Episode 42: Spokesperson of the Sand Soul

A whirlwind suddenly swept through the camp where the scent of blood still lingered. Sand grains swirled past the broken walls, carving eerie, spiral patterns into the earth.

Lu Chen leaned against the frame of the medical tent. Wang Lu had just finished re-dressing the wound on his chest; the injury caused by the Sand Crystal barb was still seeping blood, and every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass. Kam’s younger brother, who had been knocked unconscious and tied to a pillar by Chen Yu, was still emitting a strange, guttural rattling sound from his throat, his pupils glowing with a murky, indelible blue.

"What exactly is going on here?" Chen Yu kicked the pillar, the iron chains biting into the boy’s shoulders. "Didn't the antibodies clear the Sand Crystals? How is he still being controlled?"

Su Qing swept her scanner over the boy three times. On the screen, the genetic chain flickered in intermittent red, like a snake being crushed. "It’s not Sand Crystal residue; it’s... spiritual parasitism." Her voice trembled. "The consciousness of the Sand Scorpion Totem has burrowed into his brain waves. The antibodies only clear the physical Sand Crystals; they can't touch this."

Lu Chen’s fingers unconsciously rubbed the Suppression Ring on his ring finger. The earthy yellow ring emitted a warm, gentle glow, yet it could not dispel the chill in his heart. Old Dao’s bone knife was stuck at an angle in the sand nearby; the Sand-Guardian Priest totem on the blade flickered, as if transmitting a warning.

Just then, the sand at the camp entrance suddenly stopped moving, as if held in place by an invisible hand.

A figure in a black robe stepped out of the whirlwind. The hood was pulled low, revealing only a silver-white beard on his chin. With every step, the sand beneath his feet parted automatically, as if making way for him. As the hem of his robe brushed the ground, a wrist was exposed, covered in golden sand marks similar to Old Dao’s, though far denser, resembling a miniature star map.

"A Sand-Whisperer?" Wang Lu whispered, the tweezers in her hand clattering onto the tray. "The legendary person who can talk to the sand?"

The robed figure did not speak, walking straight toward Lu Chen. Chen Yu raised his rifle, but found the weapon suddenly encased in sand, the trigger impossible to pull. "Who are you?!" Chen Yu’s voice was sharp with caution, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

The figure finally stopped and slowly raised his head. As the hood slid back, everyone gasped—his left eye was a murky, cloudy white, but his right eye was startlingly bright, with golden, sand-like light swirling in the pupil. Two golden sand marks extended from the corners of his eyes to his earlobes, like frozen tear tracks.

"I am the last of the Sand-Soul Spokesmen," the old man’s voice sounded like sandpaper rubbing against dry wood, yet it carried a strange, piercing power. "I can understand the whispers of the dead within the sand."

His gaze fell upon Lu Chen’s ring, and a glimmer of light flashed in his cloudy left eye. "The Suppression Ring has found a new master. That kid, Old Dao, didn't die in vain."

Lu Chen looked up sharply. "You knew Old Dao?"

"Knew him? More than that." The old man smiled, his facial wrinkles folding into deep grooves. "His grandfather was my senior apprentice; we once guarded the altar together at Black Wind Pass." He extended a withered, calloused hand covered in sand marks. "Kid, do you dare to shake my hand?"

Lu Chen hesitated, then took his hand.

The moment their skin touched, a startling scene unfolded. The sand beneath their feet suddenly erupted into the air, drawn together like iron filings to a magnet, forming a swirling pillar of sand. The top of the pillar burst open, transforming into a three-dimensional image—a burning ancient battlefield. The sky was an eerie, purplish-black, and countless armored warriors lay in the sand, spears engraved with the Entropy-Reversal totem plunged into their chests.

"This is... the Seal War from a thousand years ago!" Su Qing’s scanner blared with alarms; the energy waveforms on the screen matched the murals in the Temple of Memory perfectly.

In the image, a Sand-Guardian Priest in fur robes stood at the center of the altar, holding three rings and half a bone flute—the very Suppression Ring, the Requiem Bone Flute, and two other rings never seen before! Surrounding him were twelve tribal leaders, each clutching a totem pole and chanting incantations.

A Bone Core was trapped in the center of the altar, emitting a shrill, piercing scream. Winding through its ghostly blue light was a black mist—the very same "Calamity Fire" found in the Williams energy field.

"It’s almost done..." Lu Chen heard the priest in the image whisper; his profile was seventy percent identical to his own. "As long as the resonance of the three rings is completed, its consciousness can be locked away..."

Before the words could fade, the tribal leader closest to the priest suddenly lunged! The totem pole in his hand did not strike the Bone Core, but instead slammed fiercely into the priest’s back!

"For the tribe!" the leader roared, his face painted with a scorpion totem. "The Sand-Guardians must not monopolize the power of the Bone Core!"

The other leaders instantly split into two factions. Some defended the priest, while others lunged for the Bone Core. The incantation array on the altar instantly collapsed. The Sand-Guardian Priest spat out a mouthful of blood; the three rings and the flute flew from his grasp. The Bone Core seized the opportunity, erupting in a blast of black Calamity Fire that, like the tentacles of an octopus, swallowed half the battlefield in an instant.

The image suddenly dissipated. The sand fell back to the ground, forming a vague scorpion totem at Lu Chen’s feet before being blown away by the wind.

The old man withdrew his hand, looking at Lu Chen with complex eyes. "This is the truth you have been searching for. A thousand years ago, it wasn't that the Sand-Guardians failed to seal the Bone Core; they were stabbed in the back by their own people."

"That traitorous leader..." Lu Chen’s voice was tight, "was he the ancestor of the S-Tribe?"

"Not just the S-Tribe." The old man pointed to the sand on the ground. "Of the twelve leaders, seven came from the current X-Tribe Alliance, and five belonged to the predecessors of the S-Tribe. Greed has never been limited to one group, kid." He suddenly changed his tone, his cloudy left eye fixed on Kam’s younger brother. "Just like now, the Sand Scorpion Totem is still inciting you to slaughter one another."

The rattling sound in the boy’s throat shifted, as if mimicking Williams' voice. "Can you trust the words of the dead? He’s just an old liar! The power of the Bone Core can make everyone stronger. Why are you afraid?"

"Stronger?" The old man sneered, stamping his right foot lightly.

The sand beneath the boy suddenly boiled, forming a sand-hand that grabbed his ankle. The boy let out a shrill, piercing scream—not out of pain, but out of terror. Within the sand-hand, countless faces of agony appeared—they were the dead consumed by the Bone Core, their hands reaching out from the grains, clawing at the boy's soul.

"These are the costs of 'getting stronger'." The old man’s voice was cold. "Every person empowered by the Bone Core’s energy houses countless fragments of the dead within them, destined to be consumed and turned into a puppet."

The ghostly blue in the boy’s pupils instantly faded. He collapsed on the ground, clutching his head and sobbing uncontrollably. "I didn't mean to... It said it could bring my brother back... that’s why I..."

Lu Chen’s heart felt as if it had been wrenched. He remembered Old Dao’s dying words and the face of the Sand-Guardian Priest in the Williams energy field—the so-called "new host" wasn't meant to monopolize the Bone Core; they were to be torn apart and fused by the consciousness of countless dead, becoming a monster without a self.

"Then the three rings and the flute..." Su Qing spoke up suddenly, "If we gather them, can we reseal the Bone Core? We have the Suppression Ring and half of the Requiem Bone Flute. Where are the other two rings and the other half of the flute?"

A flicker of sadness passed through the old man’s right eye. "The other two rings were lost in the wars a thousand years ago. As for the other half of the Requiem Bone Flute..." He looked at the wound on Lu Chen’s chest. "It is in Williams’ hands. The Sand Crystal barb that pierced you just now contained the energy fluctuations of the flute."

Lu Chen suddenly recalled that the moment he was stabbed, he had indeed smelled a familiar sandalwood scent, identical to the one in the Temple of Memory.

"He is using the bone flute fragments to catalyze the Calamity Fire of the Bone Core." The old man’s voice grew heavy. "In twelve hours at most, the black Calamity Fire will spread across the entire desert. By then, forget about sealing it; even the dead within the sand will be awakened, turning into an endless tide of Sand-Bone Beasts."

Chen Yu suddenly pointed outside the camp. The distant sand dunes were glowing—not a ghostly blue, but an eerie black-purple. "What is that?!"

Everyone turned to look. Countless pillars of black fire were erupting from the sand, shooting straight into the clouds like a burning forest. The sand around the pillars danced frantically, and one could vaguely see human silhouettes struggling and roaring within the flames.

"The Calamity Fire has erupted early." The old man’s face turned pale for the first time. He grabbed Lu Chen’s wrist, and the Entropy-Reversal totem on the ring suddenly lit up. "Old Dao gave you the Suppression Ring not just to make you immune to illusions; he wanted you to inherit the 'Sand-Calling Art' of the Sand-Guardians! Quickly! Focus your mind on the person or thing you care about most!"

Lu Chen froze. The first thing to appear in his mind was his daughter’s smiling face—the little one born in the oasis, who had never seen the desert storms, waving half a piece of naan bread at him.

*Hum—*

The Suppression Ring suddenly erupted with a blinding golden light. The sand beneath their feet rose into the air again. This time, it didn't form images; it transformed into a golden spear, hovering in front of Lu Chen. The sand at the tip of the spear continued to flow, and one could vaguely see his daughter’s smiling face flashing within it.

"This is..." Lu Chen’s voice trembled with disbelief.

"A Sand Weapon driven by emotional resonance." The old man’s voice was filled with gratification. "The priests of a thousand years ago relied on this to fight the Calamity Fire. It seems Old Dao didn't choose the wrong person; your power of 'Emotional Sacrifice' is stronger than any of the Sand-Guardians before you."

The black-purple fire pillars in the distance drew closer; the roar of the Sand-Bone Beast tide could already be heard, like countless fingernails scraping against glass. Chen Yu trembled as he held his rocket launcher, Wang Lu stuffed the last of the antibodies into Lu Chen’s hands, and Su Qing began adjusting the final parameters of the Entropy-Reversal Array.

"Remember, the key to the Sand-Calling Art is not power, but obsession." The old man stepped back, his black robe flapping in the wind. "I will use my power as a Sand-Soul Spokesman to hold back the Calamity Fire. You must find the other half of the bone flute before the fire pillars reach the altar, and awaken the power of the other two altars!"

His body suddenly began to turn translucent, as if melting into the sand of the wind. Only one sentence echoed in the air:

"Do not let hatred sever your resolve, kid—"

The black-purple fire pillars outside the camp were within a hundred meters, the searing heat waves causing their skin to sting. Lu Chen gripped the golden sand spear, looked at his comrades, and looked at the struggling dead in the distance. He suddenly understood what Old Dao and the Sand-Whisperer meant.

A Sand-Guardian never guards a piece of land; they ensure that the sand remembers love, not hatred.

But just as he prepared to rush out of the camp, Su Qing let out a cry of alarm:

"No! The energy of the Entropy-Reversal Array is being sucked away by the Calamity Fire! Someone is tampering with the frequency of the three altars—it’s Williams! He wants to turn the Entropy-Reversal Array into an amplifier for the Calamity Fire!"

Lu Chen’s sand spear trembled violently, and the smiling face at the tip began to twist and dissipate. He looked deep into the black-purple fire pillars and vaguely saw a familiar figure—Williams was holding the other half of the bone flute, standing in the center of the fire, wearing an eerie smile in his direction.

Even more terrifying, Williams was wearing the other two missing rings on his chest.

The three rings and the flute had been gathered long ago.

It just wasn't in their hands.

The black Calamity Fire suddenly accelerated, like a giant hand reaching out, clawing fiercely toward the altar. Lu Chen’s sand spear began to crumble under the erosion of the Calamity Fire; his daughter’s smiling face grew blurrier, as if it might vanish completely at any moment.

What should he do?

Save the altar first, or seize the bone flute?

The moment the fire pillars touched the golden dome of the Entropy-Reversal Array, Lu Chen suddenly heard countless tiny sounds coming from the sand—the whispers of the dead. There were Old Dao’s, the Sand-Whisperer’s, and those of the Sand-Guardian Priests from a thousand years ago. Their voices intertwined, as if speaking a single sentence in unison:

"As long as the obsession remains, the Sand-Soul never dies—"