The disciples looked baffled, but they had no choice but to follow.
The other groups also saw the Jianyang Sect's movements and muttered to themselves in bewilderment. After braving so much trouble to get here, before even starting to search, what was this bunch running away for?
Ever since the upheaval occurred in the Panlong Desert, many had ventured into the sands to unravel the mystery, but very few had been fortunate enough to get close to the ruins.
Zhang Lianhai also took note of their departure and frowned.
He had heard that these Jianyang Sect members had entered the Panlong Ruins a dozen days ago and come out safe and sound. Did they know something?
However, the lamp spirit had already flown out to scour the area, and he had no intention of withdrawing his divine ability.
The lamp spirit possessed the ability to seek treasure and was far more reliable than human beings.
...
By the time the He father and son approached the Chipa Plateau, the sky had long turned dark.
Ahead lay the ruins of Panlong City. Looking up from below, the magnificent city resembled a colossal monster sprawled across the plateau, its gaping maw open and waiting for people to crawl inside.
Moreover, quite a few people had already gone in earlier.
He Lingchuan exhaled a long breath. "Here we are again."
The last time they had arrived at Panlong City, they had looked up at it from roughly this same distance and angle.
Zhao Qinghe suddenly said, "There are people on the battlements."
He Lingchuan and the others looked up. Standing on the city wall gazing into the distance were two people of Baling, familiar faces.
They were exploring the wall as well, looking quite relaxed, which indicated that nothing bizarre had happened inside the city.
Relieved, He Chunhua dismounted first and walked through the magnificent South Gate.
This gate was one He Lingchuan had passed through countless times in the Panlong World, often accompanied by cheers and applause.
Yet now, the only clamor remaining here was the howling desert wind.
He Lingchuan let out a soft sigh.
Behind him, the others stepped onto the land bridge, crossed the ravine-like moat, and passed through the south gate of Panlong City amid murmurs of awe.
Standing on the gate plaza, He Chunhua turned to his son. "Chuan'er, it seems different here compared to last time."
The entire party was looking left and right—virtually the standard reaction for anyone setting foot in Panlong City for the first time. He Lingchuan walked over to the river, looked down, and scooped up a handful of clear water. "There's even water here."
The stream was clear and shallow—the first time in over a hundred years.
He Chunhua also noticed the Heavenly Palace's lamp spirits flitting about, searching everywhere, and fell into quiet contemplation.
He Lingchuan came over, shaking the water from his hands. "Dad, where do you plan to start searching?" Since they were already here, they couldn't just stand around doing nothing.
He Chunhua asked in return, "What do you think?"
He Lingchuan gave him a baffled look. "How should I know? With such a major expedition, didn't you do your homework beforehand, Dad?"
He Chunhua smiled slightly. "You always have good ideas nowadays, far sharper than your father."
He Lingchuan's face was a picture of candor. "Right now... I really don't."
"Last time we came in, we found the entrance in the temple's pool," He Chunhua mused. "Let's head over and take a look first."
He Lingchuan pointed to the lamp spirits dancing in the distance. "Those things have probably already searched the temple and the pool. Is there any point in going?"
"Seeing is believing."
Under He Chunhua's lead, the party made for Mitian Temple.
Before leaving the plaza, He Lingchuan casually looked back, casting a glance at the southern wall. The sculpture of the black flood dragon was still there, but compared to last time, the horn on its head seemed longer, and had it even sprouted a tiny branch?
He Lingchuan's gaze narrowed.
Was it an illusion? The black flood dragon looked somewhat new.
Not that its surface was free of sand and dust, but the sculpture seemed as if it had barely weathered the elements.
Having grasped something, he immediately looked away.
Just as the party turned into an alley, indistinct figures appeared ahead as quite a few people approached.
Oh?
Father and son looked closely, only to find it was the people of the Jianyang Sect.
Having fought side by side earlier, He Chunhua walked up to greet them with a touch of warmth. "Gentlemen, did something happen in the city?"
"Nothing. The others are still inside," Ling Jinbao waved a hand. "I just don't feel like staying in a ghost city. I'd rather find a spot outside to spend the night and come back tomorrow morning."
He Chunhua gave an understanding nod. The other explorers understood what Ling Jinbao meant; they simply didn't care.
Why had they all come here? How could there be reward without risk?
Ling Jinbao was about to move on, but suddenly turned back and added, "By the way, Grand Marshal Dong Haoming's men seem to be in the city already. The man leading them carries a gold-inlaid saber."
"The Grand Marshal?" He Chunhua was visibly stirred. "Thank you, Master Ling!"
Ling Jinbao waved to them and led his disciples outside.
Passing through the towering South Gate, stepping off the land bridge, and walking more than a hundred zhang until they were back in the Panlong Desert, Ling Jinbao finally looked back at Panlong Ancient City in the night and let out a long sigh.
This damn place exerted an immense sense of oppression.
A disciple said, "Martial Uncle Ling, you're getting weirder and weirder."
"Weird, my foot!" Ling Jinbao glared. "There's something off about that city. Most of the strange rumors about Panlong City I heard in Blackwater City happened at night. That proves the sinister things here only stir after dark. This time, I'm not about to be dragged into some inexplicable scene again."
A Jianyang Sect disciple asked curiously, "'Again'?"
Another disciple chuckled. "Before we arrived, Martial Uncle snuck into Panlong Ancient City alone under cover of night, and as a result..."
"As a result?"
Ling Jinbao took up the tale: "As a result, I found nothing. That night, a sudden downpour hit the desert, so I had to seek shelter in the city ruins. Having nothing else to do, I took a few sips of wine and closed my eyes to regulate my breath."
The others laughed. "Indeed, how could you do without wine?"
Ling Jinbao kept a straight face. "However, I soon heard human voices."
This was an empty city—where would human voices come from?
Ling Jinbao immediately opened his eyes. Though he found himself still sitting beside a table, his surroundings had completely changed.
He seemed to be sitting inside a courier station. Tea was set on the table, and the room was packed with people who, judging by their attire, were traveling merchants and carriage drivers.
It was very hot. They were busy wiping away sweat and drinking tea; no one spared Ling Jinbao a second glance, while the whinnies of horses drifted in from outside.
Such a commonplace scene sent chills running down Ling Jinbao's spine.
He had been spending the night in a ghost city, yet upon opening his eyes, this was what he saw. Where was this, then?
Smelling the aroma of cooking smoke, he glanced out the back window and discovered a small lake behind the courier station. The water was covered in lotus leaves, with slender, graceful lotus buds waiting to blossom.
Several tables and chairs were arranged around the lake, all fully occupied by customers eating skewers.
It smelled delicious; the grill master was clearly very skilled. Ling Jinbao swallowed hard, but dared not touch any food in this strange realm.
Could living people casually eat things from a ghost city?
Just then, hoofbeats thundered outside as a troop of over twenty riders arrived like a whirlwind.
Ling Jinbao poked his head out to look. Judging by their uniforms, they appeared to be a squad of government troops, spirited and crisp in their movements.
After arriving, this unit did not enter the station to rest. Instead, they quietly washed their hands and faces and led their horses to drink, unlike the Blackwater City troops, who would have made an arrogant racket.
Ling Jinbao noticed they kept scanning their surroundings, seemingly on alert at all times.
By the well was a small flag of green cloth. Glancing at it, he saw the words "Qinglang Courier Station."
Where on earth was this? Ling Jinbao had no clue whatsoever.
Several tables of guests near the entrance finished their rest, rising to go fetch their horses outside.
One of them dropped a few copper coins onto the ground, and the coins curved across the dirt, rolling right in front of the soldiers.
The man smiled at the soldiers and bent down to pick them up, but as he rose, his wrist snapped outward, and a sleeve arrow shot out with a sharp hiss!
The soldier stepped back half a pace, dodging it by a hair's breadth.
Other guests immediately pounced forward, greeting them with drawn blades.
"Ambush!" A whistle pierced the air outside as both sides clashed in chaos. The bystanders scrambled into corners, not daring to lift their heads or even watch the spectacle.
Ling Jinbao peeked out the back window and saw that the lakeside by the lotuses had also become a battlefield, with fighting even fiercer than inside the courier station.
Who dared ambush government troops on an official highway?
Yet several figures by the lake moved with extraordinary vigor; the thugs disguised as merchants could not last even a single exchange against them. The one who left the deepest impression on Ling Jinbao was a farmer wearing a bamboo hat, who casually threw a blade and pinned a burly enemy straight to an earthen wall.
Those fights were truly dazzling.
Ling Jinbao had initially watched just for the excitement, but the more he looked, the graver his expression became.
Such sublime footwork, such fierce killing intent—could these be the legendary warriors of Panlong City?
Just then, a thug charged into the station to evade the soldiers, intending to leap out the window. Seeing Ling Jinbao blocking it, he slashed at him without a word.
Ling Jinbao kicked the table straight out.
He applied force with great finesse; the tabletop shattered in midair, sending splinters flying and nearly blinding the attacker.
In those two breaths of time, soldiers rushed in from behind, hacked the thug to death with two strikes, and rushed back out to support their comrades without sparing Ling Jinbao so much as a glance.
The battle began without warning and ended swiftly and cleanly, lasting little more than a quarter of an hour from start to finish.
The ambushed soldiers prevailed, while the villains lying in wait were wiped out instead.
The bandit chief was marched to the small lake out back, and the one interrogating him was none other than that farmer in the bamboo hat.
Ling Jinbao had sharp ears and even heard the soldiers call him "Commander."
*Ah, so they were waiting here like spiders in a web, springing a counter-ambush?*
Just then, a soldier noticed Ling Jinbao's peering gaze, walked over, and shut the bamboo window, then announced loudly, "The rampaging river bandits have all been captured! Rest at ease, everyone!"
*River bandits?*
Ling Jinbao asked an old man nearby, "Old sir, what river bandits was he talking about?"
The old man gave him a wary look. "Where are you from? You've traveled this far and don't even know the Longchuan river bandits?"
"I don't pay much attention to worldly affairs, and I've been drinking all along the way..." Ling Jinbao laughed dryly. "Where exactly are we right now?"
"Then you certainly drank plenty." The old man didn't believe him, but saw no harm in giving a location. "We're on the Jinan trade route. Oh, it was renamed the Longchuan trade route now."
After that, no matter what else Ling Jinbao asked, the old man said nothing more.
At that moment, a commotion arose outside as the soldiers marched their captives north.
Leading at the head, of course, was that commander.
Gazing at his departing back, Ling Jinbao felt he looked somewhat familiar, as though he had seen him somewhere before.
*It must be an illusion,* he shook his head inwardly. *If this scene was real history, it would have happened a hundred and sixty or seventy years ago.*
*How the devil could I recognize him?*
Chapter 823