Chapter 334: The Divine Tomb of the Underground Palace (21)
Yan Shixun had imagined what lay beyond this stone gate. After all, he had seen Fengdu’s army of one hundred thousand ghost soldiers before—this fierce cavalry that once swept across the battlefield in overwhelming, sky-shaking might.
A hundred thousand corpses—this was no small number.
But if he added one more detail—these were bodies retrieved from the battlefield, carrying a final breath of resentment even in death?
Not a single soldier had retreated even half a step until the moment they died. And even after death, they returned to Fengdu without rest.
This was an army forged through blood and death, cloaked in murderous intent sharp as blades, a force no one dared to provoke.
Even the bones of these warriors, who returned as heroic spirits after death, carried a murderous aura powerful enough to strike fear into ghosts.
When the stone door slowly began to open, Yan Shixun felt a sudden shift—what was once a door weighing a thousand pounds had become feather-light in an instant, allowing him to push it open effortlessly.
He froze, then immediately turned his head, realizing something.
In the darkness, a figure in full iron armor, cloaked in a faint green glow, was also exerting force on the door alongside him.
And it wasn’t just one figure.
Yan Shixun saw that the souls of the soldiers had somehow gathered beside him without his noticing, advancing and retreating in step with him.
In the hall behind him, ghostly figures crowded every inch of space. At that moment, it felt as if he was the commanding general of this army—no matter what decision he made, the soldiers would follow loyally without hesitation.
As he glanced across them, each soldier nodded with a silent smile, mouthing words of respect and support.
They told him: Do not be concerned about anything. As long as the decision is yours, the Lord of Fengdu will support it completely.
They told him: To us, you are already the general of Fengdu. We trust that you will find a path to victory and the future for us all.
They told him: Please believe in yourself. You are the one and only Evil Spirit Bone Transformation in this world—the being that even the Great Dao entrusts with hope and vitality. Any choice you make is the right one.
They told him: Don’t worry. Whatever choice you make, we will bear the consequences with you. Even if the sky falls, we will hold it up together.
Yan Shixun swept his gaze across them, visibly moved by their encouragement and comfort.
It gave him the strange illusion that perhaps Fengdu could truly be his home—a place where they could rise and fall together.
He let out a gentle smile.
As the rumble of the opening stone gate echoed, he bowed slightly to the soldiers, acknowledging their sentiments.
Yet, even with all his mental preparation, the moment Yan Shixun raised his head to look inside the gate, he was still stunned.
A wave of killing intent surged out like a beast imprisoned for a thousand years, bursting free with a roar as the gate opened, baring its fangs at all who dared to challenge its authority.
Even gods and ghosts would feel no comfort in facing such force.
The sheer power of it made Yan Shixun pause to collect himself before looking deeper into the darkness beyond the gate. He raised the glowing orb in his hand to illuminate what lay ahead.
—Inside the cave behind the stone door, countless skeletons were laid out in neat rows across the ground, stretching endlessly into the shadowy depths beyond the light’s reach.
Yan Shixun was no stranger to death and bones.
But this overwhelming number of skeletons still left him in speechless shock.
This was… one hundred thousand.
One hundred thousand once-living, spirited lives, all slain on the battlefield, now resting quietly in the cave, hidden for centuries—until this moment, when he opened the stone door and brought their past back into the light.
The sheer weight of death resonated with the soul’s deep reverence for life.
It took a long time before Yan Shixun came back to his senses. He stood in silence for a while before stepping lightly into the space beyond the gate.
His footsteps were soft, not wishing to disturb the soldiers’ rest.
In the abandoned yizhuang outside the cave, even the headless corpses had been covered with thin coffins, sparing them the indignity of being exposed to the open air.
But here in the cave, these soldiers’ remains lay directly on the ground, without even a piece of cloth to cover them.
Yet from the orderly arrangement of the bones and the carefully preserved armor still on them, Yan Shixun understood—it wasn’t that the villagers of old didn’t care.
A thousand years ago, those villagers had done everything they could. Risking their lives to retrieve the soldiers’ corpses, they scraped together what money and labor they had to bury them properly. But they simply couldn’t afford to craft one hundred thousand coffins.
It wasn’t just about money or the limited time of craftsmen. There was also the looming threat of new powers—if they discovered this secret the villagers tried so desperately to hide, the consequences would be unimaginable.
That was something the villagers could never allow.
In the end, with heavy hearts, they laid the bones in neat rows here in the cave and prepared the tomb as best as they could in the short time they had.
When morning came, the stone gate was shut tight. The villagers returned to their daily lives as if nothing had happened, dealing with inspections from the new powers.
And so, the secret was preserved.
Yan Shixun held his glowing orb and slowly knelt beside one of the skeletons.
Though the soldiers had lingering attachments, they held no resentment.
After death, their flesh had long decayed, leaving only bare bones. The only clues to their identities lay in their rusting armor and the few items they had carried.
The hollow sockets of the skull stared straight at Yan Shixun.
The armor had rusted through. The once-sharp sword that had cut down countless foes was now corroded beyond use. Yet the skeleton still held it tightly, refusing to let go.
Even in death, the instinct to fight and protect the people and the land remained etched into their very souls.
Once a soldier, always a soldier—never allowed to slack.
Even now, just a skeleton, it still clutched its sword, as if ready to rise again to defend the living.
Yan Shixun stared quietly into those dark, empty eye sockets—not with fear, but deep respect.
He reached out and gently placed his hand over the bony grip holding the sword.
Coldness spread instantly—that was the temperature of death.
He lowered his eyes and spoke softly, “You’ve done well.”
“Thank you—for protecting the people of Ye and returning to Fengdu to guard the balance of yin and yang. You’ve already done more than enough for the living.”
“Now, let me do something for you—grant you freedom to control your fate from this moment on.”
“From here on out, not even the heavens or the Great Dao can dictate your destiny. You may choose everything for yourself.”
Yan Shixun smiled faintly as ghostly energy surged violently through his meridians, roaring like waves crashing against a shore, finally gathering in his hand into a massive force.
Under that overwhelming power, the skeleton whose hand he held seemed to sense something.
Among the gathered spirits of the soldiers, one raised his head and looked at Yan Shixun in astonishment.
At the same time, that corpse—already reduced to bare bones—gently turned its head and looked toward Yan Shixun.
Before the soul of that corpse could figure out what was happening, a surge of immense power flooded into his spirit. Though his soul, as a former Fengdu underworld soldier, was already strong, this new force was something else entirely.
But this power was not outward-facing.
It moved inward.
It wasn’t a force meant to harm or attack others. Instead, it landed deep within the commander’s soul like a memory set aflame—warm and vivid—melting the cold rigidity of his body.
Before the commanders eyes, scenes from his past life, back when he was still alive, began to blur into view.
He saw the tear-streaked face of his mother, who had chased after him when he first left home in his youth, wrapping him in her arms, weeping. His younger siblings had clung to him, sobbing, saying they wouldn’t eat anymore if he left.
After enlisting in the army, he had narrowly escaped death countless times on the battlefield. From a fresh recruit who only knew fear and retreat, he had step by step become a squad leader, then a commander of a thousand. He once knelt beneath the main general’s tent, gazing at the hand the general extended toward him, and made a firm vow—to repay the general’s recognition and trust with his life, never to betray him, not even in thought.
And then there were those cherished memories: the golden waves of wheat swaying in the autumn breeze, the warm golden sunlight, the laughter he shared with the people while working shirtless in the fields. The hearty laugh when he received a bowl of sweet well water from the hands of the village elders.
He remembered the wife, child, and elderly mother waiting for him to return home. The joyous celebration when he returned in glory, the knowing smile as he strolled the streets and watched a child riding a bamboo horse dash past.
He had once sighed in wonder that the general’s camp felt as peaceful and blissful as a land untouched by war.
But in the end, that happiness had been stolen by war.
The villagers who had died with open eyes, the wife and children whose faces were streaked with tears yet already cold to the touch, the once prosperous cities that crumbled in raging flames—the blood soaking deep into the battlefield, three feet and more, the lingering hatred that refused to fade.
So this was what he had witnessed in his lifetime…
He had forgotten that buried in the past he had cast away and abandoned—beyond the pain and regret, beyond the unrelenting obsession over the massacre at Ye—there were still so many precious and joyful memories.
In the life he had once lived, he too had felt warmth, had laughed freely under the sunlight.
Sadly, over a thousand years, he had stripped those memories from his soul, discarded them with his corpse, and stood day and night at the boundary between life and death, forgetting everything he had once known.
But now, finally, finally…
He remembered again.
A single tear slowly slid down the commander’s face.
The commander, always so stern and unsmiling, finally wore a smile once more. His sharp, furrowed brows gradually relaxed, and before he even realized he was crying, he was already smiling.
In that moment, with the help of Yan Shixun’s powerful yet gentle strength, the commander finally recalled the past he had abandoned. And for the first time, he opened his arms and chose to embrace the version of himself that had once been.
The commander had once died with his eyes open, collapsed on the battlefield, covered in blood and wounds. A longsword had been driven through his chest, yet his eyes stared unyieldingly at the sky, his heart burning with rage and refusal to accept his fate.
If—if only he had more provisions, more reinforcements… No, if only they had fought one more proper battle—ten thousand against ten thousand—he was certain he wouldn’t have lost. He wouldn’t have brought shame to the general.
He had destroyed the undefeated legend of Ye and died a tragic death alongside the fall of the city. He had failed to protect even the lives of the civilians within its walls.
It was a defeat so complete, so devastating.
That pain was something the commander had never wanted to recall. For thousands of years, he had blamed himself for that failure, firmly believing it had been his fault. If only he had pushed himself a bit harder, if only he had one more ration, one more soldier—might the outcome have been different?
So, when the general stood up from the battlefield with his broken sword pointing to the heavens, furiously questioning the sky, the commander had followed him. His soul refused to heed the summons of the King of Hell or be reborn. Instead, he silently stood behind the general, leading ten thousand soldiers to charge toward Fengdu.
A new Fengdu rose from the ground. The soldiers followed the general loyally, not just as a pledge to Fengdu, but also to make up for the regret and guilt of the past. All along, they had never dared to relax for even a moment, silently guarding the mortal world from the shadows.
Yet none of them—none of the ten thousand soldiers—had the courage to look back at the battlefield of Ye.
Not even at their own corpses.
That was their one and only cowardice, hidden beneath their strength and valor.
The corpses of the ten thousand soldiers had remained concealed in the burial ground, separating the past from the future.
But now, under the powerful yet gentle strength of Yan Shixun, the commander remembered everything once more.
‘Perhaps, I should have faced my past earlier—with more courage.’
The commander’s soul smiled as he opened his arms. His gaze softened as he looked at Yan Shixun, nodding toward the man whom all the soldiers now regarded as the new master of Fengdu: ‘Thank you, Mr. Yan.’
‘Even if it’s a painful past I dared not face, it is still me—an inseparable part of my own journey…’
The commander smiled and slowly closed his eyes.
Pale green lights, like fireflies, began to rise around him, encircling his soul.
The other soldiers’ spirits stared at the commander in stunned silence, momentarily unable to comprehend what was happening.
But Yan Shixun simply smiled at the commander and gently said, “Back on the battlefield of old Fengdu, I once borrowed a sword from you. I’m sorry… that sword was thrust into the heart of old Fengdu, and I wasn’t able to return it.”
“So now, I give you a new sword. This sword is called—‘Self.’”
“When past, present, and future converge, you gain control of your own destiny. You can do whatever you desire, and nothing will ever hold you back again. The world is vast and boundless. Beneath the Great Dao, you are no puppet, no chess piece. You can protect what you wish to protect and uphold your own path.”
“That is the freedom granted by the Great Dao.”
As his words fell, the commander’s carefully laid body on the ground suddenly turned to fine dust, rising without any wind, glowing like fireflies as it floated toward his soul, merging with it.
In the next moment, the bones beside the commander’s remains also crumbled into dust—then the next, and the next after that…
Specks of glowing light slowly rose in the darkness, transforming the cold and dim cave into a place like a celestial realm—beautiful beyond words.
Within that ghostly green glow, countless firefly-like sparks danced around the soldiers’ souls.
The battlefield strewn with corpses turned to dust and vanished. The soldiers slowly began to smile, their eyes bright, as if they were seeing the most precious and joyful memories of their lives.
The guilt and regret they once carried now transformed into the will to continue guarding the living realm. They no longer rejected their pasts, choosing instead to accept the parts of themselves from when they were alive.
Genuine, unshadowed smiles spread across their faces—infecting even Yan Shixun, who had been watching quietly all along.
He, too, smiled softly, his features gentle.
Before pushing open the stone door, Yan Shixun had hesitated and struggled. He didn’t know if Ye Li could survive the trial, didn’t know if the soldiers of Fengdu would come to hate him because of it. He didn’t know whether the world to come would be better—or worse.
Making a choice was always painful. People instinctively yearned for the path they didn’t take, yet couldn’t bear the consequences of the choices they did make—it was enough to drive someone mad.
And the choice Yan Shixun had to make wasn’t just about himself—it carried the weight of the entire world.
If his choice brought catastrophe, he had no idea how he would ever forgive himself.
But now, looking at the smiles on the soldiers’ faces, he began to think that maybe—just maybe—he had made the right decision.
—At least for now, it felt right.
As the soldiers laughed around him, Yan Shixun instinctively looked to his side, wanting to share the moment with Ye Li—but found nothing.
There was only cold air beside him.
He paused, unexpectedly feeling a sense of loneliness.
The commander noticed Yan Shixun’s disappointment and stepped forward with a smile. The armor on his body clinked crisply with each step.
‘Are you looking for the Lord of Fengdu—your beloved?’
The commander smiled, raising a hand to point into the darkness behind Yan Shixun: ‘Please keep walking forward. Don’t look back, and don’t stop. The Lord of Fengdu’s remains await you in the deepest part.’
‘Believe me—no matter what decision you make, no matter what kind of future it brings, the general will accept it gladly. Because what you give him is a treasure, and for the Lord of Fengdu—who holds all power under heaven—there is nothing more precious than you.’
The commander bowed deeply to Yan Shixun.
Behind him, the soldiers—wrapped in shimmering light—also bowed solemnly in Yan Shixun’s direction, paying their respects.
The smile on Yan Shixun’s lips froze.
He paused, then turned toward the direction thecommander had pointed, gazing into the distant darkness behind him.
It was a darkness that no light could penetrate, hiding within it the most important secrets of heaven and earth—the past even ghosts and gods dared not accept.
As long as he walked into it, as long as he found the corpse of the ghost deity, there would be a chance for Ye Li to become the Great Dao…
Yan Shixun pressed his lips together, made up his mind, and nodded in thanks to the commander.
Then he turned around, took a deep breath, and stepped slowly into the dark.
He had already decided, hadn’t he? There was no need to hesitate anymore.
Ye Li had once asked if he trusted him, and at the time, Yan Shixun had answered yes.
Perhaps back then, Yan Shixun hadn’t known Ye Li’s true identity. But he believed that someone who was moved by the cries of unjust spirits, someone who would walk with him through blades and fire, through the hell of vengeful ghosts—would not be the one to stab him in the back.
And as it turned out, his instinct had been right.
He had offered his trust—and in return, received a love beyond measure.
If he could trust Ye Li back then, then now—knowing clearly how he felt—he had even more reason to believe in him. He believed that Ye Li would pass the trial, accept the past of the corpse, and become the Great Dao.
It was only now that Yan Shixun finally understood the inner turmoil and emotional struggle of those moved by love.
That had been an experience and pain he’d never known before. But now, he understood.
And even in that torment, there was a gentle happiness—like the steady trickle of spring water.
Yan Shixun raised his hand and pressed it over his heart, which beat powerfully in his chest. He realized that his love for Ye Li might run deeper than he had ever imagined.
He had always been slow to recognize emotions, but he had never been a coward who avoided them.
Now that his feelings were laid bare before him, the only thing he would do—was to embrace them openly, and live with that love.
Master… if you were still here and saw the person I’ve become, I wonder what you would say.
I once thought I would always fight on the front lines between humans and ghosts—until one day I died in the jaws of a fierce spirit, or, like you, sacrificed myself for the sake of the world.
Or perhaps, if I were luckier, I’d live long enough to grow old, turn into a pile of bones after a hundred years—but still be alone.
I thought I didn’t need anyone by my side. That I could do everything, go anywhere, on my own.
But now, I’ve learned that it’s not true.
There is someone who worries for me—someone waiting for me to return. There will always be a person, a light, waiting to guide me home…
Master, please don’t worry about me anymore.
I’m no longer alone—I have someone by my side.
No matter life or death, we’ll walk the same path—together, up to the blue sky.
Whatever lies ahead… I’m willing to face it with Ye Li, to live or die together.
Yan Shixun smiled. His eyes were gentle yet firm as he stepped into the darkness without the slightest hesitation.
The cavern gradually swallowed his figure, until he vanished from the soldiers’ sight.
The vast tomb returned to silence once again.
After a long pause, a soldier hesitantly asked the commander, ‘With the general gone, and Madam heading deeper into the tomb… if the general fails the trial…’
The commander smiled as he gazed in the direction Yan Shixun had disappeared, then chuckled softly. ‘The general is exceptional in every way—except he cares too much about Madam’s feelings. He refuses to let him suffer even the slightest discomfort… Of course, that’s a good thing.”
‘It’s just that the only issue is—because the general cares too much, he’s afraid Madam will get hurt. That’s why Madam is still so clueless, unable to face his own feelings.’
The commander shrugged, sounding completely innocent. ‘As subordinates, besides loyalty, we should care about the general’s lifelong happiness. If the general can’t win Madam over on his own, then we have to give him a hand.’
The soldier opened his mouth in confusion, feeling that matters of the heart were indeed deep and mysterious—far beyond the understanding of someone like him, who had never experienced love and likely never would.
The commander gave him a knowing glance and said with a smile, ‘Don’t worry. The general won’t blame us.’
‘Helping him pursue Madam can’t be considered disobedience. That’s called dedication.’
He sounded utterly justified, as if it was the most righteous thing in the world.
The surrounding soldiers all nodded in agreement.
‘Exactly! If we don’t help soon, I’m afraid someone else will take Madam away.’
‘Just watching makes me anxious. Can’t he just carry him straight into the bridal chamber? Back when I was a bandit, we used to do things that way on the mountain. Even though the general later brought us into the fold… if he ever needs us, we’ll snatch a bride for him from Fengdu without hesitation!’
‘…You’d be dead before you could try. Do you believe the general wouldn’t kill you on the spot? A bride-snatching bandit? Times have changed!’
‘I think even King of Hell looks at Madam a bit dangerously. Seems like we’ll have to help the genera; keep an eye on him too.’
‘Man, I joined the army a thousand years ago just to get enough to eat. No one told me I’d end up helping the general chase a wife.’
‘But honestly, Mr. Yan is truly worthy. The general has great taste—just like we’d expect from him!’
The low voices of the ghosts murmured and echoed, swirling gently through the cavern.
Meanwhile, with the commander’s guidance behind him, Yan Shixun pressed steadily onward into the depths of the darkness.
He quickly realized that this path was indeed the right one.
The further he walked, the thinner the air became. The pressure coming at him grew heavier, almost suffocating.
Thick ghostly energy filled every inch of the air, coiling between stone walls and cavernous hollows, silently refusing any disturbance to the rest of the ghost deities.
Even Yan Shixun couldn’t help but feel a sense of breathlessness. His vision began to blur.
Yet not once did his steps falter or retreat. He moved steadily toward the place where Ye Li’s bones lay buried.
Back then, the villagers hadn’t dared alert outsiders, afraid that any big commotion would attract unwanted attention, exposing secrets and disturbing the peace of the soldiers.
Even so, they had given everything they could. They brought out all their possessions, even the coffins they had prepared in advance for their elders, repurposing them in a rush for the burial.
As Yan Shixun walked, he passed through the once-crowded cavern that had housed the remains of a hundred thousand soldiers—now empty and still. He also saw a few scattered coffins. Linking them with the murals he had seen before, he quickly pieced together the truth from a thousand years ago.
Those coffins were clearly not meant for warriors. The wood and craftsmanship were entirely different. He even spotted patterns of cranes, clouds, and large characters for “longevity” carved into them. It was obvious these had originally been prepared for elders, then hastily used to bury the fallen soldiers.
The villagers had done their best, but the sheer number of bodies had been overwhelming.
From every small detail, Yan Shixun could clearly see the towering, noble image Ye Li had left in the hearts of the common people.
There was a faint smile on his lips, and a softness in his eyes. Even as the thin air made his lungs scream in pain from lack of oxygen, as if they were about to explode, he didn’t mind at all.
His thoughts were filled with only one name—Ye Li.
And thankfully, in this cramped and shadowed darkness, he no longer had to concern himself with all living beings, the fate of the world, or the burden of the Dao. He needed only to care about Ye Li.
Even with the danger, this was a rare world where he and Ye Li could be alone.
With every step he took, he drew closer to Ye Li.
—He was walking through death, step by step, toward the one he loved.
This realization made Yan Shixun’s heart pound wildly.
He wasn’t sure if it was due to the lack of oxygen, but his face and ears had started to burn.
If anyone could have seen him in the darkness, they would’ve been shocked to find that this normally irritable and cold exorcist could actually blush so deeply, like petals blooming on his cheeks.
Yan Shixun’s already handsome features were tinged with pink, even the corners of his eyes were slightly red, and a soft glow shimmered in his gaze. He was breathtaking.
But sadly, no one saw it.
Not even Ye Li.
Yan Shixun’s steps gradually slowed. The resistance in front of him grew stronger, as if Mount Tai had appeared in his path. Each step felt like pushing the great mountain forward.
This weight was rapidly draining his strength, making every movement harder.
But deep down, he knew he couldn’t stop.
Not even for a second.
This pressure came from the authority and power of the ghost deity—guardian of the Great Dao and all living beings. They allowed no one to approach their remains with intentions that might disturb the mortal world.
The only way Yan Shixun could get close to Ye Li’s remains in this burial ground was to push forward with unwavering will, to grit his teeth and prove to the ghost deities and the heavens that his heart was resolute and pure.
He carried no selfish intentions. His entry into the burial ground was not to bring chaos to the living world.
It was to act righteously, for all beings.
—If even he wavered, who else could help him prove his resolve?
Even if his pace slowed to a crawl, even if his boots could no longer lift from the ground and he had to inch forward, little by little toward Ye Li, he could not stop. He must not retreat.
Yan Shixun clenched his teeth tightly. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, but his eyes grew sharper and more resolute, like a blade sharp enough to cut through all darkness and resistance.
Huff… huff…
The harsh, labored breathing soon wore his throat raw.
His lungs felt like they were about to explode from the pain, and even his internal organs were being crushed in agony.
Yan Shixun’s throat was full of bloody froth. Every breath he took was laced with the stench of his own blood. All the muscles in his body were trembling involuntarily from the excruciating pain. The only thing keeping him upright was his unwavering spirit—and a will strong enough to shake heaven and earth.
The heavens seemed to gaze down, questioning why he had come here, asking if he had ever truly considered the consequences of his choice.
All living things laughed and wept as scenes from the past flickered before Yan Shixun’s eyes.
Xi Shuang’s bright eyes, smiling through tears. Jiang Yanran’s long-lost radiant smile. Lin Ting’s tear-filled eyes glancing back at the land she had once devoted herself to…
The ghosts who lingered, burdened with grievances, unwilling to depart. The souls who still sought justice even after death.
And the ordinary people living happy, peaceful lives—their bustling daily routines, the quiet joy of three meals a day…
Noises and chaotic images flashed through Yan Shixun’s mind, merging into a muddled mess that made it impossible for him to distinguish who was who.
Those who had once wept and bowed to him in gratitude—he had gradually forgotten their names and the features of their faces amid his countless journeys.
He couldn’t even tell anymore if those memories were real or just his own imagination.
But the one thing Yan Shixun was absolutely sure of, the one belief he clung to, was—
He must not back down!
This crushing weight he carried was the burden of all living beings under heaven and earth—and those lives were precisely what he had sworn to protect.
If he backed down or hesitated now, he would betray the very weight he had taken upon his shoulders.
Yan Shixun knew all too well that ever since Li Chengyun’s death, he had to stand on his own. No matter how difficult the task, he had to shield everyone from harm and bear it alone.
Even if the sky fell, he had to hold it up.
He could not stop…
Cold sweat streamed down Yan Shixun’s temple, trickling into his eyes and stinging painfully.
Under the torment of intense pain and suffocating pressure, Yan Shixun’s vision began to blur. Darkness and light flickered erratically before him, as though the world were swaying.
Even the act of walking had become mechanical. Only his sheer willpower was driving his body forward—an exhausted shell on the verge of collapse.
Ye… Li…
In a daze, Yan Shixun seemed to see that familiar figure he constantly worried about, standing not far ahead of him, arms open and smiling gently.
As if waiting for him to fall into that embrace.
Yan Shixun started to wonder if he was hallucinating from sheer exhaustion.
He struggled to raise his hand and rubbed his eyes, trying hard to bring his vision back into focus.
When he looked up again, he realized that the image of Ye Li had indeed been an illusion.
But the other thing… was not.
A solid black coffin sat atop a stone platform, not far ahead.
Heavy nails had sealed the lid, and it had been placed with solemn reverence in the deepest part of the cave, clearly meant to be hidden from all.
Yan Shixun didn’t even need to examine it—his soul instinctively knew that this was the coffin holding Ye Li’s remains.
At last…
His long lashes trembled, and a bead of sweat fell.
Yan Shixun let out a soft laugh.
He gritted his teeth and forced his aching, numb legs to move faster, quickening his steps toward the coffin.
His beloved was waiting for him there.
Yan Shixun’s slender hand rested on the coffin.
In that instant, a surge of power carrying a faint coolness burst out from the coffin and rushed into Yan Shixun, flooding his depleted meridians and replenishing the strength he had lost, sustaining his broken body.
Yan Shixun could feel it—his body, which had been wracked with pain, was suddenly soothed. The cool aura felt like stepping into an air-conditioned room on a scorching summer day, instantly easing his discomfort. Even his tightly furrowed brows began to relax.
That familiar aura told him clearly—Ye Li was passing his strength to him.
This man… even as just a set of bones inside a coffin, could still be so considerate?
Yan Shixun was deeply moved. He chuckled softly, his eyes brimming with undisguisable affection.
That power didn’t just flow through his meridians—it reached straight into his heart.
He leaned against the coffin to rest briefly, then quickly composed himself, straightening up to carefully examine it.
His long fingers swiftly formed a seal, and the long nails at the four corners of the coffin sprang loose and clattered to the ground.
The lid slackened.
He placed both hands on the coffin lid, took a deep breath in preparation, and with eyes that suddenly turned sharp, pushed with all his strength. The heavy lid began to move.
*Creak… groan…*
A coffin that had remained unopened for a thousand years slowly revealed its contents before Yan Shixun.
And Ye Li’s remains gradually came into view.
His eyes widened.
Lying inside was not the brittle skeleton he had imagined, but a strikingly handsome and resolute general, whose body had not decayed a bit despite the passage of a millennium.
Even the iron armor he wore still gleamed with a piercing cold light, razor-sharp and intimidating.
It was as if he might open his eyes at any moment, rise from the coffin, and return to the battlefield to fight once more for the people and for the heavens.
As Yan Shixun stared blankly at the coffin, a faintly cool aura quietly approached him from behind.
Strong arms wrapped around his slender waist, and a firm chest pressed against his back. A gentle voice spoke softly by his ear.
“Shixun.”
Those arms tightened around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. It was his beloved, holding him close.
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