Chapter Fifteen: The Strange Wonders of the Ancient Tomb

In the dim corridor, Su Fan remained seated in meditation. He was restoring his spiritual energy—although the power of that Mountain Soul Collapse had been immense, it had also drained him substantially. After a short while, Su Fan rose to his feet and murmured, “Now, I should explore this Tomb of the Underworld King.”

With those words, Su Fan activated his divine sense to probe the passageway, yet he discovered nothing. He continued onward, this time picking up his pace, his divine sense ever vigilant for any changes in his surroundings.

Suddenly, Su Fan sped up, and a faint smile appeared on his lips. He spoke softly, “I’ve finally found the door. I just don’t know if it’s the exit, or the entrance.”

In a flash, he halted before a door. The doorway was marked only by a small frame, upon which hung three large characters: Hall of the Underworld King. Beyond the threshold, darkness reigned.

Su Fan’s divine sense could not penetrate the mysteries within. He thought to himself, “Moments ago, when I probed the area, I did not see this inscription. Now that I’m here, it appears. Moreover, I feel a great danger emanating from this place. This must be the entrance.”

“Should I go in now, or retrace my steps? I did not enter this place by conventional means—if I return the way I came, I have no idea where I might end up. Fortune favors the bold: if I go in, perhaps there’s still a chance to find a way out. According to what Ling Yuan said, this tomb has yet to be discovered. Who knows, maybe I’ll find some rare opportunity here.”

With this in mind, Su Fan soared towards the door. Yet just as he was about to step inside, two enormous golden axes suddenly swung down from either side. Su Fan leapt back, forming a hand seal, and summoned a small hill to shield himself.

With a thunderous crash, the little hill crumbled under the might of the axes, which descended with unstoppable force, landing directly before Su Fan.

Blood spurted from Su Fan’s mouth as his eyes flashed coldly. He sighed inwardly, “This place is indeed riddled with danger. If I hadn’t unleashed the Mountain Soul Collapse just now, I might have perished here today.”

He sat cross-legged and began to meditate, tending to his wounds. Suddenly, a deep, commanding voice echoed through the corridor: “This is royal ground—no unauthorized persons are permitted to enter.” After the voice faded, two golden-armored warriors gradually appeared at the doorway, each wielding a massive golden axe, standing tall and straight as sentinels.

Stunned, Su Fan rose and spoke softly, “Sirs, I have ended up here by misfortune, with no ill intent. I only wish to leave.” The golden-armored warriors gave no sign of hearing him, remaining silent and motionless.

Sweeping his divine sense over them, Su Fan sighed, “So, they are merely puppets. Even with them concealed so close, I failed to sense their presence. Fortunately, these puppets only attack those who would force their way in. But now, what should I do? No matter, there’s no rush—I should recover first.”

Such puppets were typically crafted from corpses and refined with spiritual power, a divine imprint allowing them to be controlled. Their bodies were exceedingly strong, often surpassing cultivators of the same rank, though without techniques to employ—only brute strength.

With this realization, Su Fan resumed his healing. After a short while, he exhaled a white breath and sighed, “The path of cultivation is truly fraught with peril. In just moments, I’ve suffered consecutive injuries. Now I’m trapped here, unable to escape. For now, I should test the attack patterns of those golden-armored warriors, to see if I can find a weakness.”

He slapped his storage pouch, producing a fan. With a seal, he tossed it forward. The fan floated before him, flaring with golden light. Su Fan uttered a command, and the fan flew toward the door.

One of the golden-armored warriors raised his axe to strike the fan. But the fan slipped free from Su Fan’s control, folding shut, and then traced peculiar symbols in the air. The pair of warriors stared at the symbols, their axes frozen mid-swing, as if held in place.

When the fan finished drawing, it unfolded and fanned the symbols, which then flew toward the warriors. The golden-armored warriors seemed to comprehend something, slowly lowered their axes, and spoke in unison: “We welcome the guest of the Underworld King.”

A look of astonishment flashed in Su Fan’s eyes before he recovered himself. With a wave, the fan flew back into his hand. He then summoned another small hill, employing the defensive technique taught to him by Lan Yifeng. Red light enveloped his body, and the mound before him stood ready.

Cautiously, he approached the door. The two golden-armored warriors gradually faded away. Overjoyed, Su Fan stepped through the threshold, and the door behind him vanished into the void.

Composed, Su Fan extended his divine sense to survey his surroundings. A fantastic scene appeared before him.

Inside the door was another world: orderly houses, small bridges spanning flowing streams, even market stalls lining the streets. The sky was dotted with stars, a bright moon hanging above.

If not for the absence of any mortals in his divine sense, Su Fan might have believed he had escaped the tomb altogether.

He was about to take flight when he remembered Ling Yuan’s warning: certain formations here forbade flying. Discarding that idea, he proceeded on foot toward the village. Suddenly, his fan glimmered with yellow light. Su Fan tossed it in the air, and the fan took flight on its own.

Su Fan hurried after it, and before long, the fan stopped beside the city wall. Retrieving it, Su Fan mused, “This fan is truly extraordinary, so knowledgeable about the tomb. Now that it has brought me here, there must be another opportunity awaiting me.”

He walked along the city wall for several miles, eventually arriving at a tightly closed city gate.

This time, Su Fan understood—he tossed the fan, which began to trace symbols in the air, then fanned them at the gate. With a thunderous boom, the gate swung open, and a deep voice resounded: “We welcome the guest of the Underworld King.”

Su Fan strode inside. His divine sense revealed a place even more prosperous than before, but otherwise no different from outside the gate.

He walked for a long time, passing various buildings: taverns, gambling dens, stores, even brothels and inns. Yet the place remained utterly deserted.

Suddenly, a gigantic statue came into view—dozens of yards tall, depicting a middle-aged man with sword-like brows and piercing eyes, exuding murderous intent, a massive sword in hand, striking an imposing figure.

As Su Fan swept the statue with his divine sense, a tremendous pressure crashed over him like a stampede, sending his blood surging. Hastily, he withdrew his divine sense and murmured, “So this must be the Underworld King—he truly has the bearing of a great general. In life, his cultivation must have been extraordinary. Even his statue alone exerts such pressure upon me. I imagine the true tomb lies beneath it.”

With this thought, Su Fan headed toward the statue. Suddenly, within a hundred steps, two squads appeared, each five men strong, all clad in golden armor and wielding giant axes. The leader of each squad also carried a lantern. The two groups passed each other by, seemingly unaware of Su Fan’s presence a hundred paces away.

Su Fan quickly followed one of the squads, which advanced in a single direction until it reached a dead end. As Su Fan prepared to retreat, the five golden-armored warriors suddenly vanished. He hurriedly scanned the area with his divine sense, but found no trace of them.

He produced his fan and struck at the alley, but his attack met only emptiness. Then, lowering his gaze, he was drawn to a pattern of squares on the ground. Sweeping them with his divine sense, Su Fan broke into a smile—for there were nine squares, arranged according to a familiar rule.

“Hopscotch!” he exclaimed. It was a game his mother had taught him as a child, back when he was withdrawn and reluctant to play with other children. His mother had drawn these squares in the courtyard to teach him the game.

Though many years had passed, Su Fan remembered it perfectly and began to hop across the squares. As his last foot landed, a vortex opened in the wall ahead. Elated, he leapt into the whirlpool.

The vortex seemed to possess some kind of teleportation power. When Su Fan emerged on the other side, he found himself before towering pavilions and high terraces, giving the impression of a palace. The statue was now much closer.

Su Fan continued toward the statue, soon arriving at a grand hall encircled by white jade railings. The palace rose more than a dozen yards high. Standing on the steps, Su Fan looked up at the building, noting the bronze bells hanging from the eaves. A gentle breeze set them chiming with clear, melodious notes.

He ascended and entered the hall. Suddenly, a fierce wind arose, then subsided. From within came the sound of singing, soon joined by musical instruments. The singer was a woman.

Su Fan entered. At the center of the hall sat a golden throne, upon which rested a middle-aged man in a golden ceremonial robe. Su Fan’s heart pounded as he glanced around.

On either side of the hall sat golden-armored warriors, these clearly of higher status than those he’d seen outside.

The hall was alive with music and dancing. Women bearing fruit platters moved among the seated guests, offering them delicacies. As they passed Su Fan, they paid him no heed, as if he were a mere phantom.

The golden-armored warriors laughed and joked, faces alight with joy. The Underworld King himself sat atop the dais, smiling broadly, raising his cup in toast.

One golden-armored warrior offered to perform a sword dance. Drawing his blade, he began to display his martial prowess, to the applause of those present. Suddenly, the warrior fixed his gaze on Su Fan, and raised his sword to strike at him.

Su Fan, lost in the spectacle, made no move to evade. Only as the sword was about to pierce him did he hastily retreat.

The warrior did not pursue, continuing his dance. Outside, the wind stirred, and the bells overhead chimed once more. Su Fan looked up at them.

He shuddered and whispered, “This is a tomb—how can there be wind? How can the bells move?”

With this thought, Su Fan sat down cross-legged and began to meditate, focusing his mind.