White Bone Monkey King

The middle-aged man was confused, but he continued to go deep into the forest.

He stumbled, tripping over a coiled old tree root that grew out of the ground. He stumbled forward, and finally fell down and gnawed in the mud.

Fortunately, there is no sunshine all year round here, and the humidity is heavy and the miasma is heavy. The torch that fell into the damp leaf pile did not cause a forest fire.

The severe pain from the skin abrasion woke the middle-aged man out of his hazy state, and his empty eyes gradually gained some focus.

Just when he subconsciously went to pick up the torch, the next moment, he felt as if he had been hit in the head, and his body suddenly stopped.

Next, the middle-aged man seemed to be stimulated by something, and he panicked and raised a torch to illuminate the surrounding area.

In the eyes of outsiders, the mountains and forests were unremarkable, but in his eyes, his eyes became focused, and he murmured something excitedly.

Then, he crawled to a place using his hands and feet, stuck the torch beside him, and dug desperately on the ground with his fingers regardless of the pain of tearing his fingers to the heart.

This scene is so similar.

Isn't it the crazy look he had before?

He was digging up his own body before. What did he want to dig up this time?

The middle-aged man dug for a while, but didn't find what he wanted. His face looked anxious. He knelt down and anxiously climbed to another place to continue digging.

Then it’s time to dig the third pit…

The fourth pit...

When he was digging six pits in a row, his fingers were bleeding, and his frantic digging movements suddenly stopped. Then he took out a short, plump clay pot from the pit while crying and laughing.

The surface of the clay pot was covered with thick mud, and the middle-aged man gently wiped the dirt off the surface with his clothes.

Perhaps it was because of the physical exhaustion caused by digging so many holes in a row, or perhaps the soil on the surface was too slippery, or perhaps it was because the fingers were so painful that it was difficult to hold it firmly. The short, fat and stocky clay pot fell from the middle-aged man's hand, and the sealing soil cracked, and a black figure rolled out. Almost objects.

The black object rolled until it reached the torch stuck on the ground. It was blocked by the torch and then stopped rolling. It had a gray face, bleeding from all its orifices, and its hair was disheveled. It was a human head. The moment it saw the head, it seemed that it was even in the dense forest. The temperature dropped sharply.

It turned out that the clay jar was a burial jar!

But something even stranger is yet to come.

After seeing the facial features of the head clearly, the middle-aged man, instead of panicking, carefully picked up the head, picked off the leaves and weeds, cleaned it, put it back into the burial jar and set it aside, and then continued digging. The pits don’t stop.

From the moment he found the burial jar, the middle-aged man seemed to have suddenly found the meaning of living again, and he kept digging the hole with firm eyes.

My fingers were in severe pain and I couldn't dig, so I used thick branches as tools and continued digging.

He saw that more and more burial jars were accumulating under the torch, and he dug out seven burial jars in total. The light illuminated by the torch was like the rarest remaining warmth in the darkness, which illuminated those who had been buried in the cold underground for countless years. The burial jars are all illuminated, bringing the warmth of the human world.

No one knows what the middle-aged man went through during his lifetime. The middle-aged man seemed to know very well that there would be seven burial jars buried here. After digging out the seven burial jars, he finally stopped digging and instead sat on his back. Beside those burial jars, by the faint light of torches, I poured out my innermost thoughts.

It turned out that the remains in these burial jars were from the same village as the middle-aged man.

In the eyes of the middle-aged man, these remains were not terrible corpses, but his thoughts of living. He confided a lot, and finally stood up with firm eyes.

"We made an oath before we entered the forest. If anyone has a chance to escape alive, we will find a way to come back to help collect the bodies and take them home."

"I, Zhang Zhuzhu, am back, but my brother is gone, my uncles are gone, and everyone is gone..."

"Don't worry, I, Zhang Zhuzhu, will never let you become a lonely ghost. I will."

The middle-aged man cleared an open space, then found a pile of dry branches to light a bonfire to illuminate the burial jars. He knelt down on his knees and kowtowed heavily towards the door of the burial jars, then raised the torch, like a small and insignificant person in the forest. Moths, moths fly into the fire deeper into the mountains.

He wanted to fulfill his vow during his lifetime.

Help the villagers collect the corpses.

Alas, a sigh of regret came from the quiet forest...

Zhang Dazhu, who was holding a torch, still had a lot of bumps and bruises while walking in the dim forest, with bruises on his hands and feet, but this time his eyes were extremely firm, and no matter how many stumbling blocks he encountered along the way, he would not look back. progress.

During this period, he dug out several piles of burial jars in several places.

Every time a burial jar was stacked, he would light a bonfire to illuminate the jars, as if he wanted to use this to illuminate the path forward for the deceased, so that the deceased could absorb a bit of warmth from the world, walk out of the cold darkness, and believe that there is still hope in the world.

Suddenly, an inexplicable strong wind blew up in the old mountain. Suddenly, sand and rocks were flying, and fallen leaves were flying in an eye-catching way.

Crackling, the flames of the torches shook violently.

Just when the torch was about to be extinguished by the strong wind, the strong wind suddenly disappeared again, and the flame of the torch became strong again. This time, Zhang Dazhu didn't go too far, and his field of vision suddenly widened, and a huge lake appeared in front of him.

The water of the lake is as still as a mirror, as dead as a cold pool that has been frozen for thousands of years. It is extremely dark at night and cannot reflect any light.

There are no shrubs or beasts drinking water by the lake. There is only a prosperous and huge ancient tree, standing deserted on the shore. It is surrounded by various talismans, wishing bamboo tablets, and ritual tools, which makes the already claustrophobic and depressing mountain. Lao Lin adds a bit of a magical atmosphere.

I don’t know how many years the ancient tree has been here. The tree is so thick that even a few big men can’t hug it. Dense roots hang down from the branches, occasionally moving slightly in the wind.

And as the roots move slightly, a few green ghost fires will always light up on the roots. When you get closer, you will notice that there are a large number of corpse insects crawling on these exposed dense roots. I don't know how many there are here.

The green ghost fire I saw before was caused by these corpse insects.

Ancient forests, ancient trees, and ancient lakes give people an ominous and oppressive feeling here at a glance.

Under the ancient trees, there is an ancient temple. There are overgrown weeds in front of the temple. Encountering an ancient temple in a lonely mountain forest is not a good sign. It only brings a feeling of horror to the living.

Zhang Dazhu stood outside the lake bank, with hesitation and struggle on his face. Obviously, his memory of his life was very resistant to this place.

But in the end, he still chose to walk into the ancient temple resolutely.