Tomb Raiding: My Family's Last Clan Chief is Little Brother

Chapter 387 Reunion with Ling

Zhang Wuxun squatted down, took off his gloves, and gently stroked the thangka with his fingers. "Looking at your painting, it doesn't seem to be the traditional painting style of Nepal. It's more like... the Kadampa style from southern Tibet."

"Besides, this painting of yours is quite old, and the lines and colors blend together very naturally. Isn't it a loss to sell it at such a low price?"

"Buy it or not, it's up to you." The vendor looked dejected, not even lifting his eyelids, leaning against the steps behind him, and even snoring.

Zhang Wuxun didn't mind his perfunctory attitude, smiled faintly, and asked directly in Chinese, "What is your surname, sir?"

The snoring paused, and the vendor slightly opened his eyes, a shrewd glint in his weathered eyes. He glanced at Zhang Wuxun, then said in English, "I don't understand what you're saying."

"It's okay if you don't understand." Zhang Wuxun took out the Nepalese rupees he had exchanged before crossing the border, pulled out two 1,000-yuan bills, and placed them in front of him. "I need to ask you about someone. His surname is Ma, and he lives near the square. Do you know him?"

"do not know!"

The vendor shook his head, picked up the money in front of him, hesitated for two seconds, then tossed it back to Zhang Wuxun before packing up his stall.

Zhang Wuxun clicked his tongue, put the money back, picked up the ancient Thangka painting, and left without lingering.

After Zhang Wuxun's figure disappeared around the corner, a while later, the vendor who had been pretending to pack up his stall finally relaxed, picked up the money from his hat, and chuckled, "Fool."

These two characters, however, were spoken in proper Mandarin.

The other vendors around him cast envious glances at him. "My God, Balma, you've hit the jackpot today. That rich customer is so kind. His face is so clean, he looks like an angel."

“Ubuya is right. Your lousy paintings are only worth a few dollars. That guest essentially gave you two thousand rupees for free. I’m so envious.”

Balmapi grinned insincerely, his thin face covered in a greasy clump of beard that would have bred countless fleas in the summer.

Ignoring the sarcasm of others, he rolled up the remaining antiques with the thin blanket underneath, slung them over his back, put on his hat, clutched his chest, and swayed towards a tavern at the street corner, his steps heavy and stiff.

"This Balma, he spends every spare rupee he has on drinking instead of saving it to help support his family. No wonder his wife and children are all dead."

"Shh, don't talk nonsense. I heard that this guy offended a priest of the Bahun people. Otherwise, how could such a large family have all died overnight? I heard that his family used to be a wealthy family that moved here from the east."

"How dare you say that? You absolutely cannot say that. Be careful not to end up like the Balma family."

The vendors whispered among themselves for a while, sighed a few times, and then retreated back to their stalls.

Balma emerged from the dark, glass-windowed pub, stuffed a bottle of cheap tequila he'd just bought into the pocket of his felt coat, and strolled back to the square. He bought two pounds of corn and hazelnuts from a vendor and slowly made his way to the alleyway at the edge of the square.

The sparse midday sunlight was quickly obscured by dense clouds, and it began to snow, accompanied by a gust of wind.

The weather was so cold that once you left the square area, there were very few pedestrians on the street, and everyone was hurrying along in the swirling snow.

Balma walked around intermittently, circling among the soft mud and broken tiles, glancing back every now and then, as if he had done something wrong.

Finally, he arrived at an old two-story apartment building. The landlord was a short, stocky man with a fleshy face and a greasy, bushy beard covering his reddish-brown face.

He had just finished dinner and was standing at the door picking his teeth, his eyes half-closed. When he saw Balma coming over, a malicious glint flashed in his eyes.

Balma tried to pretend he didn't see him, but the burly landlord's nose was sharper than any dog's; he immediately detected the slightly bitter smell of the liquor and stepped forward to block his path.

"Barma, your rent for the second half of the quarter is due."

Seeing the undisguised greed in the landlord's eyes, Balma's disgust was reaching its peak, but he was powerless to resist, simply because the landlord's surname was Vaishya, and he was said to be a descendant of the Rajputs.

Nepal is a country with a very strict caste system. Even though it was abolished by King Mahendra in 1962, the caste system, which has existed since the 14th century, has been deeply imprinted in the hearts of Nepalese people. To this day, this caste hierarchy still exists and its influence remains.

As an outsider and a member of a fallen family, Balma, like the small merchants, was a street sweeper at the very bottom of society, even lower than the Shudras, and was also known as an untouchable.

Balma whispered, "Didn't I already pay the rent for the second half of the quarter a few days ago?"

"Oh, then pay for next quarter's then." The burly landlord didn't care what he said at all; he was just looking for an excuse to deliberately humiliate this poor, lowly person.

The burly landlord himself was from the lower rungs of society, but he still looked down on people of lower status than him. Even though Parmar paid to rent the house, he was only willing to rent him a small basement room.

Barmar didn't want to give him the money so easily, so he asked for a few more days' grace.

The burly landlord immediately roared impatiently, "Pay up now, or I'll kick you out of my territory right now and have you arrested by the patrol!"

Homeless people are not allowed to stay near Durbar Square at night. If they are found, they will be locked up in jail. You can't get them out without a guarantor and money.

A ruthless glint flashed in Balma's eyes, but when he looked up again, his face showed a pleading and ingratiating expression. He took the bottle of wine out of his pocket and handed it to the burly landlord, saying in a fawning tone, "Could you give me a little more time? Oh, by the way, I sold a painting today and made thirty rupees. I only bought this one bottle of wine. Could you please make an exception for me?"

The burly landlord snatched the bottle, unscrewed it, sniffed it, and said with disdain, "How can such cheap wine be worthy of my stomach?"

He said that, but his hand gripped the bottle tightly. "Fine, I'll give you another week."

Balma watched him stagger back upstairs, chuckled to himself, and went around to the back door of the apartment building, where there was a waist-high iron door—the entrance to the basement.

Just as Balma reached the door and was about to push it open, his eyes suddenly caught sight of something. He paused, silently placed the bag on his back into the broken jar by the door, and then carefully backed away from the iron gate for five or six meters before taking off running.

This neighborhood is very chaotic, full of narrow alleyways. Balma has lived here for a long time and knows it very well.

His escape was purposeful; he wanted to lure people to his old house, where there were traps that would allow him to escape.

However, he clearly underestimated the strength of the enemy this time.

As he sprinted past a fork in the road and the large house came into view, a heavy blow suddenly struck him from the side and behind. Balma was thrown out of control and crashed into the wall, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

Two very light footsteps came from behind, rustling as they stepped on the snow that had accumulated to a depth of half a foot.

Two ghostly figures leaped down from the wall and walked step by step toward Balma.

Balma struggled to turn over, and when he saw the two dark figures, his pupils suddenly contracted, his eyes stared, and his whole body trembled uncontrollably, as if someone had suddenly grabbed his throat. His face went from flushed to deathly pale, his breathing became rapid, his tongue twitched, and he let out a few short, strange cries.

It's "them"!
It is "them"—"them" have arrived, "them" have finally found themselves.

"Quickly, let's finish this quickly," a cold female voice said.

Another dark figure stepped forward, a flash of cold light streaking across the sky, but it was not Balma who let out the scream.

A splash of crimson blood landed on Balma's face, and a few drops of blood trickled down his cheek and into his gaping mouth, which was agape in shock.

Amidst the swirling snow, four black figures clashed and fought, their icy glints flashing across the snow. The gusts of wind generated by their battle, carrying a chilling killing intent, lashed at Balma like whips.

The stench of blood assaulted his nostrils, making him feel dizzy and suffocating with a dull pain in his chest. Staring at the sudden turn of events before him, his face was filled with bewilderment and blankness.

The battle began suddenly and ended just as suddenly.

Just a few breaths later, standing before Balma were the fair-skinned young man who had bought his thangka for two thousand rupees, and a stranger with a cold face.

Those two devilish guys who had just terrified Balma were now lying in pools of blood, their breaths gone, their dilated pupils still seeming to reflect disbelief.

The air was thick with the pungent smell of blood. Balma felt as if something was about to rise in his empty stomach, a mixture of nausea and hunger overwhelming him.

But what's going on here? Why is there a knife to the neck of the fair-skinned young man? The knife belongs to the cold-faced man, and at the same time, the fair-skinned young man's knife is also to the other's neck. Could it be that these two are also enemies?
Balma's mind raced. While the two men were still locked in a standoff, and glancing at the large house not far behind him, he immediately decided to run away.

However, as he struggled to his feet, leaning against the wall, a chill suddenly ran down his back, as if a venomous snake had crawled up his spine and into his neck.

He slowly turned around, only to find that the two men were staring at him intently. With just one glance, Balma was frozen in place.

Seeing that Balma had stopped running, the two men started staring at each other again.

"Who are you?" the cold-faced man asked.

Zhang Wuxun was so shocked that his eyes didn't even blink. "Brother! What are you doing here?"

The young man frowned slightly, staring into the eyes of the person in front of him. He caught a familiar look in their eyes, and a hint of surprise appeared between his brows. He moved his lips and silently called out a name.

Seeing that he recognized him immediately, Zhang Wuxun's eyes curved into a smile, which spread across his face and extended to his eyebrows.

With a flick of his wrist, he retrieved the antler hunting knife that had been resting on the young man's neck, inserted it into the bamboo sheath at his waist, glanced at the young man whose face was half-buried in his furry scarf, and burst out laughing. His shoulders trembled with laughter, his laughter filled with unexpected joy and happiness.

As he laughed, he squatted down and covered his face with his hands.

The young man stood quietly beside him, blocking the wind from blowing in from the alley entrance and the falling snowflakes.

Time seemed to stand still at this moment, all was silent, and the snow continued to fall, falling very lightly, like thousands of white butterflies dancing in the sky, drifting onto shoulders, landing on heads, gently and silently.

Snow is conquering the world with the gentlest means; it wants to sprinkle into the darkest corners and into everything that needs white.

Balma huddled in the corner, silently watching the two. He could sense that the fair-skinned young man was clearly very happy, yet also seemed extremely sad. He didn't want to cry, so he smiled, but amidst the howling wind, a barely audible sob could still be heard.

This was an unexpected reunion. Winter had turned the water in the sky and the hearts of people into ice, but the warmth of clasped hands would always melt away the cold.

Zhang Wuxun squatted on the ground for a while. After his initial emotional outburst, he felt a little embarrassed, but then he thought again that he was a junior. So what if he cried in front of his elders? His brother wouldn't tell anyone.

With a heavy sigh, Zhang Wuxun grabbed some clean snow that had just fallen from the corner of the wall and rubbed it on his slightly feverish eyelids for a while. He shook off the melted snow from his hands, stood up, and looked at Xiao Ge. When their eyes met, Zhang Wuxun couldn't help but laugh again.

Seeing that there were still a few snowflakes clinging to Zhang Wuxun's eyelashes, Xiao Ge's gaze softened. He stared at Zhang Wuxun's face for several moments, clearly not yet used to him wearing Wu Xie's face.

To avoid laughing too stupidly, Zhang Wuxun turned his back and coughed to suppress his laughter. He then turned to look at Balma and asked the young man, "Did you come here to find him?"

The deliveryman grunted in response, "Looking for something."

After a pause, he unusually took the initiative to ask Zhang Wuxun, "And you?"

This question mark contains many questions: How did you get out of the ancient building? Why did you hide yourself? Why did you use Wu Xie's face? Why did you come here? What exactly are you doing?

Zhang Wuxun was silent for a few seconds before replying, "I need to check the other door."

The young man stared at him intently. "It's dangerous."

Zhang Wuxun nodded and said solemnly, "This is a necessary step, and I will be careful."

In just a short while, the two bodies on the ground were almost buried by the heavy snow.

Zhang Wu went over and squatted down, swept away the snow with his gloves, cut open the clothing on the corpse's back with his knife, and took out a small hand warmer from his pocket and brought it close to the skin.

In the snow, the residual warmth on the two corpses had completely cooled, making it quite difficult to show the tattoos. The wind was too strong, and a lighter couldn't be lit.

"Why don't we drag them inside?" Zhang Wuxun gestured with his chin toward the Ma family's large house and said to the young man.

The young man nodded, and the two of them carried the body into the house, cleaned up the traces on the ground, and dragged Balma over as well.

The Ma family's house is a clear example of a combination of Chinese and Western architecture, combining Han-style buildings with Western palaces. It is very large, but unfortunately, everything inside has long been moved out.

The main hall was also in a terrible state of collapse, with half of the redwood beams crooked and fallen down, as if it had been looted.

With the walls blocking the wind, the young man brought over some collected firewood and made two fires next to the bodies for them to warm themselves.

Zhang Wuxun then started another fire on the other side, setting up a pot to boil water and cook instant noodles.

The two were busy with their own things and neither paid any attention to Balma, who was left unattended and feeling uneasy.

Noon is too late, so I'll schedule it to be posted at 7:00 PM sharp.

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(End of this chapter)