The True Ancient Tomb

Everything in the ancient tomb shattered amidst the howling yin qi, laying bare its original appearance. A quiet, winding path, dilapidated and desolate houses, faded, blackened red paper pasted on wooden doors, withered grass roots and dried moss clinging to the foot of the walls... He was still in the village, still in the exact same spot. His earlier trek across mountains and rivers, his crawl through the robber's tunnel—it had all been an illusion. The moment he broke free of the charm art, Zhang Yuanqing whipped his head around to look at the quiet path behind him. A wave of yin qi, as thick and dark as ink, was surging from the far end of the winding path. It tumbled and churned in heavy layers, rolling forward like billowing smoke. Right in the path of the roiling smoke was Little Doubi, bawling his eyes out. He paddled his four limbs frantically, crawling while wailing, bursting with a speed entirely unnatural for his age. The smoky yin qi pursued him relentlessly from behind, threatening to swallow the chubby, adorable little infant spirit at any moment. At this very second, his reliance on his master was absolute, just like a child clinging to his parents. Zhang Yuanqing felt a chill seep into his very bones. Every nerve in his body screamed, Run! Every muscle locked up in a conditioned reflex, and his adrenaline surged—not to fuel him for a fight, but to ensure his legs would not buckle beneath him as he fled for his life. The charm art was broken. If he ran now, he could still make it... Looking at Little Doubi, on the verge of being swallowed by the smoke, Zhang Yuanqing's face twitched violently. In the next instant, he gritted his teeth and charged headlong toward Little Doubi, hurling himself right toward the tsunami of surging yin qi. Only as he rushed into the terrifying wave did he truly understand Little Doubi's dread. The suffocating aura came crashing down with overwhelming, irresistible force. Before it even reached him, the sheer pressure made his heart and guts shudder with mortal terror, even as a Night Wanderer. This was the natural suppression an advanced figure exerted over a subordinate of the same class. Just as a Night Wanderer held absolute dominion over ordinary spirit bodies. In a full-out sprint, Zhang Yuanqing unfurled the Yinyang Robe and threw it over his shoulders, then summoned the Houtu Boots, slipping into them on the run. His footsteps instantly turned heavy, each strike against the ground landing with a dull, resonant thud, helping him steady his chaotic breathing. After sprinting another dozen meters, his legs grew weak, his calves seized with cramps, and his face turned as white as a sheet of paper. The closer he drew to that yin qi, the greater his terror grew, as though he were confronting a natural predator. No, I can't stop... he told himself. Two glimmers of light materialized, coalescing into the Ruffian Boxing Gloves and the Explosive Pistol. Fuck it! What is there to be afraid of? When a man dies, he dies with his balls in the air. Time to take down this dead bitch! The instant his hands closed around the two items, the thought blazed through Zhang Yuanqing's mind. A surge of reckless courage swept over him, wiping the fear clean from his heart. Thud, thud, thud! He finally reached Little Doubi, flung his arms wide, and swept the little infant spirit into a fierce embrace as it hurled itself against him. Right then, the inky yin qi engulfed the space before his eyes. Zhang Yuanqing watched as the churning black smoke parted, revealing a pair of embroidered shoes and a pleated red skirt. Next, the black smoke pulled back over a plump, high chest like a parted curtain, unveiling the elegant contour of a jawline. Finally, an exquisitely beautiful face emerged. Widow Li at the head of the village had not lied: this woman was indeed stunning, but she was also pale—so pale it made his skin crawl. Most horrifying of all were her eyes. Her sockets were filled with pitch-black energy, within which pupils of blood-red gems burned. Zhang Yuanqing's body trembled uncontrollably, his teeth chattering together with sharp, clicking clicks. The color completely drained from his face, leaving him just as ghastly white as the red-robed woman before him. Yet his heart was pounding wildly, thumping far past its limit, its violent thuds visible through the heaving of his chest. A monstrous dread detonated inside Zhang Yuanqing. Other than the Heavenly King Demonic Eye, this was the most terrifying enemy he had ever faced face-to-face. The Heavenly King Demonic Eye did not possess an aura that specifically suppressed a Night Wanderer. But the woman in the red dress before him was different. In life, she had clearly been a mighty Night Wanderer—no, a Star Official. Those eyes—sockets of utter black, pupils like beads of blood—gazed down at Zhang Yuanqing without a shred of emotion. She slowly raised her arm, her sleeve slipping back to reveal a pale, delicate hand. That hand reached straight for Zhang Yuanqing's throat. Boom! Zhang Yuanqing's emotions erupted. It was as if an intolerable shock had struck him. Driven to the edge of death, a desperate, mutually destructive rage momentarily overpowered his terror. The boot on his right foot flared with a thick, almost viscous yellow light. The muscles in his right leg bulged, ripping his trouser leg open. Snap! Zhang Yuanqing lashed out with a vicious whip kick, striking straight toward the pale hand reaching for him. The delicate, pale hand paused for a fraction of a second, then lazily turned palm outward. Smack! Zhang Yuanqing's whip kick landed squarely in the red-robed woman's palm. The next instant, her fingers locked around his foot. Crack! Zhang Yuanqing heard the bones in his foot shatter. That hand was clearly slender and beautiful, yet it possessed incomparable strength. Even more terrifying was that the fatal kick from the Houtu Boots had failed to budge her delicate, pale hand by so much as a fraction of an inch. She's invincible... Unbeatable... The urge to "take her down" was extinguished in an instant. As if stripped of his reason, he grew utterly reckless, slamming both hands together against his chest without regard for the consequences. Boom! A violent blast of air and crimson fire flared out, fluttering the Commandery Princess's skirt and whipping her black hair about, yet her face remained as cold and rigid as ever. Seeing that even the blast's shockwave failed to push the Commandery Princess back, Zhang Yuanqing cursed inwardly, Fuck! The Houtu Boots couldn't even shake her, so why the hell did I think a pair of Transcendent-tier gloves would do anything? Worst of all, that single moment of hesitation had cost him precious, lifesaving seconds. The Commandery Princess released his foot, and her delicate, pale hand reached for him again, its fingers nearly brushing his neck. A layer of white frost immediately rimmed Zhang Yuanqing's throat. At the razor's edge of death, Zhang Yuanqing slammed the drum beat button on the Cat King Speaker and summoned the Red Dancing Shoes in the very same breath. Thump! Thump! Thump! A dull, deafening drumbeat tore through the air, piercing the eardrums. Aimed squarely at all spirit bodies and minds, the sound instilled terror in whoever heard it, throwing their consciousness into turmoil. The Commandery Princess's hand hitched for an imperceptible fraction of a moment. Two streaks of red light covered Zhang Yuanqing's feet, finishing the equip. In the next instant, his body collapsed without warning, dropping into a full split to slip past the Commandery Princess's grasp. Upon hearing the drums, the Commandery Princess's cold, savage pupils seemed to contract. A beat later, her gaze turned even more ferociously ruthless, and thick, bulging black veins crept up her pale cheeks. Her face was rigid, but Zhang Yuanqing could feel her incandescent fury with crystal clarity. The drums made her go berserk? No, the drumbeat doesn't have that kind of effect... Zhang Yuanqing froze for an instant before a realization hit him. It was the Demon Lord! The Demon Lord had entered this dungeon in the past, and back then, he had certainly carried the Cat King Speaker. The drumbeat had triggered the Commandery Princess, dredging up an unpleasant memory... Fuck, what the hell did that idiot Demon Lord do to her back then?! Zhang Yuanqing cursed furiously in his head. Controlled by the Red Dancing Shoes, his legs sprang up, launching him into the air, and he broke into a frantic sprint toward the village exit. The Red Dancing Shoes were entirely immune to the Commandery Princess's class suppression. Enduring the agonizing pain in his right foot, Zhang Yuanqing hastily switched off the drumbeat and glanced over his shoulder. His pupils contracted sharply. The smoky yin qi had coalesced into a colossal hand larger than a house, sweeping down to seize him. In the center of the palm stood the enraged Commandery Princess. The giant hand fell like a collapsing tower, crashing down toward the fleeing boy and corpse. Seeing this, Zhang Yuanqing immediately split his spirit body in two, sending half to possess the yin corpse. At the same time, he pulled an item as thin as a cicada's wing from his inventory—a humanoid membrane. The Flawless Human Skin! He hurled the item with all his might toward Corpse No. 1 behind him. Corpse No. 1 (Zhang Yuanqing) caught the item and draped it over its head. The humanoid membrane melted into a puddle of liquid, washing over Corpse No. 1. A second later, Corpse No. 1 transformed into a handsome, vibrant young man in his early twenties. It was none other than Zhang Yuanqing. This Zhang Yuanqing spun on his heel and fled down a side path, parting ways with the original body. The crashing giant hand seemed to come under some unseen influence. It froze in midair, and after a brief hesitation, it surged after the Zhang Yuanqing that the yin corpse had become. "Phew... It didn't follow me!" Sensing the tsunami of yin qi veer off after the yin corpse, Zhang Yuanqing felt the exhilaration of cheating death, followed immediately by a profound exhaustion born of extreme emotional expenditure. He did not dare linger for even a second, urging the Red Dancing Shoes onward across the fields and into the back hills. He needed to use the Red Dancing Shoes' ability to ignore terrain and move without consuming stamina to sprint to the ancient tomb in one breath. Corpse No. 1 wouldn't last long—or rather, it wouldn't be able to run for long. The Commandery Princess would kill it very soon. The ancient tomb was the only true safe haven. Leaving the village would not keep him safe; the Commandery Princess would inevitably hunt him down. Zhang Yuanqing crossed the rugged mountain ridges and jutting crags as though strolling across flat ground, heading straight for the robber's tunnel etched in his memory. Though what he had seen before was an illusion, Zhang Yuanqing believed it had not been fabricated out of thin air; it had been an illusion built upon reality. The reason was simple: he had never visited the ancient tomb, yet everything there had felt completely authentic. From the tomb's architecture to the burial goods, every detail had conformed to logic, which was why it had fooled him so thoroughly. The bronze mirror had been excavated from the tomb. It was familiar with everything inside, allowing it to craft a seamless illusion. A few minutes later, Zhang Yuanqing reached the spot where the robber's tunnel had been in the illusion. His analysis had been spot on. The ancient tomb was located right here. "Dismiss!" Zhang Yuanqing promptly unequipped the Red Dancing Shoes, leapt into the robber's tunnel, and pressed forward through the narrow passage. The Red Dancing Shoes followed closely behind him, clip-clopping along as a notification floated above them: [Would you like to dance with me?...] It looked as though they were shamelessly tagging along, pestering Zhang Yuanqing for a dance. Reaching the end of the tunnel, Zhang Yuanqing dropped into the tomb chamber and scanned his surroundings. Sure enough, standing in the four corners were clay figurines of maidservants and guards, their cracked surfaces and missing limbs identical to those in the illusion. Only then did he finally relax, slumping to the ground and panting heavily. The air inside the tomb chamber was somewhat stifling, a clear sign of low oxygen—a detail that differed from the illusion. I actually missed that clue... Sigh, I just don't have enough grave-robbing experience. That cost me big... Zhang Yuanqing sighed inwardly. Clip-clop, clip-clop... The Red Dancing Shoes hopped into the tomb chamber after him, drew close, and kicked him with their left foot. [Would you like to dance with me?...] If the owner did not pay the price within a short window, the Red Dancing Shoes' favorability toward them would drop, and they would turn on their master to hunt them down. That kick was a clear sign that the shoes were no longer fond of him. "I would, I would..." Helpless, Zhang Yuanqing hauled himself up, endured the agonizing throbbing in his foot, and accompanied the Red Dancing Shoes through an entire dance. By the end, he felt the injury to his foot had grown even worse. Zhang Yuanqing stored the Red Dancing Shoes away and slumped back onto the floor, doing his best not to jostle his injured right foot. The only reason he had been able to dance a tap routine with a shattered foot was thanks to the Houtu Boots. —Honest folks sure had great endurance! Sometimes, the drawback of an item could actually serve as an asset. For example, the only reason he had been able to overcome his terror earlier and resist the pressure of a high-tier entity was entirely due to those two Fire Master items: the Ruffian Boxing Gloves and the Explosive Pistol. They had formed the foundation for his entire subsequent sequence of actions. Even though they had driven him to make a brainless, reckless move, the net result had still worked in his favor. Suddenly, an unimaginably potent wave of pressure bore down from above. Zhang Yuanqing froze. Instinctively curling in on himself, he tilted his head up and watched the ceiling with bated breath. The Commandery Princess had tracked him down... He waited, heart suspended in his throat, watching for a long time as the overwhelming pressure circled above before finally fading into the distance. "She's gone?" Zhang Yuanqing let out a long breath, then clutched his chest, a pang of heartache hitting him. "What a waste... I lost a yin corpse." Using the Flawless Human Skin's trait of bearing karmic consequences to make the yin corpse take his place in death had been a sudden flash of inspiration during the crisis. Fu Qingyang had been right: the greater the peril, the more his potential shone. Though the Flawless Human Skin was cursed and notoriously troublesome, from a certain perspective, it was an indisputable god-tier item. "I just hope the Commandery Princess didn't take the item with her, or else this run is going to be a massive loss." Zhang Yuanqing got to his feet and turned his gaze toward the corridor doorway, peering into the main tomb. In the illusion, the coffin and chests could not be opened. He wanted to see whether, in reality, those things could be unlocked.