Chapter 37#
Temple of the Burning Lamp 8#
Yu Feichen had already sprinted to the end of the long corridor. His left foot struck the ground and he twisted mid‑air, veering behind the courtyard wall. He had barely taken a few steps when messy footsteps and rough breathing sounded behind him, just as expected.
They had caught up!
He quickly glanced back, estimating how long the courtyard wall would block him from sight. Then he turned toward a visual blind spot, carrying the salt tray. There was a half‑open small door there. He slipped inside and found a courtyard overgrown with weeds. The house door was tightly shut, and the windows were smooth and bare, offering no handholds.
But in the center of the yard stood a great, gnarled tree.
Yu Feichen made a decision instantly. He took a running start in place, pushed off, stepped on the twisted portions of the trunk, and climbed upward. One hand supported the salt tray while the other gripped a thick branch. With a few quick movements, he pulled himself up onto the middle section of a sturdy limb.
Dense leaves rustled in the wind, concealing his body. Pressing his torso against the trunk, he adjusted his balance in tiny, controlled movements while steadying his breath.
A few breaths later, stiff footsteps came from outside.
His body froze at once. From this angle, peering through the gaps in the foliage, he could see only the limited area beside the courtyard gate.
Three black‑clad monks pushed open the other half of the door and stepped inside.
Their movements were rigid, as if they did not know that joints could bend. When they lifted their feet, the soles only left the ground slightly before sliding forward just above the surface, then settling back down. This way of walking was laborious, yet their pace was alarmingly fast. As soon as the left foot landed, the right followed.
They were practically like zombies, yet also like… a black snake rearing half its body upright, while the other half curled and dropped rapidly to propel it forward.
The three monks entered the courtyard and vanished from Yu Feichen’s view. Only the constant scraping of soles against the ground told him that three eerie beings were swiftly patrolling the area.
Yu Feichen clung to the branch with half his body, one hand bracing the tree, the other holding the salt tray. He held his breath.
The tree’s leaves were broad and dense, but the situation had been far too urgent for him to guarantee that he was hidden from every possible angle.
Which meant they could discover him at any moment.
And if they did—what would happen?
The deepest fear is not death, but the unknown.
Those strange, rigid footsteps continued to echo across the courtyard.
Sha—
Sha—
Shasha—
Yu Feichen’s strength was being drained at an alarming rate as he kept himself tensed and motionless.
His mind remained perfectly calm, but his fingers had begun trembling involuntarily from being stiff for too long. If this continued, the next thing to shake would be his entire body.
Finally, the footsteps began moving in the same direction. The three monks’ figures reappeared at the courtyard gate and walked out.
Yu Feichen waited until they had taken several steps away before taking a deep breath, shifting position slowly, and relaxing his body. Everything else was manageable, but the wrist holding up the heavy salt tray had grown painfully stiff.
—Fortunately it was him holding the tray and not one of the other three. Otherwise, doing parkour through the temple with such a large, heavy tray? Even if the person himself didn’t get caught, the salt would have flown out long ago.
He rose from the branch, looking down from above as he surveyed the surroundings and confirmed that the monks had moved outward to search. No one was nearby.
After climbing down, he found the direction he had come from on the way to the central courtyard and retraced his steps from memory.
He avoided a few patrolling monks without incident, and soon a familiar building appeared before him—the storage room where they had left their clothes. From here, the route back to their lodging was clear.
One step closer to success. Yu Feichen exhaled softly, hugging the warehouse wall as he moved forward, eyes fixed ahead.
The warehouse door was closed, the window still half‑open just like when they left. There would be no enemies inside. The area behind him had been cleared and wouldn’t be checked again soon. If danger appeared, it would have to be—
At that moment, at the far end of the slanted corridor ahead, a black sleeve flickered into view.
Someone was coming this way!
Through the window—hide!
The moment the thought formed, a hand suddenly reached out from inside the half‑open warehouse window right in front of him. Pale, cold‑toned skin. A black sleeve hanging.
The sight was nearly horrifying, and Yu Feichen tightened his grip on his silver dagger, ready to strike—but then he saw the faint red burn mark on the wrist, not fully covered by the black sleeve.
It was Ludwig.
The next movement came naturally. The dagger that was about to strike instead shifted, and he handed the salt tray to that waiting hand.
Ludwig’s balance was indeed excellent. With one hand he caught the heavy tray steadily, pulled it inside, and not a single grain of salt spilled.
The instant the edge of the tray disappeared behind the window frame, the black‑robed monk ahead reached the end of the slanted corridor and stopped beneath the warehouse wall.
Yu Feichen held his dagger. His face was already expressionless, and now he emptied his gaze entirely, posing like a zombie. Then he slowly turned his head as if searching for enemies as well.
The approaching monk mimicked him, continuing forward, seemingly noticing nothing wrong.
However, when the monk reached the warehouse door, he unexpectedly opened it and went inside.
Yu Feichen followed.
Inside the warehouse stacked with wooden crates, there was no sign of anything suspicious—just another black‑robed figure slowly patrolling.
The monk who had come to check the room turned around and headed elsewhere. After his figure disappeared into a nearby building, Yu Feichen stepped inside.
The black‑robed monk inside had silver hair and green eyes, his expression blank. He had removed his veil and was disguised as one of the zombie monks—it was Ludwig.
Their gazes met. His Holiness’s empty eyes regained clarity, and he pointed to a wooden crate beside him. He had placed the salt tray inside.
Yu Feichen let out a tiny breath of relief. They were safe for now.
Looking back on the near disaster just moments ago, every unexpected yet flawlessly smooth action had been seamless.
With two people working together, the path ahead became much easier. They no longer carried the blindingly white salt tray openly but moved with the wooden crate instead.
Ludwig scouted ahead, and once safe, Yu Feichen brought the crate forward. If they encountered danger they couldn’t escape, they set the crate in a hidden spot and both disguised themselves as zombies. It worked every time.
They skirted an empty lake at the corner of the temple. Beyond the lake lay their lodging.
Ever since leaving the central courtyard, the temperature had slowly risen. Here, the sunlight blazed brilliantly. The white pebbles and great slabs of limestone along the lake shone dazzlingly.
A small lake, white stones. Sunlight, a gentle breeze.
It should have been a serene and beautiful sight, yet after surviving shadow monsters, a grotesque sacrificial ritual, and the deadly pursuit of zombie monks, the more peaceful the scenery, the more chilling and uncanny the temple felt.
What exactly lurked beneath this holy, beautiful exterior?
As Yu Feichen pondered, he noticed Ludwig suddenly turning his head in a certain direction.
He looked as well.
And a chill ran down his spine.
In the place they had just passed, beneath a block of gleaming white rock, stood a white‑robed, white‑haired nun. Her hands were crossed before her chest, and she was silently watching them.
Neither on their way here nor while passing that spot had he or Ludwig noticed her presence.
Yu Feichen replayed the scene rapidly in his mind—she must have been facing the rock, her back to them just now. Her clothing blended nearly perfectly with the white stones, making her presence almost impossible to notice.
Even now, facing them directly, she seemed to blend with the scenery and the sunlight, as if she were part of it.
Her robe was different from the other nuns’, and she clearly hadn’t participated in the earlier ritual. Who was she in the temple?
Ludwig asked, “What are you doing?”
The white‑robed nun seemed reminded of something. With her hands still crossed over her chest, she slowly turned back toward the dazzling white rock shining with pure light under the sun.
She said, “I am praying for the Holy Son.”
The Holy Son.
The very one they sought the “Heart of the Weeping Lizard” for, the one they hoped to revive with the Elixir of Life.
Yu Feichen asked, “How is the Holy Son now?”
The nun slowly shook her head.
She seemed different from everyone else in this temple—not only was her clothing different, she also responded to their words normally.
More than that, when she shook her head, faint sorrow lingered on her face, a genuine emotion none of the other monks or nuns ever showed.
If she was praying for the Holy Son, then she must be his attendant—or some high‑ranking member of the temple?
Ludwig asked, “If the Holy Son cannot be saved, what will happen?”
The nun looked up at the sky, round and distant like a well opening. Her gaze remained sorrowful as she spoke.
“No one will remain who can recite the prayer to stop the closing of the Black Veil. All of Casablanca will be forever shrouded in shadow and become a realm of evil spirits.”
The Black Veil was undoubtedly the massive darkness that enclosed the edges of this world. Once it closed, sunlight would never shine here again. Just as the old man with the cloak had said, the world would meet annihilation.
Thinking of their mission, Yu Feichen said, “I hope he recovers soon.”
The nun whispered, “Thank you.”
As she spoke, Yu Feichen noticed dark silhouettes appearing at the edge of the area. For the moment, the white rocks shielded them from sight.
“We must go,” Ludwig said. He had seen the silhouettes too. He asked the nun, “If someone comes, could you not tell them we were here?”
She seemed to hesitate briefly, then nodded.
“Thank you for your sincere wishes for him,” she said.
They turned to leave.
“Outsiders,” the nun’s gentle voice called again.
“You must follow the rules of the temple.”
There was no time to say more. They moved as fast as possible and returned to their lodging. The scholar had already brought their clothes and their lizards. The two men changed back into their original attire and hid the wooden crate and the black robes under the tablecloth.
Everything happened swiftly. When the stiff‑faced zombie monk pushed the door open for inspection, they were already seated around the table with four huge, fierce lizards tied down with hemp rope.
“It took us half a day to catch these four in the woods. The sun will set soon,” the scholar sighed, his tone heavy yet faintly exaggerated on purpose. “Your Holiness, Commander, what do you think—how can we obtain the Heart of the Weeping Lizard to save the Holy Son?”
Yu Feichen: “Indeed.”
Ludwig: “A question worth pondering.”
The zombie monk made a round through the room and left.
About half an hour later, Bai Song staggered back with Djuna in tow.
Seeing both Yu Feichen and the Pope present, Bai Song exhaled sharply in relief, but before he could speak, Yu Feichen dragged him away to change clothes.
Djuna trembled as she changed as well. Ludwig helped her a few times, but in the end she could only drape the clothes loosely over herself. Her wound hurt too much and was still bleeding, and there were no medicines here.
Bai Song then recounted their escape. It was no less dangerous—and perhaps more so—than what the other two had experienced.
At first he carried Djuna and ran in the direction opposite Yu Feichen. After nearly getting caught twice, he realized he could hide Djuna in the grass and pretend to be a zombie himself. Before long, Djuna forced herself awake from her half‑faint state, and together they managed to survive several dangers thanks to Bai Song’s knightly stamina and Djuna’s quick wits.
But then they got lost. Fortunately, just as they were desperate, they ran into King Shadi, who was scouting inside the temple. He gave them directions, and since their lodging was not far, they returned smoothly.
Now that everyone was safe, it was time for the next step.
The salt mound was taken out of the wooden crate and placed on the table.
The scholar’s eyes widened. He had not expected them to actually obtain the salt—much less so much of it.
For safety, Yu Feichen said little, only that they had stolen it from the ritual.
With salt in hand, the next step was to make the lizards cry.
The scholar saw how confident they looked and felt a faint sense of ironic amusement.
They didn’t say how they had gotten the salt, but judging from how they returned, they must have faced extreme danger. They had risked everything and survived by luck—but how valuable was it really?
He pointed at the lizards and said gravely, “Since everyone is here, there is something I must tell you.”
“What is it?”
He unfolded the cloak wrapped around the lizards, revealing faint dampness on the fabric. “They have all already cried.”
“What?” Bai Song exclaimed. “Were they so desperate after being captured?”
The scholar shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Some truths become clear the moment a clever mind connects the pieces.
“Feeding salt to the lizards is simply to make them shed tears faster. But lizards expel salt through tears naturally. So as long as they have salt in their bodies, no matter what they ate, tears will follow.” After pausing like a lecturer, he continued, “And before we caught them, they had already drunk their fill of blood. After digesting blood, the body metabolizes it—and naturally sheds tears.”
If the Commander and the Pope had been any later, he would already have cut open their hearts.
Yu Feichen looked at the lizards’ eye corners. There really were faint traces of moisture.
The scholar was right. Lizards naturally shed tears to expel salt—the only uncertainty was when.
Since they had cried, it was time to cut out the heart.
“I’ll dissect one first,” he said.
Everyone agreed. Yu Feichen used his long sword to cut open the ugliest spotted lizard. A dark red heart was quickly removed.
“It doesn’t seem special,” Bai Song said after examining it.
Indeed.
It looked like a completely ordinary creature’s heart, showing nothing magical. If anything, its connection to its revoltingly patterned owner made it seem even more disgusting.
Did “Heart of the Weeping Lizard” not refer to the heart of a lizard that cried? Had they chosen the wrong path? With a dark expression, the scholar asked.
“A lizard that truly shed tears means we’re not wrong,” Yu Feichen said decisively. “Feed it salt.”
His thought was this: yes, the lizards had cried, but not enough. One or two drops—was that really crying?
No one objected, but a new problem arose.
They wouldn’t eat it.
Yu Feichen chose the prettiest white lizard and stuffed salt into its mouth, but it spat it out. Then he held its mouth shut. The salt melted into water and trickled from its lips.
“You’re basically bullying it to tears, Brother Yu,” Bai Song said. “If someone tried to feed me dung, I would refuse to eat it too.”
Djuna murmured weakly, “Must you compare it like that?”
Bai Song: “…”
Even Ludwig’s voice carried a trace of weakness as he said softly, “Put it down.”
The three bound lizards were placed atop the salt mound.
Then the Pope tugged down the right side of his collar.
When the blade‑inflicted wound came into view, everyone understood what he intended.
Blood. Lizards loved fresh blood.
As the Pope leaned forward slightly, droplets of blood fell from the wound into the salt mound. The lizards’ previously despairing eyes instantly turned crazed and demonic with hunger. Even bound tightly by rope, they writhed and strained to reach the blood.
The grotesque scene made Yu Feichen avert his eyes. He looked instead at the Pope’s bleeding wound.
It wasn’t too severe—no danger to his life—but it would hurt for days.
Then Djuna let her clothes fall as well, letting her blood drip onto the salt. Her wound was far larger than Ludwig’s.
The lizards devoured the blood‑soaked salt with frenzied greed. They were huge, and soon half the salt mound was gone, their bellies visibly swelling.
At the same time, clear tears streamed continuously from each lizard’s eyes, like a breached river.
Even so, they kept devouring the crimson salt, oblivious to hunger, fullness, or the sting of salt.
More tears flowed.
Yu Feichen cast the scholar a glance. Though it revealed nothing, it filled the scholar with unease. At last, he made a decision. He removed the cloth wrapping his arm. Without the pressure, blood welled again from his severed limb, relieving Djuna and the Pope from shouldering all the burden.
Soon, all the remaining salt was stained red. The three tended to their wounds.
The smallest white lizard had stopped crying.
Yu Feichen noted its dried scales and wrinkled claws.
Its tears were gone. There was no more moisture in its body to expel salt.
Yet it continued devouring greedily, its excitement causing tiny shards of ice to form around it—it was an “ice lizard.”
Before long, bright red blood‑tears began slowly flowing from its eyes.
Soon, cracks tore across its entire body. Blood seeped from between its white scales, along with tiny crystals of salt.
The same thing happened to the other two lizards. In the end, all of them were split open, yet still devouring desperately. No one could tell whether the blood in their mouths came from the salted blood they ate or from their own bodies.
Their bloodlust had reached such an extreme.
At last, the white lizard twitched several times and fell still.
It was cold now, its limbs and body dried and hardened, unnaturally stiff. Yu Feichen cut open its abdomen, and Bai Song exclaimed—the body was filled with chunks of crystallized salt.
The concentrated salt from their blood had entered its bloodstream and saturated its body.
A thought stirred in Yu Feichen’s mind. He turned his blade and sliced open the area around its heart.
A dark red yet translucent, fully crystalized heart appeared before them.
—Radiating eerie wickedness, yet so beautifully formed that it was impossible to look away.
For a moment, the room filled with gasps.
Could this extraordinary heart be the so‑called “Heart of the Weeping Lizard”? Had they completed their task?
They had succeeded.
Yet as he looked at the heart, Yu Feichen thought of something else.
If they had not sought salt—or failed to find it—the lizards would still have cried. Anyone could deduce that it was the salt in the blood that made them cry.
So then—if they wanted the lizards to cry enough tears to crystallize like this using only fresh blood—
How much blood would be needed?
In other words, how many… people… would have to die?