[Chapter Five] Ghost Emperor Anderson
14
In the deep valleys of Sicily, an abandoned church was hidden in the thick fog, surrounded by a chilling silence. This place, called "Bat Valley," was filled with an ancient mysterious aura. The eerie cemetery passages branched out in all directions, interwoven like a spiderweb, leading to more than a thousand tomb chambers. In each chamber, kerosene lamps flickered with a faint light, and dozens of ventilation shafts maintained dry air in the silence. Here, flocks of bats flew around, and Anderson’s Ghost Emperor headquarters was located in this shadowy place.
Inside the venue, the lighting was dim, and the damp air was filled with the scent of dust and oil smoke. Anderson’s core generals had already gathered in the main conference hall, some standing, some sitting, draped in heavy black cloaks, with stern expressions. Grand Mage Rolf sat on one side, his face written with calmness and deep thought. Witch Su Mei furrowed her brow tightly, while nearby Phantom Hand George and Scissor Hand Jack had already become accustomed to the tense atmosphere. Generals such as White Wolf, Black Bear, and Ghost Night Dog also sat around Anderson, waiting for orders to be delivered.
Suddenly, a heavy footstep sounded outside the door, and a ghostly messenger walked in. His black robe seemed to merge with the surrounding shadows under the dim light. The messenger handed Rolf a letter. Rolf opened the envelope; inside, besides the paper, there were several photographs. Rolf flipped through the photos, and his eyes gradually grew serious.
He cleared his throat softly and looked up at the messenger, saying: “Go back, tell the shop owner that I will send someone to verify the truth and then decide how we should deal with Painter Huang.”
The messenger bowed his head, clasping his fists in salute: “Yes, my lord.”
The messenger quickly withdrew, and Rolf handed the photographs to Su Mei. Su Mei took the photos and examined each one carefully, frowning. When she looked at one of the photos, her expression became serious, and she said softly: “This young man with the Eastern face seems somehow familiar to me, but I cannot remember where I have seen him before.”
Rolf leaned slightly forward, his tone filled with curiosity: “Your intuition is always so sharp, Su Mei. Although I do not hold much belief in the concept of reincarnation, I must admit, this young man’s features and build do resemble the former guard David Fery.”
“David Fery?” Anderson suddenly stood up, his voice full of anger and surprise, “Su Mei, use your crystal ball and find out as quickly as possible who this young man really is.”
Everyone present could feel the barely concealed anger in Anderson’s words. Only Rolf and Su Mei knew how deep the hatred between Anderson and David ran. Back when Anderson led the Bat Army to attack the Sky Castle, he was defeated by David’s iron-blooded guard. If Rolf had not betrayed David at the crucial moment, ambushed him, and beheaded him, the Bat Army’s reputation would have been destroyed long ago. David’s name was an indelible disgrace to Anderson and an unforgettable rival to Rolf.
Rolf stood up, his tone calm but resolute: “Majesty, regardless of whether this young man is the reincarnation of David, I will clarify his identity.”
After hearing this, Anderson revealed a satisfied smile: “The Grand Mage is always so cautious. Once we are certain that this young man is David, we should eliminate him as soon as possible before he causes us trouble.”
Rolf nodded, paused in thought, and said: “Even if this young man really is David, we should do everything possible to win him over. If he opposes us, then we will eliminate him. But as long as he does not defect to Maria, there is no need to kill him, since he could otherwise potentially harm us severely.”
Anderson laughed heartily: “Hahaha! The Grand Mage really is a clever mind; he can handle everything, except taking a loss.”
“Master, I will immediately find out where this young man is.” Su Mei took a transparent crystal ball from her bosom and softly chanted an incantation. Soon, an image of Lin Xiaoyang was projected inside the crystal ball.
Su Mei stared at the crystal ball, her voice somewhat low: “The boy is traveling by train, and the landscape looks like the eastern part of Paris.”
Rolf nodded slightly, a faint smile on his lips: “He is heading to Paris; that is enough for us. I will send my pupil Annie to find him.”
Su Mei raised her eyebrows slightly and asked: “Master, are you planning to use the beauty tactic?”
Rolf sneered: “Yes, exactly! I will have Annie approach David to reduce his suspicion. David is a respectable opponent; if we win him over, it will simultaneously weaken Maria’s power.”
Anderson nodded in approval: “With David as a strong opponent, directly fighting him would certainly be a bad idea. The Grand Mage’s plan is definitely correct!”
15
Annie gently pushed open the door to Rolf’s training room, bent slightly at the waist, and placed her palm on her chest in a respectful gesture. Her gaze was steady, although there was a faint ripple of emotion in her heart. Inside the room, Rolf sat cross-legged on a mat, his eyes half-closed, and in the serene atmosphere, it seemed as if some invisible force was flowing. His figure looked especially firm under the dim light, like a mountain that could not be shaken.
Rolf slowly opened his eyes, his gaze coldly fixed on Annie, yet his tone conveyed seriousness and command: “Annie, I want you to go to Paris immediately and carry out a mission. On the table is a goatskin pouch, inside are a photo and instructions. You will follow the instructions.”
Annie lowered her head slightly, her fingers lightly touching the table, silently memorizing each instruction from her master. She nodded in response, her tone firm yet gentle: “Yes, Master.” She then reached for the goatskin pouch on the table; its weight hinted at the gravity and danger of this mission.
“After you arrive in Paris,” Rolf’s voice sounded again. This time he stood up, walking steadily to the window, gazing at the street outside as if he could see through everything. “Find the boy in the photo, approach him, and become his friend. I want you to act alone, without contacting any of our local connections, to avoid suspicion. This is very important!”
Annie’s eyes silently responded to her master’s severity. Her heartbeat quickened, and she repeated aloud: “Yes, Master.” She bowed slightly, her fingers trembling as she closed the goatskin pouch, and then turned to leave the training room. Her steps were steady and quick, her heart filled with questions and subtle unease, but she knew this was a task she could not back down from.
Just as Annie turned to leave, the door opened again, and the couple Rona and Kaise walked in. Both lowered their heads, clasped their hands, and performed a simple but respectful salute: “Master, we are here.”
Rolf nodded slightly, his tone calm like water yet carrying an authority not to be ignored: “You two, go to Lake Lucerne and secretly investigate Robert, the shop owner. He had previous conflicts with Painter Huang, and I want to find out if Robert is using this opportunity to exact personal revenge. Once you have discovered the truth, act according to the instructions.”
He handed Rona an envelope, lightly tracing the seal on it with his finger, as if entrusting them with a code of fate. Rona took the envelope, a glint of determination in her eyes, and together with Kaise said: “Order understood, Master.” Then the two bowed and left again.
Rolf stood by the window, looking at the gray sky outside, murmuring with a trace of faint sadness and helplessness: “David, the feud from our previous life is over. If you have truly been reborn, I do not want you to become my rival again.”
16
Lin Xiaoyang, carrying the film negatives and slides of Huang Lihua’s paintings, boarded a train bound for Paris. The train moved through a hazy mist, and the scenery outside changed unpredictably, blending his indescribable anticipation with anxiety. When the train arrived in Paris, time seemed to pause; carrying a longing for the unknown, he stepped out of the station onto this land that bore countless artistic dreams.
He arrived at the Musée d’Orsay and entered the director’s office, where three major figures of the art world were already waiting. They were responsible for France’s three major public and private art museums. The room was filled with the scent of old oil paintings; the atmosphere was quiet yet tense, as if every painting whispered its history and story.
Lin Xiaoyang carefully opened his briefcase and took out several large photo albums and slides, placing them cautiously on the long table. Every movement was careful, as if these artworks were treasures of his heart, each carrying an untold story.
“Please take a look. This is the lifetime work of a Chinese artist residing in Switzerland,” he said with a steady tone, his eyes revealing a certain determination.
Director Louis flipped through the albums, his brows slightly furrowing, a look of surprise and puzzlement crossing his eyes. He lightly touched the images, trying to sense the soul within. “Mr. Lin, you say these are the works of a single artist?”
“Yes, his name is Huang Lihua, and he currently lives in Switzerland.”
Champier also carefully examined the works, frowning as his eyes scanned back and forth, seemingly searching for a clue. He stopped and turned to Lin Xiaoyang, his tone slightly confused: “His works are of high quality: drawings, engravings, watercolors, and oil paintings. But I do not understand, why is there a difference of seventy or eighty years between the dates of the works?”
Lin Xiaoyang smiled faintly, his eyes still calm, but revealing a trace of regret: “I am sorry, I cannot reasonably answer this question at the moment.”
The Louvre director Dastini also frowned, carefully examining each album. His fingers lightly brushed the surfaces, as if he could feel the artist’s heartbeat through the texture of the canvas. “This artist is a genius; this is an incredible discovery of this century. Mr. Lin, we would need two or three days to examine these works.”
Louis looked at Lin Xiaoyang with curiosity, his tone carrying a subtle sense of inquiry: “Mr. Lin, where are these works currently kept?”
“These works are currently stored in a private hotel by Lake Lucerne in Switzerland.”
Shangpierre lightly tapped the table, his tone carrying a trace of contemplation: “There is a large quantity of paintings here; we will probably need to store them separately in order to accommodate them.”
Dastini, however, held a different view. A decisive glint flashed in his eyes, and his tone conveyed a sense of well-considered determination: “Why not consider creating a museum dedicated to these works?”
Louis nodded in agreement, his tone reflecting the brilliance of collective wisdom: “That is an excellent idea. We could invest together.”
Shangpierre turned to Lin Xiaoyang, his eyes full of anticipation and professional focus: “So, what kind of assistance do you need from us?”
Lin Xiaoyang paused briefly, then lifted his head, a spark of resolute determination passing through his gaze: “Once I have organized these works, I will send you a message so that you can dispatch personnel and vehicles to collect and transport them.”
Louis nodded, his tone becoming even more professional and pragmatic: “Alright. For these works, you can give us a price, but it must be reasonable and within a range that we can all afford.”
Lin Xiaoyang thought for a moment, then spoke slowly: “The donor hopes that the collecting institutions will jointly create a fund to help young Chinese artists learn art. I will inform you of the precise amount after consulting the person involved.”
Louis smiled faintly upon hearing this, his eyes revealing approval of the proposal: “No problem, we will entrust you with the management of this fund.” The other two nodded in agreement as well.
At this moment, the three artistic administrators and Lin Xiaoyang reached a consensus, and the path for future collaboration seemed to unfold before them.
On a weekend along the Seine River, a gentle breeze blew, and sunlight scattered across the sparkling river surface. Lin Xiaoyang strolled casually along the walkway, quietly enjoying the surrounding scenery, feeling quite relaxed. Suddenly, the riverside park ahead caught his attention. Crowds surged forward; it was obviously a holiday flea market. Booths stood one after another, dazzling in color, stacked with all kinds of second-hand items in quantities too numerous to count, and the entire market seemed alive with the breath of treasure hunters.
Lin Xiaoyang wandered aimlessly, occasionally stopping to examine objects imbued with the atmosphere of bygone times. His steps were unhurried, his gaze frequently scanning the antiques and books, but his mind remained blank, without any particular purpose.
Just as he began to feel a bit weary and considered finding a shaded spot to rest, several street artists’ stalls suddenly caught his attention. They were gathered under a tree’s shade, painting portraits of passing tourists. On the canvases, vivid faces gradually took shape, and the artists concentrated intently, their brushes seeming to converse with the soul of the artwork.
Among them, the back of one Chinese artist made Lin Xiaoyang’s heart leap instantly. He wore a long robe with a vest, his whole figure emanating a mysterious and somewhat ancient aura. His stature and posture struck Lin Xiaoyang’s heart as if he were seeing someone—Huang Lihua! “Impossible, how could he be here?” he thought, puzzled, yet unable to resist the sudden surge of excitement.
Lin Xiaoyang cautiously approached, noticing the artist’s glasses were familiar—the frameless design identical. At that moment, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. As he stepped closer, he could no longer resist and tapped the artist on the shoulder, exclaiming with delight: “Hi! Senior Lihua…”
The artist, hearing the voice, slowly turned around. Lin Xiaoyang froze; it was a face full of wrinkles, hair white as snow, far older than the Huang Lihua he remembered. This person seemed far older than he had imagined, yet the glasses and clothing style were exactly the same.
Lin Xiaoyang’s face changed, and he hurriedly apologized: “Sorry, I mistook you for someone else!” He smiled awkwardly, a faint blush appearing on his face. This artist was merely someone with a resemblance to Huang Lihua.
However, the artist’s eyes revealed a spark of curiosity. He gently put down the charcoal stick in his hand, his tone carrying a slight smile: “Little brother, do you know Huang Lihua?”
Lin Xiaoyang was somewhat surprised but could not help nodding, his tone tinged with emotion: “Ah! If he hadn’t sacrificed himself to save me last month, I probably would have perished.” His eyes darkened slightly; the memory lingered.
The artist raised his eyebrows, his gaze becoming more serious, then pointed to a nearby bench: “Please sit, young Mr. Qiu, named Shen Zhi, from Shanghai. You say Huang Lihua saved you? What happened?”
Lin Xiaoyang followed the artist’s gesture and sat down. He paused slightly, then began to recount his experience at the Lake Lucerne hotel in Switzerland: “Yes, at that time I stayed in a very strange hotel… that place was filled with an unusual atmosphere, and that’s when I met Huang Lihua.” His voice was low, as if he had not fully recovered from that experience.
Qiu Shenzhi listened, his expression clearly carrying doubt, his brows furrowed: “Impossible, right?” He gently put down the charcoal stick, his gaze fixed on Lin Xiaoyang’s face. “Huang Lihua was my mentor and passed away decades ago. I even personally handled his funeral. How could you possibly see him again?”
A wave of doubt also surged in Lin Xiaoyang’s mind. He frowned slightly: “Oh? Is that so?” He could not help but recall his encounter with Huang Lihua, feeling puzzled.
Qiu Shenzhi’s eyes grew even firmer, and he spoke astonishingly: “Huang Lihua is already dead, buried in the cemetery behind that hotel. If you don’t believe me, I can take you to the cemetery to see for yourself.”
Lin Xiaoyang widened his eyes in astonishment: “The cemetery? But I just said goodbye to him a few days ago… how is this possible?” He could not help whispering to himself, his thoughts tangled: “Huang Lihua told me he encountered an accident in the hotel, but he did not die… he became a vampire. But now… Qiu Shenzhi insists he is dead. What on earth is going on?”
Qiu Shenzhi seemed to sense Lin Xiaoyang’s confusion. He continued firmly: “My mentor is buried in the garden behind that hotel. If you don’t believe me, after I finish my work here, I can take you to see. I haven’t visited to pay respects in many years.”
Lin Xiaoyang’s heart remained full of confusion, but he knew he needed to leave now. “No, that’s unnecessary. Thank you for your kindness, but I have urgent matters to attend to. Farewell.” He stood, smiled slightly, and turned to leave.
Qiu Shenzhi watched Lin Xiaoyang’s departing figure, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. A sense of unease rose in his heart: “This young man says he just parted with Huang Lihua? Unless Huang Lihua faked his death back then to deceive me! Hmm, I need to find time to go back and clarify this matter.”
