This was the first photograph containing any useful information. Lin Feng hit pause and decided to study it closely.
A Pixiu Shi stele stood on the ground, illuminated by lightning that branched like a tree.
There was a strange, unsettling liquid on it.
Probably blood.
Black residue had settled in the dried blood within its grooves.
Lin Feng rolled the mouse wheel to enlarge the photograph. Unfortunately, the original image was poor quality and somewhat blurry.
He had friends who could restore it.
But Lin Feng did not know what consequences viewing these photographs might bring.
He could only go through them roughly himself.
He found it.
He had figured out what kind of blood was on the Pixiu Shi stele.
Sheep's blood.
There were sheep bones beneath the Shi stele, too.
Two large characters in seal script were inscribed on the Pixiu Shi stele.
Heaven-Bearing.
There was more writing underneath, but it was too weathered to read.
The base had also deteriorated somewhat.
Starting with this photograph, the darkness changed.
Over the course of just a few photographs, the photographer had gone from the foot of the mountain to somewhere up on it.
This was a building erected on the mountainside.
A stretch of ruined walls.
And the photographer had quickly entered the building without lingering outside.
It seemed that, for him, whatever lay inside this building was the real objective of his trip.
Lin Feng watched, committing everything to memory.
He made full use of hypothetical reasoning to piece together what had happened.
If the photographer had been taking pictures at a steady rate, then the points where the lightning flashed—the light source—actually followed a discernible pattern.
At first, it had been ahead of him. After he entered the building, it had been directly overhead.
The intervals between