Lost History

He Lingchuan was speechless. Nonsense, of course he would do it! However many there were, he would trade for them—even if he lacked the silver, he would find a way to conjure it up! Silver was easy to earn, but getting a great demon to serve as his muscle and obey him like an extension of his own arm was unimaginably difficult! To win over the spider demon sisters, He Lingchuan had even risked offending Beijia and exposing himself. Fang Canran's eyes lit up. "That would be a tremendous bargain. Would Brother Dong be willing to sell his demon puppets? On Platinum Island, they'd surely be rare treasures fetching a fortune." He Lingchuan glanced at Dong Rui at once and raised an eyebrow. Indeed, demon puppets were also extraordinarily expensive. Why didn't this scoundrel sell a couple of useless ones for cash? Dong Rui shrank back within a second. "Not selling. They aren't merchandise." Then he looked plaintively at He Lingchuan. "Those three materials...?" He Lingchuan said testily, "You never mentioned crafting demon puppets burned money like this." "Why else do you think I'm so broke? And you won't even let me go out robbing people." Dong Rui looked thoroughly aggrieved. "If I can't get money or materials, my research can't move forward." If getting materials was that easy, why would he stick to He Lingchuan like glue? He Lingchuan pressed his temples and hesitated for a long while. *Oh money, my money, I've truly wronged you.* Finally, he sighed and said to Fang Canran, "Fine, settle the deal." Dong Rui was beside himself with joy, thumping his chest so hard it boomed. "Don't you worry! Every copper of this will be worth more than its weight in gold! Once my little darling sees the light of day, one look and you'll know you got a steal!" He Lingchuan couldn't even be bothered to look at him. The four hundred thousand taels he had just received hadn't even warmed his pockets before one hundred and eighty thousand flew out the door! Eight hundred and ten thousand minus one hundred and eighty thousand left him with only six hundred and thirty thousand. *Sigh, scientific research requires throwing money at it, and even after burning cash, results aren't guaranteed.* Fang Canran pocketed the materials list. "All right, leave it to me." *** Come nightfall, two lights flickered atop the dark Cape Tower, looking like distant stars on the horizon at first glance. The ghost market was open, and tonight an auction would be held. The streets, desolate by day, were now lit as bright as noon by enthusiastic torchlight. Virtually every shop was open—restaurants and eateries, theaters and red houses alike. Improvised stalls along the streets sent up clouds of steam, and roving peddlers hawked their wares without pause. Food, drink, entertainment—everything was accounted for. People packed the streets, with no telling where they had hidden themselves during the day. He Lingchuan and Dong Rui strolled and snacked along the way. Naturally, the liveliest spots were the various materials shops. He Lingchuan looked through a few; the items were bizarre and eccentric, but held little appeal for him. Dong Rui, on the other hand, plunged headfirst into materials shops specializing in odd scraps and refused to come out. Another hour passed before He Lingchuan met back up with Fang Canran, just as the auction commenced. Platinum Island's auction was held in a sprawling mansion spanning three floors, allowing more guests to view the display stage in the center of the ground floor. In terms of atmosphere, it lacked the grandeur of Dun Garden in Lingxu City, nor did anyone offer attentive service. But when the auctioneer presented an item, he still had to give the crowd a proper introduction. Take this lot, for instance: "Three hundred and seventy refined-iron straight swords, three chi and three cun in length. Seventy-seven possess minor flaws that can be ground away. Not sold piecemeal; fixed price of eleven hundred taels. The goods remain on board the vessel and will be unloaded upon purchase." Its origin went unmentioned, and twenty percent had defects. He Lingchuan knew the moment he heard it: these were "used," weapons scavenged from who knew which battlefield. Still, eleven hundred taels was a reasonable price. Judging by the samples on display, their quality was decent, the craftsmanship passable, and they would have no trouble hacking down an enemy. Noticing He Lingchuan's interest, Fang Canran said, "You have your eye on this batch?" "With so many islands to my name, I can't leave them ungarrisoned." Timber, farm tools, and seeds were easy enough to procure, but weapons could not be purchased through official channels—neither Bailie nor the Qing Kingdom would sell them. If He Lingchuan went around inquiring after armaments, it would inevitably arouse suspicion. His luck had been poor as well: Min Tianxi and Huang Zhao originally had arms smuggling channels into the Mou Kingdom, but hadn't managed to secure any inventory recently. "Another shipment of swords and spears arrives the day after tomorrow, likely of better quality," Fang Canran said in an undertone. "Shall I hold them for you?" He Lingchuan was delighted. "I'll leave it in your capable hands, then." The lots brought onto the stage were a motley assortment; some were blatantly stolen goods. He Lingchuan had initially only intended to watch the spectacle, but ended up bidding on several items. The crucial factor was that the prices were genuinely bargains. No wonder Platinum Island's ghost market was so crowded—cost-effectiveness was king. As items cycled across the stage, the two chatted for a while longer until another weapon was carried up. The auction hall made use of fluorescent spores—one placed to the front, back, left, and right—illuminating every angle and detail of the display with crisp clarity. He Lingchuan had been casually watching, but when his eyes swept across the stage, they froze. The latest exhibit was a black spear. Blood grooves ran along the spearhead, which from afar resembled the nib of a fountain pen, etched with cloud-riding patterns. Beneath the spearhead was a ring meant for hanging a tassel, though it had broken off, leaving only a stub. Embedded in the shaft was a red jade bead. *Why does the style of this spear look so familiar?* He Lingchuan shot upright, blood surging straight to his head. It was identical to General Red's beloved spear! The auctioneer's resonant voice rang out: "This next piece needs no introduction: the Thunder Response Spear!" Even the name was the same? No, that wasn't right! From this spear, he couldn't sense the slightest trace of the iron-blooded murderous aura that had once cut through thousands of troops. When facing Master Sanshui in the Panlong Realm, He Lingchuan had donned General Red's battle armor and gripped the Thunder Response Spear in his own hands! That innate resonance, that sensation of flesh and blood intertwined, was completely absent from the weapon on the stage. He could never mistake that feeling. "The Thunder Response Spear?" He spun toward Fang Canran. "Where did this spear come from?" Fang Canran had never seen his eyes open so wide. Could He Xiao get this worked up too? "It isn't real..." Before he could finish, patrons in the front row had already begun shouting: "A fake is a fake! Make that clear, don't mislead people!" "Everyone knows this couldn't possibly be genuine," the auctioneer laughed. "Fair enough. Its former owner dubbed it the 'Lesser Thunder Response Spear.' It measures eight chi in length and weighs eight jin, identical in detail to the original Thunder Response Spear, and carries the divine technique 'Thunder Condensation.' While not the original, it remains a fine weapon. Those interested are welcome to come up and test its heft." As expected, a replica was only a replica. Otherwise, Fusheng would have reacted long ago. "'Everyone knows'?" He Lingchuan turned back to Fang Canran. "Is the original spear so famous?" Fang Canran was baffled. "You don't even know the story, so why are you so agitated?" "I feel an affinity with this spear," He Lingchuan said, unconsciously clenching his fists. "The original, I mean." Whenever something came down to "I feel," reason was tossed aside. Fang Canran sighed helplessly. "The Thunder Response Spear is one of the most famous spears of our era. There are far too many imitations out there: the Lesser Thunder Response Spear, the Azure-Veined Thunder Response Spear, the Hundred-Fold Tempered Thunder Response Spear... things like that." "Why?" With so many divine weapons in existence, why did everyone specifically replicate the Thunder Response Spear? "Where is the original?" "In the royal palace of the Mou Kingdom." Fang Canran's voice pierced through the auction's din and reached He Lingchuan's ears. "The true Thunder Response Spear was the personal divine weapon of the Founding Emperor of the Mou Kingdom." As the Mou Kingdom rose, the spear gained renown alongside it. "The Founding Emperor of the Mou Kingdom?" He Lingchuan heard his own raspy voice ask. "And where did he obtain it?" Fang Canran silently mouthed two words. Reading his lips, He Lingchuan blurted, "Ling...?" Lingshan! Fang Canran pressed a finger to his lips, shushing softly. "Keep it down." Fortunately, the surroundings were noisy. He then added, "It was... bestowed upon the founding Gaozu of the Mou Kingdom." The Thunder Response Spear of the Mou Kingdom's founding emperor was bestowed by Lingshan? Then where did Lingshan get this divine spear? Fang Canran's response reverted to "No idea." Lingshan had countless secret treasures and divine artifacts; why would they introduce the origins of each one to everybody? He Lingchuan's thoughts were in utter turmoil, his fists clenching tighter and tighter. The Thunder Response Spear had been General Red's sidearm; of that there was no doubt. Yet over a hundred years ago, the Thunder Response Spear had been bestowed by Lingshan upon the first Emperor of Mou! He Lingchuan knew the final fate of Panlong City and General Red all too well. This spear should have stood by General Red on the battlefield until the very end of her life. And then? *And then?!* Who took the spear? If it had fallen into the hands of Baling, Xianyou, or Beijia as war spoils, He Lingchuan wouldn't have found it strange. After all, it was truly a divine artifact. Its former master had been an invincible general of her generation, unmatched in valor. It was a divine weapon possessing the utmost value in both practical use and prestige. But how could it be Lingshan?! No matter how one looked at it, that made no sense! Unless... unless during the very battle in which General Red fell, people from Lingshan were present on the field. Why were they there? What did they do? Why were they able to step in and claim this momentous spoil of war ahead of the ultimate victors? He Lingchuan sat frozen, chill after chill crawling up his spine. His mind replayed again and again the meeting and conversation between Zhong Shengguang and Lu Xun. Back then, fighting isolated and alone, Panlong City had desperately sought Lingshan's support. Back then, Zhong Shengguang had impassionedly poured out his ideals to Lu Xun. Yet in the end, Panlong City still fell. He Lingchuan carefully searched his memory for every shred of Panlong City's history he had ever read or heard. There wasn't a single word about Lingshan—not one! It was as if someone had wiped away every relevant record with a single stroke, leaving no trace behind, vanished forever like bird tracks in melting snow. What role, then, had Lingshan played before Panlong City fell? What part had they taken? He Lingchuan drew a long breath, barely suppressing the boiling turmoil within his chest. Over a hundred years. After more than a century, Lingshan stood before him once more, just as it had stood before Zhong Shengguang over one hundred and sixty years ago. Back then, Zhong Shengguang had felt a natural kinship with Lingshan and held high hopes for it, just like He Lingchuan now. Hoping to form a united front, hoping to join forces against common enemies, hoping to bring down Beijia together. But what was Zhong Shengguang's end? How could he repeat the tragic mistakes of Zhong Shengguang and General Red? He had to rein in his haste, adjust his strategy, and tread carefully—more carefully than ever! "Brother He?" Fang Canran's voice seemed to drift in from an immense distance; only on the third call did He Lingchuan snap out of it. "Brother He!"