He Chunhua pursed his lips before finally answering, "It was your mother."
She had suffered postpartum hemorrhaging, but before she drew her last breath, she had chosen a name for her child, hoping he would live a life of valor, knowing no fear.
"Then why did you change my name to He Lingchuan later?"
He Chunhua lowered his voice. "Great Shaman Zhaomandu said this name suited you better and would bring you fortune."
He Lingchuan offered neither agreement nor dispute. "Didn't Father need to hurry to the Panlong Ruins? Let us be on our way."
He Chunhua had been waiting for those very words.
Yet when he rose and looked toward the Panlong Ruins, he let out a long breath.
Was this day finally upon them?
A sudden twinge of reluctance pulled at his heart.
Noticing the shift in his mood, He Lingchuan asked, "What is it, Dad?"
"Nothing!" He Chunhua flashed a smile. "Let's move."
At his command, the Blackwater City troops replenished their rations and water, then set out toward the Chipa Plateau.
The closer they drew to the Chipa Plateau, the more its vast, desolate grandeur pressed upon them.
The moat before Panlong City's South Gate had once been nothing more than a deep earthen trench, but shallow water now flowed within it.
Standing upon the broad land bridge, Zhang Lianhai and his companions could hear the faint, murmuring trickle below.
Such a sound had been absent from the Panlong Desert for over a century.
Upon reaching this point, their mounts halted. No matter how much their riders spurred and whipped them, the beasts refused to take another step forward.
Elder Ling Jinbao of the Jianyang Sect rode an azure bo beast. After communicating briefly with the creature, he told the crowd, "They sense grave danger ahead and dare not go any further."
Even the avian demons circling above descended to report that turbulent currents swirled over the ruins of Panlong, making it impossible for birds to approach.
They, too, could go no further.
Seeing this, the travelers had no choice but to dismount and cross the bridge on foot.
As for their mounts, men were assigned to lead them beneath the shelter of nearby dunes.
This minor disturbance sharpened everyone's vigilance, but it did nothing to dampen their resolve to enter.
After all, they had come specifically for the anomalies in Panlong City. If the place were peaceful and quiet, what point would there be in exploring it?
The crowd passed through the colossal archway and stepped slowly into Panlong City.
Even the Heavenly Palace emissaries, accustomed as they were to all manner of divine miracles, held their breath instinctively as they passed beneath the gate tower.
Beyond the weathering etched by wind and frost, this solid, massive fortress—once armed to the teeth—bore the scars of war in every direction.
Whoever passed through was enveloped by an overwhelming sense of historical weight and tragic solemnity.
Zhang Lianhai could not help murmuring, "So this is Panlong City."
That faint murmur echoed between the walls of the double barbican.
Only when they emerged into the South Gate Square did the howling wind pull them from their reverie.
Miraculously, this ruined city before them had not been buried by drifting sand. Though blackened marks of arson and conflagration lay everywhere, a number of structures had stubbornly survived.
Shallow pools and canals across the South Gate Square had already collected a bit of clear water, though no fish swam in them yet. From crevices in the ground, gaps between bricks, and the shadows cast by crumbling walls, specks of green were sprouting.
There were even red and white wildflowers blossoming here and there along the riverbank.
*A city in spring, its grass and trees grow thick.*
Zhang Lianhai composed himself, struck by the impression that this long-forgotten city was stirring from a century-long slumber.
This was no praise, but an unsettling omen.
The Panlong Ruins ought to be desolate, crumbling, and dead. For over a hundred years, under the watchful gaze of the gods, it had remained precisely that way.
Ever since the upheaval in Lingxu City, the Panlong Ruins had indeed undergone corresponding changes.
Upon reaching the square, the various factions split up, each pursuing their own course.
Ling Jinbao of the Jianyang Sect surveyed the terrain. One of his subordinates asked, "Martial Uncle, what do we do now?"
Though they had come to "investigate," Panlong City was vast—where were they supposed to start?
"One group to the temple, one group to Zhong Shengguang's former residence and tomb, and one group to General Red's quarters. Send a few men up to the South Gate wall as well." Mitian, Zhong Shengguang, and General Red were all connected to the Dafang Pot; if anything changed in Panlong City, those were the first places that required scrutiny.
As for the South Gate, climbing high allowed for a wider view.
His subordinate cautioned, "Martial Uncle, wouldn't we be spreading ourselves too thin?"
This damned place was uncanny, and other factions were also here hunting for treasure.
Ling Jinbao considered it. "Then divide into two groups for now: one to the temple, the other to Zhong Shengguang's official residence."
Even as he spoke, voices drifted from an alleyway ahead:
"...Nothing unusual at the temple either. But the Grand Marshal instructed that the entrance opened at the temple last time..."
"There's water inside now, and we've already tried..."
A party of about twenty men rounded the corner.
Caught off guard, the two groups came face to face. Both froze, instinctively drawing their weapons.
"Who are you?"
The Jianyang Sect members glared back. "Who are you?"
The other group's leader grunted. Both had come for the same objective, but neither intended to identify themselves.
As the two sides stood locked in a tense standoff, Ling Jinbao was the first to sheathe his saber and spread his hands. "We aren't looking for trouble."
The tension eased. The newcomers eyed them for a moment and turned to leave.
Ling Jinbao seized the moment to ask, "Excuse me, when did your party enter the city?"
"Why do you care?" The man remained guarded.
"I've been here once before; I only wish to compare notes."
The men exchanged glances before answering, "We entered this morning, around dawn."
In other words, they had only reached the Chipa Plateau and entered Panlong City that morning.
Ling Jinbao nodded. "We came at night last time and ran into illusions."
Were they truly illusions? Deep down, he doubted it.
The other group cast them a few more glances and departed.
"Martial Uncle, those people looked completely unfamiliar." They belonged to none of the factions that had set out from Blackwater City.
"Plenty of people venture in here hunting for treasure. If we can come, so can others," Ling Jinbao said. "They arrived ahead of us, but by the look of it, they came away empty-handed."
"When they mentioned the 'Grand Marshal,' could they mean Dong Haoming?"
Other kingdoms had Grand Marshals as well, but on the soil of the Yuan Kingdom, the title could hardly fail to evoke the northwest rebellion. The Jianyang Sect naturally knew of Dong Haoming.
Another disciple gasped in realization. "Could it be the one who killed Senior Brother Wu Di..."
Ling Jinbao hushed him with a displeased scowl. "Why babble about such things now? Let's check the temple."
"Didn't they say there was nothing there?"
"And just because they searched it, we should take their word for it? The Panlong Ruins have seen countless visitors in the past; every building has been combed through before. Why did we come back, then?"
Before long, they stood before the ruins of the majestic temple.
Everyone knew that the only celestial god worshipped in Panlong City was Mitian.
Yet after the city fell back then, this temple had received special attention from the allied forces of Baling and the Xianyou Kingdom. It had been dismantled into shambles and largely burned, its divine idol beheaded and toppled.
"They mentioned water." Ling Jinbao circled the temple inside and out, discovering that the only place containing water was the offering pool in front.
The pool was quite large, its rim showing signs of past damage and repair. Likely due to the relentless downpours of recent days, it held over a foot of crystal-clear water, visible straight to the bottom.
His disciple leaned in as well. "The Grand Marshal's men just said the entrance was at the temple and mentioned water. Could they have meant this pool?"
Ling Jinbao produced a copper coin and tossed it in.
The coin had good weight and quickly sank to the bottom. Everyone could see it with utter clarity through the water.
Ling Jinbao then took a long staff and prodded the bottom; it was solid stone.
"'The entrance opened at the temple last time'?" he muttered. "When was 'last time,' and how would the Grand Marshal know?"
Had someone successfully found the entrance before?
And what had happened afterward?
A disciple who had climbed a watchtower called out, "The Heavenly Palace people are making their move!"
From his vantage point, he could see clearly what was happening in the South Gate Square.
The Heavenly Palace lamp warden had lit that pale white-gold candle in the square.
A disciple muttered, "Can he do anything besides light candles?"
"That lamp spirit avatar serves as their natal magic artifact. Most of a Heavenly Palace lamp warden's abilities are channeled through it."
The others stared in surprise. "A lamp spirit... avatar?"
"In the Heavenly Palace, the Everlasting Lamp is bathed in divine favor and has burned unquenched for centuries; it is an immensely powerful magic artifact. What the lamp warden brought with him is merely an avatar."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Zhang Lianhai began muttering an incantation and raised the candle high—
The lamp spirit flared brilliantly, splitting into hundreds of golden streaks that shot in every direction.
Each streak of light seemed endowed with consciousness, darting into streets, alleys, buildings, and city walls to inspect them, overlooking not even the stone bridges along the canals or cracks in the pavement slabs.
Witnessing this, Ling Jinbao promptly corrected himself: "...Even as an avatar, its utility is extraordinary."
It saved them the trouble of searching on foot like ordinary mortals.
In terms of sheer efficiency, the lamp spirit was far superior. Furthermore, these radiant wisps were remarkably sensitive to mystic arts and supernatural powers, perhaps capable of detecting things hidden from mortal eyes.
In the blink of an eye, a streak of golden light darted over. Paying no heed to the Jianyang Sect cultivators, it probed every nook, cranny, and crevice of the temple.
It even circled twice above the offering pool before abruptly plunging in.
It was merely a beam of light with no physical form, yet ripples disturbed the surface of the pool, and a small trail of bubbles rose.
An anomaly? Ling Jinbao immediately focused his gaze.
However, the golden light merely circled twice beneath the water and emerged empty-handed. The pool soon settled into calm; perhaps the surface had only been stirred by a gust of wind.
Watching it dart away, a disciple asked tactfully, "Martial Uncle, where should we search now?"
Ling Jinbao's eyes flickered, looking back toward the South Gate Square. "Detach two men to keep an eye on the Heavenly Palace people; better yet if they lead the way for us. The rest of you, follow me up onto the city gate wall."
Following along, the others asked in confusion, "Why go up to the gate wall?"
"The red light at night rises from within the Panlong Ruins. Wherever the light emerges, that's where the treasure must be—understand?" At that, Ling Jinbao suddenly remembered something, and his footsteps halted. "Wait!"
He looked up at the sky. "How long until dark?"
"It was already late in the hour of the Sheep when we reached the oasis outside the city. After lingering half an hour before rushing here—" The disciple counted on his fingers. "It should be close to sunset, shouldn't it?"
"Sunset... sunset," Ling Jinbao muttered to himself. "Right! Last time we came, it was night!"
Wheeling around, he hurried toward the city gate:
"Move, move! Out of the city first!"
Chapter 822