Translator: Cinder Translations
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Zuo Jing tilted her head, a flicker of something passing through her eyes as she stared at Chen Qiang. "A' Jie Drum?"
"Mm." Chen Qiang's attention remained on the painting, seemingly indifferent to Zuo Jing's gaze. "It is said that in the Tibetan regions, there was a cruel custom. To play the purest melody as an offering to the Eternal Heavens, they would sacrifice the purest maidens. Their skins would be stripped and stretched into drums, called 'A' Jie Drums.'"
"It's said that these drums produce an ethereal sound with the power to communicate between the realms of life and death. During significant events, the A' Jie Drum would be brought out and played, allowing the Eternal Heavens to hear their pleas."
"Moreover, it's said that those chosen were willing participants. To them and their people, it was considered a great honor. In Tibet, only the most sacred women's skin was worthy of being made into a drum. In their eyes, death was not something to fear—it was akin to the birth of a new life, a return to nature."
"As part of reincarnation, life and death are equal. Only happiness and auspiciousness matter most," Chen Qiang continued. "Perhaps, in their eyes, this was not cruelty."
After saying this, Chen Qiang hesitated for a moment before adding, "Of course, before I saw this drum, I also thought it was just a legend."
As soon as he finished speaking, a discordant voice rang out.
"What utter nonsense—claiming that only the purest women's skins are worthy! That's just a deceitful excuse made by the ruling class to justify their twisted desires, like how ancient bandits would raise the banner of 'acting on behalf of Heaven.'"
"I've never heard of any noble or chieftain offering their own daughters to be skinned and made into drums," Jiang Cheng scoffed. "Are their daughters not pure enough?"
Chen Qiang was momentarily stunned. His intent had merely been to relay what he had read, not to argue the morality of it. He didn't know why his words had struck a nerve.
However, he chose not to debate with Jiang Cheng. Instead, he nodded slightly and said in a calm tone, "I've learned something."
"Hmph." Jiang Cheng snorted twice, unbothered.
Xia Meng was growing irritated with him, wishing they could quickly finish the mission and get out. If possible, she'd love to hang Jiang Cheng upside down in the courtyard as a mascot—no, as a servant to be ordered around.
"These bastards actually skinned her?" The fatty stared at the painting, feeling a chill run down his spine. The sheer thought of it was enough to make his back cold, and along with that sensation came a deep-seated anger burning in his chest.
"It wasn't just skinning," Chen Qiang continued, his gaze toward the woman in the painting carrying a peculiar mix of emotions. "According to the records, it was done while they were still alive—to preserve the drum's spirituality to the fullest."
Chen Qiang seemed like he wanted to say more but, after glancing at the others, chose to remain silent.
After discussing the painting, the conversation naturally shifted to the A' Jie Drum and Master Huang.
Yes, Master Huang.
Somehow, An Xuan had figured out that Young Master Huang was actually Master Huang in disguise. He claimed he had discovered a clue last night on the boat.
However, he didn't elaborate on what exactly he found.
You Qi appeared curious, but since no one else supported him, the topic didn't gain traction.
Since speaking earlier, Chen Qiang had remained silent, lost in thought.
At this stage of the mission, everyone had their own plans, making it unrealistic to coordinate the group anymore.
No matter how much An Xuan tried to organize things, the others only pretended to listen on the surface.
After all, those who survived weren't fools. Everyone saw what happened to Tang Shirou.
An Xuan rubbed his temples in frustration and sighed. "Alright then, let's act freely. But I suggest staying away from areas where the Huang family members frequently appear."
After a pause, he added, "If you're interested in the drum, don't go alone. The second floor of the attic has a bronze mirror that can reveal ghosts—keep an eye on it. And whatever you do, don't strike that drum, or the ghosts will appear."
That was a lesson learned in blood.
Thinking about it carefully, Master Liao Zhi's death wasn't exactly unjust. After all, he was the one who accidentally struck the drum.
He brought the disaster upon himself. Jiang Cheng and An Xuan had merely chosen not to save him. But in this nightmare, letting someone die was hardly the worst thing—many would even kick a person while they were down.
Judging by their expressions, neither of them felt any guilt over Liao Zhi's death.
"Doctor."
Walking along a cobblestone path, the fatty couldn't help but feel discomfort from the uneven ground beneath his feet. He frowned and asked, "Why did we come here?"
The area was desolate, with most of the houses looking abandoned as if they had been uninhabited for years.
It didn't seem like a place that held any useful clues.
But it was certainly deserted.
"To wait for someone."
Jiang Cheng seemed to think they had arrived at the right place and picked a conspicuous spot to sit down, leaning against a strangely shaped tree. It was nice and shady underneath.
The fatty followed and was about to speak when he heard a noise near a wall. A small head peeked out from behind it.
Upon seeing the fatty, the small head shook slightly.
"It's you!" The fatty's face lit up with joy. He quickly beckoned, "Come over here!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few steamed buns, waving them toward the little beggar.
These were supposed to be the fatty's breakfast, but he hadn't eaten them, intending to save them for the little beggar. After all, this child had saved his life—even if the fatty himself hadn't realized it at the time.
The little beggar climbed up onto the wall but didn't jump down immediately. His eyes were fixed warily on Jiang Cheng.
"Little brother, he's a good person too," the fatty explained. "A really good person. I'm only standing here because of him."
Perhaps reassured by the fatty's words, the little beggar finally jumped down but made sure to go around Jiang Cheng before approaching the fatty. He didn't bother with pleasantries and immediately grabbed a bun, stuffing it into his mouth.
"Slow down," the fatty chuckled. "Don't choke. If there's meat for lunch, I'll save some for you. Just remember to come by later."
After a pause, as if remembering something, he added, "Be careful when you come."
Apparently tired of standing while eating, the little beggar simply sat on the ground, while the fatty squatted opposite him, watching with a contented smile.
A moment later, Jiang Cheng suddenly let out a questioning "Hmm?"
Almost reflexively, he moved to the little beggar's side.
"Doctor." The fatty instinctively shielded the beggar behind him, speaking quickly. "You promised you wouldn't take him."
Jiang Cheng ignored him and pointed at the beggar's waist. "Where is the embroidered pouch?"
The fatty froze for a moment before turning around to look at the beggar. But before he could ask, the little beggar's expression darkened with indignation.
Then, he picked up a branch and started drawing on the ground.
Slowly, the outline of a person took shape.
The more the fatty looked, the more familiar it seemed.
Until, finally, his pupils widened in shock.
"It's him?!"
(End of the Chapter)
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