The Lost Tomb : Tibetan Sea Flower

Chapter 12: Entering the Snowy Mountain

The first day.

The snow was getting heavier and heavier, and all the prayers before leaving were for naught.

Sure enough, no matter who it was, as long as they tried to go to that place, God wouldn't allow it. The black exposed part of the mountains in the distance seemed to be out of sight now, and no matter what time of year, that place couldn't be easily approached. It wasn't a place where people should go.

Were there any living creatures in the snow? It seemed that some people had said before that they had seen some big birds and white-haired wild animals, but after thinking about it, they must have just been bragging. How could there be anything alive in a place where the sound of the wind was so unrestrained that not even a trace of warmth could be felt?

It was as if the only living creatures between heaven and earth were the three people walking. Originally there had been four, but one had already become acquainted with the snowy mountain before departure. When the others got up in the morning, they found he had drank himself to death on the side of the road, and was completely frozen to the stones on the ground.

One of the porters struck all the visible ice crystals on his way forward with an ice pick. In the wind, the rapping sound was like that of a mysterious musical instrument, echoing slowly and gently in the wind. The second person was Poker-face. He followed along with his eyes closed and hands outstretched, listening to the sounds of the pick hitting the ice crystals. It wasn't that he didn't want to open his eyes, but even if he did, he still couldn't see anything with his goggles. It was better to feel his way through.

"Do you want to stop and have a rest?" The porter behind him shouted. Poker-face glanced back and saw it was Laba, the older of the two porters.

Laba was a Tibetan in his early forties, but he looked almost sixty years old because his dark face was full of wrinkles that looked like they had been carved by a sharp knife. This was the result of long-term wind exposure. His face was red and looked like he had been drinking wine. He was the eldest of the original three and one of the most experienced porters.

"Do you need to rest?" Poker-face asked.

"If we go on like this, we'll only advance a few dozen meters by the time it gets dark. It's better to wait for the wind to pass. Look at the sky, it won't last long." Laba said, "Otherwise we'll waste our energy here and achieve nothing."

"Then we'll stop." Poker-face said.

They stopped against the mountain cliff, but could only stand and wait for the wind to slowly die down. The other porter was obviously a little exhausted, and almost slipped as soon as he stopped. Laba held him back and spoke to him very loudly until his spirits were restored.

Laba breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that they should have continued walking under the wind pressure just now, but if they did, they would've had to follow the wind outlet through this dangerous section without stopping. They probably would've had to walk all night before they could rest. But when they stopped, they could do a lot of things like make a fire and get a good night's sleep, so the pain would have been worth enduring. But he was too old to bear it and would rather stand here now.

When Laba initially spoke up, he was afraid that the other porter would oppose it, but obviously their physical strength had reached its limit. Poker-face had no experience and didn't reprimand them, unlike the former caravan leaders who would force them to move forward.

In short, the situation was still under Laba's control. Standing where he was, he felt that his physical strength had slowly improved, which was better than going one more night and then slipping. When one was old, it was better to endure than to rush. Accidents always came at a loss, and at his age, he couldn't react as quickly as before.