Sun Fuping stood up. "Since Commandery Governor He and I share the same view, we shall begin our search from this lead."
"How do we search?" Nian Songyu frowned. "Are you planning to pray for rain here in the Panlong Ruins?"
"Praying for rain here has a success rate of less than five percent, yet requires five or six times more effort than usual," Sun Fuping replied with a wry smile. "Just now, I attempted to summon the local mountain spirits, but received no response at all."
Summoning mountain spirits in a place like this truly required some imagination. He Lingchuan could not help but laugh. "It's so dry here that even the Earth God would have died of thirst."
"If we cannot call down rain, then we can simply pour water. That might be what the Baling Kingdom's expedition did," Nian Songyu mused after a moment of thought. "Calling rain down over the entire city is impossible and unnecessary. We just have to pinpoint the right spot."
The Baling expedition could not possibly have summoned a downpour over all of Panlong City either; their limited water had to be used in precise locations. With a successful precedent before them, National Preceptor Sun and his party only needed to follow the deductive thread to arrive at a rough estimate.
"According to my analysis, there are only a few places where pouring water could trigger the wild sand season: the Mitian Temple, Zhong Shengguang's shrine, General Red's shrine, Zhong Shengguang's tomb, and the mass graves of Panlong City." Sun Fuping added, "Those two shrines were built while they were still alive—rare examples of living shrines."
As was widely known, only the dead or gods were supposed to receive incense offerings in a shrine. Erecting a living shrine for the living was not worship; it was harm. In eight or nine cases out of ten, a living person lacked the fortune to bear such veneration, resulting in a shortened lifespan at best, and death at worst.
Clearly, Zhong Shengguang and General Red were exceptional figures, deified during their lifetimes.
He Lingchuan asked in curiosity, "Why not count General Red's tomb?"
He Chunhua answered him, "He was never buried. At most, there is only a cenotaph, which holds no value for a search."
Nian Songyu asked, "Even if we find these locations, how do we determine which one to pour water on in the end?"
"We cannot tell, but the Three Corpse Worms know." Sun Fuping ordered his men to bring forward several sealed glass jars, inside of which faint mists seemed to swirl.
Everyone took a closer look—good grief, what mist? Inside the jars swam four or five Three Corpse Worms!
They were quite lively, each butting its head against the rim of the jar, looking somewhat like eels kept in glass.
"They move in only one direction, which is away from the Dafang Pot," Sun Fuping explained. "That means swimming against their direction leads straight to where the Dafang Pot is. Take these jars, walk around the target locations, and you will find it."
*This old man is deep and scheming, planning every step ahead. If he harbors malice, his schemes will surely be meticulous...* He Lingchuan cast a covert glance at him, growing ever more wary.
Taking their glass jars, the group split up to carry out their tasks.
...
Father and son naturally walked together toward Zhong Shengguang's tomb.
A bleak, chilly night wind blew as they walked through the ruins of an ancient city. That sense of desolation and decay peaked the moment they laid eyes upon Zhong Shengguang's tomb.
The tomb sat in the northwestern corner of the southern gate square they had passed earlier. It was surprisingly vast and grand, built entirely of bluestone and spanning two full mu. Judging by the surroundings, whoever buried him had deliberately demolished numerous houses to clear space for constructing this massive tomb.
Yet the epitaph was exceedingly simple: *Tomb of Xiluo Commander Zhong Shengguang*, flanked by the dates of his birth and death.
Over a century had passed, and apart from several traces left by later excavators, the tomb remained intact; not even a single corner was chipped from the stone slabs forming the mound.
Reaching the spot, father and son both let out a long sigh.
The tales of Panlong City and the Gale Army had been sung year after year, enduring ceaselessly in today's Blackwater City. Yet how many had ever come in person to pay their respects to this legendary general who had laid down his life for his country?
He Lingchuan remarked with emotion, "His enemies actually built him such a grand tomb."
Zhong Shengguang had slit his own throat when the city fell, fulfilling his oath: *The city stands, I stand; the city falls, I perish.* Afterward, Panlong City was put to the sword, leaving no countrymen behind to bury him. The ones who built this tomb could only have been his enemies.
"The Xianyou Kingdom had no choice," He Chunhua said. "After Zhong Shengguang died, his head was severed and sent to Xianyou's capital to claim military merit. The entire realm rejoiced, and the royal palace kept it as a trophy. But from then on, bizarre occurrences plagued the Panlong Wasteland—neither beast nor man could survive, and not a blade of grass would grow. What Xianyou wanted was a mineral-rich wasteland, not a desert forbidden to the living. So they sent people back into Panlong City to give Zhong Shengguang a lavish burial, hoping to appease the wrath of his vengeful ghost."
"And then they failed." There was no need to elaborate on what later became of the Xianyou Kingdom or the Panlong Desert.
He Chunhua produced two bundles of incense from somewhere, lit them, and handed one to He Lingchuan. "It wasn't easy to make this journey."
It was only right to pay respects to a heroic spirit.
The two bowed with solemn reverence. He Lingchuan then pulled a waterskin of mare's milk wine from his chest, fetched three cups, and filled them to the brim.
Father and son raised their cups toward the tombstone in a silent toast, then drained them in one gulp.
He Lingchuan gently sprinkled the wine over the burial mound and whispered, "General Zhong, please watch over us and grant us safe passage in and out of the Panlong Desert. Only then will we have the chance to offer you wine again in the future."
He Lingchuan brought out the glass jar and circled Zhong Shengguang's tomb, but the Three Corpse Worms inside did not change direction, continuing to butt against the southern wall.
In other words, this grand tomb was not their target.
Returning from his circuit, he saw He Chunhua lost in thought. "Old man, what's on your mind?"
"I was thinking... if we truly find the Dafang Pot and send it to the inland battlefront, will the wild sand season of the Panlong Desert vanish for good?"
"Of course. Isn't that a good thing? The Panlong Wasteland looks barren, but it is actually rich in resources. Otherwise, the allied forces back then wouldn't have fought tooth and nail for Panlong City. If passage opens up for us, Qiansong Commandery won't be so poor either." Noticing the expression on He Chunhua's face, He Lingchuan paused. "What, did I say something wrong?"
"Everything you said is correct, yet I believe it would be best for the Panlong Desert to remain just as it is."
He Lingchuan asked in surprise, "Why?" Who in their right mind would want to guard a fickle, barren wasteland?
"The Panlong Desert is an obstacle, a scourge, and unpredictable—yet it is also a shield. Great Yuan is no longer as powerful as it once was. If this layer of defense is stripped away, the consequences will be hard to predict."
"What kind of shield is the Panlong Desert?" He Lingchuan inwardly praised the commandery governor's foresight, but grinned on the surface. "If we recover that pot, our entire family will move to the capital. Who cares about this godforsaken Panlong Desert? Whether it winds or rains here will have nothing to do with us anymore."
Such rhetoric fit the original He Lingchuan's personality perfectly. Commandery Governor He looked at him and smiled. "You certainly grasp the ways of officialdom."
Whether promoted or transferred, any trouble would belong to the next local official; one could simply dust off one's backside and walk away. Just as his eldest son said, why bother worrying on others' behalf?
If the sky fell, someone else would hold it up.
In truth, He Lingchuan understood right away. The Panlong Desert served as a buffer zone between several major powers. Anyone wishing to cross it to attack the Yuan Kingdom faced immense hardship, not to mention that the nearly six-month-long wild sand season was a nightmare for almost any expeditionary force. During that period, unless an army could sustain itself through warfare and plunder enough supplies to feed its ranks, logistical support lines would be completely severed.
Chapter 37