the sea and becomes a mirage. In the sea it is a mirage, so on land or on a deck, its appearance is that of a pheasant.
"In the story of burning the rhinoceros at Niuzhu, the sea monsters are invisible to the naked eye. After burning the rhinoceros, they can be seen, but this also attracts the monsters to rush out of the sea to try to destroy the rhinoceros.
"Burning the rhinoceros is an act that disrupts the 'distinction between yin and yang,' and will inevitably be punished by the monsters, just like Wen Qiao in the story. Therefore, every night when we burn the rhinoceros, at least one person will die.
"If we don't burn the rhinoceros, perhaps someone will still die from the illusions created by the mirages, or perhaps no one will die that night, but we cannot escape the vote the next day, and we may not be able to find signatures."
"So, as things stand, we still need to light the rhinoceros horn tonight to find signatures, but I think this might not be a certain death situation. Judging from Fang Fei's ability to hit a pheasant's tail feather, I deduce that the pheasant can be killed…"
"Tonight I'll light the rhinoceros horn," Ke Xun suddenly spoke, his gaze calmly fixed on Mu Yiran. "I'll kill."
"Don't be impulsive!" Wei Dong exclaimed anxiously. "Regardless of whether the pheasant can be killed or not, none of those who lit the rhinoceros horn have survived! Who can guarantee that killing the pheasant won't lead to death? What if lighting the rhinoceros horn is a death sentence? — Boss, you need to persuade him!"
Mu Yiran looked at Ke Xun, raised his hand and patted his head, saying, "Tonight I'll go with you."
Wei Dong: "…Is love blinding?!"
"Just to be on the safe side, we can still use our phones to ignite the rhinoceros horn," Mu Yiran said. "You guys should also be mentally prepared, because we can't be sure what the consequences of shooting the pheasant will be. My suggestion is that everyone stay together and move to the deck. Illusions can distort spatial distances, so staying indoors and staying on the deck are actually no different and won't make us any safer. But Ke Xun and I will try to shoot the pheasant on the deck. If we can find the signature then, everyone can leave the painting in time if we stay on the deck."
Everyone nodded in agreement.
"Would shooting that thing really be useful?" Luo Yi looked at the vast, boundless sea. "What if it turns into a giant clam and we can't pierce it with an arrow?"
"Regarding the question of what the true form of the 'shen' is," Mu Yiran said, "I'm more inclined to believe it's a 'jiao' (a type of dragon). Even in the familiar 'Journey to the West,' there's a passage where Sun Wukong tells Tang Sanzang that there are many demons and monsters on the western road, skilled at conjuring up houses and dwellings. They can manipulate and deceive people regardless of their buildings, pavilions, or buildings. 'Dragons have nine kinds of offspring,' one of which is called the 'shen.' The 'shen' emits light, like pavilions and shallow pools—this also suggests that the 'shen' belongs to the 'jiao' family.
" "We've mentioned before that Qin Shi Huang shot and killed a giant 'jiao,' thus initiating Xu Fu's second voyage eastward. Shao Ling also mentioned the 'Records of the Grand Historian: Annals of Qin Shi Huang,' which records Qin Shi Huang's dream of fighting the sea god, interpreted as: by killing the evil god 'jiao,' one can see the true god."
"Therefore, the mirage in this painting is most likely a dragon in form, and shooting it down to find a breakthrough is imperative."
After these words, no one had any further objections. With nothing else to do, they all found places to rest and catch up on sleep.
Mu Yiran went to the kitchen to boil some water for Ke Xun to drink, then found a separate room, let him lie down on the couch, and sat beside him, gently patting his back until he fell into a deep sleep.
Ke Xun slept until mid-afternoon. When he opened his eyes, Mu Yiran was not in the room. He pushed open the door and went to the central hall. Seeing everyone gathered there, Wei Dong first said to him, "The kitchen has saved some food for you. Eat first and then come over. Anyway, we don't have anything important to do here..."
"Who cooked the food?" Ke Xun asked, his voice still hoarse.
"Let's all cook together." Wei Dong's expression was indescribable. A group of men who weren't very good at cooking had huddled together, adding firewood here and there, throwing in a vegetable there, and in a chaotic mess, they managed to cobble together a meal, but the taste was... well...
Ke Xun went to the kitchen and saw that the pot used for cooking had half-warm porridge left, a mushy mess of meat and vegetables, which was quite unappetizing.
However, Ke Xun wasn't picky, so he scooped some out and filled his stomach before returning to the central hall.
Indeed, there wasn't much for anyone to do. Qin Ci and Zhu Haowen were looking through the bamboo slips they had found in the captain's cabin, Wei Dong and Luo Yi were sitting in a daze, and Mu Yiran and Shao Ling were discussing other possibilities regarding the signature.
Ke Xun picked up his bow and arrows and returned to the deck, preparing to practice more. Mu Yiran also picked up his bow and arrows and followed him to the deck.
The two practiced until dusk before stopping. They set up the mechanism to ignite the rhinoceros horn with their phones, and then everyone went up to the deck. To prevent accidental injury to teammates from shooting arrows in the dark, Mu Yiran and Ke Xun stood near the bow, while the others stayed at the stern.
The rest of the time was spent waiting.
As night fell, the fog on the sea grew thicker. Using the last glimmer of light, Mu Yiran turned to look at Ke Xun.
Ke Xun's expression was unusually calm; his face showed no emotion whatsoever—neither joy nor sorrow, tension nor fear.
"Ke Xun," Mu Yiran called softly, "I hope you remember, we're going to create this painting together."
Ke Xun turned his face. The last glimmer of light disappeared from their eyes. In the darkness, Mu Yiran heard Ke Xun's voice, tinged with a faint smile: "Of course I remember, Yiran. I will never let the one I love most be lonely and heartbroken again."
They didn't hold each other's hands, but turned back to back, gripping their bows tightly.
Since they were going to create this painting together, they would do their best together, together, tonight, brave the gates of hell.
How much time passed in the darkness, no one knew. A pre-set mechanism activated, detonating the phone battery. The flames ignited the rhinoceros horn, and a bright light shone from within.
Ke Xun calmed himself and steadily raised his bow.
Although the rhinoceros horn's light was bright, its reach was limited. Ke Xun stood beside the horn, warily scanning his surroundings, waiting for the pheasant to appear.
In the darkness, the waves surged, their sounds muffled and sluggish under the thick fog. However, upon closer listening, beneath this heavy, sticky sound, one could
hear a cacophony of tiny, strange noises. These sounds were dense, jostling, numerous, and shrill, like scraping bone with a dull file, sending shivers down one's spine.
This unbearable mass of sound seemed to gather in the depths of the sea, yet also seemed to be slowly churning towards the surface.
The sound drew closer to the surface, growing increasingly noisy and dense, until suddenly it seemed to break through the barrier of the sea, its full volume exploding onto the surface. The piercing sound penetrated the eardrums, stabbing straight into the brain, almost severing all nerves.
Ke Xun gritted his teeth, refusing to cover his ears to block out the nerve-wracking sound. Instead, he held his bow firmly, remaining motionless.
The sharp, eerie sound reverberated across the vast sea, amplified seemingly by the reflection of the waves.
This unbearable noise appeared endless, relentlessly assaulting his eardrums and brain. Countless hours passed; anyone else might have collapsed by now, but Ke Xun remained steadfast, his bow and arrow gripped tightly.
Suddenly, the sound ceased abruptly, plunging the sky and sea into a desolate silence. This silence, after the prolonged noise, felt jarringly abrupt, making his chest feel heavy. The
thick, viscous sound of the waves slowly crept in, amplifying the oppressive feeling like a massive boulder pressing on his chest, making each breath a struggle.
This unbearable pain lasted for a long time. Just when his sternum felt like it was about to be crushed by the oppressive weight, he suddenly heard a familiar creaking sound from the far end of the deck.
Ke Xun stared intently at the direction from which the sound came, a darkness deeper than night itself.
Creak, creak, creak.
The sound was unhurried, carrying a sense of superiority from the pinnacle of power, a dismissive mockery of the ability to manipulate and control life at will, casually approaching the burning rhinoceros horn.
Creak, creak, closer and closer.
At the edge of the area illuminated by the burning rhinoceros horn, a sharp talon silently emerged from the darkness, landing in the interplay of light and shadow.
Ke Xun held his breath, staring at it without blinking.
The talon remained motionless at the juncture of darkness and light, seemingly waiting for the nerves of the person who feared it to snap first, or perhaps waiting for the relaxation that would occur after a long period of intense tension.
Finally, as if sensing its moment, it slowly emerged from the thick, deathly darkness.
A brightly colored bird's head appeared ghostly in the flickering light of the burning rhinoceros horn, its head slightly tilted, revealing a narrow eye with an eerie smile.
Was it mocking fragile humans, or gloating over its masterpiece?
Suddenly, a sneer echoed from within the light of the rhinoceros horn, accompanied by a sharp arrow that shot forth, instantly piercing the bird's skull—ruthless and precise. A
piercing scream exploded in the interplay of light and darkness, mist and shadow. Ke Xun, bow in hand, stepped out of the light and shadow, the sneer still lingering o
n his lips, his gaze coldly fixed on the direction the bird had fallen, and said, word by word, "I said I would kill you."