Chapter 177: The Truth in the Lie
There was no doubt about it—Zhou Ning had seen the Grim Reaper's portrait over ten thousand times in the Apocalypse game. The Reaper often played the villain or loomed in the background in many mythological tales, but his combat prowess was unquestionably formidable.
Though he had mentally prepared himself, Zhou Ning still felt his mind freeze and his scalp prickle slightly when he saw the Grim Reaper appear before him in the flesh.
Could this place actually be the Reaper's temple?
According to legend, the Grim Reaper was cunning and capricious. Though myth had it that he was jointly impaled and sealed away by the Sun Goddess and the Nature Goddess, many people still doubted whether he had truly perished.
Zhou Ning's lips twitched slightly. Speculation was just speculation, after all. Perhaps the truth had long since been buried in history.
He looked up and saw a shadowy corridor ahead, its end lost in darkness.
Before long, the expedition team had finished exploring the entire hall. Although there were no major discoveries, the alchemical detection instrument did register a fairly strong spiritual signature behind a side door—likely indicating the presence of a supernatural item.
Unfortunately, just like what had happened with Leandro, when a few of the professors tried to open the side door, they accidentally triggered a significant collapse. In the end, Albert could only regretfully declare that the interior had been completely filled with rubble and mud—it would require a proper excavation team to open it up again.
That left only one path for them to explore: the corridor at the end of the hall. Edwin withdrew his gaze from the murals on the wall and said, "Let's keep moving."
He and Albert took the lead, progressing step by step down the corridor in the deathly silence of the ruins.
The corridor wasn't particularly long. On both sides were reliefs depicting various scenes of war—some showed the Grim Reaper receiving devout prayers from black-robed followers, others depicted brutal battles between humans and the undead, with the Reaper's solitary figure standing atop a bone dragon, overlooking the battlefield. Because of the angle, the Reaper's gaze seemed to fall directly on anyone viewing the relief, as though he were staring into the soul of every observer!
Zhou Ning's heart suddenly began to race. Perhaps it was just a trick of the eye, but he could have sworn that the figure gave him a wink and flashed an exaggerated smile.
?!
Zhou Ning jolted in fright, cold sweat breaking out across his back.
At the end of the corridor was a heavy wooden door. Without hesitation, Edwin reached out and pushed it open. With a creak, the light ahead dimmed significantly.
There were no windows in the space beyond—it was pitch-black, the kind of darkness where you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. The only sources of light were the lanterns carried by Edwin and Albert. Fortunately, as a Wandering Gunslinger, Zhou Ning had exceptional vision and could make out the interior relatively clearly.
Just like the main hall, the walls on either side were adorned with faded but richly colored murals. Most were too damaged to discern clearly, but a few remained intact enough to depict scenes of war or plague.
Along both sides of the corridor stood four statues of varying forms—elves, humans, walrus-people, and even a half-man mammoth. They were lifelike, indistinguishable from real beings. Perhaps due to the uncanny valley effect, Zhou Ning felt a constant unease as they passed through. He kept wondering if the statues might suddenly come to life.
Apparently, the others felt the same. No one said a word as they walked through the line of statues. Only after they had moved past and entered a new area did someone finally speak up.
"This should be a temple of the Grim Reaper, Ikekiel," Albert said after examining the space with his lantern for a while. "According to legend, Ikekiel embodies lies, cold, and death—all of which align perfectly with the conditions outside."
Ahead lay a forest of stone steles, densely packed across the ground. Each bore mottled characters etched in bizarre, twisted narratives. Judging by the decipherable fragments, these were short stories written by the Reaper to mock his victims.
The frontmost stele read: "The Reaper's first trophy… A northern woman skilled in archery. But those best at swimming often drown, and the Reaper thought dying by the arrow would best suit his aesthetic."
"This stele likely refers to the Arrow Goddess Boudica," Albert said excitedly. "I never imagined her death was linked to the Reaper."
Other steles described various figures, like the walrus totem warrior, the half-man mammoth Katuwa—who died in a contest of horn toughness against a diamond; and the elf mage Kailin—who perished due to an accidental blow in a planned assassination.
The largest and most eye-catching stele stood at the center. Its inscription read:
"The Reaper's magnum opus: Archibald… A naïve fool, a man who upheld justice, and ultimately betrayed it. He chose suicide as his final act—a curious journey with a mundane end. So the Reaper savagely tormented his soul and made him a loyal servant."
"Archibald… this…"
Everyone present—professors and students alike—was stunned. In the annals of history, the fate of this most powerful knight had been even more shrouded in mystery than that of the wartime art troupe. No one knew what became of him. But now, it seemed… he had been turned into an undead by the Reaper?
If nothing else, this discovery alone would shake the entire historical world.
Edwin was also reading the stele. His expression darkened, and his hands trembled uncontrollably—clearly, he and Zhou Ning had come to the same realization.
Zhou Ning also noticed some supplies left behind by a previous expedition, along with some dried, reddish-brown bloodstains. It was obvious that a battle had occurred here too. No corpses remained—very likely they had been turned into undead by some lingering supernatural force.
After making rubbings of the inscriptions and gathering supplies, the group pressed on after about half an hour. Ahead were two side doors—left and right—and a corridor leading further forward.
Both side doors were locked. Though there was still a visible gap that might be pried open with a small knife, to avoid triggering another collapse like before, the group decided—after some discussion—to continue down the main corridor for now.
At the corridor's entrance were strange markings resembling script of the dead. According to a folklorist who came with them, the inscription likely said something akin to "The living must not pass."
The corridor ahead was extremely deep and devoid of any lighting. As they ventured deeper, they suddenly heard the sound of heavy footsteps echoing from within, growing louder and closer.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The members of the expedition looked at one another in alarm—even the bravest among them began to break into cold sweats.
Then, Zhou Ning saw a figure emerge from the depths of the corridor—a man in a black hooded cloak. His eyes blazed with blue fire. His black robes were simple and archaic, and on his chest was an unmistakably familiar emblem—a large flame insignia.
That was… Archibald?! Zhou Ning's heart leapt in shock.