"In order to persuade five monks to become monks, the Buddha revealed his twin heads for the first time. One side turned into crystal clear white bones, symbolizing the clean soul, and the other side showed the tragic appearance of a caesarean section, symbolizing that he could be healed at any time.

Abandoned body.”

"The five followers went crazy on the spot and recovered immediately. The Buddha took out an extremely precious orb from his belly, threw it into the air, and said to the five monks who were the only ones in the world..."

"Remember, this is a treasure that all monks must live up to in the past, present and future."

"Monk Treasure..."

Kangjimeier looked at the doctor in a daze, and a strange oriental word came out of his mouth. He seemed to hear the implication of the doctor's words, so he stood at the door holding the box, thinking about continuing to ask some questions, but also hesitatingly thinking

Leave immediately.

"The treasure that everyone wants must be something very precious..."

Kangjimir finally asked.

Dr. Rodtsov showed a mysterious smile and took out another photo.

"The treasure has disappeared. Professor Obruchev found an opened stone box in the Black City of Ejina, which was supposed to contain the treasure left by the Buddha. But the complicated history is as insignificant as the yellow sand in the sky.

He could only follow the traces one by one. It might be the black monks, it might be the Mongols, it might be the Uighurs, or it might be the Chinese who have radiated there through the ages."

Dr. Rodtsov took off his white coat and put on casual clothes that seemed to be prepared for off work. "In the Black City of Ejina, Professor Obruchev found a deliberately left name. He suspected that the other party was from the 18th century.

The ruler of this land at the beginning was Amursana, or someone of his contemporaries."

"What's interesting is that this stone box was not supposed to exist here originally. The other party deliberately put the stone box into this ancient city just to tell the treasure hunters that the treasure had been lost long ago and there was no hope of finding it again.

"

Kangjimeier asked in confusion: "Who is the other party? Why did he do this?"

Rodtsov shook his head and placed the photo in front of him.

"Even if all this makes no sense at all, this stone box is consistent with the chemical dating of the inscriptions in the Black City. What is left on it is not the Arabic letters on the Silk Road, nor the Slavs text of the early Tsarist Russian expedition, but a string of sharp objects carved on it.

Weird Latin letters.”

"Professor Obruchev has studied it for a long time and can only guess that this is a personal name. There is no other meaning or clue."

Kangjimeier looked at the old and dim photo. With his English foundation in economics studies, he quickly identified the strange string of characters. They were the copperplate fonts that were supposed to be in vogue in Europe in the mid-eighteenth century.

——tyrael.

Kangjiemir was still speechless. He stared at the photo with his eyes blankly, and clenched his fists unconsciously. A kind of pain that alternated between confusion and suddenness overwhelmed him, giving him the illusion of suffocation.

The answer seemed to be right in front of him, but he couldn't figure it out no matter what.

Rodtsov sat in his seat and seemed to have thought for a long time before speaking softly.

"Besides, those involved in this trivial conflict may have missed the point."

"The point?"

"Yes, that's the point."

Rodtsov nodded heavily and placed his fingers heavily on the footer of the manuscript paper just now.

"Have you ever thought carefully about the fact that compared to the tactical goal of killing a specific person, your grandfather, as a soldier, has actually accomplished the strategic goal - the Black Monk, whether he is dead or alive, in these decades

It never caused any waves again.”

Kangjiemir's confused eyes finally showed some understanding, and he said hesitantly.

"So that's it? Does everyone actually know it?"

"That's how it should be."

Rodtsov continued: "The reason why it caused another stir is just because this 'ghost' who has been dead for decades has caused some minor disturbing phenomena and attracted everyone's attention. If you think about it carefully,

The Black Monk's head was made into a specimen, and such high-level treatment was really just to prevent his 'reincarnation'?"

Rodtsov continued pointedly, "You must know that throughout the 1920s, the Soviet Union only permanently preserved the remains of two people. One was the head of the Black Monk, and the other..."

The doctor suddenly stopped talking.

But his and Kangjiemir's sights both appeared ripples, and finally slowly and carefully landed on the portrait high on the side wall of the room, their lips pursed so tightly that there was no trace of blood.

This chapter is not over yet, please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content! "You have to know that this is absolutely impossible! No matter in every sense!"

Kangjiemir gritted his teeth and said with a weak but firm voice, "Not only is this absolutely impossible, but this possibility is also not allowed to happen!"

Rodtsov spread his hand again and looked at the unusually quiet phone on the table - there was still nothing strange.

"God is dead. Tell me, who will allow it now? Who will carry it? Who will decide whether it exists or not?"

Dr. Rodtsov's expression became more and more mysterious, and the clicking sound of the clock in the room continued one after another, as if it was going faster and faster, and was about to overturn the boat carrying them in time, and quickly fall into the chaotic and disorderly ocean bottom.

The vague fear of ghosts became more and more prominent in Kangjimir's mind, and a series of indescribable and terrifying questions emerged in his mind.

From an artistic point of view, if the spiritual body projected by the human mind is grotesquely distorted, then how can we use a clear narrative to express - or describe - this kind of distortion created by malevolence and chaos?

What about the ghosts that swell like malevolent clouds?

It is a natural pathology in itself.

Going a step further, if a dead, nightmarish hybrid monster uses its brain to project its spirit body, wouldn't that cloud-like terror be indescribable and make people scream?

"In this era of rapid change, try not to be surprised by anything. The Earth Telescope Project has been secretly launched, and experiments in space have also discovered the same flipping phenomenon. You have to know that this means that everything is changing..."

Finally, at this time, the phone suddenly rang, making the whole world shake with such noise. The bakelite phone collided with the desktop files and the old black box, making people's scalp numb instantly.

The doctor answered the phone with a calm tone.

"it's me……"

"There are still guests now..."

"Okay...come here..."

Kangjimir suddenly woke up. He no longer cared about carrying the mysterious black wooden box in front of him. He quickly put on his coat and hat, determined to rush out of this ancient and terrifying Byzantine building at all costs.

However, he accidentally kicked his boot on the black wooden box, and the bright ink on the flying manuscript paper blocked his sight. Kangjiemir's head hit the door frame hard first, and then a smell of blood filled his nose and mouth, and he could only

He squatted against the wall dizzily.

The heavy wooden door suddenly opened, and a strong smell of antiseptic liquid floated into the room. The sudden encounter between the indoor heater and the cold wind in the corridor made Kondemiel Kanukov's glasses full of water mist, making it blurry.

In his extremely confused vision, Kandelmir saw Dr. Rodtsov turning around in the distance, smiling and waving, and said in a low and hoarse voice.

"Good evening, Kaldi, Nanzdebar, and you..."
Chapter completed!