Chapter 241 WeirdTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2126 wordsUpdate time: 2025-02-02 23:59:07
Through this imaginary door, Davis saw a scene that was completely different from what he had expected. It was a dark hall, with dim candlelight swaying in the air. Under the interweaving of light and shadow, the outlines of the murals were looming. Those murals had been eroded by time, the colors faded, and the shapes were blurred, as if telling some ancient legends. The walls were covered with thick moss, and dark red vines were entangled in them, growing to cover almost every visible inch, giving this space a sense of oppression. The air was filled with a decayed smell, and the old, dull smell made people feel deeply disgusted, as if every brick here had been precipitated with countless years of dead silence.
Completely different from the ordinary buildings he expected, this place was filled with an indescribable sense of oppression. Whether it was the cracks in the wall or every breath in the air, it seemed to be controlled by some invisible force. With every step he took, Davis could feel an undercurrent surging in the depths, as if the space itself was breathing silently, hiding some unspeakable secrets.
In the center of the hall stood a huge circular altar, with its surface covered with intricate symbols and totems. The symbols seemed chaotic, but every stroke exuded an ancient power. These symbols clearly did not belong to this city, or even to any known culture. Their arrangement was irregular and mysterious, like some lost text. In this dim hall, these symbols were like the soul of the altar, condensing some strange power, as if waiting for some kind of ceremony to begin.
The surrounding walls were covered with heavy curtains, blocking out the light from outside. Through the gaps in the curtains, faint light shone on the ground, casting twisted beams of light. These beams of light looked particularly strange in the dim hall, as if they were the guides of some secret passage, leading Davis step by step into an unknown abyss.
Davis' heartbeat accelerated involuntarily. Those symbols and totems were not unfamiliar to him. Although he had never seen such a complete pattern, he had already had a preliminary understanding of various strange symbols in his previous detective career. This place was definitely not an ordinary place. He could feel that this place was far more than what it seemed on the surface.
Holding his breath gently, he forced himself to calm down, knowing that he had entered a completely unfamiliar area and had to be cautious with every step. He clearly realized that he was not alone. The hidden power quietly gathered in the air, like a deep undercurrent that could swallow him up at any time. His mind was working quickly, and although these clues seemed to point in the same direction, the scene before him made it impossible for him to fully understand the truth behind it.
However, all of this did not seem to appear in the professor's investigation materials, or rather, the professor's materials did not mention these symbols and totems. No, to be precise, in the professor's materials, these things were split into many photos, which seemed quite normal. Realizing this, Davis frowned slightly, and a trace of doubt rose in his heart.
He looked away again, and his sight fell on an inconspicuous corner of the wall. There seemed to be a passage hidden there, with a very small crack, almost completely covered. It was not a door, but an extremely hidden entrance, as if some force was calling him to go there. Davis did not rush to approach, but frowned slightly, and an intuition arose in his heart - every detail here seemed to be carefully designed, waiting for a certain moment to come, waiting for someone to come.
He slowed down his breathing and tried to calm himself. At this moment, he knew that every step was crucial and any negligence could lead to irreversible consequences. Passing through this virtual door, he had entered this ancient building. Every inch of land that followed was waiting for him to uncover the secrets.
As he approached the crack, the sense of oppression in the air became stronger. Davis could clearly feel the threat from the depths of the crack. The strong sense of high-sequence oppression made him realize that this place was hiding an extremely dangerous existence. Thinking carefully, he couldn't help but laugh at himself. Perhaps he should have realized long ago that the secrets of this place were far more complicated than he imagined.
But he needs more power, and there are dangers and opportunities.
He took a deep breath, stretched out his left hand, and the power on the glove began to surge. As the power was activated, the crack in front of him magnified illusorily. It was a staircase leading to the underground, old and decayed, but obviously built by humans. Each step of the staircase seemed to be weighed down by the years, but it still stood, as if waiting for a brave person to step on it.
The moment the passage opened, Davis clearly felt the fluctuations of his spirituality, as if the air around him had become heavier. Under that crack, there was some huge secret hidden, enough to make him, who was already a Sequence 5, feel uneasy. The power was so strong that it made him deeply alert, as if warning him that the things below were far more dangerous than he expected.
He did not retreat, but quickly adjusted his state. In order to resolve the oppressive feeling from the unknown depths, Davis cast the first secret technique he created - the fog. The only function of this secret technique is to use the power of disorder and chaos to isolate the spiritual impact of the high sequence, in order to face the creation of the witch. As the secret technique was running, the surrounding air instantly became more blurred and chaotic. Although the oppressive feeling still existed, it was no longer so sharp under the cover of the fog.
Feeling the surge of chaotic power in his body, Davis nodded slightly, confirming his current state. Without hesitation, he took the first step and stepped onto the ancient staircase. The stone surface of the staircase was covered with thick dust and moss, and every step under his feet made a slight echo.
The stairs meandered deeper and deeper into the darkness. Davis could feel himself being gradually pulled into a deeper level, as if with every step he took, his soul was being pulled closer to some unknown force. A faint breeze blew from the depths, bringing a hint of fresh air, which made Davis feel a little relieved. Although this place was still full of an ominous atmosphere, at least there was no suffocating sense of oppression in the air.
The stairs began to rotate, and the angle gradually increased. Davis couldn't help but start to evaluate the time and angle of going down. This passage was much deeper than he expected, as if it led him into a secret space completely isolated from the outside world.
Davis realized that this place was more than just an abandoned underground passage. It might contain some power he had not foreseen, or even some long-forgotten history.
And this history may contain dangers that he cannot foresee, or it may be an enormous opportunity.Chapter 242 MuralTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2429 wordsUpdate time: 2025-02-03 23:59:01
Davis did not stop, but continued to walk down until the door slowly came into view. Just as he was about to step into the hall, a faint light quietly bloomed from all around, and it seemed that some invisible force was quietly active in the air.
The originally dark space gradually began to light up. The oil lamps on both sides strangely lit up without any external interference, and the flames swayed gently in the air, emitting a warm and deep glow. Their light was projected on the ancient stone walls, interweaving mottled shadows, gradually revealing the silent appearance of this long-abandoned hall.
The murals on the wall appeared before his eyes again. Although they had become blurred due to the passage of time, the patterns and symbols in them could still be vaguely recognized. Those symbols that looked like mysterious totems seemed to contain some ancient power and flicker with elusive secrets. The space of the hall was much wider than Davis had expected. The stone pillars around it were like pillars of the sky, supporting this building with endless history. The stone pillars carved with intricate patterns echoed the totems in the murals one by one, as if telling some long-lost story.
He stepped into the hall carefully, feeling the invisible sense of oppression in the air. Although the oil lamps lit up the surroundings, they did not alleviate the oppression. Instead, the interweaving of light and shadow brought a more eerie atmosphere. Davis's eyes swept around again, and those ancient symbols and totems seemed to whisper, telling him that this place was hiding some unsolved secrets.
He lowered his head and his eyes fell on the altar in the center. The symbols on the altar were flashing with irregular light, as if responding to every step he took. The subtle vibration made Davis' heart beat faster, and he instantly realized that all these changes were not coincidental. Every detail was leading him to a deeper unknown area.
Davis did not relax his vigilance at this moment. On the contrary, he felt that he had stepped into a realm far beyond his imagination. Every inch of air seemed to remind him that this hall was not just a relic. It might hide some extraordinary power, waiting to be awakened.
His gaze once again fixed on the depths of the altar. That secret space seemed to hide some unknown existence. Feeling an invisible call, Davis walked forward cautiously, trying to uncover the true meaning behind these ancient patterns in front of him.
He slowed down his pace and stared at every inch of the murals. The weak light of the oil lamp danced on the wall, projecting a more distorted image, as if the marks in the picture were constantly twisting and stretching with the changes in light. He gradually realized that the content depicted in these murals seemed to be a myth about death, describing some kind of irresistible and omnipresent death force. It exists in the shadow of all civilizations, descended with the birth of the world, and will harvest all souls when everything ends.
The far left side of the mural depicts a city built of black stone bricks, standing in endless darkness. The city's architectural style is unusual, with the base of the tower extending downward, as if the entire city is upside down in the void. The streets are empty and lonely, the windows of the buildings are open, swallowing up the light like a black hole, and there is an indescribable silence all around.
In the center of the city, a huge palace stood in the darkness. The top of the palace disappeared in the endless darkness, but the foundation sank deep into the ground. The palace door was half-closed, and the front of the door was filled with fallen figures. They had different shapes, but the common feature was that their eye sockets were empty and their faces were covered with dried black blood, as if they had witnessed some unbearable horror before death came.
This palace, like the embodiment of death itself, symbolizes the final destination of all life.
In the center of the mural, there is a carving of an indescribable existence. Its figure is blurry, as if it is made of black fog and shadows, and it is impossible to accurately describe it. It is like a huge figure wearing a broken cloak, and it is also like some invisible concept that cannot be clearly described. Its head is empty, and deep inside is an indescribable darkness that seems to be able to swallow everything. Its hands are stretched out, and the palms hold countless tiny figures. Those figures are twisted and struggling, as if they are being pulled into an inevitable abyss by an invisible force.
Its existence is death, it is the end of everything, it transcends the boundaries of time and space, only - extinction.
The far right side of the mural depicts an endless river, which flows out from under the dark palace. The river water flashes with strange light, reflecting countless distorted faces. These faces appear and disappear from time to time, with expressions of extreme fear and pain, as if they are still struggling, but can never escape the bondage of this river.
At the end of the river, a bridge made of dead bones spans across it, and the other end of the bridge leads to an unfathomable void. The dead must walk across this bridge, and when they step into the center of the bridge, the god of death in the darkness will reach out and completely erase their existence - no reincarnation, no redemption, only complete annihilation.
This is not the world after death, but the process of death itself. It calls all the living, reminding them that no matter how hard they struggle, it will be useless, and in the end, they will definitely embark on this journey of no return.
At the bottom of the mural, a line of ancient inscriptions was quietly engraved on the stone wall. Davis stared at the line of text, trying to interpret its meaning. As he focused more and more, his mind was filled with more and more whispering voices. Those voices were unclear and incomprehensible, but they penetrated directly into his consciousness, bringing a sense of suffocation that could not be escaped.
"When the last beacon goes out,
When the end of time comes,
Everything will fall into silence,
He alone will remain in darkness forever."
Davis's breathing gradually became heavier. He knew that the mural was telling more than just a legend. The existence it depicted was not a god in human belief, but a concept of death that transcended common sense and swallowed everything.
At this moment, a memory that "Davis" told him suddenly flashed in his mind - when he was a child, the adults in the orphanage would tell some stories to scare the children who made mistakes. One of them was that at night, the children who made mistakes would be brought into a dark city in their dreams. There was no light in the city, and the streets were filled with a strong smell of death. The children were lost in this city, and eventually they could only succumb to the invisible force and die.
He gradually realized that these seemingly fictional plots might hide some real origins. Perhaps, behind these stories, there were incredible events that had happened before - the legend of a dark city, the symbol of death, which might have started right here where he was standing.
He couldn't help but shudder. Those ridiculous fairy tales seemed so real now. The faces of the dark city and the endless abyss seemed to have some unspeakable connection with the murals in front of him. The inverted city, the dead palace, the twisted soul, everything seemed to have happened a long time ago.
As these thoughts came to his mind, Davis subconsciously took a few steps back. His intuition told him that this underground hall was far more than an abandoned underground world. It might have been used to seal some ancient and powerful power. The church of the Steam Church was built behind it, perhaps to prevent all this from reviving again.
He took a deep breath and gradually clarified his speculation - the secret hidden in this hall might be more deadly than he imagined.
Davis subconsciously touched the pistol at his waist, which was his only weapon at the moment. Although it had almost no effect on the strange power in front of him, it at least brought him a little psychological comfort.
He realized that he was standing on the threshold of an ancient history, and this history was most likely an endless abyss.Chapter 243 The Chosen OneTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2208 wordsUpdate time: 2025-02-09 18:31:37
Davis took a deep breath, calmed himself, and looked towards the center of the hall.
A dark box was placed on a strangely constructed altar.
He could clearly sense that the thing in the box was calling him, a call from the spiritual side.
This made him feel very strange. According to the records in the murals, this should be a god representing death. The architectural style is somewhat similar to the Byronic architecture of the Four Emperors period, corresponding to the Hades among the Four Emperors.
The things left over from this period have nothing to do with him no matter how you look at it.
Davis stood in front of the altar, his eyes fixed on the dark box. There was no decoration on the surface of the box, but it exuded an unsettling atmosphere. He could feel that the things in the box were not just some kind of objects, but more like a living thing, as if silently calling him, trying to establish some kind of connection with him.
"This is impossible..." He murmured in a low voice, frowning. His reason told him that the contents of the box were most likely some kind of dangerous relic, or even the embodiment of the power of death depicted in the mural. However, his intuition was like an invisible thread, pulling him forward.
He slowly stretched out his hand, and his fingertips touched the surface of the box. The cold touch instantly spread from his fingertips to his whole body, as if an electric current had penetrated his body. Countless broken images suddenly flashed through his mind - dark cities, endless rivers, distorted faces... The scenes in the murals seemed to come alive, surging wildly in his consciousness.
"Stop!" He suddenly retracted his hand and took a few steps back, cold sweat already seeping out of his forehead. He realized that he was almost controlled by some kind of power just now, that power tried to invade his consciousness and might even devour him completely.
"Don't touch it..." He whispered to himself, his heart beating like a drum. However, the call from the box did not stop, but became clearer. The voice was no longer silent, but turned into a low hum, as if whispering softly in his ear.
"Grelint..." The voice was low and hoarse, with an irresistible temptation, "Open it...you will know everything..."
"No!" He gritted his teeth and forced himself to calm down. He knew that once the box was opened, the consequences would be disastrous. However, his curiosity was like an invisible hand, constantly pushing him forward.
At this moment, there was a slight vibration around the hall. Davis looked around vigilantly and found that the totems on the stone pillars began to emit a faint light, as if activated by some force. There was a repressive atmosphere in the air, as if the whole hall was waiting for a certain moment to come.
"Time is running out..." The voice sounded again, with a hint of urgency, "You must open it... Otherwise, everything will be destroyed..."
Davis' heartbeat quickened, his mind was in a mess. He knew he had to make a choice - either take the risk of opening the box and uncovering the truth, or leave immediately and give up this opportunity that could change everything.
Without giving him a chance to think, the dark box suddenly emitted a dazzling light. The entire hall began to shake violently, as if some huge power was awakening.
Davis looked at the box and found that its lid was slowly opening. A black mist poured out of the box and quickly filled the entire hall.
"Run!" Davis heard a strange voice in his mind, "Leave here, or you will be devoured too!"
Without hesitation, he turned and rushed to the exit of the hall. However, just as he was about to step out of the door, a strong suction force suddenly came from behind him. He looked back and found that the black mist had formed a huge vortex, pulling him back.
"No!" He struggled desperately, but the force was too strong. His body gradually lost control and was pulled towards the center of the vortex.
Just as he was about to be swallowed, a dazzling light suddenly shot down from the top of the hall and directly hit the vortex. The black mist let out a shrill roar and then quickly dissipated.
Davis fell to the ground, gasping for breath. He looked up at the source of the light and found a huge crack on the top of the hall, as if some force had forcibly torn the space apart.
"What... is going on?" he muttered to himself, his heart full of confusion.
However, before he could react, a huge hand suddenly stretched out from the crack and grabbed the dark box. The box was quickly pulled into the crack and disappeared.
The hall returned to calm, as if nothing had happened, with Davis left standing alone in the empty hall.
He stood up slowly, his heart filled with mixed emotions. He knew that he had just experienced an adventure beyond imagination, and the secret in the box might never be revealed.
"Maybe... this is a good thing." He whispered, turning and walking towards the exit of the hall.
The moment he stepped out of the door, the oil lamp behind him suddenly went out, and the whole hall fell into darkness again. Davis did not look back, he knew that the secret of this place would be forever buried in the dust of history.
Davis walked out of the strange building and stood in the sun, feeling the warm air brushing his cheeks, as if everything that had just happened was just a nightmare. However, the low and hoarse voice in his mind suddenly sounded, reminding him that it was not an illusion.
"Little one, live and grow up, and you will know the hidden secrets."
This sentence was like a thorn, piercing deep into his consciousness. He frowned and tried to sort out his thoughts. Who was that voice? Why did it choose him? What was hidden in that dark box? These questions were like a tangled mess, entangled in his mind, lingering.
He looked down at his hands, and his fingertips still seemed to have the cold feeling of touching the box. That feeling made him shudder, but also made him feel inexplicably familiar.
"Could it be... am I really related to all this?" He whispered to himself, his heart full of doubts.
At this moment, he suddenly heard a slight sound of footsteps. Davis looked up suddenly and saw a figure standing not far away. It was an old man in a black robe, with a haggard face and deep eyes. In his hand was a wooden staff with strange symbols carved on it, and a dim gem was inlaid on the top of the staff.
"You finally came out," the old man said slowly, his voice hoarse and low, "I have been waiting for you."
Davis felt that with the appearance of the old man, his connection with the world was broken. He took a step back cautiously, his hand unconsciously reaching for the pistol at his waist. "Who are you? Why are you here?"
The old man smiled slightly, and the wrinkles on his face spread out like a dry riverbed. "It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is that you have touched the box and heard the voice."
Davis' heart sank. "How do you know?"
"I know much more than you think," the old man slowly approached, his wooden stick making a slight tapping sound on the ground, "The power in that box is the relic of the 'Underworld'. And you are the chosen one."Chapter 244 Secret TechniqueTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2389 wordsUpdate time: 2025-02-06 00:04:02
"The chosen one?" Davis repeated, feeling uneasy. "What are you talking about? I don't understand!"
The old man stopped and stared at him with sharp eyes. "You don't need to understand now. You just need to know that from the moment you stepped into that hall, your fate has changed. The power in that box chose you, and you will become hope."
Davis felt a splitting headache, as if something was surging in his mind. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the discomfort. "I don't believe you! This is all too ridiculous! I'm just an ordinary person, how could I be related to the 'Underworld Emperor' of the previous era?"
The old man did not answer, but just looked at him quietly, with an indescribable hope in his eyes. After a moment, he slowly raised the wooden stick and pointed it behind Davis.
"Look at your shadow."
Davis was stunned and subconsciously looked down at the ground. The sun shone from behind him, stretching his shadow very long. However, to his shock, his shadow was not a human shape, but a vague black mist, as if some invisible existence was crawling in his shadow.
"What...what is this?" His voice trembled a little.
"This is the mark of the Hades," the old man whispered, "it has become one with you. Whether you like it or not, you have been drawn into the vortex of fate."
Davis felt suffocated, as if an invisible hand was strangling his throat. He looked up at the old man with anger and fear in his eyes. "What do you want me to do?"
The old man smiled and turned away. "Live and grow. When you are strong enough, you will find the answer. And now, you just need to remember that you are not alone."
Before he finished speaking, the old man's figure gradually disappeared into the air, as if he had never existed. Davis stood there, his heart filled with confusion and uneasiness. He looked down at his own shadow, and everything was normal, as if nothing had happened.
"Live... grow up..." He repeated the old man's words in a low voice, with a complex emotion surging in his heart.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. No matter what was waiting for him ahead, he had to face it. Because he had no way out.
"Well," he whispered, with a gleam of determination in his eyes, "since fate has chosen me, I will see what it wants me to do."
He looked up at the city outline in the distance and began to think about his next plan. Since the old man said he had time to grow, he didn't have to rush. Right now, he needed more information and strength to deal with possible dangers in the future.
"Professor Hartman..." Davis frowned, and the old scholar came to his mind. It was the professor who told him about the existence of this place and led him here. However, looking back now, the professor's behavior seemed a little suspicious. How could an ordinary person know such a secret place? Unless... there was something else behind the professor.
"No, the professor can't be a pawn of Hades." Davis shook his head, trying to convince himself. Professor Hartman was just a scholar who was passionate about architecture and became interested in this special building. He just discovered this place and didn't know the dangers.
"But no matter what, I must be careful." He warned himself.
Thinking of this, Davis decided not to return to the professor's home for the time being. He needed to digest the experience just now and transform those supernatural phenomena into his own strength. Whether it was the black vortex or the giant hand of light, they all contained some kind of mysterious power. If he could disassemble this power, transform it into his own ability, and embody it with secret techniques, then his strength would be greatly improved.
Thinking of this, he did not stay where he was, but crossed the spirit world and came to an unknown island. Professor Steve left many rituals and secret techniques on this island, transferring its only entrance from the real world to the spirit world to ensure that this island would not attract the attention of outsiders.
Then, he closed his eyes and recalled what he had just experienced. The black vortex seemed to be able to swallow everything, while the giant hand of light contained a certain power of purification and protection. These two powers were completely opposite. If he could transform them into secret techniques, then he would have the ability to attack and defend at the same time.
"The black vortex can be named 'Bite of the Underworld', and the giant hand of light can be called 'Grasp of Glory'." He whispered, and in his mind he had already begun to conceive how to perform these two secret arts.
He began to use his own understanding to mobilize the power of the astral world through the astral body. The two mystical arts were slowly taking shape.
"However, to truly master these two secret arts, you still need a lot of practice and research." He opened his eyes, his gaze determined. He knew that this would be a long and difficult road, but he was ready.
"This world is so crazy..." He sighed in a low voice, but soon laughed again, "But it is this madness that makes it so interesting."
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and felt the sun shining on his body. The warmth penetrated through his coat and penetrated his skin, bringing a sense of reassurance. The air was filled with the salty and humid smell of the sea breeze, with a bit of freshness. Although the future was still full of unknowns and dangers, the heavy feeling that once oppressed him no longer frightened him. Instead, his heart was filled with an irrepressible excitement and expectation. Every step seemed to open a new chapter, and every turn was full of possibilities.
"Fate has chosen me, so it must have its purpose." He whispered to himself, his eyes flashing with determination and firmness. Then, he turned and walked towards the shore, leaving the island against the wind.
When Davis returned to Professor Hartman's house, he stood at the door for a moment, hesitantly looking at the light and shadows in the house. The stove in the house was still burning, warm light poured into the house through the window, and the air was filled with the aroma of burning wood. He walked into the house, his voice low and with a hint of elusive emotion: "Professor, I'm back."
Professor Hartman in the room seemed not to hear his footsteps, still concentrating on flipping through the heavy book in his hands. The professor's figure looked particularly peaceful in the soft light beside the stove, as if he had merged with the house, and time was quietly flowing in his books and the firelight. Davis stood at the door, staring quietly for a moment, and finally stepped in.
The professor finally looked up and saw him, with a warm light in his eyes, a smile accumulated over the years of leisure. "Davis, you're back just in time," the professor said softly, his voice still steady and kind, "How is it, what's the result?"
Davis frowned slightly, his eyes were a little solemn, but his tone was still clear and firm: "It seems to be the architectural style of the Four Emperors period, with a Byronic shadow. There are also some elements of other styles mixed in, like traces of repair after damage, but it can be seen that the restorer has added his own understanding and creation." When he said this, his eyes were fixed on Professor Hartman, as if waiting for his reaction.
The professor's expression did not change much, as if he had expected this. He nodded, still showing a kind smile. "That makes sense. The building materials of the Four Emperors era are indeed rare, and most of them have unique techniques and styles. Thank you for your hard work, Davis." The professor closed the book, put it on the table, and looked at Davis with soft eyes, as if at that moment, all the fatigue and doubts were resolved by his understanding and support.
Davis relaxed a little, feeling the pressure in his heart finally dissipate a little. At least, things here were not that complicated.Chapter 245 OrphanageTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2341 wordsUpdate time: 2025-02-06 23:59:03
In the early morning, Davis woke up from a nightmare, his chest heaving slightly, and a little cold sweat seeping out of his forehead. He looked out the window, and the morning light sprinkled into the room through the light mist, but the warmth could not dispel the confusion in his eyes.
The images in his dream were still echoing in his mind. The obscure symbols, distorted shadows, and low, whispering voices were exactly the same as the murals in the ruins. This coincidence made him feel a little uneasy, but more confused.
He sat up slowly, staring blankly at the half-open window in front of him, recalling the fragments of the dream in his mind, as if some distant will was trying to convey something to him. He did not believe that this was just a simple nightmare - it was too real, so real that it seemed like he had experienced it himself.
After a while, he sighed helplessly, rubbed his brows, and pulled himself out of his trance. Davis shook his head, stopped thinking about it, got out of bed, tidied himself up neatly, changed into decent clothes, opened the door and walked down the stairs.
In the living room, Lady Emma was holding a cup of hot tea, and seemed to be used to his early rising. She smiled and nodded, and Davis nodded slightly and whispered, "Good morning." Then, he put on his coat and walked out the door.
The air was slightly cool in the early morning, and the streets were sparsely populated, with only the sound of horse hooves and the cries of newspaper boys in the distance breaking the silence. Davis walked on the cobblestone road covered with morning dew, but his heart was still reminiscing about the shock brought by the dream.
Perhaps those ancient legends were more real than people imagined. They were not just folk tales, but some kind of truth that was deliberately concealed. An idea gradually took shape in his mind - if he could continue to collect these stories and piece together the information they hide, perhaps he could find those forgotten secret places and experience the most real extraordinary power himself.
This way, he could not only gain a deeper understanding, but he could even use it as a basis to create his own secret techniques to speed up the digestion of the potion.
Of course, this road is not an easy one. The older the story is, the deeper it is hidden, which means the dangers are more unpredictable. Anything involving extraordinary things is always accompanied by unavoidable risks. But this is the norm in the extraordinary world, isn't it?
He raised the corners of his mouth slightly, as if mocking himself, but also as if relieved.
Davis looked up at the sky. The morning light had broken through the clouds, gilding the streets of Tingen with a layer of pale gold. He adjusted his hat, quickened his pace, and walked towards the orphanage.
If there's any place in this city where the oldest and wildest stories are told, it's probably nowhere more so than in the orphanage.
However, when he arrived in front of the orphanage, his steps slowed down unconsciously and his eyes fell on the familiar iron gate.
An indescribable hesitation came over me.
What flashed through my mind was Aunt Irene's words before she left the orphanage last time -
"Davis, the kid should be okay."
He stood in front of the orphanage and was silent for a long time.
The winter morning breeze blew gently, bringing with it a damp mist and a bit of chill. The paint on the iron gate had peeled off, revealing the rusty metal, just like the stories and secrets carried by this orphanage, which had long been eroded by time, but still stood stubbornly in a corner of the city.
Davis took a deep breath, lowered his head and adjusted his collar, trying to restore his expression to normal, although he knew that such a cover-up would be meaningless in front of Aunt Irene - her old eyes could always see through everything.
But even so, he raised his hand and gently knocked on the door of the orphanage.
Boom, boom, boom.
The sound was not loud, but it was particularly clear in the quiet street.
There was no immediate response from the door. The orphanage was too quiet, with only the slight whimpering sound of the wind blowing through the crack of the door. Davis waited for a while, and when he was about to knock again, the door hinge suddenly made a slow "creaking" sound, and a face with some traces of age appeared behind the crack of the door.
Aunt Irene's eyes fell on him, and she first showed a hint of surprise, and then the corners of her mouth curled up slightly, as if she had already expected him to come back.
"You're here." She said softly, without much emotion in her tone, just calmly stating the facts.
Davis' throat tightened slightly, and he had a vague illusion in his heart - she had been waiting for him.
He adjusted his tone and gave his usual polite smile: "Good morning, Aunt Irene."
Aunt Irene looked at him quietly for a moment, then gently moved aside to make room for the door: "Come in, it's cold outside."
Davis stepped through the gate of the orphanage, as if he had crossed an invisible boundary. The streets behind him were left behind, and what greeted him were the memories described by "Davis" that were once familiar yet faintly strange.
He subconsciously slowed down his pace and slowly scanned the surroundings.
Nothing has changed much here. The wooden floor has aged slightly, and there are still a few children's graffiti paintings hanging on the wall, which are colorful and full of innocence and imagination. The fire in the fireplace is burning brightly, exuding a warm atmosphere. The crackling sound of burning wood and the faint baking aroma in the air make this place seem particularly comfortable and quiet.
The laughter of the children came through the wall from the other side of the house, clear and natural, with the vitality and innocence that children of this age should have. They might be sitting around in a room playing games, or immersed in an ancient story - after all, there is no shortage of stories in this orphanage.
Davis withdrew his gaze and looked at Aunt Irene who was standing not far away. She was holding a cup of hot tea and looking at him calmly.
"You came at the right time." Aunt Irene smiled and said slowly, "Today is storytelling day, the children's favorite time."
Davis' heart moved slightly, as if he had come at the right time. He came for these stories, for those forgotten words hidden in the mouths of children.
"It depends on my luck." He asked casually, in a calm tone, as if he was just interested in chatting.
Aunt Irene smiled softly, took a sip from the teacup, and said in a gentle voice: "Maybe. The children here always like to listen to stories and make up stories. Some are heard from the elderly, some are seen in their dreams, and some..."
She paused, her eyes lingering on Davis for a moment, before she slowly said, "They came up with it themselves."
Davis raised his eyebrows slightly and nodded thoughtfully. Children's stories are often wild and imaginative, but in those seemingly absurd legends, there may be some forgotten truths.
Just as he was about to ask something else, a burst of cheerful footsteps came from the depths of the corridor, accompanied by a childish voice -
"Aunt Irene! It's my turn to tell a story today!"
A little girl with two ponytails poked her head out from behind the door, her round eyes sparkling with anticipation, her cheeks slightly flushed from running. She saw Davis and was visibly stunned for a moment, then smiled brightly.
Aunt Irene waved at her and said gently, "Okay, this is Mr. Davis. Why don't you let him listen to your story?"
The little girl looked at Davis curiously, as if trying to determine whether this strange "gentleman" was trustworthy. She tilted her head and thought for a moment, then grinned, revealing a row of neat little teeth: "Okay! But--"
She paused, her eyes rolled, as if she had thought of something interesting, "If he listens to the story, he has to tell us a new story!",Chapter 246 CastleTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2154 wordsUpdate time: 2025-02-07 23:59:08
Davis raised his eyebrows slightly. He didn't expect that he would be outmaneuvered by the child. He smiled softly and said calmly, "If your story is interesting enough, I don't mind telling you a return gift."
The girl's eyes lit up, as if she had been inspired by something. She nodded excitedly, then turned and ran into the room.
Aunt Irene looked at her back and chuckled, "Children are always like this. They like to treat stories as some kind of 'exchange'."
Davis followed, his eyes scanning the murals on both sides of the corridor, and suddenly stopped in front of a special painting.
The painting shows a Gothic building with a spire that soars into the sky, but the whole building has a strange tilt, as if it will collapse at any time. There is a faint light coming through the windows of the building, and people can be vaguely seen swaying. The most eye-catching thing is the garden in front of the building, which is full of black roses, and the petals seem to be covered with dew.
"This is..." Davis took a closer look and found the name "Lily" written in the corner of the painting.
"Lily always draws strange pictures," Aunt Irene said softly. "She says they come back to her in her dreams."
Davis nodded thoughtfully and followed Aunt Irene into the activity room. Lily was already standing in the middle of the room, her ponytails swaying gently with her movements, shining light golden in the sunlight.
"Once upon a time, there was a night that was always longer than other nights..." Lily's voice suddenly became ethereal, forming a wonderful contrast with her tender childish voice, "On that night, there was a castle that would never collapse, and in the castle lived a princess who was forever young..."
Davis noticed that the other children held their breath and stared at Lily intently, with a kind of pure yearning in their eyes, as if they were deeply attracted by the story.
"The princess would pick black roses in the garden every day because they were her favorite flowers. But one day, she found that the roses began to wither and cracks appeared on the walls of the castle..." Lily's voice suddenly trembled, and her pupils appeared unusually bright in the sunlight, "She heard a voice calling her, and that voice came from the basement of the castle..."
Just then, a breeze blew by, and the curtains in the activity room moved without any wind. Davis felt a chill on the back of his neck, as if something was gently brushing against him. He turned around suddenly, but all he saw was Lily's painting on the wall - the building in the painting seemed to be shaking slightly, and the light in the window flickered.
"Lily, it's time to rest." Aunt Irene interrupted at the right time, with a hint of worry in her voice.
Lily paused, her expression was dazed for a moment, and then she returned to her innocent smile: "Okay, next time I'll tell you how the princess discovered the secret of the basement."
Davis stood up and looked at the mural again. This time, he was sure he saw a figure flashing through the window of the building in the painting. But when he looked closely, there was nothing.
As he walked out of the activity room, he heard Lily whisper behind him: "Mr. Davis, do you know? That castle is real. I have been there in my dreams..."
Davis turned around, but Lily had already bounded away, her shadow long in the sunlight of the corridor, the outline of her shadow vaguely resembling the princess in the painting.
Davis stood there, his eyes flickering slightly. Lily's words echoed in his mind, with a kind of subtle temptation that made it difficult for him to ignore. He slowly retracted his gaze, took one last look at the painting on the wall, and then walked towards Aunt Irene.
"This child's dreams seem to be more real than ordinary dreams." He whispered, his tone calm but with a hint of tentativeness.
Aunt Irene paused for a moment, then smiled gently: "Lily always likes to fantasize. Although her stories are bizarre, they are very attractive, aren't they?"
Davis didn't answer, but nodded slightly, then turned and left the activity room. He walked slowly along the corridor, thinking about the details of the mural in his mind - the Gothic castle, the black roses, the swaying buildings, and the flickering windows.
When I reached the corner, I was stunned.
Here was a corridor he had never noticed before, with the walls covered with children's paintings. But unlike the paintings outside the activity room, these paintings all revolved around the same theme - the Gothic castle. Some painted the whole castle, some depicted details of the garden, and several painted scenes in the basement.
Davis's eyes were drawn to one of the paintings. It was a dark basement with portraits hanging on the walls, and the eyes of each portrait were painted black. In the middle of the basement was a carved wooden table, on which was an open notebook with densely written words on the pages.
"I drew all of these." Lily's voice suddenly sounded behind him, startling Davis.
He turned around and found that Lily had been standing behind him. Her expression was no longer as innocent as before, but with a calmness that was beyond her age.
"Do you often dream about this castle?" Davis squatted down and looked Lily in the eyes.
Lily nodded. "Every time I dream, I can see more details. For example, those portraits, they are all the owners of the castle, but..." She suddenly lowered her voice, "Their eyes were dug out because they saw things they shouldn't have seen."
Davis felt a chill on his back: "Something I shouldn't be looking at?"
"Yeah." Lily nodded seriously, "There is a room in the castle that hides many secrets. It was there that the princess discovered..." She suddenly stopped and looked around vigilantly, "I can't say too much, otherwise they will be angry."
"them?"
Lily did not answer, but took Davis' hand and led him to a painting at the end of the corridor. This painting was different from the other paintings. It was painted with dark pigments and almost blended into the wall. The painting showed a huge library with towering bookshelves filled with heavy books. In the corner of the library, several figures could be vaguely seen. They were wearing ancient costumes and were flipping through books.
"This is the library of the Rune family." Lily said softly, "I have been there in my dreams. There are many secrets recorded in the books, but..." She shuddered suddenly, "Some books cannot be read, they will... move."
Davis felt his heartbeat quicken. He studied the painting carefully and suddenly noticed a familiar figure in the corner of the library—a little girl wearing clothes from this era, and it was Lily herself.
"You painted yourself in?" Davis asked in surprise.
Lily tilted her head and looked at the painting. Her gaze stayed on the little girl in the painting for a moment. Then she shook her head gently. Her tone was calm but with a hint of subtle alienation: "No, Mr. Davis, I didn't paint that. That was...she appeared there by herself."
Davis was stunned for a moment, frowning slightly: "What do you mean? Are you saying that the little girl in the painting...wasn't painted there intentionally by you?"Chapter 247 The Girl in the PaintingTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2211 wordsUpdate time: 2025-02-08 23:59:04
Lily did not answer immediately, but stretched out her slender fingers and gently touched the corner of the painting. Her fingertips slid across the picture, as if she was feeling some invisible traces. Her voice became light and fluttery, as if it came from far away: "Every time I finish a painting, when I look at it again the next day, I always find something...new. Sometimes there is an extra door, sometimes there is an extra person. Just like this library, I only drew bookshelves and books at first, but the next day, she appeared there."
Davis felt a chill on his back, and he subconsciously took a step closer to look at the little girl in the painting. Her outline was exactly the same as Lily's, even the light blue dress she wore today was painted exactly the same. But the strange thing was that the little girl in the painting had her back to the picture, and seemed to be concentrating on a book on the bookshelf, and in her hand... seemed to be holding a feather pen.
"What is she...writing?" Davis asked in a low voice, with a hint of nervousness in his voice that he himself was not aware of.
Lily shook her head, her eyes still fixed on the painting. "I don't know. Every time I tried to see what she was writing, the picture became blurry. But once, I dreamed of that library, and dreamed of her... She was writing a diary, a diary about the secrets of the castle."
Davis' heart beat faster. He felt his throat dry, as if there was an invisible pressure in the air. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down: "Lily, what else did you dream about? About that library, about that diary..."
Lily was silent for a while, her eyes became a little dazed, as if she was recalling something far away. Her voice became softer, almost like she was talking to herself: "There are many books in the library, but they... are not ordinary books. Some books whisper, and some books turn their pages by themselves. And that diary... it's alive. It chooses who can see it and who can't."
Davis felt his fingers go numb, and he subconsciously clenched his fists. "You mean, that diary... has its own consciousness?"
Lily nodded, her expression became a little serious: "Yes. And it is very dangerous. Once, I tried to get close to it in my dream, and then... I heard screams. Many people screamed. Since then, I dare not get close to it again."
Davis felt countless thoughts flashing through his mind. He looked at Lily, then at the little girl in the painting, and suddenly realized that this painting might not only be a child's fantasy, but also some kind of... some kind of key to the truth.
"Lily," he squatted down and looked into the girl's eyes, "Can you take me to see it? That library, that diary... I want to know what is hidden in it."
Lily's expression became a little hesitant, and she twisted her fingers nervously together: "But...it's very dangerous there. Besides, I don't know if I can enter that dream again. Sometimes, it comes to me by itself, instead of me looking for it."
Davis was about to say something else when he suddenly saw the little girl in the painting move. His breathing stagnated and he turned his head to look at the painting. The little girl in the painting still had her back to them, but her head was slightly tilted, as if she was looking at them out of the corner of her eye. Even more strange was that the feather pen in her hand was moving slowly, as if she was writing something.
"Lily..." Davis' voice was trembling, "Did you see that? She...she's moving."
Lily did not answer. She stared at the little girl in the painting, her face turning pale. Her lips trembled slightly, and she whispered, "She...she is writing my name."
Davis felt that his breathing almost stopped. The handwriting was clearly visible on the screen, and the ink seemed to have not yet dried, emitting a faint luster in the dim light of the corridor. He stared at the words, his mind in a mess.
"Lily...we'll wait for you."
This sentence was like a key, instantly opening some long-forgotten memories. Davis felt his temples throbbing, as if something was struggling to rush out of his mind. He subconsciously took a step back, but found that Lily was still standing there, her eyes still fixed on the little girl in the painting.
"Lily?" Davis called softly, with a hint of uneasiness in his voice.
Lily didn't answer. Her body was shaking slightly, and her face was frighteningly pale, as if all the blood had been drained away in an instant. Her lips were slightly parted, as if she was saying something silently, but Davis couldn't hear it clearly.
"Lily!" Davis raised his voice and reached out to grab her shoulders.
Just as his fingers were about to touch Lily, the little girl in the painting suddenly turned her head.
Davis's hand froze in mid-air.
The little girl in the painting was facing them. Her face was exactly the same as Lily's, but her eyes... those eyes were terribly empty, like two dark abysses that swallowed up all the light. The corners of her mouth slightly raised, revealing a strange smile, and the feather pen in her hand was still moving slowly, writing new words:
"Time is running out."
Davis felt his heart almost stop beating. He grabbed Lily's hand and tried to pull her away from the painting, but Lily's body was rooted and didn't move at all. Her eyes were still fixed on the little girl in the painting, as if she was firmly attracted by some invisible force.
"Lily, we have to get out of here!" Davis' voice was filled with anxiety. He pulled Lily's hand hard, but her body still did not respond.
At this moment, the little girl in the painting suddenly raised her hand and pointed at Lily. Her movements were slow and stiff, like a puppet being manipulated. Her lips were slightly open, as if she was saying something, but Davis could not hear any sound.
"Lily, can you hear me?" Davis' voice was almost a shout.
Lily's body suddenly trembled, and her eyes finally moved away from the painting and turned to Davis. Her eyes were empty and confused, as if she had just woken up from a long dream.
"Mr. Davis, what are you doing?" Lily's eyes were full of questions.
"Lily, you..." Davis realized something was wrong and changed his words, "I want to ask you about this painting..."
His fingers froze in mid-air, and his throat seemed to be blocked by something. He stared at the painting in front of him. The library in the painting was still standing quietly, with towering bookshelves and neatly arranged books, as if nothing had ever happened. The figure of the little girl disappeared, and there was no trace of the place where she had stood, as if she had never existed.
"Mr. Davis?" Lily's voice brought him back to reality. Her eyes were clear and confused, completely free of the emptiness and confusion just now. She tilted her head and looked at Davis's stiff posture, with a hint of innocence in her tone: "Do you like this painting too? This is the library I drew. It's a little messy, but I like it very much."Chapter 248: Ruined BuildingsTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2246 wordsUpdate time: 2025-02-09 23:59:01
Davis felt his back was soaked with cold sweat. He forced a smile, his voice a little dry: "Yes, the painting is... very good. Lily, did you see... anything special in the painting just now?"
Lily blinked, as if thinking seriously: "Special things? Um... there are a lot of books, the bookshelves are very high, and... oh, by the way, there is a small door in the corner, which I just painted a few days ago. Does Mr. Davis think it's strange?"
Davis' heart skipped a beat. He followed Lily's finger and found a half-open door in the corner of the library. The door was exactly the same as the one he had seen in the painting before. Behind the door was a deep darkness, as if it led to an unknown abyss.
"This door..." Davis' voice trembled a little, "When did you draw it?"
Lily frowned, as if trying to recall: "Well... I don't remember it very well. It seems that I dreamed about it a few days ago, and I drew it when I woke up. Mr. Davis, what's wrong with you? You don't look well."
Davis took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. He squatted down, looked Lily in the eye, and spoke as gently as possible: "Lily, have you had any strange dreams recently? For example, dreaming about that library, or... that little girl?"
Lily's expression suddenly became a little dazed. Her eyes wandered for a moment, as if she was recalling something, but soon returned to normal: "Little girl? What little girl? Mr. Davis, are you seeing things? There are only libraries and books in the painting."
Davis felt his heart sink. Lily's expression and tone didn't sound like she was lying. She really didn't seem to remember what had just happened, nor did she remember the little girl in the painting. But everything was so real...
"Mr. Davis," Lily's voice suddenly became cheerful, "Would you like to see my other paintings? I have many more!"
Davis nodded reluctantly and followed Lily to the other end of the corridor. He couldn't help but glance at the painting. The library in the painting was as quiet as before, as if nothing had happened. However, the half-open door was still there, and the darkness behind the door seemed to be silently calling him.
"Mr. Davis, look at this!" Lily pointed to a new painting excitedly. The painting showed an old clock tower, the hands of which stopped at midnight, and thick fog filled the surrounding area.
Davis' heartbeat suddenly quickened. He noticed that there was a door at the bottom of the bell tower, which was half open, and something seemed to be moving in the darkness behind the door.
"Lily, this door..." Davis' voice was a little dry.
Lily tilted her head to look at the painting and suddenly laughed: "Oh, this door, I don't know why it was painted there. Maybe they thought there should be a secret room in the clock tower!"
Davis felt his temples throbbing. He looked at Lily, then at the door in the painting, and had an inexplicable premonition in his heart: these doors, these paintings, and Lily's dreams all seemed to point to the same place...
"Lily," he asked softly, "Have those doors in your dreams...ever opened?"
Lily's expression suddenly became a little dazed. Her eyes wandered for a moment, and her voice was so soft that it was almost inaudible: "I have opened it... Once, I dreamed that the door was opened, and there were many books inside, and many... voices."
"What's that noise?" Davis demanded.
Lily's body trembled slightly, and her eyes became a little empty: "A lot of people are talking...but I don't understand the language they speak..."
Davis felt a chill on his back. He was about to ask something else when he heard Aunt Irene calling from a distance: "Lily, it's time for lunch!"
Lily's expression immediately returned to normal. She waved to Davis and ran away. Davis stood there, watching her back disappear at the end of the corridor, and an inexplicable anxiety rose in his heart.
He looked at the painting again. The bell tower in the painting still stood quietly, but behind the half-open door, something seemed to be moving slowly. Davis felt his breathing become rapid, and he subconsciously took a step back, only to find that his shadow had extended to the painting without knowing when, just covering the door.
Just then, he heard a whisper, as if coming from the painting:
"Time is running out..."
Davis realized the problem instantly. Lily had left and everything should return to normal.
The original owner has left, which means that the danger of this place will decrease, which means that he can give it a try.
Davis took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let his consciousness slowly sink in. He could feel his spirituality like a wisp of smoke, quietly overflowing from his body, flowing along his fingertips, and gradually spreading into the surrounding air.
This was a new skill he had learned. Although he was not proficient in it, it could better prevent his spirit from being contaminated by the outside world in this obviously abnormal environment.
His spiritual tentacles gently touched the painting, as if testing a bottomless pool of water. At first, the painting did not react at all, as quiet as ordinary paint and paper. But soon, he felt a faint fluctuation, as if something was trembling gently in the depths of the painting.
"Sure enough..." Davis' heart moved, and he injected more spirituality into the painting.
Suddenly, his consciousness was pulled by an invisible force, and the scene in front of him suddenly distorted. The walls, floor, and ceiling of the corridor disappeared in an instant, replaced by a thick darkness.
He felt as if he had fallen into a bottomless abyss. A low buzzing sound came from his ears, as if countless people were whispering in the distance.
Confusing information came to him, and he instantly realized that this was the spiritual world.
He tried to concentrate, to let his spirituality form a solid anchor in the darkness. Gradually, the surrounding scene began to become clear. He found himself standing in front of an ancient bell tower, the outline of which was exactly the same as in Lily's painting, only more real, more... decayed.
The stone walls of the bell tower were covered with vines, black liquid oozed from the cracks in the bricks and stones, and the air was filled with a rotten smell. The half-open door was right in front of him, and something seemed to be moving in the darkness behind the door, making a slight rustling sound.
A building in the spiritual world. As a person playing the role of an architectural scholar, Davis instantly realized that this building did not exist in reality.
Recalling Professor Steve's teachings, the spiritual world is a collection of information from the real world, and the buildings in the spiritual world are derived from the mapping of real buildings.
A building that disappeared from the real world and only remains in the spirit world.
Davis gritted his teeth and walked towards the door. His footsteps echoed dully on the stone floor, and every step made him feel his heart beat faster. The darkness behind the door was like a huge mouth, waiting to swallow him.
Just as he was about to step into the door, a hand suddenly stretched out from the darkness and grabbed his wrist.
The hand was cold and stiff, the skin was pale and almost transparent, and the nails were as black as ink. Davis felt as if his blood had solidified in an instant, and he tried to break free, but the hand was incredibly strong.
"You shouldn't be here..." a hoarse voice came from the darkness.Chapter 249 HeadingTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2443 wordsUpdate time: 2025-02-10 23:59:02
Davis barely raised his head and saw a blurry face emerging from the darkness. The face was pale and distorted, the eyes were two dark holes, and there was a strange smile at the corner of the mouth.
"Who are you?" Davis tried to keep his voice calm, but his heart was about to beat out of his chest.
The face did not answer, but slowly approached him, and breathed coldly on his face: "Leave... otherwise... you will be like them..."
"Them?" Davis asked subconsciously.
The face suddenly twisted, as if enduring some kind of pain: "Percy... Percy family... We opened a door that should not be opened... Now... We are trapped here... Forever..."
Davis felt his wrist being squeezed tighter, the pain making it almost impossible for him to think. He tried to concentrate and use his spiritual power to break free from the hand. But at this moment, the hand suddenly loosened.
"Hurry up..." The voice of that face became weaker, as if it was fading away, "Time... is really running out..."
Davis took a step back, and the scene before him began to distort. The clock tower, the darkness, and the face all disappeared in an instant. He felt himself being pushed out by a powerful force and returned to the corridor.
He staggered and almost fell. When he opened his eyes, he found himself still standing in front of the painting. The bell tower in the painting was as quiet as before, as if nothing had happened. But the feeling from deep in his soul was as if someone was really grabbing his wrist.
"Percy family..." Davis murmured in a low voice, with an inexplicable sense of urgency rising in his heart. He knew that he had to find more clues as soon as possible, otherwise...
"Mr. Davis?" Lily's voice suddenly came from behind.
Davis turned around suddenly and saw Lily standing at the end of the corridor, holding a piece of bread in her hand and an innocent smile on her face: "Aunt Irene asked me to call you for lunch."
Davis forced a smile and nodded: "Okay, I'll be right there."
He took one last look at the painting. The bell tower in the painting was still standing quietly, but behind the half-open door, there seemed to be a pair of eyes staring at him.
After lunch, Davis made sure the children had taken a nap, said goodbye to Aunt Irene, and left the orphanage.
After exiting the orphanage gate, he walked along the road for a distance, then turned around and entered an empty alley.
Davis performed a secret technique and entered the spirit world. With the help of his previous entry, his spirit vaguely sensed the direction of the building in the chaotic sea of information.
Soon, he arrived here. The scene before him was exactly the same as what he saw in the painting and in his spiritual perception. The old bell tower still stood in front of him, with vines crawling on the stone walls, black liquid oozing from the cracks in the bricks and stones, and the air was filled with the smell of decay.
But the difference from before was that this time, the interference to his spirituality was greatly weakened due to his physical existence, his perception was clearer, and his thinking was calmer.
He took a deep breath, feeling the vague sense of oppression in the spirit world. The door of the bell tower was still half open, and the darkness behind the door seemed to be silently calling him. Davis knew that he had to go in, but this time, he needed to be more cautious.
He walked towards the bell tower, his footsteps echoing dully on the stone floor. With each step he felt his heart beat faster, but he forced himself to stay calm.
He reached into his pocket and grasped the amulet he always carried with him - this was the amulet given to him by Professor Steve after he learned the Traveler's Secret Art, an item that could resist the erosion of the spiritual world.
When he stepped over the threshold, a cold breath hit him, as if an invisible hand was touching his skin. The darkness behind the door was not as blind as he had imagined. Instead, there was a strange glimmer that seemed to seep through the gaps between the wall and the floor.
Davis walked along the corridor. The walls were covered with portraits. The characters in each painting were dressed in ancient costumes, with pale and distorted faces. Their eyes were painted black, as if they were silently watching him. At the end of the corridor was a heavy wooden door with complex carvings on it, which seemed to depict some kind of ceremony.
He reached out and pushed the wooden door open, and the hinges creaked harshly. The room behind the door was a huge library, with towering bookshelves and densely packed books. The air was filled with the smell of old paper and mildew, but the most eye-catching thing was the carved wooden table in the center of the room.
On the table was an open notebook, with pages densely written. Davis approached the table and saw a name engraved on the cover of the notebook: "Percy Evans".
He opened the notebook and found that the text inside was written in an ancient ink. The handwriting was neat and elegant, but the content was chilling:
"We made a mistake, an irreversible mistake. That door should not have been opened, that ceremony should not have been performed. Now, we are trapped here, unable to leave forever. Time has lost its meaning here, and our souls are bound to this bell tower, unable to be freed..."
Davis' heartbeat quickened. He continued reading:
"That ritual... We thought we could control the power of the spirit world, but we were wrong. The power of the spirit world is far stronger than we imagined. It devoured us, tore our souls into pieces, and trapped us in this bell tower. Our bodies disappeared in the real world, but our consciousness remained here forever..."
Davis felt a chill run down his spine. He turned to the next page and found something even more disturbing:
"If anyone reads this note, please remember: do not try to open that door, do not try to perform that ritual. The power of the spirit world is not something that mortals can control. If you have already opened that door, then... time is running out."
At this moment, Davis heard a slight sound of footsteps behind him. He turned around and found a vague figure standing at the door of the room. It was a man in ancient clothes, with a pale and distorted face and two dark holes in his eyes.
"You shouldn't come here..." The man's voice was hoarse and low, as if it came from far away.
Davis felt his heart almost beat out of his chest. He held the amulet tightly and forced himself to calm down: "Who are you?"
The man did not answer, but slowly approached him, his cold breath spraying on his face: "Leave... otherwise... you will become like us..."
Davis took a step back, but his back was already against the bookshelf. He felt the books on the shelf begin to vibrate slightly, as if something was awakening from the pages.
"Percy family...what did you do?" Davis' voice trembled a little.
A strange smile appeared on the man's face: "We opened that door... Now... We are trapped here... Forever..."
Davis felt his breathing become rapid. He knew that he had to leave here as soon as possible, otherwise he might be trapped in this bell tower forever. He turned around and rushed towards the door, but the man's figure suddenly appeared in front of him, blocking his way.
"Time...is running out..." The man's voice became weaker and seemed to fade away. He felt the man trying to put something into his pocket.
Davis didn't have time to check, and rushed out of the room and ran down the corridor. He could feel the darkness behind him chasing him, as if an invisible hand was trying to grab his ankle. When he rushed out of the door of the clock tower, the scene in front of him suddenly distorted, and he felt that he was pushed out by a powerful force and returned to the alley in the real world.
He staggered and nearly fell, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself still standing in the alley.
He reached into his pocket and found the notebook he had seen earlier.
"Percy family... that door... ritual..." Davis murmured in a low voice, with an inexplicable sense of urgency rising in his heart. He knew that he had to find more clues as soon as possible, otherwise...Chapter 250 ChurchTitle of the Book:Secret: The Story Hidden Under DestinyAuthor: Little Fish Listening to the RainChapter word count: 2286 wordsUpdate time: 2025-02-12 00:37:24
Davis took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. He leaned against the wall of the alley and opened the old notebook with trembling fingers.
The paper had turned yellow, and the edges were even a little broken, but the words on it were still clearly visible, as if some unspeakable power was still hovering over the book. His eyes slid across it until that page made him stop suddenly.
"We thought that door was the key to eternity, but we didn't expect it to be a cage that imprisoned us."
This sentence was repeatedly emphasized, as if the writer was repeating it over and over again in extreme pain. Davis' heartbeat quickened, as if he suddenly felt an unknown pressure, his fingertips trembled unconsciously a few times, and he continued to turn to the next page.
"We called that ritual the 'Door of Eternal Night'. Through it, we tried to peek into the truth of another world and control the laws of time and space. We used all our strength and vowed to open that door, but we were wrong. The power of that world is far beyond our control."
The contents of the notebook gradually became distorted, and Davis could feel the pressure emanating from the pages, as if the history itself was approaching him. He continued to flip down, his eyes fixed on the next paragraph.
"Halfway through the ritual, whispers came from behind the door. The voice came from the darkness. It tempted us, deceived us, and finally swallowed us."
Davis' forehead was covered with sweat, and the scene in front of him became blurred, as if he had returned to the feeling he had in that ancient building - the whispers, the darkness. Every detail seemed to be reborn in his memory, forcing him to face the fear that he could not get rid of again.
He flipped to the next page, trying to reason his way out of it. However, what followed was even more disturbing.
"The world behind the door is not what we imagined. Everything there is like a reflection of our world, but completely different. The streets, buildings, and even people... all seem strange. Their movements are upside down, and their expressions are distorted. We tried to communicate with that world, but found that our voices were distorted into unrecognizable whispers."
Davis felt his breathing become rapid, as if the whisper had begun to ring in his ears. There seemed to be a thick haze between the pages, and when his fingertips touched it, he could even feel a cold breath. He continued to read, but his eyes were unconsciously filled with doubt and fear.
"In that world, time seems to be still, yet it passes silently. We can see our own reflections, but those reflections have their own consciousness. They try to replace us, try to walk out of the door... We can't tell which side is the real world."
At this moment, Davis' heartbeat seemed to be frozen, and his hands unconsciously stopped on the pages of the book. Lily's painting appeared in his mind, the half-open door in the painting, and the endless darkness behind it... He finally realized that he had embarked on a path of no return. This secret is no longer just a piece of history in the book, it is closely related to his and Lily's fate.
He turned to the next page and found that the following content began to blur, as if it had been torn off in a hurry, with only a few lines of broken text left:
"Time is passing... The whispers behind the door are becoming clearer... We can't escape... The shadow inside the door is watching us..."
Davis's breathing quickened, and his fingers felt numb, as if the invisible pressure was enveloping him again. He had a hunch that this notebook was not only a secret from the past, but it might even be a warning, a silent call.
Closing the notebook, his eyes turned grim. He knew that no matter how dangerous this road was, he could not turn back. He would find the key, no matter what the cost.
It may also be the key to unlocking the secrets of Lily's paintings.
"I want to create more secret arts." Davis found a reason for himself in his heart. He closed the notebook, took a deep breath, and forced himself to calm down. The ancestral home of the Percy family... He smiled slightly, and seemed to have found a clue in his heart. History is not just the dust of the past, it is still affecting today.
He walked out of the alley silently and hailed a carriage. After telling the driver the destination, he leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and tried to sort out his chaotic thoughts. But Lily's paintings, the half-open door, and the endless darkness behind the door kept appearing in his mind. The whispers echoed in his ears from time to time, as if an invisible hand was pulling him and leading him to the destined path.
"Time is running out..." The whispered voice sounded in his ears again. This time, it seemed clearer, like some kind of forced call, forcing him to face the impending fate.
The carriage finally stopped, Davis suddenly opened his eyes and found himself in a square. This was in front of the church of Storm Church, one of the three major churches in Tingen. The afterglow of the setting sun sprinkled on the spire, and the top of the tower seemed to be coated with a layer of strange blood-colored light.
Davis was surrounded by a bustling crowd, but he did not feel comforted at all. His eyes penetrated the crowd and fell on the huge fountain in front of the church - some silver coins were floating in the fountain pool, reflecting the twisted bell tower spire.
He took a half step back, his boot heels stepping on the moss growing in the gaps between the tiles. This should have been the ancestral courtyard of the Percy family, but now, everything seemed to remind him that this secret had been discovered by some force.
"Sir, would you like to buy some pigeon feed?"
A little girl carrying a wicker basket tugged at his clothes. The grain in the basket smelled musty, intertwined with the incense of the church in the air. Davis took out two copper coins and watched her skipping away, looking for the next buyer. Her back disappeared around the corner, but Davis' eyes were fixed on the fountain, and he felt annoyed.
"Has the secret of the Percy family been discovered by the Storm Church?"
Davis thought silently, frowning slightly. He sat by the fountain, looking up at the towering church, with questions constantly coming to his mind. The construction of each church seemed to be related to some kind of forbidden power.
From the remains of the Hades to the disappearance of the Percy family, there seems to be a huge unsolved mystery behind them. Davis can't help but start to wonder what the significance of these churches is? Are they just symbols of pious faith, or containers of deeper supernatural powers?
He sighed softly, feeling as if his thoughts were bound by invisible hands. The more he tried to think clearly, the more confused he became.
Davis stood up and walked to the fountain. The stone railing beside the fountain was exquisite and old, and the faded marble surface showed traces of time. He leaned on the railing and casually scattered a few grains of corn with his fingertips. White pigeons flew down from the surrounding roofs, fluttered their wings, landed lightly at his feet, and began to peck at the grains on the ground.
These white pigeons usually fly freely in the square, as if they have long been accustomed to everything around them. Their existence is so peaceful and natural, as if they are part of the square and are almost ignored by people.
He closed his eyes and was silent for a moment. The square around him was still noisy, with the footsteps of believers, the laughter of children and the occasional bells interweaving together, covering up everything around him, but these daily sounds seemed increasingly distant in his ears.
"Are these churches really just symbols of religion?"