nucmednet Chapter 169 Holy Flame Hall
Chapter 169 Holy Flame Hall
“Master, I really dare not let go. I’m afraid I’ll fall if I let go.”
"Let go."
"Don't let it go."
"Let go."
"I won't let go."
Helpless, Fairy Lily frowned and stopped talking, letting Chao Bufan hold her. She then exerted force with her feet, and with a thud, she was back on the ground in a few breaths.
"Can we let go now?"
Chao Bufan pressed his face tightly against her fragrant shoulder, inhaling her faint body fragrance with an extremely blissful expression. He glanced at her with slightly narrowed eyes, and seeing that she had landed back on the ground, he quickly and swiftly blew a breath gently behind her ear. Then he released his hand, let out a long breath, and patted his chest, saying, "That was close!"
A sudden warm breath brushed against her ear, making her weak all over. A ticklish yet warm sensation, like insects crawling over her heart, filled her with a blush. Just as she was about to get angry, she realized he hadn't done it intentionally, so she had no choice but to suppress her anger. With a shy expression, she quickly turned around and said, "It's just ahead."
After saying that, without waiting for Chao Bufan's reaction, he walked straight towards the cave entrance at the bottom of the cliff.
The entrance to the cave is not large, but it is more than enough for one person to pass through.
Chao Bufan looked up and watched her disappear into the dark cave. Suddenly, a victorious smile appeared on his face. He hesitated for a moment, then followed her.
As Pu Yi stepped into the cave, it was as if he had entered a dark space, with gusts of wind chilling him to the bone. A damp, misty air rushed towards him, and amidst the darkness, faint lights shone. Even with this rough outline, the terrain was clearly visible; the scenery was beautiful, with mountains covered in verdant pines and wildflowers. Looking into the distance, all around were lush green mountains, a thousand peaks and valleys, layer upon layer of peaks, a sea of green pines, and wisps of mist.
He quickly channeled his inner energy to ward off the cold, managing to take another three or four steps. Suddenly, the mountains and water changed. The mountains, now closer, became sheer cliffs, speckled with black spots; the water, receding into the distance, roared with even louder waves. Between the cliffs, countless niches and grottoes were carved into the stone. Carved by human hands, they seemed like divine work. He felt an irresistible urge to approach and worship, and the black spots became clearer. Chao Bufan's eyes widened in shock. These were stone coffins, lying across the crevices of the rocks, threatening to fall at any moment. Some were further in, revealing glimpses of their interiors. They were arranged in a staggered pattern, with cliffs above and a raging river below, a truly magnificent sight. The stone coffins on both banks of the river, some in groups of three or five, others connected in a continuous expanse, formed a picture like an extended scroll, imbued with the mysterious colors of an ancient people.
Chao Bufan felt as if his soul was about to leave his body; his divine sense was being absorbed by the mysterious and eerie hanging coffins, leaving him completely disoriented. These were merely a few coffins, crisscrossing the six directions, facing the heavens in worship. The sheer cliff face alone, with its rigid lines and imposing presence, suggested that anyone who could soar through the air was far beyond the reach of ordinary people. There was a faint, overwhelming, demonic aura about it, like a Buddha's hand trying to cover everything, or a demonic blade severing any who dared to defy it. Even if it remained still, if it attempted to cross that line even half a step, thousands of mountains and valleys would be instantly reduced to dust. It was impossible to look directly at it, let alone dare to fly through the air.
The soul was drawn towards the hanging coffins, which finally came into view. From a distance, they resembled sparse wooden bridges dotting the cliffs. As one tried to approach, the rushing river below seemed to urge one to approach with respect. Finally, reaching the point near the coffins, one looked up and saw rows of black coffins, haphazardly arranged, yet imposingly suspended on the cliff face.
The "Nine Lamps" at the entrance are named after the legend that nine "longevity lamps" were placed on three horizontal beams. In front of it is a command platform; to the right is a stone boat. On the axe-cut limestone cliff face are twenty-four hanging coffins and sixty-two rock paintings. The hanging coffins are wondrous and overlook the surrounding landscape; the cliff face with its many red rock paintings covers a wide area and depicts a rich variety of scenes, including horse herding, deity worship, and dance. Although the compositions are simple and the lines are bold, they are imbued with a strong sense of daily life and an air of unpredictable mystery.
The people of Taiyang Village hold a unique belief in "the dead not resting in the earth," a concept quite different from later generations. Legend has it that the body of the deceased should not touch the ground, otherwise the soul cannot ascend to heaven. Hanging the coffin on a cliff allows the body to suspend in mid-air, enabling the soul to freely ascend to heaven and descend to earth, acquiring divine power. The hanging coffins have survived for thousands of years without decaying, precisely because the bodies have received divine protection; thus, the thousand-year-old coffins have been miraculously preserved.
Although Chao Bufan didn't know the meaning of the rock paintings, stone boats, and the command platform, he had many thoughts in his heart, too many to express. It was a kind of revelry, a kind of release. In its embrace, gods and humans merged, time and space soared, and thus, it led people into mythology, into allegory, to cross the River of Three Lives on that stone boat. It was a ritual, a shamanism that transcended doctrine. The doctrines had been distilled by the flames of beauty, leaving only the mystery, purity, and sublimity that the ritual should possess. Anyone who knew of it would dedicate their life to this ritual, to receive its baptism and edification.
Several coffins were broken, exposing bare white bones. Through the gaps, one could vaguely see the interior furnishings: linen, bone ornaments, and strangely shaped weapons. The older ones were unrecognizable, but the brightly colored powder beneath the skeletons suggested that the deceased must have been exquisitely dressed in life.
A certain mark of witchcraft began to take root in his heart, and the legacy of the dormant soul gradually awakened. His divine sense moved away from the coffin and gazed at the murals inside the cave.
A painting with Taoist influences caught his eye. In the upper left corner, amidst swirling clouds, stood a figure draped in feathers; in the upper right corner, a dragon raised its head in response. At the center of the painting were a sword-wielding figure wearing a three-peaked crown and an old man with white hair, seemingly conversing with the tomb's occupant. The black immortal figure in the mural, with its sword, feathered robe, beard, hair, and the surrounding clouds, possessed a simple and ancient style, with free and unpretentious lines, clearly a precursor to Taoist murals. A prominent characteristic of early Taoism was its blend of Taoist and shamanistic practices, with shamanistic methods dominating internally and Taoist methods externally, reflecting a deep-rooted ancient shamanistic tradition. Taoist techniques and shamanistic practices were also interconnected; prayers, incantations, talismans, and rituals directly inherited ancient shamanistic activities, and in the process of fusion, they acquired a strong shamanistic flavor.
He reaffirmed that witchcraft is the root of all Taoist practices, and the same applies to the subsequent murals. Simply identifying them makes it difficult to determine whether they represent Buddhism, Taoism, or demonism. However, setting aside preconceived notions and examining them with a witchcraft-like perspective dispels all doubts. This is not about emphasizing one particular viewpoint, but rather pointing to the source of everything: witchcraft!
Before they could think any further, everything in front of them suddenly disappeared, replaced by a cave with an area of 100 square meters and a height of six or seven zhang (approximately 33-60 meters), which was brightly lit inside.