Mu Qingyan gazed at his empty arms, then looked at the excited girl standing in the center of the hall. “Are you blind or can’t you count? There are six walls here.”
He pointed around. The hall was enclosed by five enormous stone walls reaching the ceiling, each carved with ancient, intricate murals. Outside these stone walls were three-foot-thick iron walls of fine casting. Two of the stone walls jutted out slightly, leaving a gap of several feet between them.
Within this gap, flush with the welded iron walls on either side was the narrow iron wall they had just come through.
Five stone walls plus one iron wall made six in total.
“You’re the blind one!” Cai Zhao turned her head. “Come look, come here…” She grabbed Mu Qingyan’s left hand with both of hers, excitedly pulling him up from the ground.
“I wasn’t sure before, because it’s harder to date metal than wood or stone. But now I can say with certainty that this iron wall wasn’t built at the same time as the rest of the underground palace.” Cai Zhao pulled Mu Qingyan to stand in front of the crack in the iron wall they had come through. By now, the arrow rain outside had stopped, leaving only many short arrow shafts stuck in the passage walls and floor.
Mu Qingyan looked closely and found that the iron wall he had torn was only a few inches thick, vastly different from the opposing wall he had just struck; its casting technique was also less refined, leaving the iron slightly grayish rather than the deep black of the rest of the dark iron palace.
As Cai Zhao had said, this great hall was indeed a pentagon enclosed by five stone walls, with the iron wall they had come through added later by others.
“Not only is this iron wall not contemporary with the palace, but these five stone walls aren’t either,” Cai Zhao said, looking around at the five stone walls and pointing here and there. “Look at the stone’s grain and the chisel marks. These five stone walls were carved at least 200 years ago. Your Demon Sect was also established 200 years ago, and this underground palace was built by your fifth-generation leader. Even if the first four leaders had short reigns, it would still take several decades to reach the fifth generation, right?”
“One hundred and thirty years,” Mu Qingyan suddenly said.
Cai Zhao: “?”
Mu Qingyan explained: “Sect Leader Mu Donglie ascended to the position over 130 years ago. Fifteen years later, about 120 years ago, he abdicated and left without a trace.”
Hearing this timeframe, Cai Zhao paused briefly. A fleeting thought crossed her mind, but it disappeared before she could grasp it.
“Fifteen years in power, then abdicated and left…” she murmured, then suddenly asked, “Why did he build this underground palace in the first place? Even if the Demon Sect was prosperous at the time, he wouldn’t have undertaken such a grand project without reason, would he?”
Mu Qingyan frowned in concentration. “I’ve had a strange thought since earlier. It seems Sect Leader Mu Donglie built this underground palace to hide something.”
“Hide something?” Cai Zhao looked up at the surrounding stone walls. “If that map wasn’t lying, these five stone walls are the heart of the underground palace. Could he have built it to hide these five walls?”
“It doesn’t seem so,” Mu Qingyan shook his head. “As you said, this hall was originally enclosed by five stone walls of similar size, with a gap of several feet left intentionally to allow entry. This design doesn’t look like it was meant to hide these five stone walls.”
Cai Zhao: “Could there be treasure hidden here?”
Mu Qingyan: “I don’t know if Sect Leader Mu Donglie left any treasure, but those corpses outside certainly believed there was treasure here.”
With no leads, Cai Zhao finally sighed deeply and sat down against the stone wall. “Come on, young lord, tell me about this Sect Leader Mu Donglie of yours.”
Mu Qingyan sat down next to the girl, stretching out his long limbs leisurely. “Sect Leader Mu Donglie was the most ambitious and strategic leader since our sect’s founding. He came close to swallowing up the Six Northern Chen Sects and unifying the world—at least, that’s what the records say.”
“We’ve heard that before. Tell me something else,” Cai Zhao said sourly, as a disciple of the ‘almost swallowed’ Six Northern Chen Sects.
Mu Qingyan thought for a moment, then said, “Sect Leader Mu Donglie was only twelve or thirteen when he took the position.”
“Ah?!” Cai Zhao was very surprised. She suddenly remembered something, “Oh right, you told me before that your sect started adopting sons to assist less capable biological sons, beginning with the third-generation leader. Mu Donglie was the fifth-generation leader, so his father was…”
“Yes, Sect Leader Mu Donglie’s father was the fourth-generation leader, Mu Huaning, a less capable only son of the Mu family,” Mu Qingyan admitted frankly.
Across the 130-year gap in time, the Mu family of that era shared many similarities with the present Mu family—young Mu Qingyan often thought this when reading the sect’s historical records.
Like Mu Qingyan’s great-grandfather, the third-generation leader Mu Sheng was also a tolerant and kind-hearted person, to the extent that he couldn’t strictly discipline his only son, raising Mu Huaning to be sentimental and weak-willed. At that time, the Six Northern Chen Sects had just divided their family and established their sects only about ten years earlier. Their influence was rising like the sun, and they eyed their mortal enemy, the Demon Sect, covetously.
Mu Sheng knew he couldn’t entrust the sect’s great responsibility to his weak son, so he initiated the adopted son system.
The first adopted son, like Nie Hengcheng, was an exceptionally talented individual, skilled in both civil and military affairs, able to help his adoptive father intimidate the sect members and manage the Demon Sect prosperously.
Thus, like Mu Qingyan’s great-grandfather, Sect Leader Mu Sheng felt proud of his adopted son but also developed a vague worry. However, he was luckier: although his son and daughter-in-law were similarly useless, his eldest grandson was a fierce and valiant youth, showing promise at a young age.
This youth was Mu Donglie’s elder brother, Mu Dongxu.
After Mu Sheng passed away, his adopted son indeed grew in power. Although Mu Huaning held the title of sect leader, the real power was in the hands of his adopted brother. Loyal old ministers anxiously hoped for young Sect Leader Mu Dongxu to grow up quickly and take over the position of sect leader.
Unexpectedly, just a month before Mu Dongxu’s eighteenth birthday, he suddenly died in an accidental fall from a cliff.
“Was it an accident? Could it have been the adopted son’s doing?” Cai Zhao couldn’t be blamed for suspecting conspiracy; she had heard too much about Nie Hengcheng’s schemes lately.
Mu Qingyan: “The historical records mention this. Sect Leader Mu Donglie later repeatedly investigated, confirming that Mu Dongxu’s death was indeed accidental and unrelated to the adopted son.”
Upon hearing of his eldest son’s death, Mu Huaning immediately coughed up blood and fainted, waking up with only half his life left.
By his side were his second son, Mu Donglie, only twelve or thirteen years old, and Mu Dongxu’s infant son Mu Song, born to a lowborn concubine and still learning to speak.
In this situation, supporters of the adopted son immediately sprang into action. They networked extensively, advocating openly and covertly for Mu Huaning to emulate the ancient sage kings Yao and Shun. They urged him to abdicate the position of sect leader to his younger adopted brother, who was in his prime and had accumulated numerous achievements.
Mu Huaning wavered.
Unfortunately for them, they weren’t dealing with Mu Qingyan’s indifferent and desireless father, but with Mu Donglie, whose cunning and suspicion were unparalleled in the world.
When the usually quiet and solitary second son proposed to inherit the sect leader position instead of his elder brother, Mu Sheng thought it was a joke. He even comforted his younger son, telling him not to worry as the old man could still hold on for a while.
Mu Donglie didn’t waste words trying to persuade his father. Instead, he silently withdrew.
The next day, while the elders, protectors, and other sect bigwigs were arguing at Mu Sheng’s sickbed, a cold-faced youth, half-covered in blood, arrived carrying two heads. He shook out his bundle, and two heads rolled to everyone’s feet. They belonged to the two most vocal supporters of the adopted son’s succession, who were also among the Seven Star Elders.
“He killed two elders by himself? At just twelve or thirteen years old!” Cai Zhao exclaimed in shock. “Were the Seven Star Elders of that time not very skilled?”
Mu Qingyan irritably poked her forehead.
Meanwhile, chaos erupted around Mu Sheng’s sickbed.
No one had anticipated that young Mu Donglie’s cultivation had reached such an astounding level, completely unbeknownst to anyone.
According to the Liejiao sect rules, members were not to kill each other. Even in cases of betrayal or rule-breaking, an order was required before taking action. Self-administered execution was forbidden.
Throughout the sect, only one person was an exception to this rule: the sect leader himself.
Now, Mu Donglie had killed two Seven Star Elders without provocation. Mu Sheng faced only two choices: punish his younger son according to sect rules or pass the leadership to him prematurely.
Mu Sheng chose the latter.
“Did that adopted son just accept this?” Cai Zhao asked incredulously.
Mu Qingyan’s expression grew complex. “According to later records, the adopted son wasn’t intentionally seeking power. During Mu Donglie’s early reign as sect leader, although they had disputes, both acted for the public good. Later on, he became fiercely loyal, repeatedly risking his life for Sect Leader Mu Donglie.”
Cai Zhao sighed thoughtfully. “Well, as they say, ambition is often nurtured. If your father had been like Sect Leader Mu Donglie, perhaps Nie Hengcheng…” She shook her head. “No, that old dog Nie had been plotting since before your grandfather was married. He must have harbored ill intentions for a long time.”
Mu Qingyan remained silent, a subtle, nearly imperceptible emotion flickering across his heart.
Cai Zhao stood up and paced back and forth before looking up and asking, “Didn’t anyone suspect that Sect Leader Mu Donglie might have harmed his brother to seize the sect leader position?”
Mu Qingyan shook his head. “Initially, there were indeed such rumors. However, Sect Leader Mu Donglie later abdicated without hesitation, abandoning his immense power and position at a moment’s notice. This clearly showed he wasn’t someone who craved authority.”
Cai Zhao pondered for a moment. “After he left, his brother’s son became the next sect leader, right?”
Mu Qingyan nodded. “Correct, it was the sixth sect leader, Mu Song. He was only seventeen when he took the position, but fortunately, the loyal and brave confidants left by his uncle prevented any chaos in the sect. Sect Leader Mu Song greatly respected and loved Sect Leader Mu Donglie, their affection was comparable to that between father and son.”
“I can see that,” Cai Zhao chuckled. “He recorded Sect Leader Mu Donglie’s rise to power with such vivid detail and drama, it rivals the most popular novels in the market.”
Mu Qingyan also smiled. “Indeed. When I read the historical records, other sect leaders’ great achievements were merely mentioned in brief, just enough to record the facts. But Sect Leader Mu Donglie’s life story was recorded in minute detail, praised, and glorified. Every word exudes respect and adoration. It’s understandable, as Sect Leader Mu Song was raised by his uncle personally.”
“If it’s so detailed, why doesn’t it explain why Sect Leader Mu Donglie built the underground palace and retired?” Cai Zhao asked curiously.
“The first twelve or thirteen years are indeed detailed, but the records become vague in the two years before Sect Leader Mu Donglie’s departure. There are several carefully worded passages, and his final departure is merely glossed over,” Mu Qingyan frowned. “I always felt that Sect Leader Mu Song was concealing something.”
Cai Zhao shook her head while pacing around. “Well, it seems we can’t guess the thoughts of your family’s ancestors. Let’s look at these stone walls instead. Maybe we’ll find a way out.”
Mu Qingyan agreed, and they both craned their necks to examine the five stone walls.
The walls were enormous. They could only clearly see the patterns up to three or four zhang high, with the upper parts becoming indistinct. Each wall’s edges were carved with intricate and beautiful ancient floral and animal patterns. Among these patterns were many human figures, both old and young, male and female, vividly depicted along with pavilions and towers, creating a lively scene.
As Mu Qingyan looked, his expression grew more concentrated. “Zhao Zhao, don’t these floral and animal carvings look familiar?”
The young girl was so engrossed that he had to call her twice before she responded, bewildered, “Familiar? Are there similar carvings elsewhere in the Hanhai Mountain Range?”
“No, this stone carving technique is an ancient method long lost. There are indeed traces of such carvings in many places in the Hanhai Mountain Range, but that’s not what I meant,” Mu Qingyan explained. “I’m referring to these patterns. Don’t they look almost identical to those in Muwei Palace?”
Cai Zhao exclaimed and moved closer to look carefully. “Oh my, you’re right! This large cloud pattern with the nine sons of the dragon, I’ve seen it on the beam ceiling of Chaoyang Hall. This scene of the Kunlun Goddess subduing monsters is on the beam of the side hall where I stayed on the first night, behind the Wanshui Qianshan Cliff. What’s going on here…”
Mu Qingyan was equally puzzled and asked, “What were you looking at so intently earlier?”
“Oh, that,” Cai Zhao pointed at the human figures carved on the stone wall. “This person, that person, all these people appear on almost every wall. If you connect their images, it seems like a continuous illustrated story.”
She wasn’t exaggerating. She had read thousands of story books in her life, including many fully illustrated ones aimed at illiterate women and children.
Mu Qingyan was surprised to realize she was right.
Since they wanted to follow the story, they needed to start from the beginning. They looked around and walked towards the cracked iron wall, following the direction of the unfurling scroll from right to left.
As the stone walls were too high, Mu Qingyan used the silver chain on Cai Zhao’s left wrist to latch onto a protrusion, pulling them both up.
The first image showed a ragged, frail child kowtowing to become a disciple. His master appeared to be a sage-like figure, owning a house and fields, with seven or eight servants attending him. Behind him, various strange beasts frolicked.
Mu Qingyan exclaimed, “So these stone walls depict the story of our sect’s founder, Mu Xiujue.”
Cai Zhao asked curiously, “How do you know?”
“Look at the child’s left foot. Do you see seven moles on the sole?” Mu Qingyan pointed to the small barefoot. “The historical records clearly state that our founder Mu Xiujue had a unique condition – seven star-like moles on his foot, signifying his great destiny.”
“Really?” Cai Zhao’s face showed surprise. “Our family genealogy says that Ancestor Beichen also had seven moles on his foot, symbolizing his destiny to save the world.”
“You’re joking,” Mu Qingyan said, startled.
Cai Zhao retorted, “Would I joke about our ancestors?”
After a moment’s thought, Mu Qingyan conceded, “Well, perhaps two hundred years ago, most people had seven moles on their feet.”
Cai Zhao: …
“So, these walls tell the story of the Mu ancestor’s apprenticeship. The historical records don’t mention this, so it’s good we can see it,” Mu Qingyan said with interest. “Oh, it seems our ancestor’s entire family perished.”
Cai Zhao followed his gaze and saw the child wearing mourning bands on his forehead and waist, with his bundle open to reveal several memorial tablets.
The sage took the child as his disciple, carefully guiding him in martial arts and scholarly pursuits, showing great affection.
To illustrate this ‘affection’, the stone walls vividly depicted the sage checking on the sleeping child at night, tenderly tucking in his exposed feet, or examining injuries from the day’s training.
The unknown master stonemason’s skill was exquisite, bringing to life not only the child and the sage but also the servants, each performing their duties meticulously.
As the child studied, the servants guarded the gate, tended to the furnace, maintained carriages and ceremonial equipment, managed treasuries, and pruned gardens. One young servant consistently attended the sage.
The only flaw was an old servant whose face lacked a mouth, with the area below the nose left blank.
After about ten years, the child grew into an accomplished young man, making like-minded friends and even finding a sweetheart – much to the sage’s delight.
“Our ancestor was fortunate to have such a loving master,” Cai Zhao couldn’t help but comment.
“Be quiet and keep watching,” Mu Qingyan said, his expression growing more serious.
Indeed, the next image showed a drastic change.
Massive black clouds rolled in, bringing demons and monsters that slaughtered innocents and devastated the land. The sage naturally led the world’s heroes to resist, with his beloved disciple at the forefront, fighting valiantly.
At this point, Cai Zhao also began to feel an odd sense of unease.
However, the demonic forces were overwhelming, and the sage’s side suffered heavy losses.
One by one, the people around Mu Xiujue died. He erected tombstones for each of his close friends, with whom he had once shared drinks and faced life and death together.
Among the graves, Mu Xiujue stood alone, a lonely figure.
Finally, even his beloved perished at the hands of the demons.
Holding his lover’s mutilated body, Mu Xiujue’s face twisted with hatred, his once warm smile gone.
Subsequently, a fierce argument erupted between Mu Xiujue and the sage. The servants stood behind the sage, all indignant, except for the one with pruning shears who tried to mediate.
Just as Cai Zhao wondered what they were arguing about, the next image showed Mu Xiujue surrounded by a haze of darkness, with indistinct demonic figures in the black mist!
As the sage led the remaining heroes against the demons, Mu Xiujue charged in with a group of fierce-looking monsters to assist. The tide of battle immediately turned in the sage’s favor. However, the demons were hard to control, and after defeating the enemy forces, Mu Xiujue’s demon allies continued to harm innocent civilians and righteous cultivators.
Seeing his disciple unwilling to abandon his unruly demon followers, the sage became furious, leading to another heated argument.
Mu Xiujue left in anger, unaware that his master was gravely injured and falling ill from both external and internal afflictions. Knowing his time was short, the sage sent people to find Mu Xiujue and asked the righteous cultivators to spread the news, hoping his disciple would return.
The sage waited and waited, but his beloved disciple never came.
On his deathbed, he entrusted many words to the mouthless old servant, along with several chests and scrolls.
When Mu Xiujue finally returned, the sage had already passed away.
Believing the servants and righteous cultivators had intentionally prevented him from seeing his master one last time, Mu Xiujue engaged in a fierce battle with both sides. Finally, the old servant ran out, holding aloft a letter left by the sage.
After reading the letter, Mu Xiujue left, devastated.
The old servant followed him.
They arrived at a vast mountain range as boundless as the sea, where they began constructing palaces, towers, barriers, and numerous tunnels.
Eventually, the old servant’s time also came to an end.
With his last strength, he had five enormous stone walls brought and tirelessly carved day and night.
The day he finished carving the five walls was the day of his death.
The final image was the old servant’s memory.
In the memory, a younger sage with a shorter beard watched the sea with young Mu Xiujue. Master and disciple walked barefoot in the waves, their smiles revealing a striking resemblance.
As they ran, the sage’s upturned left foot revealed seven moles on its sole.
The story ends here.