046 Intermediate Ancient Ruins: The Land of Buried Bones

Three hundred kilometers upstream of the Tam River, after half a year of arduous effort and the expenditure of nearly ten million units of timber, all fifteen warships were finally launched.

The blueprints for these warships had cost Wu Fan two thousand technology points to redeem from the Technology Laboratory—a precious acquisition. Each vessel was fifty meters long and twenty meters wide, constructed entirely from solid wood. Massive crossbows, each three meters in length, were mounted at both the bow and stern, requiring three men to operate.

Wu Fan could hardly wait to board the flagship’s deck, where he inspected the sailors who had trained rigorously for a full three months.

Just then, an adjutant hurried over.

“Reporting, Chieftain, all 2,651 personnel have boarded.”

“All logistical supplies are in place—we are ready to depart at any time!”

Wu Fan nodded, then shook his head.

“We should change titles from now on. Call me Captain!”

“Yes, Captain!”

“Very well. Get back to it! Have everyone check their equipment once more. We set sail in half an hour.”

“Understood!”

The adjutant saluted, then vaulted nimbly off the deck.

Wu Fan’s goal was to travel downstream along the Tam River, searching the right bank for locations suitable for development, or perhaps to skirt Scorpion Ridge south of the Parando Highlands in pursuit of new resources.

All three approaches to the Parando Highlands were now blocked; only the far bank of the Tam River and the unexplored expanse of the Noma Corridor remained shrouded in mystery.

Half an hour later...

Wu Fan stood at the prow of the flagship. The fifteen warships were fully prepared, awaiting only his command.

When the moment was ripe, Wu Fan drew the stone axe from his belt and raised it high.

“Hoist the sails! Set course! Our goal: the stars and the sea!”

“Aye!”

Behind him, the sailors sprang into motion, raising the great sails—stitched from beast hide with hempen thread—to catch the wind.

Below deck, the oarsmen, stripped to the waist, worked in unison, straining at their oars.

Thus began the mighty journey: fifteen warships, laden with nearly three thousand warriors, swept down the Tam River.

...

At the source of the Tam River, among the peaks of the Sanctis Mountains.

With temperatures at minus twenty degrees, the snow-capped mountains were devoid of life; a world of white, unbroken by any other hue.

Two ratfolk, clad in thick furs and leaning on walking sticks, trudged through the deep snow, leaving tracks behind them.

“Captain George, once we cross this ridge, we’ll see the main peak ahead.”

The ratfolk at the rear, his face crusted with frost, spoke while catching his breath. His skin was cracked and weathered; what once had been a youthful visage was now sheathed in a thick layer of frost, making him appear a decade older.

At the front, Captain George labored to free his legs from the snow, planted his staff beside him, and cupped his hands in front of his mouth, blowing warm air onto his fingers.

“When we’re over this mountain, we’ll return to the tribe. Rest a bit and prepare for the final ascent.”

George quickly issued his orders, then glanced back at the young ratfolk behind him.

“Jimmy, how long has it been since you were home?”

He clapped Jimmy’s shoulder, concern in his voice.

“Nearly half a year...”

“Can you still keep going?”

“No problem, Captain!”

Jimmy forced a smile, revealing two white teeth.

These two were scouts sent north by Yang Jie.

They had departed from the tribe, tracing the Tam River upstream, crossing the Noma Corridor, and at last entering the Sanctis Mountains.

Now, they rested halfway up the southern peak, gathering strength for the journey ahead.

Old George pulled a piece of cured meat from his pocket, tearing into it with his back teeth. The taste mattered little—it was the energy that counted.

Young Jimmy scooped a handful of snow-encrusted ice, flecked with black impurities, into a wooden bowl he had prepared. He took a stick and pounded the ice until it began to melt. Once enough snow had liquefied, he poured the water into a second bowl.

“Captain, it’s melted.”

He set the bowl beside George.

“You should have some too. There’s still a long way to go.”

“I’ll go dig a burrow. The wind’s picking up.”

On the desolate, snowbound slope, after a meager meal, George and Jimmy carved a burrow into the snow and crawled inside, pressing close for warmth.

To conserve energy in such cold, mammals instinctively minimize exertion—and the ratfolk were no exception.

After three hours cramped together in the burrow, they emerged and began the ascent toward the northern peak.

Three hundred meters still separated them from the summit. In these harsh conditions, the two ratfolk supported each other, inching forward step by step.

Near the summit, the snow crust was thinner, but the terrain grew ever more treacherous and steep.

The short three-hundred-meter stretch became a grueling ordeal. By dusk, the two frail ratfolk finally stood atop the northern peak of the Sanctis Mountains.

As they reached the summit, Jimmy collapsed, gasping for air. The climb had taken nearly five hours, sapping their strength to the limit.

But Old George did not lie down. Instead, he stood at the peak, gazing northward. Suddenly, his weary eyes widened in shock, and his mouth fell open in astonishment.

“Captain, what’s wrong?”

Seeing George’s strange reaction, Jimmy forced himself upright and looked in the same direction...

Several dozen kilometers away, over the main peak of the Sanctis Mountains, a dozen or more frost dragons—each over a hundred meters long—circled in the sky.

Beyond the main peak, faint silhouettes linked the main and northern summits together. Though too distant for the naked eye to measure precisely, a rough estimate put these phantom forms at least a hundred meters tall, connecting the highest points of the Sanctis Mountains in an unbroken line...

...

At that moment, far away in Highcourt, Yang Jie received a barrage of system notifications:

[Congratulations, Lord, on discovering an Ancient Creature: Frost Dragon. Reward: 500 technology points. Defeating it grants additional rewards.]

[Congratulations, Lord, on discovering a World Wonder: The Wall of Desolation! Reward: 1,000 technology points.]

[Congratulations, Lord, on discovering a Medium Ancient Ruin: The Land of Bones! Reward: 1,000 technology points.]

Yang Jie: ...

Yang Jie: Damn!

Without hesitation, he opened his system map. In the uppermost part of his now-visible territory, the region previously shrouded in black mist had been revealed.

The words “Land of Bones” were marked plainly on the map.

As a veteran player, Yang Jie had certainly heard of the Land of Bones, though he had never seen it firsthand. Rumors about it were as numerous as they were wild.

According to the information he possessed, this medium ancient ruin matched the tales told during the beta test.

What he hadn’t expected was that it lay a mere three thousand kilometers from his current position!

From beta test records, the Land of Bones was known as an ancient holy site of the Undead. Its entrance was said to be directly beneath the frost dragon’s lair atop the main peak of the Sanctis Mountains. To enter the Frozen Throne within, one had first to defeat the ancient guardian—the frost dragon.

What little was known suggested the Land of Bones went three levels deep underground, where at least two hundred thousand undead warriors slumbered.

During the beta, the Land of Bones had been besieged several times by alliances of lord-players, but none ever reached the third subterranean level. Eventually, the Land of Bones became one of the great unsolved mysteries of the game “Tower Defense & Civilization.”

Players speculated endlessly and wildly about the treasures said to lie within.

Due to the pressures of tower defense, and the small player base during the beta, it was impossible to assemble a sufficiently powerful alliance—let alone overcome the ruins.

As for the Wall of Desolation, Yang Jie knew it was a barrier between the minor continents of the Lox Continent, connecting the central and southern regions—a wall a hundred meters tall, an impregnable natural fortress.

Now that Yang Jie understood the geography to the north, he abandoned any thoughts of venturing that way. With two hundred thousand undead warriors, the prospect was unthinkable at his current strength.

Far better to consider how best to utilize the 2,500 universal points he’d just earned...