Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 115: The Tomb’s Immortal

Temporary Base.

Cen Ling quickly drew a stack of talismans and handed one to each of the “three-person crew” of various ages. “Just a little protection for the road ahead.”

Mei Lan was the first to accept hers. Cen Ling greeted her with an especially warm smile.

“Aren’t we waiting for Bai Shuangying?” Guan He asked nervously.

Only because they knew Bai Shuangying wasn’t human, and unlikely to die a second time, did Guan He manage to keep it together.

…Plus, that suspicious Fang Xiu-like evil spirit had gone straight for Bai Shuangying.

…Even if Fang Xiu had lost his memory, surely he wouldn’t harm his own seductive ghost. Human consciousness might be muddled, but preferences ran deep in the bones.

“There’s no signs of spiritual combat outside. The odds aren’t in his favor.” Cen Ling shook his head. “While it’s distracted, we should take this chance to move.”

“Let’s go. We’re not the same team,” Mei Lan added smoothly. “Waiting here is pointless.”

Just as Cen Ling said, there were few traces of battle beyond the door.

Bai Shuangying had vanished. A faint dripping echoed from deep within the shadows of the tomb. The sound of movement, soft and scraping, came and went, and the air was chillingly cold, though not laced with an ominous edge.

On the map, the tomb’s structure looked like a simple “山” shape. But once inside, the ruins and branching paths gave it a complex, labyrinthine feel.

All five of them wore a “Silence” talisman from Cen Ling, progressing as quietly as possible. Cen Ling and Bai Sui took the lead, while Mei Lan and the other two quietly brought up the rear.

Cen Ling’s white lantern was plastered with warding talismans, its dim light barely sufficient to see by.

The passage was filled with lurking spirits, many insectoid or beastlike, emitting a bizarre stench of rot.

A line of head-sized spiders crawled past, one bloated belly brushing Guan He’s ankle. He nearly screamed, only managing to redirect his eyes toward the small black dog by Cheng Songyun’s feet—when you’re scared by something fuzzy, you use another fuzzy thing to calm yourself.

The dog remained composed, guarding the group while eyeing the spider creatures with hunger.

But the deeper they went, the more the dog’s gaze lingered on the dark ahead. More humanoid spirits appeared—mostly the kind they’d seen before: skinless ones.

These creatures wandered the narrow tunnels with deflated or bulging skin sacks on their backs. Guan He couldn’t take it anymore; he pulled his veil over his eyes and entered concealment on the spot.

It was unclear how long the skins had been stripped. The creatures’ exposed muscles were still bloody, and the air reeked of rot. There were so many of them, even Cen Ling had put away his spear, opting for stealth.

Cheng Songyun quietly fingered her prayer beads as she walked. Mei Lan’s brows knit tighter the farther they went, her eyes scanning the murals along the corridor walls. Guan He, trying to distract himself, glanced at them too.

Unfortunately, the murals didn’t offer any helpful records or revelations. They were all variations of the same theme: mountains, rivers, and gods.

Endless mountains crushing demons and ghosts. Immortals bathed in golden light, robes fluttering, standing atop auspicious clouds raining down chains like a storm.

One of the immortals had a kind, compassionate face. Upon closer inspection, it was clearly Zhuang Guiqu, the same figure shown in the paintings hung back at their base.

Guan He was confused. Wasn’t this the royal tomb of the Kui Dynasty? Why was Zhuang Guiqu everywhere? It felt more like his personal tomb.

Cen Ling’s shadow flickered across the murals as he passed, giving the odd impression of someone polishing them. Even in the tension of the moment, he occasionally turned to admire the heroic figure of his “Hierarch” on the walls.

They walked for nearly an hour. Guan He’s legs were giving out. He’d lost count of how many turns they’d made. The number of skinless beings had only increased.

They had to walk single file just to avoid bumping into them.

As the numbers grew, the scene became surreal.

The creatures tore each other apart, stuffing the flesh into their sacks like treasure. When their sacks were full, they would stagger off into the darkness.

A few giant corpse rats wandered into the area. Within seconds, they were shredded. Blood spurted three meters high. Every bone, every scrap, even the tips of their tails were scooped up and shoved into the sacks.

The tomb walls grew dark and sticky. The brickwork became slick with filth, like the inside of a rotting esophagus.

Guan He didn’t dare even gag. If they were discovered, they’d surely be torn apart and stored away, one piece at a time.

Was this even normal?

But they had no choice—trapped between monsters and darkness. Cen Ling led silently at the front. Guan He didn’t dare ask questions. He missed Fang Xiu terribly.

After what felt like centuries, a faint light revealed a door.

After a bloody trek through horror, they had finally reached the “future base”. But the so-called “warehouse door” was coated in a black-red crust. Without careful inspection, the door’s shape was unrecognizable.

Guan He: “…”

Even if the Guishan Sect was a cult, this was a bit much for a storage door.

The little black dog sniffed at the bloody crust, then sat down firmly and refused to move.

“Come in with me,” Cen Ling said with a polite smile to the others.

The dog rolled its eyes at him, then grabbed Cheng Songyun’s pants and pulled her back.

She glanced nervously at the nearby skinless beings. “There’s danger inside.”

“If it’s dangerous, we’ll kill it.” Bai Sui shrugged. “You’ve seen Cen Ge’s strength. Stay outside if you don’t want to go in. Trusting a dog over a person is ridiculous.”

He casually picked up a rock from the tomb floor and tossed it at the dog who was still pulling on Cheng Songyun. It immediately let go of Cheng Songyun’s pants, then gave Bai Sui a displeased snort.

As they argued, Cen Ling reached for the door. Whether due to corpse oil or some other reason, the heavy stone slab slid open soundlessly. A breeze drifted out, laced with an indescribably sweet, cloying scent.

The gore ended precisely at the threshold. The space within was spotlessly clean, the floor gleaming under the paper lantern’s light.

On one side was bloodied corridors with skinless horrors muttering to themselves. On the other was a pristine chamber. It was like standing on the threshold between nightmare and reality.

“We’re heading in first,” Cen Ling said with another polite smile.

Cheng Songyun picked up the fuming dog and looked to Mei Lan. After a moment of hesitation, Mei Lan nodded slightly. Cheng Songyun pressed her lips together and sighed silently.

They all knew Cen Ling couldn’t be trusted. But splitting up here would mean dying faster.

One by one, they squeezed into the room behind Cen Ling. The heavy stone door closed behind them, shutting out all the filth.

Fortunately, the dog didn’t resist too hard. It just licked Cheng Songyun’s hand, clearly sulking.

Cen Ling walked several steps ahead. His paper lantern bumped against something.

In the next moment, lights flared to life. Lantern after lantern formed a glowing circle. A warm glow filled the space, bright but gentle on the eyes.

The three fell silent.

The dog whimpered twice, as if resigned.

This wasn’t a warehouse by any stretch.

The space was as wide as a small plaza. Opposite the door stood a massive statue of Zhuang Guiqu. He held one hand out in pity, palm full of pale, bead-sized objects. At first glance, they looked like… eggs.

The skinless beings began arriving in droves, dragging sacks to the plaza.

In the center stood a glowing green pool, giving off an unnaturally sweet fragrance. The creatures knelt beside it, reverently pouring the contents of their sacks into the water.

With a splash, a giant human head briefly surfaced, then vanished. The sounds of chains clinking could be faintly heard below.

What came next was indescribable: a grotesquely bloated limb, ending in a vivid red orifice. With a sickening squelch, it expelled several soccer-ball-sized, translucent eggs.

The skinless beings carried the eggs carefully toward the statue.

Guan He couldn’t take it anymore and began gagging. Cen Ling, cheerful as ever, stepped forward and turned to them.

“Apologies. This isn’t a warehouse… If I told the truth, you probably wouldn’t have come.”

He smiled brightly. “Welcome to the sect’s sacred ‘Immortal Breeding Chamber.’”

“That pool holds the ‘immortal’ tamed by our founder. Technically, it’s more like an evil spirit. We keep it sealed here, for the good of all.”

Cen Ling lifted his chin, pride evident in his voice.

Mei Lan’s expression shifted. “So why bring us here?”

“Simple.”

Cen Ling smiled wider. “The Grave-Sealing E was added by our sect later. This tomb originally had a guardian left behind by the founder, meant to reduce intruders to bones.”

“We wanted to use this place as a holy site. That’s why we brought in the Grave-Sealing E. They balance each other—so our brothers and sisters could worship in peace.”

Guan He and Cheng Songyun exchanged glances, both filled with unease.

Sure enough, Cen Ling’s smile deepened.

“All we need to do is unseal this area and let the tiger fight the wolf. We don’t need to risk breaking taboos ourselves. We’ll just wait, then deliver the final blow.”

“That’s why I called this a ‘war of attrition’.”

……

“Evil spirits have feelings too,” Bai Shuangying said irritably.

Inside the small tomb chamber, Fang Xiu gave him a puzzled look. “If you’re not getting any benefits from me anymore, I can understand your attitude.”

Even among the living, love rarely came from being “liked” alone—let alone among evil spirits. Fang Xiu was sure: if there was nothing to gain, there was no way this evil spirit would stick with him.

“It’s not that,” Bai Shuangying frowned.

He didn’t mind going hungry if he couldn’t absorb Fang Xiu’s essence. And if Fang Xiu forgot him, it was a new way to understand him… Still, he was very, very unhappy.

Fang Xiu didn’t look cold toward him. Clearly, he still liked his face. But something was missing—something Bai Shuangying couldn’t name.

To Fang Xiu, he didn’t seem special anymore.

His human no longer remembered the fireworks on Mid-Autumn or the snowy courtyard. Maybe he could tell those stories again, but how much could words really restore?

…What if Fang Xiu’s memories never returned? Would something important be lost forever?

Fang Xiu was still watching him with that admiring but distant gaze. Bai Shuangying grew so frustrated he couldn’t think. He vanished in a flash, needing a quiet place to calm down.

“Don’t go.”

Fang Xiu stayed where he was. He hadn’t used any spells but just called out, a little lost. “Don’t go yet.”

“Just stay a little longer and chat. Don’t you want to figure me out a bit more?”

“It’s too dark here. I don’t want to be alone.”

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>