Fantasy Game: Infinite City

Chapter 624 Lighthouse

The journey to the lighthouse proved more mentally taxing than Han Zu had anticipated. Beneath the seemingly flat, dark brown sand lay irregular protrusions, and the edges of the metal fragments mixed in with the sand were exceptionally sharp. Even with his physical strength, he could clearly feel a subtle cutting sensation when stepping on them. With each step, he had to concentrate intently on his footing to avoid stepping on those things, not out of fear of injury, but because he didn't want to expose any weaknesses that could be exploited in this unknown area.

A crimson light enveloped everything, making the shadows of objects exceptionally deep. The wreckage of ships along the way grew increasingly dense, until finally one had to squeeze sideways between two stranded merchant ships. A three-masted warship, a hundred meters long, lay angled on the beach, its bronze ram deeply embedded in the ground. Dark marks remained on the ram, neither rust nor bloodstains. When Han Zu reached out to touch it, he felt a chilling coldness on his fingertips; the metal beneath the marks was colder than ice. He tried to circulate his energy to probe, but found that the energy was silently absorbed as soon as it touched the ram, without causing any disturbance. This made him even more wary.

The little mouse in the pocket remained extremely cautious. It pressed its nose against the fabric, sensing the outside world through the gaps. Whenever Han Zu approached a large piece of wreckage, it would unconsciously hold its breath. When Han Zu touched the ram of the three-masted warship, the little creature suddenly shivered, goosebumps rising on its furry body. It instinctively sensed a dangerous aura lingering on the warship, an aura more unsettling than the monsters in the Black Forest. It quietly adjusted its position, turning its head towards the inside of the pocket to avoid direct contact with the eerie wreckage.

As the distance shortened, the details of the lighthouse became increasingly clear. Han Zu discovered that the tower wasn't a pure bluish-gray; the stone surfaces were subtly dotted with extremely fine dark red veins, echoing the hues of the sky and cliffs, almost imperceptible without close observation. These veins seemed both naturally formed and deliberately aged by human carving, spiraling upwards along the tower and eventually converging at the bottom of the lighthouse chamber. He stopped and released his perception to cover the entire lighthouse, but found nothing—there were no energy fluctuations inside, no signs of life, and even the resonance of the wind blowing through the tower was unusually uniform, as if the structure itself were a lifeless, inanimate object.

The base of the tower is fifteen meters in diameter and is constructed from dozens of massive stones, each as tall as a person. The gaps between the stones are filled with grayish-white mortar, the surface of which is smooth as a mirror, showing no signs of weathering. Directly in front of the base is an arched gate, about three meters high and over two meters wide. The gate panels are made of thick black iron, and the surface is engraved with intricate nautical patterns, including sailing ships, dolphins leaping out of the water, and circling seabirds. The edges of the patterns are inlaid with tiny copper nails, which still gleam with a metallic luster despite the passage of countless years.

The door wasn't locked, nor did it show any signs of being closed; it was only slightly ajar, emanating a musty smell of wood mixed with a faint sea odor. Han Zu didn't push the door open rashly. Instead, he first walked around the base of the tower, carefully examining each foundation stone. He noticed a tiny symbol engraved on the surface of one of the stones, resembling a sea eagle with outstretched wings. The surrounding stone was a slightly darker color, suggesting it had been frequently touched. He tried pressing the symbol with his finger, but the stone didn't react. Even after channeling energy into it, the energy vanished without a trace, as if it had sunk into the sea.

After confirming there was nothing amiss with the base of the tower, Han Zu grasped the handle of the black iron door. The handle was icy cold, its surface engraved with anti-slip texture, offering an exceptionally comfortable grip—clearly a product of meticulous design. He applied gentle pressure, and the door creaked open with a dull thud, a sound particularly jarring on the silent coastline. It startled the little mouse in his pocket, causing it to shrink back sharply, its claws gripping the fabric tightly. The door was unusually heavy; even with Han Zu's strength, it required considerable effort to push it open. As the crack widened, the scene inside slowly unfolded before his eyes.

The lighthouse's interior is a hollow cylindrical space, with a floor paved with bluish-gray stone slabs. The gaps between the slabs are as smooth as the mortar in the tower's base. A spiral staircase extends upwards along the inner wall of the tower, also constructed of bluish-gray stones. The height of each step has been precisely calculated, making it exceptionally stable to walk on. The outer side of the staircase is fitted with a simple stone railing, devoid of any decoration, but polished to an exceptionally smooth finish, clearly the result of long-term foot traffic and handling.

The space had no windows, yet it wasn't dark. Dozens of palm-sized, milky-white stones were embedded in the walls, emitting a soft glow that illuminated the entire floor. Han Zu approached to observe them and discovered that the material of these luminous stones was completely different from the metal fragments he had seen on the beach. They were smooth and warm to the touch, with a fine crystalline structure on their surface, and the light they emitted was the natural light missing under the dark red sky, only much softer. He tried to remove one, but found that the stone was unusually tightly bound to the wall, as if it had grown out of the wall itself.

The first floor was spacious, with only a few bundles of dry rope and a broken wooden barrel piled in the corner, apart from the spiral stone steps. The ropes were unusually stiff; Han Zu gently bent one with his fingers, and it snapped with a "crack," revealing dry, fibrous ends without any sign of decay. The barrel was made of oak, with three iron hoops inlaid in its walls. The hoops were not rusted, only slightly blackened. The barrel was empty, with a small amount of white powder remaining at the bottom. He dipped his fingertip into some and rubbed it; the powder instantly turned to ash without leaving a trace.

"Strange," Han Zu muttered to himself. Both the boats on the beach and the items inside the lighthouse presented a contradictory state—they bore the marks of long-term use, yet showed no signs of erosion by time, as if frozen in a moment in time. He released his perception ability, carefully examining every corner of the first floor, from the cracks in the stone slabs on the ground to the glowing stones in the walls, to the ropes and wooden barrels in the corners. Within his perception range, he could only sense his own energy fluctuations; there was nothing unusual.

The little mouse peeked out of the pocket, its bright black eyes quickly scanning its surroundings. It was particularly curious about the glowing stones, its nose twitching slightly as if trying to sniff out their scent. When Han Zu examined the wooden barrel, it noticed the white powder at the bottom. Its body suddenly trembled slightly, as if recalling some unpleasant memory. It quickly withdrew its head, leaving only its ears alertly listening to any sounds from the outside world.

Han Zu didn't linger on the first floor. He stepped onto the spiral stone staircase. Each step produced a dull thud, the sound echoing softly in the hollow space. He deliberately slowed his pace, stopping every few steps to observe the surrounding walls. The dark red patterns on the walls were clearer than those outside the tower. These patterns weren't random; they were arranged according to a certain pattern, like the trajectory of some kind of energy flow. He tried to probe along the patterns with his energy, but still found nothing. The patterns were like simple engravings, transmitting no energy whatsoever.

The stone steps were wide enough for two people to walk side by side, and the outer stone railing was about half a meter high, just enough for protection. Han Zu held onto the railing as he walked up, his fingertips able to feel the fine scratches on the surface. These scratches, like those made by a knife, varied in depth and were distributed randomly. He guessed that these scratches might have been left by someone who had entered the lighthouse before, but he didn't know if that person was still alive, or what had happened to them.

After climbing about twenty steps, Han Zu discovered a small niche in the wall. The niche was about half a meter high, thirty centimeters wide, and twenty centimeters deep, containing a small ceramic oil lamp. The wick was dry, and a small amount of black oil remained inside, covered with a thin layer of dust. Han Zu picked up the lamp and examined it closely. He found that its design matched the ceramic bowls he had seen on the fishing boat earlier—both were crudely made handicrafts, with fingerprints still visible on their surfaces.

He put down the oil lamp and continued climbing. Every thirty steps or so along the way, a similar niche appeared, each containing an identical ceramic oil lamp. The lamps were all in similar condition: the wicks were dry, and a small amount of oil and dust remained inside. This discovery made Han Zu even more puzzled. These lamps were clearly placed there intentionally, but the lighthouse had luminous stones providing illumination, so oil lamps were unnecessary. Furthermore, none of the lamps showed any signs of burning; they seemed to be purely decorative.

Halfway up the tower, Han Zu stopped and looked down at the ground floor. From this height, the objects on the first floor appeared unusually small; the ropes and wooden barrels in the corners looked like tiny toys. He looked up at the top of the tower, but the lighthouse remained hidden in darkness, with no details visible. The surrounding glowing stones emitted a soft light, illuminating the spiral stone steps and forming a winding ribbon of light upwards. He released his perception again, covering the entire lighthouse, but still found nothing. The interior of the lighthouse was like an ordinary building, with no hidden mechanisms or secret passages.

The little mouse in the pocket had adapted to its surroundings. It quietly crawled to the edge of the pocket and peered out through the gaps in the fabric. When Han Zu stopped looking up at the top of the tower, it also raised its head, its bright black eyes fixed on the dark lamproom, its nose twitching slightly, as if trying to sniff out the scent inside. Its body was tense, ready to hide at any moment; if Han Zu made any sudden move, it could immediately retreat back into the depths of the pocket.

As Han Zu continued climbing, he noticed the dark red patterns on the wall gradually becoming denser, eventually covering almost the entire wall. These patterns glowed faintly red under the light of the luminous stones, echoing the color of the sky and creating an eerie atmosphere throughout the space. He tried placing his palm against the wall, feeling a faint vibration emanating from it. The vibration was unusually even, like the rhythm of some kind of machinery. He traced the vibration in the direction of the vibration and discovered that it seemed to originate from the entire tower, rather than from a specific location.

After climbing for an unknown amount of time, Han Zu finally saw the entrance to the lamp room. The entrance was a circular archway, about two meters high and one and a half meters wide. On each side of the archway, a large luminous stone was embedded in the wall, illuminating the entrance. There was no door at the entrance, only a simple door frame made of black iron, with nautical patterns similar to those on the tower gate, but simpler.

Han Zu stood before the entrance, hesitant to enter. He released his senses, carefully examining the interior of the lamp chamber. The lamp chamber was a circular space, approximately five meters in diameter and three meters high, its floor also paved with bluish-gray stone slabs. In the center of the space stood a massive metal support, upon which rested a huge oil lamp. The wick of the lamp was as thick as an arm, and the lamp was filled with a large amount of black lamp oil, the surface of which had solidified, giving it a dark red luster. On either side of the lamp was a large reflector, made of metal, its surface oxidized and blackened, having lost its reflective ability.

The lamproom had six round windows on its walls, the glass murky and revealing a dark red sky and a black sea. The window frames were made of black iron and fitted with simple latches. All the windows were closed, the latches inserted in their sockets, as if they had never been opened. In the corner lay several bundles of thick ropes and some unidentified metal parts, their surfaces rusted and gleaming with a dark red sheen.

After confirming that there was nothing unusual inside the lamp room, Han Zu stepped inside. He walked to the central metal stand and carefully examined the enormous oil lamp. The lamp was made of bronze, with intricate patterns carved on its surface depicting various marine creatures, including whales, sharks, turtles, and some strange creatures he had never seen before. He touched the surface of the lamp with his fingers, feeling the coolness of the bronze and the unevenness of the patterns; the edges of the patterns were unusually sharp, as if they had been meticulously polished.

He walked around the oil lamp and noticed a sea eagle symbol engraved on its base, identical to the one on the foundation stone. Surrounding the symbol were tiny holes, about the thickness of a finger, their depth unknown. He tried inserting his finger into one of the holes, but found it unusually smooth, offering no resistance and without sensing any energy fluctuations. He channeled his energy into the holes, but it was silently absorbed without causing any reaction.

Han Zu walked to the window, unlatched it, and pushed the window open. A cold wind, carrying the smells of salt and rust, rushed in, causing his hair to flutter slightly. He leaned out, gazing down at the entire coastline. Under a dark red sky, the black ocean stretched endlessly, devoid of any ships, only the waves lapping against the shore with a dull thud. The wreckage of ships on the beach resembled a herd of silent behemoths, stretching for kilometers as far as the eye could see. In the distance, the cliffs remained steep, their dark red walls devoid of any vegetation or signs of life.

He opened the other windows one by one, observing the scenery in different directions. Regardless of the direction, the same eerie sight unfolded before him—a dark red sky, a black ocean, beaches littered with debris, and steep cliffs. The entire world seemed like a giant cage, with the lighthouse at its center. He unleashed his sensory abilities, expanding the range to its limit, covering the entire coastline and the distant cliffs. Yet, within his perception range, he could only sense his own energy fluctuations; there was no sign of any living thing, not even a trace of microbial activity.

The little mouse in the pocket sensed the window open and quickly scrambled to the edge of the pocket, peeking out to see what was happening outside. When it saw the black ocean, its body suddenly trembled violently, and its bright black eyes filled with fear, as if it had seen something extremely terrifying. It quickly retreated deep into the pocket, tightly covering its eyes with its paws, no longer daring to look out.

Han Zu closed the window and locked it. He walked to the center of the lamp room and carefully observed the entire space again. Apart from the oil lamp in the center, the reflector, and the ropes and parts in the corner, there were no other items in the lamp room, nor any unusual traces. He tried to look for hidden passages or mechanisms, but found nothing. The entire lamp room was just like an ordinary lighthouse control room, with nothing special about it.

He walked to the mirror and began wiping the oxide layer on its surface with his hand. The oxide layer was exceptionally hard, impossible to remove with just his fingers. He channeled his energy to cover his fingertips and wiped again. Only then did the oxide layer gradually peel off, revealing the metallic mirror beneath. The mirror was exceptionally smooth, clearly reflecting his image. He saw in the mirror an unusually solemn expression, his eyes filled with doubt.

Han Zu took a deep breath, walked to one of the windows, and pushed the latch open again. He adjusted his posture, channeling his energy to his eyes, preparing to observe the distance closely. He knew that this eerie coastline must harbor unknown secrets, and the key to unlocking those secrets might lie somewhere far away. His gaze fell on the cliff face, the only area he hadn't yet explored. He believed something awaited him there.

The little mouse in the pocket sensed Han Zu's movement and quietly raised its head, peering at Han Zu's profile through the gap in the fabric. It didn't know what Han Zu was looking for, nor what it would encounter next, but it knew that as long as it was hidden in Han Zu's pocket, it was safe for the time being. It gripped the fabric tightly, curled its body into a ball, and waited for Han Zu's next move.