Chapter 10: The Man Who Never Left
Forty-three years can turn a young man into an old one.
But what happens when time passes for the world and forgets to pass for someone within it?
A Voice from Forty-Three Years Ago
"Mu Cang?"
The voice came from beyond the third stone door.
It was faint, hoarse, and filled with disbelief.
"Is that really you?"
Mu Cang stood motionless.
For forty-three years, he had searched for his missing companions.
He had traveled across kingdoms, visited ruined libraries, questioned elderly scholars, and spent the last decade disguised as a beggar.
He had endured ridicule.
He had watched people forget names they had once spoken every day.
And now, deep beneath an ancient mountain, he had heard a voice he thought he would never hear again.
"Han Zhen..."
His lips trembled.
"Is that you?"
A long silence followed.
Then the voice answered.
"Old Mu?"
Mu Cang took an unsteady step forward.
"It's me!"
His voice cracked.
"It's Mu Cang!"
Something struck the other side of the door.
A hurried series of footsteps followed.
"Impossible!"
The voice sounded closer now.
"Mu Cang, how did you get outside?"
Mu Cang froze.
"Outside?"
"Yes! We were just together!"
The old scholar stared at the stone.
Lin Qingyue slowly lowered her sword.
Ye Wuchen remained silent.
Mu Cang swallowed.
"Han Zhen... how long have you been in there?"
The answer came immediately.
"Since yesterday."
Mu Cang's expression emptied.
Yesterday.
He looked toward Ye Wuchen.
The black-robed young man gave no indication of surprise.
"Ask him what year it is," Ye Wuchen said.
Mu Cang turned back toward the door.
"Han Zhen, what year is it?"
A pause.
"Great Yan Calendar, year four thousand two hundred and seventy-four."
Mu Cang closed his eyes.
Forty-three years.
Exactly forty-three years.
He had not misheard the voice.
He had not mistaken the name.
And whoever stood beyond the door believed that their expedition had entered the ruins only yesterday.
"Han Zhen," he said quietly, "it's year four thousand three hundred and seventeen."
Silence.
Then a nervous laugh.
"Old Mu, this isn't funny."
"I'm not joking."
"Stop it."
Mu Cang's hands trembled.
"Forty-three years have passed."
Something fell on the other side of the door.
For a long moment, there was no response.
Then the voice returned.
Much quieter.
"That's impossible."
Ye Wuchen approached the stone.
"Han Zhen."
The voice stopped.
"Who are you?"
"A traveler."
"Are you with Mu Cang?"
"Yes."
"Then tell him to stop playing tricks."
Ye Wuchen examined the door.
"Describe your surroundings."
A pause followed.
"Why?"
"Because we intend to open the door."
Another silence.
Then Han Zhen answered.
"I'm in a small stone room. There's a table, two lamps, and a passage behind me."
"Any windows?"
"No."
"Other exits?"
"The passage, but it leads back to the same room."
Ye Wuchen's silver eyes narrowed slightly.
"A repeating passage."
Lin Qingyue looked toward him.
"An illusion formation?"
"Possibly."
Han Zhen continued speaking.
"I've been trying to find a way out since this morning."
Mu Cang pressed his palm against the stone.
"Han Zhen, don't move. We're coming."
The voice on the other side trembled.
"Old Mu..."
"Yes?"
"Where is Shen Yulan?"
Mu Cang stopped.
The question struck him harder than anything else.
"I don't know."
Han Zhen's breathing became audible.
"She was with us yesterday."
Mu Cang lowered his head.
"I know."
"She went into the northern passage. Then the others started arguing about how many people had entered."
"I know."
"After that..."
Han Zhen hesitated.
"I can't remember."
Ye Wuchen looked toward the door.
The situation had become considerably more interesting.
A missing scholar.
A room with a repeating passage.
And a man who believed only one day had passed while forty-three years had elapsed outside.
But before drawing conclusions, he needed to determine whether the voice belonged to a living person.
Or merely something imitating one.
The Formation That Counted Time
Lin Qingyue knelt before the third door.
She examined the circular depression at its center.
"There's a formation here."
Ye Wuchen nodded.
"Yes."
"But it's different from the first two."
"How?"
She considered the question.
"The first door required a particular arrangement. The second required a numerical sequence."
Her fingers traced the circular symbol.
"This one appears to respond to something happening on both sides."
Ye Wuchen looked at her.
"Continue."
Lin Qingyue closed her eyes and extended a thin strand of spiritual sense.
The stone responded.
For an instant, she glimpsed two overlapping formation patterns.
One existed on their side.
The other lay beyond the door.
They rotated in opposite directions.
She opened her eyes.
"The two sides aren't synchronized."
"Correct."
"Then opening it from only one side might damage the formation."
Ye Wuchen nodded.
"A reasonable conclusion."
Lin Qingyue looked toward the door.
"Han Zhen!"
The voice answered.
"Who is that?"
"My name is Lin Qingyue. I'm traveling with Mu Cang."
"Can you open the door?"
"We're trying. Is there a circular marking on your side?"
Footsteps sounded.
A moment later, Han Zhen replied.
"Yes."
"Does it have a vertical line through the center?"
"Yes!"
Lin Qingyue looked toward Ye Wuchen.
He nodded.
"Ask him to place his hand against it."
She relayed the instruction.
A faint vibration passed through the door.
The circular depression illuminated.
Lin Qingyue placed her palm against the matching symbol.
The two formation patterns began rotating.
But they did not align.
Instead, the stone trembled violently.
Lin Qingyue frowned.
"The difference is too large."
Ye Wuchen examined the movement.
The mechanism was not merely responding to spiritual energy.
It was comparing two temporal reference points.
One corresponded to the current world.
The other had been preserved within the chamber beyond.
Forty-three years of difference.
Not because time itself had necessarily stopped, but because the formation continued treating the enclosed space as though its original reference had never changed.
Ye Wuchen studied the mechanism.
An interesting design.
Dangerous, too.
If opened incorrectly, the two incompatible references might destabilize the room.
"Lin Qingyue."
"Yes?"
"Move the outer ring three positions."
She obeyed.
The formation slowed.
"Now the inner ring."
She adjusted it.
The two patterns began approaching alignment.
Lin Qingyue's expression brightened.
"It's working!"
"Don't rush."
She nodded.
A moment later, the final marking settled into place.
A clear metallic sound echoed through the chamber.
Click.
The stone door began opening.
Mu Cang hurried forward.
"Han Zhen!"
"Old Mu!"
The opening widened.
And a young man appeared on the other side.
He wore faded gray scholar's robes.
His hair was tied neatly behind his head.
A small ink stain marked his right sleeve.
He appeared no older than thirty.
Mu Cang stared at him.
The man looked exactly as he remembered.
Not a wrinkle had appeared upon his face.
Not a strand of gray had entered his hair.
Han Zhen, meanwhile, stared at Mu Cang.
His expression slowly changed from excitement to horror.
"Old Mu?"
He looked at the old scholar's white hair.
His deeply lined face.
His trembling hands.
"Why..."
His voice broke.
"Why do you look like that?"
Mu Cang smiled through his tears.
"Because I'm old, you fool."
Han Zhen stepped forward.
Then stopped.
He looked from Mu Cang to the open door.
And back again.
"Forty-three years?"
Mu Cang nodded.
"Forty-three years."
Han Zhen slowly sank to his knees.
The Man Who Never Left
They did not immediately leave the chamber.
Han Zhen was in no condition to travel.
Lin Qingyue helped him sit beside the stone table.
Mu Cang remained close, as though afraid his old friend might disappear if he looked away.
Ye Wuchen examined the room.
It was small.
Exactly as Han Zhen had described.
Two lamps stood beside a wooden table.
A narrow passage extended from the opposite wall.
The passage appeared ordinary.
But its spatial structure curved back upon itself.
Anyone walking through it would eventually return to the same room.
The formation had been designed to keep something inside.
Or perhaps to protect it from something outside.
Ye Wuchen did not yet know which.
"Han Zhen," Mu Cang said, "tell us what happened."
The younger scholar looked at him.
His eyes remained unsettled.
"Yesterday..."
He paused.
"At least, I thought it was yesterday."
Mu Cang nodded.
"Start from the beginning."
Han Zhen took a long breath.
"We entered the ruins together. There were seven of us."
Mu Cang leaned forward.
"Who?"
Han Zhen frowned.
"You, me, Shen Yulan..."
He began counting on his fingers.
"Lu Wen. Chen Shuo."
He stopped.
His expression changed.
"Wait."
Mu Cang looked at him.
"What's wrong?"
Han Zhen stared at his hand.
"There were seven."
"Yes."
"But I can only remember five names."
Mu Cang's face darkened.
"The same thing happened to me."
Han Zhen looked frightened.
"I remember their voices. I remember walking beside them."
He pressed his fingers against his temples.
"But when I try to remember their faces..."
He stopped.
Ye Wuchen watched quietly.
Han Zhen continued.
"We found the circular chamber. Shen Yulan wanted to examine the northern passage. The others disagreed."
"What happened next?" Lin Qingyue asked.
"One of us discovered a room containing ancient objects."
"The Hall of Witnesses?" Mu Cang asked. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
Han Zhen looked up.
"You found it?"
"Yes."
"Then you saw the pedestals?"
Mu Cang nodded.
Han Zhen's expression became grave.
"Yulan believed those objects were being used to preserve something."
"Memories?" Lin Qingyue asked.
"She wasn't sure."
He hesitated.
"She said the inscriptions weren't recording whether people were alive or dead."
Ye Wuchen turned toward him.
"What were they recording?"
Han Zhen looked at the black-robed young man.
"Whether someone could still testify that they had existed."
Silence settled over the chamber.
Mu Cang slowly touched the pendant hanging from his neck.
Ye Wuchen considered the explanation.
It matched the inscriptions in the Hall of Witnesses.
WITNESS: ONE.
WITNESS: TWO.
WITNESS: ZERO.
The hall was not simply collecting possessions.
It appeared to be maintaining evidence of individual existence.
That explained why ordinary objects had been preserved with such care.
A hairpin was not valuable because of its material.
It was valuable because someone could recognize its owner.
"What happened after you entered this room?" Ye Wuchen asked.
Han Zhen lowered his gaze.
"I came here to copy an inscription."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Then?"
"The door closed."
He glanced toward the passage.
"I tried leaving through the corridor, but it always brought me back."
"Did you sleep?"
"Once."
"Eat?"
Han Zhen hesitated.
"I had some dried provisions."
"How much remains?"
The scholar reached into his sleeve.
He produced a small cloth bag.
Inside were several pieces of dried grain cake.
Mu Cang recognized the wrapping.
He had helped prepare those provisions before the expedition.
Han Zhen stared at the bag.
"I ate one piece."
Ye Wuchen examined it.
The food had not decayed.
Neither had the cloth.
The room had preserved more than Han Zhen's appearance.
But preservation alone did not explain everything.
Ye Wuchen looked toward the two lamps.
"Did the flames ever go out?"
"No."
"Did you notice the passage changing?"
"Sometimes."
"How?"
Han Zhen thought carefully.
"At first, I could hear footsteps beyond it."
Mu Cang stiffened.
"Whose footsteps?"
"I don't know."
"Did anyone speak?"
Han Zhen hesitated.
"Once."
Ye Wuchen looked at him.
"What did they say?"
Han Zhen's expression became strange.
"They asked whether I wanted to be remembered."
The room fell silent.
Lin Qingyue frowned.
"Who asked?"
"I never saw anyone."
"What did you answer?"
Han Zhen looked down.
"I said yes."
Mu Cang slowly exhaled.
"And then?"
"Nothing."
He paused.
"At least, I thought nothing happened."
Ye Wuchen examined the passage.
A voice.
A question.
A response.
Then forty-three years of separation from the outside world.
The connection was suggestive.
But he could not yet determine whether the voice had activated the formation, merely accompanied it, or had been unrelated.
"Did you hear it again?" he asked.
Han Zhen shook his head.
"No."
The Cost of Returning
When Han Zhen finally stood, his legs trembled.
Lin Qingyue offered him a hand.
"Can you walk?"
"I think so."
He took a cautious step.
Then another.
The moment he crossed the threshold, he stopped.
His expression changed.
A faint silver light appeared around his body.
Lin Qingyue immediately raised her hand.
"Something's wrong!"
Han Zhen gasped.
His face twisted with discomfort.
Mu Cang rushed toward him.
"Han Zhen!"
Ye Wuchen moved first.
He placed two fingers against Han Zhen's shoulder.
The silver light stopped spreading.
The scholar's breathing steadied.
Lin Qingyue stared at the strange radiance.
"What's happening to him?"
Ye Wuchen examined it.
The formation's preserved reference had not completely released Han Zhen.
His body was attempting to reconcile the difference between the chamber and the outside world.
If the transition continued unchecked, the consequences could be severe.
Ye Wuchen looked toward the doorway.
A thin strand of silver light connected Han Zhen to the circular symbol.
He touched the strand.
It dissolved.
The remaining radiance faded.
Han Zhen stumbled.
Mu Cang caught him.
"Are you all right?"
The younger scholar breathed heavily.
"I... think so."
Lin Qingyue examined him with her spiritual sense.
Her expression relaxed.
"His vital signs are stable."
Ye Wuchen withdrew his hand.
"Rest for a moment."
Han Zhen looked at him.
"What did you do?"
"Separated you from the formation."
"How?"
Ye Wuchen glanced at the doorway.
"It was still holding on to you."
Han Zhen looked confused.
Lin Qingyue was no less puzzled.
She had sensed the silver light.
But she had not understood its structure.
And Ye Wuchen had dispersed it with two fingers.
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then decided not to ask.
Not because she had stopped being curious.
But because she suspected his answer would be something infuriatingly simple.
The Upper Realm — A Seat Without a Name
Within the Nine Heavens Sword Palace, the Grand Archivist had made another discovery.
Gu Shixuan stood before a vast collection of ancient records.
Ji Wuhen examined the diagram of the Assembly of Ten Witnesses.
Nine seats surrounded a central altar.
The tenth faced the entrance.
"Ancestor," Gu Shixuan said, "I compared the diagram with the oldest surviving ceremonial formations."
"And?"
"The tenth seat was not placed there by accident."
Ji Wuhen looked up.
"Explain."
Gu Shixuan pointed toward the altar.
"The nine surrounding seats formed a complete sword formation."
"Yes."
"But the tenth was positioned outside its circulation."
Ji Wuhen examined the lines.
The Grand Archivist continued.
"It wasn't meant to contribute power."
"Then what was its purpose?"
"Observation."
Ji Wuhen remained silent.
Gu Shixuan pointed toward the symbol beneath the tenth seat.
"A witness."
The word lingered between them.
A witness.
Not a founder.
Not necessarily a guest.
Someone whose role had been to observe the establishment of the palace.
Ji Wuhen looked toward the ancient diagram.
"Why would our founders require an outside witness?"
Gu Shixuan shook his head.
"I don't know."
"Could it have been a representative of another sect?"
"Possibly."
"An immortal court?"
"Also possible."
Ji Wuhen considered the question.
The Nine Heavens Sword Palace had been founded by extraordinary cultivators.
Its earliest histories described the founders as independent sword experts who rejected the authority of the great immortal dynasties.
Why would such figures invite an unnamed witness?
He examined the diagram again.
Then noticed something.
The tenth seat faced the entrance.
But the nine founders faced the altar.
Whoever occupied that seat would have watched the ceremony from behind them.
Not as an equal participant.
Not as an honored guest.
As an observer.
"Find out whether the witness appears in any other founding records," Ji Wuhen said.
Gu Shixuan bowed.
"I have already begun."
He hesitated.
"There is another complication."
"What?"
"Several of the oldest records refer to an agreement made before the palace was founded."
Ji Wuhen narrowed his eyes.
"What agreement?"
"The surviving text does not say."
"Who made it?"
"That is also unclear."
Ji Wuhen looked toward the diagram.
An unnamed witness.
An agreement older than the sect.
A symbol concealed beneath the ancestral monument.
And a correction to their greatest sword scripture made by an unknown hand.
He had begun to suspect that the Nine Heavens Sword Palace's founding history was incomplete.
Now he wondered whether its founders had deliberately left something out.
"Grand Archivist."
"Yes, Ancestor?"
"Do not announce these findings."
Gu Shixuan looked surprised.
"Even to the elders?"
"Not yet."
"May I ask why?"
Ji Wuhen's gaze remained on the ancient manuscript.
"Because I would like to know what we have discovered before someone decides what it means."
Gu Shixuan slowly nodded.
"A wise precaution."
A Visitor at the Azure River Sect
While Ye Wuchen explored the forgotten ruins, the outside world continued moving.
Several days' journey south, the Azure River Sect stood beneath a range of mist-covered mountains.
Its disciples practiced sword techniques upon stone platforms.
Spiritual cranes circled the peaks.
Ancient bells marked the changing hours.
It was an ordinary day.
Until a visitor arrived.
A young man dressed in dark green robes descended from a flying vessel.
His cultivation was at the Golden Core Realm.
For a Lower Realm sect such as the Azure River Sect, that was enough to command considerable respect.
An elder hurried to receive him.
"Fellow Daoist, may I ask your purpose?"
The visitor smiled.
"My name is Luo Cheng. I represent the Blackstone Sword Sect."
The elder's expression became cautious.
"What business brings you here?"
Luo Cheng produced a jade slip.
"We're investigating an unusual spiritual disturbance in the Northern Wastelands."
The elder frowned.
"The Northern Wastelands?"
"Yes."
Luo Cheng looked toward the sect's distant mountains.
"We heard that several Azure River disciples recently traveled in that direction."
The elder hesitated.
"Disciples occasionally undertake missions there."
"Naturally."
Luo Cheng smiled.
"Then perhaps you can tell me whether any of them approached the ancient mountain ruins."
The elder's expression changed slightly.
Luo Cheng noticed.
His smile remained.
"Don't misunderstand. We're not here to cause trouble."
He paused.
"We simply believe something valuable may have appeared in that region."
The elder studied him.
"What kind of treasure?"
Luo Cheng looked toward the northern horizon.
"That is what we intend to discover."
The Dragon Court — A Report from Below
Within the Ancient Dragon Court, Long Tianque received another jade slip.
The report concerned one of the seventeen candidate Lower Realms.
A minor world.
Little spiritual activity.
No recent confirmed ascensions.
No known connection to the Immortal Tomb.
Yet the report contained an unusual detail.
An ancient mountain region had experienced a disturbance shortly after the tomb vanished.
The disturbance was weak.
So weak that most Upper Realm observation arrays would have ignored it.
But its pattern did not match ordinary spiritual fluctuations.
Long Tianque examined the report.
"Who recorded this?"
A dragon elder bowed.
"A distant observation station."
"How reliable is the measurement?"
"Can the disturbance be traced?"
"Not precisely."
Long Tianque placed the jade slip upon the table.
"Then continue observing."
The elder hesitated.
"Should we dispatch an envoy?"
"Not yet."
"Your Highness?"
Long Tianque looked toward him.
"We have seventeen candidates. A single unusual reading is not enough to justify intervention."
He paused.
"Gather more evidence."
The elder bowed.
"Understood."
Long Tianque returned his attention to the reports.
He did not know that the disturbance originated near the mountain beneath which Ye Wuchen now stood.
Nor did he know that the ancient tomb he sought had already become the subject of rumors among several insignificant Lower Realm sects.
For now, the two investigations remained separate.
But their paths were beginning to approach one another.
The Missing Seventh Companion
Back beneath the Northern Wastelands, Han Zhen had recovered enough to walk.
The four stood in the circular chamber.
Above them, the celestial map rotated silently.
Han Zhen stared at it.
His expression became uneasy.
"This place..."
Mu Cang turned.
"What about it?"
"It's different."
Lin Qingyue frowned.
"You remember this chamber?"
"Yes."
Han Zhen pointed toward the floating map.
"There were fewer stars before."
Ye Wuchen looked upward.
"Which ones are new?"
Han Zhen hesitated.
Then pointed toward a region near the edge.
"Those."
Several silver points formed a small constellation.
Ye Wuchen examined them.
The arrangement did not correspond to any star region he remembered.
"Are you certain?" he asked.
Han Zhen nodded.
"I spent hours studying the map."
Mu Cang looked at his old friend.
"Do you remember what happened to the others?"
Han Zhen's expression darkened.
"Only fragments."
"Tell us."
The younger scholar looked toward the seven doors.
"Yulan went into the northern passage."
He pointed toward the fourth door.
"Lu Wen followed her."
Then toward the fifth.
"Chen Shuo went there."
He stopped.
Mu Cang waited.
"And the others?"
Han Zhen frowned.
"There was another person."
Mu Cang leaned forward.
"Who?"
"I don't remember."
"Was it a man or a woman?"
Han Zhen closed his eyes.
"I..."
His expression tightened.
"I can't remember."
Ye Wuchen watched him.
Han Zhen continued.
"But I remember something strange."
"What?" Mu Cang asked.
"Before we separated, someone counted our group."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
Han Zhen's voice became quieter.
"They counted seven."
Mu Cang nodded.
"Yes."
"But then someone said there should have been eight."
Silence.
Lin Qingyue looked toward the journal.
"Eight?"
Han Zhen nodded slowly.
"I remember everyone laughing."
"Why?" Mu Cang asked.
"Because we thought someone had made a mistake."
He paused.
"Then..."
His face paled.
"Then we counted again."
Ye Wuchen looked at him.
"And?"
Han Zhen swallowed.
"Seven."
Mu Cang stared at his old friend.
"Are you saying there was an eighth person?"
"I don't know."
Han Zhen shook his head.
"I don't remember seeing anyone else."
He looked toward the celestial map.
"But I remember the argument."
Ye Wuchen considered the account.
A group recorded as seven.
A possible eighth participant.
Memories that changed even during the expedition.
The information was incomplete.
But the pattern was becoming clearer.
The original expedition had not merely lost members.
Its members had lost the ability to agree on who had been present.
He turned toward Mu Cang.
"Show me the journal."
The old scholar handed it over.
Ye Wuchen opened the first page.
Then the second.
He examined the dates.
The handwriting.
The ink.
And finally, the first entry.
We entered the ruins with seven people.
He looked toward Han Zhen.
"Who wrote this?"
Han Zhen examined the page.
"Mu Cang."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
Ye Wuchen turned toward Mu Cang.
"Do you remember writing it?"
The old scholar shook his head.
"No."
Ye Wuchen examined the journal again.
Then he noticed something.
Beneath the first entry, the paper contained a faint indentation.
It resembled the impression found on Shen Yulan's letter.
But this one was different.
A single character had been pressed into the page.
It was almost invisible.
Ye Wuchen tilted the journal toward the light.
The character became clearer.
Not a name.
Not a number.
A word.
Witness.
He closed the journal.
Interesting.
The Door That Should Have Remained Closed
Han Zhen slowly approached the concealed seventh door.
He stopped several steps away.
His expression changed.
Mu Cang noticed.
"What is it?"
Han Zhen stared at the stone.
"That door..."
Lin Qingyue looked toward it.
"Do you recognize it?"
Han Zhen nodded.
"I think so."
Ye Wuchen watched him.
"What do you remember?"
Han Zhen's face became pale.
"I remember someone standing in front of it."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"One of your companions?"
"Maybe."
Han Zhen pressed his fingers against his forehead.
"I remember the door opening."
Mu Cang froze.
"The seventh door?"
Han Zhen nodded.
"Yes."
Lin Qingyue looked toward Ye Wuchen.
The black-robed young man remained silent.
Han Zhen continued.
"And I remember..."
He stopped.
His breathing became uneven.
Mu Cang stepped forward.
"Han Zhen?"
The younger scholar looked at the door.
His voice trembled.
"I remember someone saying we had made a mistake."
Ye Wuchen narrowed his eyes slightly.
"What mistake?"
Han Zhen shook his head.
"I don't know."
He looked toward Mu Cang.
"But I remember the words."
"What words?"
Han Zhen swallowed.
Then spoke slowly.
"We shouldn't have counted the witness."
Silence filled the chamber.
Mu Cang stared at him.
Lin Qingyue looked confused.
Ye Wuchen examined the seventh door.
The warning remained concealed beneath its surface.
YE WUCHEN IS NOT PERMITTED TO ENTER.
And somewhere within the ancient ruins, a record supposedly existed that had never been destroyed.
A record associated with the seventh door.
A record that might explain why the expedition's numbers had never remained consistent.
Ye Wuchen considered the possibilities.
Then he looked toward the fourth door.
"Enough for now."
Mu Cang turned.
"What?"
"We have four chambers left to investigate."
Han Zhen stared at him.
"You're not opening the seventh?"
"Not yet."
"Why?"
Ye Wuchen glanced at the concealed entrance.
"Because we still don't know what happened here."
Han Zhen looked relieved.
Then Ye Wuchen added:
"And because someone clearly wants us to open it before we're ready."
Lin Qingyue frowned.
"How can you be sure?"
Ye Wuchen looked toward the ancient map.
The silver stars continued rotating.
But near the erased region, one faint point had begun glowing.
It had not been illuminated before Han Zhen emerged.
Now it pulsed softly.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Ye Wuchen watched it.
Then smiled faintly.
It was not a warm smile.
Nor was it particularly threatening.
It was simply the expression of someone who had noticed an interesting detail.
"Because," he said, "the ruins are becoming rather impatient."
Beyond the Mountain
Far above the underground chamber, night settled over the Northern Wastelands.
The village at the foot of the mountain grew quiet.
Most of its residents had already extinguished their lamps.
But near the old well, a stranger stood beneath the moonlight.
He wore dark green robes.
A sword hung at his waist.
His cultivation was concealed beneath a thin spiritual veil.
He examined the ancient stones surrounding the well.
Then crouched.
A faint scratch marked one of them.
Someone had moved it recently.
The stranger touched the stone.
A weak trace of spiritual energy remained.
He smiled.
"So the rumors were true."
He stood.
Then looked toward the mountain.
Beyond the trees, the dark outline of the ancient peak rose against the night sky.
The stranger removed a transmission talisman from his sleeve.
A faint light appeared.
"Report."
A voice answered from within the talisman.
"Have you found anything?"
The stranger looked toward the mountain.
"Possibly."
"Explain."
"Someone has discovered an ancient entrance."
A pause.
"Are you certain?"
"Not yet."
The stranger smiled.
"But I intend to find out."
The talisman dimmed.
He returned it to his sleeve.
Then began walking toward the mountain.
Deep below his feet, Ye Wuchen and his companions remained unaware of his approach.
Or rather—
Three of them were unaware.
The fourth had already noticed.
Ye Wuchen glanced upward.
For a brief moment, his silver eyes reflected the darkness beyond the stone ceiling.
Then he looked away.
An insignificant cultivator.
Not worth interrupting the investigation.
But perhaps...
Someone worth asking a few questions.
End of Chapter 10