What followed was a scene of sheer brutality. The two long-faced figures forced the young women to the ground, then used knives to slice open their bellies, extracting their entrails.

They proceeded to peel off the skin, reducing the bodies to small, chunky pieces of meat. Only the bloody heads were severed and set aside.

Then, they brought in a massive cauldron from the outside of a circular doorway, built a fire, and began boiling the chunks of flesh. Finally, the two long-faced monsters sat astride two of the severed human heads, while the middle-aged man sat on the ground, happily scooping the meat from the large pot with his hands and eating with apparent enjoyment.

If this had only been a fresco, it might have been tolerable, but the detail rendered by these tiny stone strips was exquisite; the flesh, blood, and bone of the figures were almost lifelike, inducing a wave of horror in the viewer. I glanced at Long Jia beside me; she clapped a hand over her mouth, looking as if she was about to vomit.

Though the sight was sickening, I knew I had to keep watching. Unexpectedly, I assumed the cannibalistic scene was the limit, but as the narrative continued, it seemed to repeat this exact event over and over.

I couldn't count how many people they consumed, but the middle-aged man, initially thin and frail, slowly grew obese. He continued to gain weight day by day, becoming so tremendously fat that he eventually resembled a heap of flesh, unable to even stand.

Seeing this, I grew puzzled, wondering what the purpose was behind the two long-faced fiends feeding the middle-aged man human flesh daily until he became so corpulent. The answer came quickly enough.

As the scene shifted, the semi-circular room vanished, the round-holed door disappeared, the middle-aged man was gone, and so were the two monsters. Instead, the scene depicted a skeletal wild dog gnawing on a severed human hand.

Then, I saw a devastated village: thatched roofs smoldered, the ground was littered with decaying corpses, and the few survivors huddled against walls, staring blankly at the sky in despair. The living inhabitants bore massive, festering sores on their faces and arms, making them look terrifying.

Clearly, this village nestled against the great mountains had been struck by some kind of plague, and the people had reached a point of no return—no medicine could cure them. At this juncture, I observed the two strange figures bringing the disgustingly obese middle-aged man near the village.

Then, these two beings began carving flesh from the fat man’s body with knives. With every slab of meat they carved, the long-faced monsters roasted it and distributed the cooked flesh to the desperately ill villagers.

These people, long deprived of the ability to work and starving for so long, had lost all inhibition. Seeing meat, they didn't care about its origin and ravenously devoured it.

At this point, I looked at Long Jia again; her face was ashen, and she looked ready to be sick. My own stomach churned violently, especially when I saw the fat man’s entire body stripped bare, revealing the bone beneath, which was overwhelmingly nauseating.

I recalled elders saying that in the distant past, the flesh of mummified corpses was sometimes used as a medicinal catalyst to cure ailments. Now, it seemed such a bizarre remedy truly existed.

For after consuming that man’s flesh, every villager recovered. I couldn't fathom what kind of medicine this was: fattening up a grotesque, inhuman thing on human flesh, only to carve that flesh off to cure disease.

It felt reminiscent of the Buddhist concept of Karma and retribution—those sacrificed women had exchanged their lives to save many others; it was a cycle of karma paid. I felt that if this was merely a story, there were many Buddhist principles to decipher.

But if this was a genuine historical event, I found it utterly preposterous. First, the nature of this middle-aged man was inexplicable.

Second, the long-faced beings did not seem human. What happened next was even more astonishing.

The middle-aged man, almost completely stripped of flesh, was reduced to a mere skeleton, yet he had not died. He was abandoned by the roadside by the two long-faced monsters and subsequently found by several villagers.

Those who knew the backstory recognized the skeletal figure as the benefactor whose flesh had saved their lives. They took him into their homes and cared for him.

Not only did he survive, but under the nourishment of good food and care from the villagers, he slowly began to regain his flesh. Because he had given his flesh to save them, the villagers treated the middle-aged man with profound reverence.

I had initially assumed this man was nothing more than a mute, thoughtless automaton, but later, he became the village chief. And the two long-faced monsters hadn't truly abandoned him; they returned several times to visit him.

Each visit, the long-faced beings would bring the middle-aged man several books. Though I couldn't discern the contents of these books, after the middle-aged man became chief, the settlement began to flourish rapidly.

The man not only established village schools but also built various docks and commercial shops, leading to a constant flow of trade and the emergence of many learned scholars. Gradually, the village developed into a city-state, its territory steadily expanding.

Seasons turned over, countless springs and autumns passed, yet the appearance of the middle-aged man never changed. Later still, this city-state began recruiting soldiers and horses, apparently preparing for war.

At first, I couldn't determine if these people were Eastern or Western in origin. But once the army was formed, judging by their iron armor and longswords, I could see it was a city-state akin to a Western nation.

Most incredibly, in this distant antiquity, the nation possessed an air force—fleet after fleet of winged airships, carrying cargo and troops, flew over the sea. I watched numerous foreigners of different appearances come to the city-state to petition the Lord, who was the original middle-aged man.

They brought vast amounts of gold, silver, jewels, cloth, and horses, and in return, the middle-aged man gifted them scrolls of silk and books. The appearance of these books was depicted very clearly; I noticed a small, flame-shaped insignia on the back of every scroll, which instantly reminded me of the mark I had seen belonging to that mysterious organization—the symbol was nearly identical.

I believe that by now, I know—this is the entire process of the rise of the De-Kingdom.