MM Racing Chapter 125: The Tower
Chapter 125: The Tower
Chapter 126: The Tower
"You bastard, you even have ulterior motives when building a building!"
Lockes looked around and followed Oro into the basement of the luxury building.
They are using the gold platform controlled by Oro to descend along a vertical shaft, a cylindrical space about ten meters in diameter that is entirely reinforced with gold.
Oro stood at the edge of the platform, with bottomless darkness beneath his feet. A hollow wind whistled from below, carrying a chill.
Lox, standing three steps behind him, his cloak pulled tightly back from his injuries, yelled, "How deep did you dig?! I've been standing in this cold wind all day! Don't you know how to take care of a patient?!"
"Soon."
Oro didn't turn around: "Are you mentally prepared?"
"Stop talking nonsense."
Lox's voice echoed somewhat muffledly in the well.
Oro raised his right hand. Golden liquid gushed from his palm, quickly condensing into three fist-sized orbs of light.
The orbs of light emitted a warm, soft glow. They floated up, two flying down towards the bottom of the platform, and one hovering at the edge of the platform.
The sphere of light illuminated an area approximately fifty meters below.
Lox's pupils contracted as he looked at it.
Below, the area illuminated by the sphere of light is a huge, slightly tilted black plane covered with thick layers of coral fossils and sedimentary rock.
The corals had long since died and mineralized, appearing grayish-white and twisted under the cold light, like countless hands reaching into the dark void.
But it wasn't the coral that caught Lox's eye.
It is the black plane itself.
That's not a rock.
The surface of that thing didn't have the texture a mineral should have; instead, it had a certain—
The subtle textures closely resemble those of biological tissue.
Even more bizarrely, when the light sphere moves, at certain angles, an extremely faint phosphorescence can be seen flashing deep within the material. It is not reflected light, but self-luminous, like the organs of deep-sea fish.
The platform and the light sphere continued to descend.
The field of vision gradually opened up.
The black plane had a contradictory and complex curvature, and the unsettling blackness stretched out in all directions, with no end in sight.
Further to the left and right, in the darkness beyond the reach of the light sphere, one could vaguely see even steeper rises. The outlines of these rises pierced through the thick layers of rock and coral, extending upwards, all the way to—
Lox looked up, and although all he could see above him were the golden walls of the well, the image of the Valley of the Gods' surface appeared in his mind.
Two mountain peaks.
They are the two peaks of the Valley of the Gods, and his hometown was built in the valley between the two peaks.
"Do you understand now?" Auro asked.
Lox didn't speak; his breath condensed into white mist in the cold air.
The gold price continued to fall for quite a while before stopping.
Oro took a step forward, stepping directly off the edge of the platform, and gold poured out from the soles of his boots, quickly extending into a downward-sloping staircase.
"The two mountains of the Valley of the Gods are the spires of the tower."
As Oro walked down, he spoke as if he were discussing tomorrow's weather with friends after dinner: "We are now standing on the top of a tower, a colossal tower rising from the deep earth, thousands of meters high."
Rocks followed and walked down the golden steps, then stepped onto the black plane. The coral fossils under his feet were brittle and made a soft cracking sound.
His gaze swept around, and then he was surprised to find that the black surface was not smooth and blank, but had very shallow carvings.
The carved patterns are bizarre and distorted, with spirals that abruptly turn at sharp angles where they should end.
Countless eyes converge in this asymmetrical way, with each eye's pupil pointing in a different direction. Staring at it for even a short while will cause a strong feeling of dizziness.
Interspersed among these eyes are some reliefs that are simply indescribable.
If I had to describe it, I could only vaguely say it resembles a localized physical characteristic of some kind of organism.
The chaotic eyes and indescribable biological features are combined in an absurd way, out of proportion and with distorted perspective.
They crowded together, covering every inch of the tower's surface, densely packed, the entire top of the tower pieced together from these crazy patterns.
What's most unsettling is that even though you're deep underground, surrounded by tons of rock, you always have this strange feeling.
The illusion was as if one were standing inside the skull of some enormous creature, and the surrounding darkness was not a lack of light, but rather the boundary of some kind of entity.
The black plane beneath my feet seemed to be undulating extremely slowly.
Like breathing.
Lox forced himself to look away and focus on what was in front of him.
He followed Oro through the top area of the tower. It was clear that the path had been cleared, with coral and sedimentary rock forcibly stripped away in some places, revealing the complete black surface underneath.
I walked about two hundred meters.
Ahead lay a relatively open area, and at the end of the man-made road stood a door.
The door was very tall; Lockes estimated that even Harald could easily pass through it.
The door is made of the same material as the tower, but it is smoother and has no coral or sediment on its surface. It is so dark that it seems to absorb all light.
The door was tightly closed, with the gaps barely visible, as if it were part of the wall itself.
The door has no conventional handle or keyhole, only a complex groove pattern in the center.
The pattern is made up of countless fine grooves, and if you look at it for a while, you will feel that the lines are slowly wriggling.
At the center of the design is a clearly defined palm-shaped indentation.
The indentation was so detailed that even the curve of the fingernail was depicted. At the bottom of the indentation, fine vein-like patterns extended outwards, connecting with the overall groove pattern.
The walls around the door were covered with strange and unusual runes.
If you look closely, you can see the faint, hazy green light emanating from the runes.
Oro walked to the door, looked up, and said, "This is it."
Lockes walked to his side, his gaze falling on the palm-shaped indentation. He could feel a certain resonance deep within his bloodline, very faint, but definitely present.
Oro turned to look at him: "Based on my research and that of my best scientists."
"Two things are needed to open this door: the blood of a direct descendant of David Jones, and the domineering aura released by the blood's owner."
"I once spent a lot of money to buy your father's and grandmother's blood, even though it was entirely voluntary, but it was no use."
Lockes stared at the dent in his palm, the contour of which almost perfectly matched the size of his hand, as if it had been tailor-made for him.
This feeling is awful, as if someone foresaw this moment eight hundred years ago, foresaw that a descendant of the David family would stand here and place his hand on it.
"Are you sure it's the other half of the contract inside?" Locke asked.
"It's not inside, it's down below. After you open this door, there's still a long way to go."
Oro shrugged: "But this is the only clue. David Jones sealed himself here, making it the most logical hiding place."
Lockes closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let the cold, rotten smell fill his lungs.
He didn't tell the annoying blond guy that he had heard a strange voice whispering in his ear as soon as he stepped onto the downward-sloping golden platform.
The voice was warning him, warning him not to continue, warning him to leave.
But when Rocks opened his eyes again, he still showed nothing.
He walked to the door, stretched out his right hand, hovering it above the palm-shaped indentation, and drew a short knife from his waist with his left hand.
Having come this far, Rocks no longer hesitated. The blade sliced across his right palm, and bright red blood seeped out, flowing and dripping along the lines of his palm.
Then, he pressed his palm down.