"This must be what Panlong City looked like before its destruction, right?" Since the other three were all of higher status than him, Maotao kept his voice down. "The Eldest Young Master and I walked all this way without running into a single person."
"There is no one in the city either. At least, we didn't find anyone after circling the immediate vicinity," Sun Fuping said slowly. "I was transported into a well, while Commandant Nian dropped straight into the moat."
The four of them passed through the city gate. Just beyond lay a grand square. It seemed that in this era, Panlong City did not yet have its triple defensive walls.
"Looks like the period we're in is even earlier than when Panlong City fell," He Lingchuan observed, looking around. "There aren't so many fortifications yet."
The Panlong City they had seen in the desert was armed to the teeth, constantly flexing its might to the outside world; the Panlong City here appeared remarkably gentle.
The same city presented entirely different faces across different times and spaces.
The group crossed the square. The cistern pool found in the desert's Panlong City was absent here, though fortunately, the black flood dragon totem remained.
Just ahead stood a row of buildings—post stations and inns in front, with various residences behind them.
"The layout of the buildings is different as well." Nian Songyu took the lead, stepping into a tavern. "When I first came inside, the stove was still warm."
The tavern's front doors were wide open, framed by two hanging cloths. Inside were six or seven tables, with rather haphazardly arranged chairs. He Lingchuan noticed that three of the tables held wine jugs, residual wine still lingering in cups, alongside small dishes containing a dozen or so peanuts.
Behind the counter lay an account ledger. The character for "wine" had only been half-written, left as "sprinkle," with the brush discarded to the side and the ink barely dry.
Nian Songyu walked over to a table and rapped on it with his knuckles, producing a solid thumping sound.
"They're all real physical objects. This is far too realistic." With that, he picked up a cup of wine and thrust it into Maotao's hand. "Drink it."
Maotao started. "Huh? Drink it?" Who would dare eat or drink something from an unknown, bizarre place?
Nian Songyu's gaze showed he was not joking.
Left with no choice, Maotao tilted his head back and took a tiny sip, smacking his lips cautiously. "It's wine. Extremely watered-down, though. Back in Blackwater City, a horn cup of this would be worth three copper coins at most."
"Drink it all down." Not just a taste.
He Lingchuan said nothing. Under the watchful eyes of all three men, Maotao could only swallow the wine down into his belly.
"All done. So what do we do now... Ah! My stomach hurts!" Before he could finish, Maotao let out a strange yelp, dropped the cup, and bolted toward the back.
The latrines were always out back.
After waiting for a good while, Nian Songyu jerked his chin toward He Lingchuan. "Go on. See if he's dead yet." His demeanor was utterly arrogant.
Neither He Chunhua nor the Blackwater City army was here, so there was no need for him to show He Lingchuan the slightest courtesy.
In fact, if the kid dared put on airs, Nian Songyu intended to beat him till he was picking his teeth off the floor, venting the pent-up frustration of the past few days.
To his surprise, He Lingchuan showed neither anger nor reluctance. He simply turned and walked toward the back of the building, not giving Nian Songyu any chance to make a scene.
Nian Songyu blinked in surprise instead. *The brat certainly knows how to read the room.*
Halfway to the back, a breeze blew past, rustling the leaves.
He Lingchuan sensed a sudden gust of sharp wind coming from behind. On pure reflex, he dodged aside, drawing his saber into his grip.
*Hah.* It was merely a tree branch swaying in the wind, which had nearly brushed against his back.
He Lingchuan was in no hurry to sheath his blade.
Ever since entering this city, he had felt something was off, as though someone were watching his every move.
That sensation of being shadowed like an inescapable ghost was thoroughly annoying.
Just then, Maotao came walking back, still hitching up his trousers. Seeing He Lingchuan standing there with his saber drawn, he froze in surprise. "Eldest Young Master, is something wrong?"
"Nothing." He Lingchuan sheathed his blade and took half a step back. Not only was the boy's forehead darkened with an ill omen, but he also reeked of a foul stench, a testament to the earth-shattering ordeal he had just endured. "And you?"
"Not dead, just feeling thoroughly drained in the gut." Maotao rubbed his belly and walked back out with him.
When they returned to the tavern, Sun Fuping carefully examined Maotao's complexion, checking his eyelids and tongue before pronouncing, "Poisoned."
Maotao nearly jumped out of his skin in fright, but fortunately, the National Preceptor continued, "The toxicity is fairly mild. You won't die, though I expect you'll be making quite a few more trips to the latrine."
*Wasn't it all because that bastard surnamed Nian forced me to drink?* Maotao inwardly cursed the ancestors of these three men for eighteen generations, yet he had to plaster a smile across his face. "That's good, that's good then."
"You consumed food meant for the dead." Sun Fuping picked up a peanut, crushed it between his fingers, and rubbed it, leaving his hand covered in ash. "These were not prepared for the living. No wonder the city is completely deserted."
Nian Songyu caught on as well. "You mean to say the city's inhabitants are the resentful souls that surged out of the pool?"
"Highly likely. Once they left, this place became an empty city."
"Those resentful souls are the residents of this city?" He Lingchuan asked in astonishment. "That can't be, can it? They all seemed completely rabid to me. What, did they just act like law-abiding citizens inside this city?"
Although the Panlong City before them was deserted, everything was in perfect order—it was simply devoid of people. The resentful souls he had encountered outside were consumed by bitter hatred, looking as though they wanted to tear the heavens and earth apart. If they had lived here long-term, how could the city possibly be so tidy?
"I fear this is the Dafang Pot's doing," Nian Songyu said. "Panlong City was destroyed long ago. This state of affairs is what's truly abnormal."
Maotao asked in a small voice, "How are we going to find the Dafang Pot?" He had assumed jumping down the cistern well would yield some answers, but who knew there would be an entire city inside the pool? What were they supposed to do now?
He Lingchuan suggested, "Let's head to Mitian Temple. We found the entrance there earlier, so perhaps we can find new clues now."
"We already went. There is no temple," Nian Songyu rejected flatly.
He Lingchuan blinked. "No temple? What do you mean?"
"There just isn't one. Can't you understand?" Nian Songyu said coolly. "In that spot, there are two restaurants, an opera troupe, and two large shops—one selling jewelry, and the other silk and satin."
Of course. If clues were so easy to find, would these two have waited for him? He Lingchuan pondered for a moment. "What about General Red's residence?"
"Checked that too. Doesn't exist."
"There's no residence, or no clues?" He Lingchuan asked with growing patience.
"Neither," Sun Fuping mediated. "General Red was a demigod bestowed by the god Mitian. If there is no temple, then naturally there is no General Red."
Without General Red, there could be no General Red's residence.
"Then only one place remains?" He Lingchuan scratched his head. "Zhong Shengguang's dwelling?"
Sun Fuping stood up. "Let's go."
The illusion had recreated Panlong City in all its former glory. He Lingchuan had never imagined that one day he would tour this legendary city in such a manner. Judging by the streets, architecture, lakes, and rivers he passed, as well as the various implements and machinery used throughout the markets and along the riverbanks, the Panlong City destroyed by war had once been extraordinarily prosperous, densely populated, and commercially thriving.
He even spotted waterwheels along the riverbank. These were not used for irrigating fields, but rather for supplying water to nearby shops, sparing the need for manual hauling. To support this system, there were even dedicated bamboo conduits running from the riverbank straight into the shops' water basins.
Chapter 47