C3 Ancient Book

Jing Chong slowly lifted the heavy beast skin, taken aback by its weight. Even if it was the remnant of a dead animal, after years of exposure to the elements, he wouldn't expect much to remain besides a decayed carcass.

Yet, this piece of beast skin was unexpectedly heavy. What could it possibly be?

Driven by a mix of confusion and curiosity, he quickly used both hands to hold the skin and scrambled toward the cave entrance.

He had only covered half the distance when he stopped, the lighting now sufficient for him to discern the full outline of the beast skin.

What he held was indeed a beast skin, but not the kind left behind by a deceased animal. It was a thick, heavy book bound in beast skin.

Calling it a book, however, made Jing Chong uncertain. It was unlike any book he knew of; in his experience, only noble tribal families had the privilege of owning books, which were mostly composed of bamboo slips with beautifully brush-written characters.

But a book made of folded beast skins, stitched together with hemp rope, was something he had never encountered before. Perhaps it was just his own lack of exposure.

At this point, he could only rationalize his ignorance.

The beast skin book was quite thick, over three inches, with each piece of skin finely processed to be not only thin but also silky smooth and incredibly durable.

The cover had yellowed from years in a damp environment, yet despite Jing Chong's desperate attempts, he couldn't tear even a corner.

His actions weren't born from a desire to damage the book but from sheer hunger, hoping to use the beast skin to stave off starvation. This led him to the conclusion of its remarkable toughness.

After his unsuccessful efforts, Jing Chong was visibly disappointed. He had hoped to find a lifesaver, only to discover a thick tome of little interest to someone with his limited education.

He tossed it aside, towards the cave's corner, intending to return to his spot and await his fate.

But this careless gesture sparked an unexpected surge of excitement.

As the yellowed beast skin book hit the ground near the cave entrance, it caught the sunlight streaming in from outside, suddenly erupting in a burst of red light, as if it had been brought to life.

Jing Chong hadn't noticed that the red glow had traced the ancient characters on the book's cover before it vanished. Nevertheless, this startling transformation made him, previously numb, leap to his feet in alarm.

As the red light faded, the old book silently dropped to the ground, now lying still without a hint of oddity. Jing Chong, his face etched with apprehension, stared blankly at the brief change at the cave's entrance. His upper teeth clattered against his lower ones, his legs shook for a moment, and then he collapsed, unable to stand. His eyes bulged, and after a few convulsions of his mouth, he managed to stammer out, "Did... did I just see a ghost?"

Time passed, and as Jing Chong's nerves settled, he regained his composure. Yet, the book no longer emitted the red light that it had before, making the entire experience seem like a dream—albeit an incredibly vivid one.

After pinching his thigh fiercely to assure himself of reality, Jing Chong gathered his courage. He cautiously circled back to the beast skin book that had been flung aside. With shaky hands, he picked it up and gave it a thorough examination.

The ancient tome, comprised of more than fifty pieces of beast skin, seemed unaffected by the earlier light show. If there had been any change, it was that the dust which once coated it had disappeared.

The five prominent, archaic characters etched on the heavy cover exuded a sense of raw strength and authority. Jing Chong scrutinized these words so intently that he spent the duration of an incense stick's burning time before realizing, with a sigh of relief, that he didn't recognize any of them.

This embarrassing realization made Jing Chong twitch involuntarily, thankful that no one was there to witness his pretentious airs. Had there been onlookers, they surely would have laughed at his feigned understanding.

Despite this, Jing Chong tried to keep his cool. Holding the book in one hand, he meaningfully turned over the first page with the other. The tadpole-like script sprawled across the first piece of beast skin was so dense it made his head spin and ache. Just as before, he couldn't decipher a single word.

He was left utterly astonished. What era could this book possibly be from? The script and penmanship were unlike anything in contemporary circulation. Even if he was uneducated and out of touch, he shouldn't fail to recognize a single character.

The only explanation he could muster was, "It doesn't belong to this world!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Jing Chong nearly smacked himself for saying them. The object was right before his eyes; how could it not be of this world? Unless he was hallucinating, but ghosts in broad daylight seemed far-fetched.

"Could it be an artifact from ancient times?"

This idea seemed to hold some substance, and with that thought, Jing Chong convinced himself.

"It must be ancient. This book, hidden beneath a pile of weeds, must have been here for a millennium. With all the changes over a thousand years, it's no wonder I can't recognize the writing!"

The thought of the ancients filled Jing Chong with an unexplainable excitement. Truth be told, even as a country youth, he had a profound interest in antiquities, especially since his father, when alive, would often share tales of the Twelve Tribes, which always captivated him.

But his father's stories were just that—stories. In a family like his, without a single noteworthy antique, how could he have ever encountered an object with millennia of history?

So, when he realized that the book in his hands might indeed be an ancient relic, his heart ignited with fervor.

"Whether it's a history or a textbook, it's the essence of the ancients. I can't let it remain buried here!"

A sudden fondness filled his heart, softening the pain of his earlier headache.

He cherished the book so much that he eagerly turned to the second page.

Unlike the first, the second page was far from dull. Amidst the dense, archaic text, several illustrations were interspersed, sparking Jing Chong's interest.

The first drawing was of a majestic mountain, its slopes covered in verdant forests, a vision of earthly paradise with birdsong and fragrant blooms.

The second painting showed a majestic mountain, crowned with verdant trees, but now it was alive with birds and beasts in frenzied motion. From within the mountain, a sphere of star-like flames burst forth.

In the third painting, flames soared skyward, an inferno that swiftly devoured the forest, turning the once lush paradise into charred wasteland. The sight was shockingly chaotic, with the intense flames melting the mountain range and ultimately merging into an ocean of fire.

The fourth painting took a dramatic turn from its predecessors, presenting an endless sea with no visible shore. Mountains rose from the watery disaster, stranding the entire ocean in an instant.

The fifth painting returned to the familiar mountain, now even more densely forested. This time, however, the mountain was a tableau of fire and water on one side, as if reinterpreting the previous four scenes all over again.

Jing Chong, engrossed as if he were inside a novel, couldn't help but sigh wistfully. Blinking thoughtfully, he looked up at the sky and mused, "In the prime of life, it all passes in the blink of an eye. Even the most enchanting earthly paradise cannot escape destruction by fire. Yet, as the proverb goes, 'Wildfires cannot consume everything; the spring breeze brings renewal.' Every ending signifies a new beginning. The eternal cycle of nature is the truest law."

With this realization, the heaviness in his heart lightened somewhat. After all, who can elude the cycle of life and death? The death of his parents was deeply sorrowful, but it also marked a new beginning.

The more Jing Chong pondered, the more lucid he became. The elevation of his spirit allowed him to forget his hunger and pain. Despite his limited understanding of the profound book, he was utterly captivated, cherishing it as an invaluable treasure.