From deep within the whirlpool, an invisible force seemed to grip Lin Xiao and Qin Yao, pulling them steadily, inexorably downward.

The deeper they sank, the more intense the chill from the river’s depths became. By the end, the water temperature had reached a bone-piercing cold, and more than once Qin Yao found herself convinced she was submerged in the icy waters of deep winter. Even with her inner energy shielding her, she could not suppress a shiver.

Fortunately, the bottom of the whirlpool was not terribly deep. After sinking for some time, both of them felt their feet simultaneously touch a hard stone surface. They tested it carefully with their toes, confirmed it was the rocky bed of the river, and came to stand firmly upon it.

The darkness ahead was absolute — one could not see a hand held before one’s face. All around was only the faint sound of gently flowing water. Master and A’Han were nowhere to be found. Qin Yao held her breath and felt around in every direction, just beginning to consider what method she might use to locate them, when Lin Xiao gave a gentle tug on her hand, signaling her to look ahead.

She looked up, and saw that not far away, a pale, round light had appeared — like a full moon suspended underwater — casting a soft glow that illuminated the river bed considerably. Beneath this “moon” stood two dark figures, perfectly still, as though waiting for someone.

Qin Yao puzzled over this for a moment, then understood. Of course — it was Master’s Boundless Mirror. She quickly pulled Lin Xiao forward. Drawing close, and using the light of the Boundless Mirror to see by, she confirmed it was indeed Qing Xuzi and A’Han.

Qing Xuzi saw Qin Yao and Lin Xiao approach, and seemed to want to say something. Mindful that they were underwater and he could not open his mouth, he reached instead into his robe and produced a jade gourd, from which he tipped out several medicinal pills, gesturing for Qin Yao and Lin Xiao to take them.

The moment Qin Yao caught the scent of the pills, she recognized them as Mind-Settling Elixirs — among the finest of their kind, capable of extending one’s breath underwater and warding off evil influences to protect the body’s vital energy. Master had spent a great many rare and precious medicinal ingredients to refine them; the whole of the Qingyun Observatory had only one bottle, and they were treated with such care and reluctance to use that ordinary days would never see them brought out. Today, it was clearly out of wariness toward whatever evil lurked at the river’s depths that he had produced them at last.

Seeing that Master had not forgotten to give one to Lin Xiao as well, Qin Yao felt something sweet and warm bloom in her heart, like honey spreading quietly through her chest.

Lin Xiao accepted the pill without a second thought and swallowed it. Qing Xuzi, seeing how readily he complied, looked at him with a more favorable expression than before. Good medicine was not wasted on those who received it; it was only wasted on those too suspicious and ungrateful to accept it — that sort of person could only inspire irritation.

Time was passing. Even with the Mind-Settling Elixirs protecting them, there remained the risk of exhausting their breath, and the four of them dared not dawdle any further. They pressed on, following the guidance of the Boundless Mirror.

The river bed was wide but not overly long, and before much time had passed, a stone wall appeared ahead of them — more than a zhang tall, standing abruptly in the middle of the water, looking for all the world like an underwater stele.

This stone wall was strange in every respect, and all of them could not help drawing close to examine it. What they found was that the entire surface was covered in dense Sanskrit characters. Qing Xuzi and the others were practitioners of the Daoist tradition; they did not have a thorough understanding of Buddhist incantations, but they could vaguely make out that the Sanskrit inscriptions on the wall appeared to serve a purpose of suppression and sealing.

A cold chill ran down the spines of everyone present. The wall looked ancient and weathered — clearly it had stood here for many years. The characters upon it had been carved one by one, entirely by hand. Whatever evil lay on the other side of this wall, it had required whoever set this seal to take such extraordinary pains.

Qin Yao felt her way around the wall, moving along half its circumference, and suddenly her foot caught on something. She looked down and found a string of Buddhist prayer beads. She bent and picked them up, and in the light of the Boundless Mirror examined them carefully. The beads were ash-grey, their shapes irregular — not like ordinary prayer beads, but bearing a considerable resemblance to relics.

Unable to determine their true nature, Qin Yao turned and presented them to her Master. Qing Xuzi took them, and his expression shifted slightly. He bowed his head, searching along the ground, and as he’d suspected, found at the corner a scroll made of golden leaves.

Qin Yao stood nearby, utterly baffled. These items appeared to be sacred objects of the Buddhist faith — likely key implements of the protective formation. They should each have been in their proper place, yet here they were, scattered and disordered across the ground.

Qing Xuzi could bear to wait no longer. He made his way quickly back around to the face of the wall, sweeping it with sharp eyes from top to bottom. When his gaze reached the lower portion, his face instantly drained of color: there was a crack in the stone, running from left to right, splitting the Sanskrit inscription cleanly in two.

Qing Xuzi’s complexion turned an ashen grey. He stood staring at that crack for a long time, saying nothing. The formation, it seemed, had already been broken — long ago. No wonder the surrounding air felt utterly stagnant, without even the faintest trace of spiritual energy. Whether it had been broken by human hands or by some other means, he could not yet say.

Lin Xiao was making his way around the wall when, upon reaching its far side, the Chixiao Sword suddenly began to buzz and vibrate violently, straining as if it wished to leap free of its scabbard. Qin Yao heard the sound and rushed over to Lin Xiao’s side. The two of them scanned the area in every direction, and only then discovered that not far behind the wall was a cave — its entrance surrounded by devastation, as though some tremendous force had blasted outward from within.

When Lin Xiao drew close to the cave’s mouth, the Chixiao behaved as though facing a formidable enemy, sliding a full half-inch out of its scabbard on its own.

Qin Yao and Lin Xiao exchanged a swift glance. For the Chixiao to be this agitated was exceedingly rare. Whatever this cave concealed was entirely unknown to them.

For the first time, a thread of genuine hesitation arose in Qin Yao’s heart. If their party descended into the cave without any preparation, there was every chance they would not emerge unscathed.

But Qing Xuzi left no room for her to deliberate. After examining the cave with the Boundless Mirror at length, the severity in his expression eased somewhat, as though he had recovered a considerable measure of his confidence. Shortly after, he pulled free the grass rope from his waist, held it in his hand, and descended into the cave first.

The rest of them hesitated no further and followed close behind.

Though the entrance was narrow, the space inside was reasonably open. And all the water had vanished entirely — the interior of the cave was completely dry, as though they had surfaced back onto land.

The group raised the mirror and looked around. Despite cobwebs covering every surface and the furnishings in a state of extreme decay and disrepair, one could still make out what had once been a rather elegantly appointed small palace. Traces of ornate carved beams and painted eaves could be dimly discerned — though the great age of the place, and the passage of countless years, had rendered most of the vessels and objects within unrecognizable.

A growing sense of the strange and inexplicable filled them all. None of them had ever imagined there could be a sunken palace beneath the Cangheng River. Who had built it, in what era, and for what purpose, was entirely unknown.

They had taken only a few steps when a set of inner doors appeared ahead, suggesting yet another chamber beyond.

They were still studying the surroundings with focused attention when a sound came suddenly from the inner chamber — a long, slow dragging, like sharp fingernails drawn across a wall.

Everyone’s hearts gave a sharp kick. They watched the inner hall warily, waiting for a long while — yet the inner hall remained utterly still, and nothing emerged.

Qing Xuzi’s patience reached its end. He flicked his grass rope, his expression composed and severe, and began to move steadily forward. He had barely reached the threshold of the inner hall when a blast of air struck his face — fetid and overwhelmingly cold — and a dark shape came hurtling straight at him.

Qing Xuzi sidestepped in an instant. Without so much as looking, he flung the grass rope in his hand outward. A sound like the howl of a wolf split the air. Qing Xuzi gave the thing no chance to dodge; he seized the rope fast and wrenched it forward with brutal force. A tremendous crash rang out, and something fell heavily to the ground.

Qin Yao and the others sprinted around to stand behind Qing Xuzi. Since there was no longer any water here, A’Han drew out his flint and lit it — and in the light, they saw that Master’s rope had caught and bound a jiangshi with a sickly green face and jagged fangs. The creature held its arms rigidly extended toward the ceiling, and continued thrashing, straining its claws toward Qing Xuzi with relentless intent.

But this jiangshi’s spiritual energy appeared to be quite low. Qing Xuzi simply and calmly drew the grass rope slowly tighter, and within moments the creature was completely immobilized.

“The jiangshi in the city really did come from this place!” Qin Yao crouched down to examine the creature closely as it rapidly dissolved into a pool of putrid liquid. “The evil entity I encountered at Jade Spring Mountain was this same sort of thing — though I’m not sure if it was this one specifically, or one of its companions.”

Qing Xuzi retrieved his grass rope, and shook his head. “Before we descended just now, I could see from the Boundless Mirror that although the cave’s dark energy is extremely dense, the killing energy flowing within it was very faint — which showed that the great malevolent force within the cave was not actually present at the time. That is why I was willing to descend. Now that this jiangshi has been eliminated, there is not a single ‘living’ evil entity left in the cave.”

And yet the Chixiao Sword at Lin Xiao’s waist was ringing out more wildly than before — its resonance powerful enough to slide itself more than halfway out of the scabbard.

Qing Xuzi knew well that the Chixiao had been forged by the legendary Sword Immortal from his own flesh and blood, and was extraordinarily sensitive — it would not give false warnings without cause. He looked skeptically at the Boundless Mirror in A’Han’s hand. Could it be that the mirror had suffered water damage from before, and its spiritual acuity was now diminished — no longer able to detect evil entities?

By that point, Lin Xiao and Qin Yao had already followed the Chixiao’s guidance and moved deeper into the inner hall. A’Han hastened after them, holding the flint aloft.

As they went, they saw that the floor was piled with numerous chests and trunks, filled with fabrics and clothing so thoroughly rotted they were indistinguishable, along with various bronze vessels coated in dust — small in form and clearly intended for everyday personal use. Compared to the larger-scale objects in the outer hall, these were evidently of a much finer and more delicate nature.

A growing strangeness settled over Qin Yao and Lin Xiao. The more they looked, the more this place resembled a burial chamber.

After a few more steps, a corner appeared ahead, leading into a corridor that connected to another room.

The moment the group turned the corner and looked up, they all froze.

At the far end of the corridor stood a high platform of white jade brick. Atop the platform, an eternal lamp burned with a flickering flame, its soft light falling over two enormous lacquered black coffins below. The lid of one of the coffins had been pushed open partway. The other remained sealed, perfectly and completely closed.

Before any of them had time to collect themselves, the Chixiao Sword at Lin Xiao’s waist let out a long, resounding cry — and tore itself free from the scabbard, shooting forward like an arrow directly toward the platform.

The Chixiao moved with extraordinary speed. It flew to one of the coffins and struck it with a heavy thud — burying itself deep into the coffin’s wood, pinning itself there as the blade shivered and hummed.

Lin Xiao and the others stood utterly transfixed. Qing Xuzi heard the commotion and hurried around the corner; at the sight before him, his expression changed at once.

A chill ran through the heart of every one of them. Judging by the Chixiao’s reaction, whatever lay in that coffin was truly and profoundly sinister — very likely exceeding even Luo Cha in its power.