Xu Fengnian gazed at the white-robed woman seated high upon the dragon throne, finding her even more unfamiliar than when he first saw Luoyang entering Dunhuang City.
But since Luoyang had always been shrouded in mystery, this added strangeness hardly mattered. Xu Fengnian glanced around. The treasures within the Qin Emperor’s mausoleum were surely not limited to just two imperial robes—there should also be a national-treasure tiger talisman and two Witch Armor (wu jia), different from Runic Armor (fu jia). He suspected there were even grander treasures. Unlike the thin air outside, the tomb’s atmosphere, though filled with a chilling yin energy, wasn’t suffocating. Yin creatures naturally thrived here, inhaling deeply and exhaling little, as if each breath strengthened their cultivation slightly. Their joyful expressions grew more blissful, their compassionate looks more solemn. Luoyang sat on the dragon throne, hands gripping its arms, eyes closed in quiet meditation.
Xu Fengnian passed through the terracotta soldier formation—a massive cavalry square—and entered the left chamber. Before him stood an armory filled with bronze weapons covered in rust. He picked up a halberd head, wiped away the corrosion, and studied it intently. As the heir of Beiliang, his thoughts ran deeper than most would upon seeing such a sight. The Qin Empire was in a transitional period where offensive weapons were rising while defensive ones were declining. Axes and yues, once the dominant military weapons of Qin, had begun to fade from prominence. Yet Qin’s weapon craftsmanship had reached an almost unbelievable level. Putting down the halberd, he picked up an arrowhead nearly identical to those used in Beiliang—narrow and slim, with diamond or triangular points designed for strong penetration. It was almost laughable how kingdoms like Nantang still used the outdated double-winged arrowheads discarded eight hundred years ago, their shafts far inferior in length to those of Beiliang, resulting in shallow penetration.
Xu Fengnian concealed the arrowhead in his sleeve, intending to show it to his teacher, Li Yishan. He then lifted a bronze short sword, gently rubbing his thumb over its dulled edge, noting the relatively stable metal structure. Ancient military texts described Qin’s metalworking techniques as combining gold and tin in perfect harmony, producing smoke-like vapors. He couldn’t help but marvel at the might of Qin’s military. Looking around, he saw mysterious short swords from ancient Shu with symbolic engravings, Yue-style boot-shaped axes from Tang and Yue regions, Ding-style picks from the southwestern Yi tribes, and full armor sets and blunt weapons from the northern grasslands. The variety was staggering, a true testament to the grandeur of a mighty empire.
A dull thud echoed through the chamber. Xu Fengnian turned to see Luoyang, her waist adorned with a gilded tiger talisman, flanked by two Witch Armor (wu jia) puppets. She spoke in a flat tone, “Those famous Qin swords are outdated by today’s standards, but there are a few short swords forged from meteoric iron, similar to Li Chungan’s Muma Niu. If you don’t mind the burden, you can take them.”
Following Luoyang’s gesture, Xu Fengnian found three uniquely styled black-lacquered Qin sword cases. Opening them, he found each sword brimming with a chilling aura. He tore a strip from his robe to bind the three swords into one case, strapping it to his back. Luoyang smirked, “To the right is the treasure vault, filled with golden sands. If you have the strength to move mountains, feel free to try.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled, “I can’t carry it, but I won’t leave it for Beiman either. I’ll destroy it before leaving the tomb. You won’t stop me, will you?”
Luoyang gave no reply.
Xu Fengnian headed toward the right vault, where golden treasures glittered as far as the eye could see. Suddenly, he turned and asked, “Can Zhong and Lu still get in?”
Luoyang smiled faintly, “I rather hope they do.”
Xu Fengnian asked, “Then you’ll make sure they never leave?”
Luoyang toyed with the national-treasure tiger talisman in her hand. Xu Fengnian caught a glimpse of golden light enveloping her fingers, countless golden threads winding up her arm before vanishing into her body. Pretending not to notice, he asked curiously, “Is this the complete layout of the Qin Emperor’s tomb?”
Luoyang stamped her foot, “There are three more levels beneath. One holds miscellaneous treasures, one holds the coffin, and the deepest level contains the talisman array that supports the entire tomb. There’s no need to see the second level—it’s just empty coffins. As for the deepest level, going there would mean certain death for both of us.”
Xu Fengnian murmured, “Then I’ll take a look below. Wait a moment.”
Luoyang replied calmly, “It’s time to go.”
Xu Fengnian frowned, “Did you find the way out?”
Luoyang’s gaze was cold, “That’s your responsibility.”
Xu Fengnian suddenly asked, “What about that Yin creature? Don’t let it cause trouble.”
Luoyang gave no answer, showing no attachment to the treasures as she returned to the main tomb. This time, she didn’t sit on the dragon throne but gazed at the terracotta soldiers buried alongside the emperor. Xu Fengnian sat on the steps, contemplating their escape route. Logically, the Qin Emperor’s tomb would have no exit. With the copper gate dismantled into armor, Luoyang had summoned Tai’e to collapse the Thunder Pool, merging it with the surrounding mountains. Even Xu Fengnian and Luoyang together couldn’t break through such barriers. The corridor’s material was harder than gold or stone. Digging a path back would be a foolish but desperate option—Xu Fengnian would consider it for survival, but the female demon would likely watch idly. Even if he managed to dig all the way to the Yellow River cliffs, it would take years.
After entering the tomb, Xu Fengnian had lost count of how many times he had sighed. He looked down at his Azure Serpent Robe (qing mang pao), unstrapped the sword case, and drew a short sword, scraping it against the armor. No mark appeared. The blade met the armor without sparks, as if the armor itself understood the principle of yielding to overcome force, slightly deforming before instantly springing back.
He turned his gaze to the two ancient Sorcery (wu shu) puppets behind Luoyang, resembling later The Crimson Armor of the Fu General (fu jiang hong jia). Clad in iron armor, they held the bones of generals within—but they could only be admired from afar, not examined closely. Xu Fengnian always had a scholarly curiosity for the unknown, but his current priority was finding a way out. Like opening the copper gate, it required a sudden insight; wandering aimlessly would lead nowhere. Xu Fengnian remained calm and composed, and Luoyang, for once, didn’t rush him. She seemed like a wanderer returning home, savoring every inch of familiar soil.
As for the Yin creature, it greedily absorbed the tomb’s centuries-old impure energy to nourish itself. Watching it, Xu Fengnian felt a chill. If he fought it now, death was certain. He patted the sword case resting on his knee, sighing. The path of martial cultivation was a strict hierarchy—each level a vast chasm from the last, unlike the sages of the three teachings who could bend the rules. Only freaks like Han Diaosi, capable of killing beyond their level, defied logic.
Xu Fengnian sat motionless on the steps. By misfortune, Tai’e had been tempered in the Thunder Pool, its blade now awakened. Yet fortune and misfortune intertwined—this deadly flying sword seemed to favor Luoyang more than him, as if it had a mind of its own. Xu Fengnian suspected she might wield Tai’e better than he could.
Luoyang sat one step above him, the gilded tiger talisman dimmer than before. Xu Fengnian was deeply shaken. Could one truly absorb the fortune of a nation through cultivation? The talisman was clearly the residual fate of the Qin Empire. What kind of audacity did a cultivator need to dare such a feat—risking being overwhelmed and destroyed?
Without turning his head, Xu Fengnian asked directly, “Are you using the Fire Dragon Armor to resist the talisman’s fortune?”
Though Luoyang’s nature was unpredictable, she rarely spoke in riddles, always straightforward. “You’re not as stupid as I imagined.”
Xu Fengnian laughed, “You flatter me.”
Luoyang continued, “You must be wondering why I was so eager to fight Toba Busi before reaching the Land Immortal realm?”
Xu Fengnian placed his hand on the sword case.
Luoyang continued, “The black pearl inside me had already matured. If I had waited longer, it would have aged. Hong Jingyan seized his chance, but he overestimated himself and underestimated me. When Deng Ta’a shattered the pearl in Dunhuang, my already short life was further shortened. After my fight with Toba Busi, whether I won or lost, I would have died. To extend my life by a few years, I needed something rare and powerful. The national tiger talisman was one such item—most beneficial. It granted me five more years. But five years still aren’t enough.”
Then she said something cryptic, “It’s always like this—ten years less.”
Before Xu Fengnian could ponder, she pointed at the Yin creature, “Its name is Dan Ying. It’s a puppet carefully cultivated by the Princess Tomb for eight generations. It has devoured the hearts and livers of many Daoist immortals and Buddhist monks. Countless martial artists have also fed its hunger. It can live a long time. Envious?”
Xu Fengnian rolled his eyes, “Better dead than like that. Life and death are great matters, but Confucianism speaks of sacrificing life for righteousness. I may not have that conviction, but I do believe some things are worse than death. My teacher once said, ‘To pursue Dao for longevity alone is heretical. To pursue Buddha for enlightenment alone is clinging.'”
To Xu Fengnian’s surprise, Luoyang nodded approvingly, “You always mention this Li Yishan. In my opinion, he seems more like a true master than Li Chungan.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled, “My teacher and the old man with the sheepskin robe were never on the same path. Comparing them isn’t fair. You just haven’t met the old sword saint, or you wouldn’t hold such a grudge. Once you do, I think you’ll get along famously with that ragged old man.”
Changing the subject, Luoyang asked, “Don’t you want to be emperor?”
Xu Fengnian shook his head, “I couldn’t do it.”
Luoyang smirked, “Indeed. You lack the ability.”
Xu Fengnian suddenly smiled, “Forget that. I remember a friend’s classification of women—something worth sharing. He’s suffered a lot, mostly from unrequited love, but his insights are interesting. He said he hated three types of women the most. The first are ‘Orchid Whores’—so refined and aloof, like orchids blooming in secluded valleys. Usually from noble families, they act like celestial maidens, floating without a trace of worldly grime, making people think they never defecate or fart. The second are ‘White Flower Whores’—from humble backgrounds, their weapon is tearful vulnerability. They’re usually plain-looking, seemingly gentle and delicate, but once they scheme, men can be trapped for years. The third are ‘Amazon Whores’—bold and brash, acting like they’re proud to be foul-mouthed, love fighting, and hate being slim. They want to be buddies with men, rejecting embroidery, music, calligraphy, and makeup.”
Luoyang chuckled, “Am I the first type? Or do I count as a fourth—‘Demon Whore’?”
Xu Fengnian laughed, “You’re exaggerating.”
Luoyang simply smiled.
She stood up, “Let’s go.”
Xu Fengnian was puzzled.
The female demon smirked, “I remembered the way out.”
Xu Fengnian felt both relieved and anxious, “After we escape, will I still have to fight Toba Busi with you?”
She sneered, “Don’t play innocent. If you weren’t useful, you’d be dead beyond resurrection.”
Xu Fengnian smiled, secured his sword case, and even found time to hum a line in his Beiliang accent: “The longest journey in the world is the path that takes you further and further from home.”
The Yin creature Dan Ying, though reluctant to leave the tomb, understood the gravity of the moment and followed Luoyang and Xu Fengnian toward the exit.
When the Yellow River flowed backward, the waters surged violently, layers of waves rolling back. Everyone saw it, but no one believed it was Xu Fengnian’s doing. They assumed it was the Yin creature causing chaos beneath the river.
The old commander galloped to the waist-shaped Hukou (hukou), standing silently on the cliffside, his expression grim. The river’s roar drowned out the sound of a thousand cavalry hooves following behind. The mist soaked his clothes, and soon his robe was drenched. A dozen horsemen approached the old general, dismounted, and dared not speak. He turned his gaze to Zhong Shentong, and the two foxes of politics and war exchanged knowing smiles—no words needed.
H Helian Wuwei (Helian Wuwei) was furious, resenting Zhong Shentong’s inaction. But Zhong Shentong was at ease—Yin creatures acted unpredictably. The The Azure Control Army (Kongbi Army) would blame the Princess Tomb, not the Zhong family. In the bureaucratic world, who wasn’t smiling on the outside while hiding a dagger within? Not helping was already great kindness. If Helian dared to blame the Zhong and Lu families, the brothers wouldn’t be easy targets.
Helian Wuwei, impatient, led the Kongbi Army back.
Zhong Shentong waited longer before meeting his elusive brother, Zhong Shu, and they returned together.
The mountain closed, yet mechanisms still opened the way.
Through the now-safe corridor, the dragon wall flipped, and the white-robed, red-armored Luoyang, the Azure Armor (qing jia) Xu Fengnian, and the Yin creature Dan Ying leapt from the river wall into the riverbed.
Xu Fengnian placed his palm on Luoyang’s left back, and with a golden-threaded sword, pierced her heart completely.
As the white robe fell into the river, she turned and smiled with narrowed eyes.
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