"The Tibetan Sea Flower I: The Mystery of the Snow Mountain Yama Riding the Corpse (Published Book)"

Author: Nanpai Sanshu 【Completed】

【Synopsis】

Henry Clark's five years of peaceful life are interrupted by the sudden visit of Edward Carter. Edward Carter actually knows that the scorpion pattern on the moonstone brought out from the The Bolton Family ancient tower is related to the childhood Sam. To follow the clues, Henry Clark travels to Nepal, and then makes his way to Motuo in Tibet. In Motuo, all sorts of clues related to Sam come flooding in!

Things quickly spiral out of control. In the hands of a lama at Jila Monastery, Henry Clark obtains Sam's notebook and learns the causes and consequences of Sam's entry into the snow mountain years ago. What shocks Henry Clark is that in another notebook, he sees the words "the limit of the world"—deep in the vast snow mountains, there is actually another giant bronze door!

All sorts of people gather at Jila Monastery—is this all a coincidence, or is someone orchestrating it? What is the true meaning of the mysterious scorpion? What exactly is "the limit of the world"? Why is Henry Clark the only one who can save the The Bolton Family? Can the Hong Kong branch of the The Bolton Family be trusted—are they scheming, or fulfilling their mission?

This is a brand new journey. Henry Clark and Buddy follow in the footsteps of Sam into the depths of the snow mountains. This time, can Henry Clark unravel all the mysteries?

Tibetan Sea Flower I

Prologue

【Preface—this passage comes before the table of contents】

I hope to give a definition to what I am about to say.

All of these things happened almost entirely within these past few years, forcibly turning me from an ordinary person into what I am now. I have tried to define my experiences many times, but to no avail. It's not because what I went through was too noble, but because these things are too complex and obscure.

But I still want to give it a definition. I think, to me, all of this is a nightmare I don't want to wake up from.

In the months before I wrote these few lines, I almost woke up. But now, I realize, I still have to keep dreaming this dream.

Tibetan Sea Flower I

Chapter One: Origin

It's very hard to write this story calmly. At this moment, I have deliberately suppressed my emotions just to write this first sentence.

Many things, after they happen, you don't want to record them, because you know that although the process is worth letting others know, recording them forces you to relive the pain, anxiety, and doubts. Sometimes, you even find yourself back in those moments. It's not a pleasant experience.

At times like this, you think of fate. For me, if I had been born into an ordinary family, then even if I longed to experience these things, I would never have had the chance. But I happened to be born into a very special family. The source of this uniqueness lies with my grandfather, in his unusual profession—if you can call it a profession.

In modern terms, my grandfather was a tomb robber.

In the 1940s and 50s, around Changsha, my grandfather was a very famous tomb robber, known locally as a "tufuzi." The reason our whole family is so familiar with this part of our history is that after the founding of New China, for a time my grandfather was a key wanted criminal by the Ministry of Public Security. It seems the warrant was only lifted in the 1960s.

We don't know many details about what my grandfather did back then. Most of what I know comes from my parents' generation mentioning things by chance, or from eavesdropping on conversations between my grandfather and a few uncles. Aside from some things related to the family, my grandfather hardly ever talked about his tomb-robbing experiences.

Even then, I understood that my grandfather must have been hiding many secrets. Because, after all, those tomb-robbing days were long past. No matter how big or obscure a secret is, after half a century, it should become a joke—this is the law of time.

Yet, my grandfather, even up to his death, remained tight-lipped about these matters, unwilling to mention them. This is very unusual. We say that the unsealing of secrets is like the dilution of dye—over time, things are gradually revealed to the world. Even if my grandfather was deeply obsessed, "the things of those years" should have slowly faded from his heart. But not a bit did.

Something very special must have happened during his tomb-robbing days, something so important that even time could not wash it away.

What made me even more certain of my judgment was that my grandfather left a particularly strange will.

My grandfather died a normal death, just like any old man who knows his time is near. When he died, he no longer had the strength to fear. All his remaining energy was spent on settling his affairs.

His first words, I remember vividly to this day. He said, "I never thought I could really die."

No one else paid attention to this sentence, thinking the old man was just confused in his final moments, mixing up his words.

My father just sighed. He knew there was nothing more to say, and simply said, "We're all here. The eldest, the second, and the third are all here. The grandson is here too."