"Ahem, ahem..." Zhang Yuanqing cleared his throat and said, "In high-difficulty dungeons, putting oneself in harm's way is sometimes the only method. Not every crisis can be resolved through clever tricks. Going straight into the main hall is an option, but I'm still not entirely at ease."
Looking toward the pavilions and meditation chambers, he added, "The living quarters might hold other clues. I intend to send in a yin corpse to check them out."
Although drones were excellent scouts, they couldn't perform delicate operations. Meanwhile, Fu Qingyang's soldier puppets couldn't share their vision. In the end, a Night Roamer's yin corpse was the most useful tool—essentially functioning as a surrogate clone.
Zhang Yuanqing retrieved Little Red Riding Hood and shook out two yin corpses: one was an Extraordinary Bewitching Demon clad in tattered armor; the other was Commandery Princess Yinyao, dressed in slim-fitting jeans and a light-colored T-shirt.
Commandery Princess Yinyao looked left and right, raised her little loudspeaker, and muttered, "Another dungeon..."
As an ancient cultivator, the sheer frequency of dungeons that Spirit Realm walkers faced was hard for her to stomach.
Who could endure facing a life-and-death crisis every few days? Ancient cultivators prioritized tranquility and desirelessness, retreating into the mountains for quiet cultivation far from the mundane world. Even if limited by natural talent and unable to become figures who shook entire realms, they could at least roam the world in carefree freedom.
Spirit Realm walkers, on the other hand, were either in battle or preparing for battle.
A bunch of relentless tryhards.
"You concubine-born little rebel, just do a good job following me, your master's direct disciple, and you won't lack for benefits in the future." Zhang Yuanqing patted Yinyao's cold, delicate shoulder and controlled the yin corpse to step onto the flat ground.
He quickened his pace, heading straight for the pavilion on the right.
This pavilion exhibited a distinct Tang dynasty architectural style—massive bracket sets, thick pillars, and a restrained color palette. It was orderly without being rigid, magnificent without being overly ornate, exuding a dignified grandeur absent in Song dynasty architecture.
The pavilion doors were not lattice doors either, but sliding doors reminiscent of the Island Nation's style.
Zhang Yuanqing stepped up the stairs and tried to slide the door open, only to find it long jammed after countless ages gathering dust.
He simply kicked the wooden door to splinters.
As the scene inside came into view, the only expressive eyes on the yin corpse narrowed slightly.
Corpses were strewn everywhere inside the pavilion, and every single one was decapitated.
Some had been beheaded while fleeing, their bodies sprawled forward on the ground; others hadn't even realized what was happening the moment their heads rolled off, their bodies toppling straight over.
Some lay by the doorway, some inside the rooms, and others on the staircase leading to the second floor.
The floorboards and straw mats were rotted and mildewed, the air thick with a rancid stench of decay.
The clothes on the corpses had long oxidized and faded, clinging to them like tattered rags. Yet despite the passage of endless time, the flesh and severed heads of the corpses were merely shriveled and wrinkled.
*These should be Shushan disciples. Did they all die in this building?* Zhang Yuanqing was privately astounded.
Shushan was an immortal sect of the Tang dynasty. The Commander of the Bu Liang Ren had once borrowed the Crown of the White Emperor from Shushan. For a demigod like the Commander to come in person to borrow something, Shushan's caliber could never have been low.
While he couldn't say whether they possessed peak Dominators, they certainly had high-tier Dominators, and more than one.
Such a faction stood tall above the realm in the Tang era. Unless the imperial court mobilized an army to lay siege, annihilation was virtually impossible.
*If they encountered a powerful enemy, corpses should be strewn throughout the interiors, and the pavilions, halls, and rooms ought to have been ruined by the battle. But they look more like they were hiding in the pavilion taking refuge, only to meet an untimely end regardless... This is downright terrifying!*
What kind of enemy could strike such terror into a top-tier sect like Shushan at the time?
With this in mind, Zhang Yuanqing exited the pavilion and searched through the wild grass under the eaves, attempting to find traces of a defensive array.
Alas, under the erosion of time, all traces had vanished.
Zhang Yuanqing returned to the pavilion and briefly searched the first floor. Aside from decayed furniture, ornaments, and corpses, he found nothing.
Just as he was about to head up to the second floor, billowing black smoke suddenly rushed in from outside the pavilion. Visibility dropped rapidly until everything went dark.
Yin energy—overwhelming yin energy!
Zhang Yuanqing pressed forward in the dark. After roughly a minute, faint footsteps reached his ears, carrying a peculiar, rhythmic cadence.
The next second, his vision snapped back to his teammates.
"Urgh..."
Zhang Yuanqing let out a low groan of pain, clutching his head as veins bulged across his forehead.
The Palace Master was startled. "What happened?"
"The portion of my astral projection inhabiting the yin corpse was sealed. I can't retrieve it." Veins twitched across Zhang Yuanqing's face, and pea-sized drops of sweat rolled down.
It was equivalent to having a piece of his soul torn away.
Hearing this, the Palace Master, Fu Qingyang, Xiahou Aotian, and Heavenly King Demonic Eye all changed expressions.
Fu Qingyang knitted his sharp brows. "I had originally considered that if the black smoke only chooses a single target each time it surges, Yuanshi's yin corpses would allow us to expand our survival rate indefinitely."
Now, the effectiveness of this strategy was drastically diminished, perhaps entirely unviable.
Every time a yin corpse was lost, a piece of his soul would be sealed. At best, Yuanshi would suffer memory loss and diminished strength; at worst, he could lose his soul or descend into madness—turning into a walking corpse in the former case, or an unhinged madman who recognized neither friend nor foe in the latter.
Xiahou Aotian spoke up immediately. "Then let my drones take over. Drones are inanimate objects; it doesn't matter how many we lose."
Heavenly King Demonic Eye chuckled. "Heh, in that case, we need to test another set of data: between a sentient intruder and a non-sentient one, who will the black smoke prioritize?"
By now, Zhang Yuanqing had used Illusionist techniques to soothe the soul trauma. He said:
"Then let's test it once more.
"I haven't checked the second floor of the pavilion yet. There might be clues up there. This dungeon is very bizarre..."
He recounted what he had seen inside the pavilion to his teammates.
Decapitated bodies, an identical manner of death, Southern Courtyard disciples gathered together as if taking refuge... What kind of enemy could drive an immortal sect like Shushan into such a plight?
Everyone furrowed their brows in thought.
"Let me go," Commandery Princess Yinyao volunteered, wanting to shoulder some burden for Mount Sandao's direct disciple.
"No need. My astral projection is stronger than you think. Besides, I can sense that the lost portion wasn't destroyed—it was merely sealed," Zhang Yuanqing said, massaging his throbbing temples. "Once the seal is broken, that part of my soul can be recovered."
With that, he turned to Xiahou Aotian. "Have a drone follow me."
Xiahou Aotian promptly took out his black metal case, popped the lid, connected the neural wires, and piloted a drone to trail behind Yuanshi Tianzun into the Southern Courtyard.
One advantage of checkpoint-style smaller dungeons was that, with sufficient methods, they could explore at their own pace with a relatively high margin for error.
Of course, once they officially progressed deeper into the dungeon, that would depend on the circumstances.
At least for now, time was on their side.
Zhang Yuanqing dashed forward alongside the drone and re-entered the pavilion. He found his yin corpse collapsed on the staircase, its head severed from its body.
The drone hovered in midair, its camera angling down to inspect the corpse. Xiahou Aotian's voice came through the speaker:
"The manner of death is identical to the other corpses. So the thing that killed these Shushan disciples was that sound of footsteps."
Zhang Yuanqing gave an "Mm," reached out to touch the yin corpse, and said:
"Part of my astral projection is inside the corpse, but I can't recall it. It's sealed by an arcane power."
"Striking the physical body seals the primordial spirit inside the vessel? That's hardly good news." Xiahou Aotian's tone was grim as he hurried to report the situation back to their teammates outside.
"Let's go upstairs and look." Zhang Yuanqing paid no more mind to his yin corpse, taking three steps at a time as he ascended to the second floor.
The drone's camera leveled out, and it followed swiftly and lightly with the buzzing hum of its propellers.
Zhang Yuanqing reached the landing in a few strides and entered the second floor. In the spacious hall, over a dozen headless corpses in decayed robes sat cross-legged in a circle, apparently in meditation. This was in stark contrast to the first-floor corpses that had fled in disarray.
The heads of these meditators had rolled behind them, before them, or settled between their legs.
"It looks like some kind of array that required multiple people to sustain... They were using the array to fend off the crisis brought by the footsteps, but they all failed," Xiahou Aotian's analysis came from the drone.
As a Scholar, he was exceptionally sensitive to arrays and formations.
Zhang Yuanqing murmured in agreement:
"The dungeon description mentions that black smoke spreading from the main hall engulfed the Southern Courtyard, and the footsteps, laughter, and shouts within the smoke are sharper than any swordsman's blade.
"What exactly is the nature of the footsteps? Or rather, what is their true form?"
As he spoke, he looked around and spotted a low table on the left. Beside it sat a headless corpse in cross-legged meditation. Its severed head had rolled onto the table, half of its face tilted toward the stairwell, creating an eerie sight.
This corpse seemed to have been the teacher of the deceased and the core anchor of the array, yet he too had been unable to escape misfortune.
To the left of the corpse stood a bookshelf; to the right was a potted plant; and on the wall behind hung a sword.
Zhang Yuanqing quickly inspected the shelves and found they were all Shushan sword cultivation manuals—some on sword arts, some on sword heart, others delving into sword intent.
When he picked up the final manual, *Cloud-Turning Sword-Washing Record*, he discovered something slipped inside.
Opening it, he found a sheet of letter paper, yellowed and brittle, with faded ink.
*For the eyes of the Commander of the Bu Liang Ren:*
*I am Xuanzhen, elder of the Shushan Southern Courtyard. Ever since you borrowed the Crown of the White Emperor, claiming to have found the chance for longevity, our Sect Master has been obsessively buried in the library day and night, studying incessantly. Whenever he felt he had gained an insight, he would travel far and wide seeking immortals and methods of longevity.*
*Three years passed in the blink of an eye. Half a month ago, he returned abruptly to the mountain, summoned us, and declared that he had unraveled the mystery behind the depletion of spiritual energy within an ancient ruin. If unlocked, heaven and earth could be overturned, the heavenly Dao restored to its rightful place, and spiritual energy revived. At that time, all under heaven might attain longevity, and all might become immortals. Afterward, the Sect Master entered secluded cultivation in the rear mountain.*
*Seven days ago, the main peak was enveloped by black smoke, cut off from the world. Ghostly weeping resounded through the nights like the underworld itself. We three elders have exhausted our means, yet cannot find any way through.*
*I know you share deep ties and a karmic bond with Elder Suwen. I implore you to lend a hand and help Shushan survive this tribulation.*
After reading the letter, Zhang Yuanqing turned toward the drone beside him.
"It seems Shushan's Sect Master discovered something in an ancient ruin and recklessly experimented with it, bringing about the sect's destruction. Mm, that makes sense. Only an ancient malevolent entity could wipe out a great sect like Shushan."
Xiahou Aotian remarked, "Why was this distress letter pressed inside a book? Shouldn't it have been sent out?"
Just as Zhang Yuanqing was about to answer, Xiahou Aotian added, "Oh, Fu Qingyang says the Southern Courtyard likely suffered the same fate as the main peak—engulfed and sealed by the black smoke, preventing the letter from ever leaving. The deaths of the disciples in this pavilion prove it."
Unable to escape, they could only hide in the pavilion and erect an array in hopes of weathering the catastrophe.
Zhang Yuanqing had thought the same, but now that Fu Qingyang had already beaten him to the punch, what more could he say? He could only remark with a sigh:
"It seems the Commander of the Bu Liang Ren was just as much of a degenerate lecher as the Demon Lord."
"Oh? How so?" Xiahou Aotian grew interested.
"I entered a Tang dynasty dungeon where the background protagonist was the Commander of the Bu Liang Ren. According to the NPC gossip in that dungeon, the Commander had an affair with the Empress and also with the Princess," Zhang Yuanqing said. "The Demon Lord liked having both mother and daughter too."
Xiahou Aotian said, "I think they're different. The Demon Lord was corrupted by the Fallen Holy Grail and lost his sanity. The Commander was simply serving as the imperial mother and daughter's gigolo."
*You've got some nerve, speaking ill of a demigod like that!* Zhang Yuanqing pulled the conversation back on track:
"The information we've gathered so far can only serve as background lore. As for what the enemy actually is, we still have no clue. There's no more value in this pavilion. If we want more intel, we have to check the main hall."
While they spoke, ten minutes elapsed, and the black smoke surged in once more.
Zhang Yuanqing heard the heavy footsteps with their strange rhythm again. Immediately following, his consciousness faded.
Outside the mountain gate.
"Hiss..." Zhang Yuanqing gasped, clutching his forehead and hunching over, his face contorted in agony.
Meanwhile, the drone controlled by Xiahou Aotian flew out on a steady trajectory.
The test result was self-evident.
The footsteps prioritized attacking stronger or sentient foes.
This time, Zhang Yuanqing had to soothe himself for a long time before subsiding the pain of his torn soul. He felt as though he had forgotten certain things, yet could not recall what he had forgotten.
Those were memories carried away by the severed soul fragment.
Fu Qingyang said in a low voice, "Exploration ends here. We should enter the Southern Courtyard."
If this continued, Yuanshi's condition would only deteriorate, leaving him unable to handle major crises in the dungeon. Furthermore, many of Yuanshi's items carried costs targeting the mental domain.
As his astral projection grew weaker and more fragmented, the backlash from those item costs could very well kill him.
Xiahou Aotian and the others naturally raised no objections.
The five immediately entered the Southern Courtyard, heading purposefully toward the Golden-Topped Hall across from the living quarters.
*Creak!*
Pushing open the nearly rotten hall doors, the grand hall, sealed for countless ages, met their eyes.
Upon an elevated pedestal stood a statue of a woman in flowing robes. Her features were graceful and gentle, her face round. In one hand, she held an iron sword with a red tassel, heavily corroded with rust.
Her other hand held a mottled yellow gourd.
The incense table was blanketed in a thick layer of dust. On the porcelain plates meant for offerings lay fruits rotted into black granules.
Bright yellow curtains hung from the roof beams, while the walls and pillars bore inscriptions detailing the life and deeds of the woman depicted by the statue.
The Southern Courtyard was merely an auxiliary compound of Shushan, not the main peak. The figure enshrined in the hall was naturally not an immortal deity, but rather a predecessor who had made remarkable contributions in the history of the Shushan Sect.
The one enshrined here was named Yaoguang, the ninth sect master of Shushan.
Back then, the second emperor of the Sui dynasty was tyrannical and inept, squeezing the wealth and blood of the people. The common folk had long suffered under Sui rule. Eighteen rebel armies rose in revolt, order collapsed, and malevolent factions ran rampant across the land.
One rebel army once coveted Shushan's secret manuals and magical treasures, seeking to claim them to bolster their own foundation in the contest for the Central Plains.
Sect Master Yaoguang led the sect's disciples in resistance, fiercely battling the rebel army for over a month before finally repelling them. However, her origin was severely injured in the fight, and she succumbed to illness the following year.
Shushan built Yaoguang Hall in her honor, carving her deeds into the hall so she might receive the incense and veneration of future generations.
Zhang Yuanqing and the others searched around Yaoguang Hall for a while, but discovered no information. None of the items they touched possessed any item descriptions.
This hall seemed to be nothing more than background scenery.
Chapter 895