Where Immortals Once Walked-Chapter 44: Finding a Way Through

Once Panlong Desert becomes just another ordinary stretch of land, could Yuan’s borders remain as peaceful as they are now? That was a massive question mark, especially considering that none of its neighbors were exactly pushovers.
Blessings and misfortunes go hand in hand. If not for the generous offer from the Minister of War, He Chunhua would not have wished for the Panlong Desert’s disappearance.
After a moment of silence, he asked in a low voice, “Chuan’er, do you think Commander Zhong’s thirty-two years of defense were worth it?”
He Lingchuan thought,
You wouldn’t be asking if you didn’t already believe it wasn’t.
“No,” he replied, feigning bluntness. “Panlong City still fell. West Luo was still destroyed. Thirty-two extra years, and in the end, he didn’t change a thing.”
“The first twelve years, West Luo was too weak to reclaim its lost territory to the west. They didn’t even know that a million soldiers and civilians were still holding out in the Panlong Wasteland. And in the following twenty years, they tried several times to cede the land to Xianyou in exchange for temporary reprieve. If I were Zhong Shengguang, facing a homeland that was both useless and a burden, I’d have died of anger before anything else!”
“West Luo was once mighty. It lasted two hundred and seventeen years. It was a long-lived state by continental standards.” In this war-torn land, peace was rare. Some dynasties barely lasted a few weeks; most small states underwent the full cycle of rise and fall within two or three decades. By that measure, West Luo had actually held out really well. “But when Zhong Shengguang was guarding Panlong City, the state was already rotting from within. The nobles were lost in luxury and revelry, while the people starved and were displaced; foreign enemies attacked without pause… The tolling of the doomsday bell had already begun.” Having said that, He Chunhua fell silent, resting a hand on the tombstone and letting out a quiet sigh.
He Lingchuan did not call him out, but he could tell that his father was thinking about himself. After all, today’s Great Yuan bore more than a passing resemblance to the late West Luo.
Just then, the clouds parted and the moonlight spilled down, casting a pale glow over the ruined city.
“Commander Zhong, guarding this place alone all this time must’ve been lonely, eh? Let me keep you company with a few more drinks.” Unable to resist, He Lingchuan poured two more cups of alcohol before the tomb. “What a shame I couldn’t pay my respects to the Red General, or lay eyes on the great man himself!”
Both Zhong Shengguang and the Red General were legends. However, as far as He Lingchuan was concerned, the mystery surrounding the Red General was far more captivating.
He turned to ask He Chunhua, “There’s a living memorial hall for the Red General in the city, but no tomb, and not even a cenotaph. Is it possible… that he didn’t actually die in that final battle?”
“He was struck by heavenly lightning, conjured by a state preceptor from Xianyou at the cost of his own life. There should have been seven bolts in total. He was reduced to ash on the spot. Soldiers from both sides saw it happen with their own eyes. There shouldn’t be any doubt. If not for that, the morale of Panlong City’s defenders wouldn’t have collapsed so suddenly.” He Chunhua shook his head. “You’re still young, so you’re not yet aware of the limits of mortal strength.”
He Lingchuan was about to respond when, suddenly, two sharp whistling sounds came from the northeast.
Two signal flares shot into the sky, bursting into bright blossoms.
That was the prearranged signal. He Chunhua glanced up and immediately said, “They found it. Let’s go!”
* * *
Within two quarter-hours, everyone regrouped at the Temple of Mitian.
Located at the very heart of Panlong City, the temple occupied over six thousand square meters of land, its courtyards sprawling with pavilions and halls.
In its heyday, it must have been a bustling hub of ancient trees and devout worshippers, incense thick in the air. But now, over a century after being looted, burned, and abandoned, it was nothing but a vast ruin. The clear springs and lotus pools had long since dried up. The once-lush trees were now gnarled husks, lifeless and bare, never sprouting green again.
Much of the exquisite architecture had been reduced to rubble. The grand main hall, which once housed the statue of Mitian, had been especially devastated. The statue had first been toppled, then set ablaze. When the group approached its original site, all they found were a few charred wooden stakes lying in chaotic disarray.
He Lingchuan reached out and snapped one. It shattered like brittle charcoal.
The statue of Mitian had been stone-carved, and just one forearm segment alone was nearly as tall as He Lingchuan himself. Sadly, no one could glimpse its original visage now. After being toppled, the statue had been chopped into seven or eight pieces, each section smashed with blades and axes, then smeared black with ink.
The coalition had loathed Panlong City and the Gale Army so deeply that their hatred extended to the city’s god.
Once everyone had assembled, Nian Songyu held up the glass jar and said solemnly, “This is the place.”
He had walked a full circle around the pool in front of the main hall, and the Three Corpses Worms inside the jar shifted with him. No matter where he went, they pressed toward the side opposite the pool.
“The pool?” Situ Han asked, puzzled. “Are you sure it’s this one? If we’re wrong, we can’t afford to waste any more fresh water.”
The Chipa Plateau was rich in water sources, and the Temple of Mitian had once been adorned with springs and streams. There were no fewer than six pools here alone.
The one Nian Songyu had singled out stood just outside the main hall. It was irregular in shape and resembled a wishing pool meant for tossing coins. It covered roughly twenty-six or twenty-seven square meters.
Of course, it was now bone-dry. There were neither koi fish nor coins within, just a shallow basin of dust.
Sun Fuping walked a slow circuit around it, then pressed his fingers along the rim. “Some sections along the edge show a clear color difference. It looks like they were patched later.”
Everyone took a closer look. Sure enough, several areas of the pool’s edge had been repaired, but the workmanship was crude and uneven, totally inconsistent with the original quality. These repairs were clearly makeshift, shoddy at best.
“There’s a significant gap between the old and the new. And the rough quality doesn’t seem like the handiwork of Panlong City’s own craftsmen, who revered Mitian, nor does it match the style of the coalition,” He Chunhua said thoughtfully. “Could it have been done by the last team Baling sent in?”
Surely Ancestor Zhu Gen’s prized grand disciple had not trekked all the way here just to dabble in masonry?
If they had patched this pool, it meant they had had a clear purpose.
What intrigued He Lingchuan more, however, was why the pool had been dug open in the first place.
Sun Fuping nodded gravely and said, “More importantly, why was it dug open and by whom?”
Zeng Feixiong pointed at the rubble strewn across the ground. “Maybe it was just collateral damage from the hall’s collapse.”
The temple had been thoroughly ransacked. The enormous building and its towering statue had come crashing down, gouging holes in the ground itself. Was it really so surprising that a little pool got cracked in the process?
“What if that’s exactly the impression they wanted to give?” He Chunhua muttered. “When Panlong City fell, the coalition troops would’ve looted everything in sight, and their commanders likely couldn’t control them. If anything in the temple were damaged, no one would blink an eye. If this pool looked like it was smashed during the looting, the secret it hid could remain buried.”
“But who could’ve had the calm and clarity to set that up while the city teetered on the edge of ruin?”
The answer was obvious now. Nian Songyu murmured, “Zhong Shengguang, or someone close to him. He must’ve opened the pool before the city fell.”
And if they were right, the implications of that act were worth exploring.
Decades later, Baling’s expedition team likely came to the same conclusion and patched the pool back up.
Situ Han came closer and examined it, his face troubled. “So what you’re saying is… we’re supposed to fill this pool with water? But even if we dump in all our reserve water for over two hundred people, it won’t even cover the bottom.”