Chapter 63: The Old Royal Family
(This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation)
The border between the Central and Qing Prefectures, Ningcheng County.
As twilight descended, the streets grew dim. Vendors along the long avenue stoked their stoves under makeshift awnings, coaxing the flames to burn brighter. Among them, a woman appeared, walking along the street and stopping at a stall.
This woman possessed an ethereal beauty, her long snow-white gown trailing as she moved. Her gaze was soft and deep like autumn waters, her complexion radiant as freshly fallen snow. Yet, her expression was cold, exuding a sense of aloofness that deterred strangers.
Every evening, she would come to buy a roasted sweet potato. Though she seemed to favor them, she always remarked that they were not as good as “his”. Initially, the vendor dared not complain, but after hearing her repeated comments, he began to grumble.
“Miss, you always say mine aren’t as good. Why keep coming back?”
“Because he isn’t here,” she replied.
Peeling the sweet potato, she squinted her eyes and said, “You know, I’ve only met him once.”
The vendor pursed his lips at her words, thinking to himself, [How would I know? But if this ‘he’ is a man, you’re probably lovesick.]
After buying the sweet potato, the woman left along the street, heading toward an abandoned estate.
Disciples of Spirit Sword Mountain had been ambushed in Qing Prefecture. After painstaking investigations, the trail had led to the ruins of Qiling. However, one critical matter had gone unnoticed by many—the original identity of Chen Qing He.
Unlike other immortal sects, the Chen Clan of Immortals imposed a unique rule: disciples who joined their sect were required to adopt the Chen surname. This was to avoid allowing any single family to grow too influential.
According to records, Chen Qing He’s original surname wasn’t Chen—it was Zheng. During the chaotic wars among the nations, Zheng was a venerable royal name. After Great Xia, aided by immortal sects, conquered the Central Plains, the Zheng kingdom surrendered. While they were no longer royalty, the Zheng clan rose as a powerful family, sustained by their descendants’ exceptional cultivation talents.
Among them, the last patriarch of the Zheng clan had been the senior brother of the current Chen Clan sect master, Chen Ru Hai. A century ago, they were known as the “Twin Stars of the Zheng Clan.” However, without the support of a sect’s Dao lineage, the patriarch’s attempts to ascend as an immortal failed, and he passed away when his lifespan ran out. After his death, the clan’s fortune waned, their descendants dwindled, and even their ancestral estate was sold.
The connection between Chen Qing He and the Zheng surname alone wasn’t enough to warrant the personal investigation of the Spirit Sword Mountain’s Mirror Master. But another mystery lurked—the Red Mountain Mine.
The mine, located in the Central Prefecture, was once under Zheng clan control. It was said that miners accidentally opened a passage leading deep into the Qiling ruins. Upon discovering this, the Zheng family poured all their efforts into exploring it. Their misfortune seemed to begin there, as their descendants continued to perish one after another.
First, the Zheng family’s Red Mountain Mine opened a path to Qiling. Then, their descendant Zheng Qing He became a monstrous entity, endlessly traveling to and from the Qiling Mountains to escort caravans. Mirror Master Yan Shu Yi found it hard to believe these events were unrelated.
The street ended quickly, and Yan Shu Yi had already eaten half her sweet potato. She now stood before the gates of an abandoned estate. Looking up, she saw even the plaque bearing its name was gone. Only the carvings on the stone pedestals remained, indicating this was once the ancestral home of the Zheng clan.
The estate was vast, evidence of its former glory. But now, the gates were tightly shut, the brass locks rusted.
Boom!
A wisp of sword qi burst forth, and the gates of the ancestral home collapsed with a loud crash. Yan Shu Yi stepped inside, a chill immediately washing over her. An eerie smell lingered in the air.
The first courtyard was overgrown with waist-high weeds. Beyond that were broken bricks and a partially collapsed main hall. Yan Shu Yi surveyed the surroundings before leaving the front yard and venturing deeper into the estate.
[When someone wants to hide something, they won’t leave it in plain sight. Even a three-year-old knows this.]
Walking through the overgrown grass, Yan Shu Yi opened her delicate palm. With the surge of celestial light, a spirit mirror floated in the air. Its glow illuminated every detail, shining upon the innermost part of the house.
Sword drawn, Yan Shu Yi entered, watching as the celestial light flickered erratically. She pondered briefly before striking the rear wall with her sword. With a resounding crash, half the wall crumbled away, revealing not the evening sky beyond but another wall.
This second wall was hollow. Though it seemed solid, it concealed a hidden corridor with a stone staircase leading downward.
“…”
Yan Shu Yi hesitated for a long moment, unwilling to step forward. She was afraid of the dark—a simple fear unrelated to cultivation.
After a moment of thought, she finally descended the long stairway. At the bottom lay a vast underground palace, almost as large as the Zheng ancestral home above. Unlike the pavilions above, this palace was filled with rows of stone cells sealed by iron bars.
“Zheng Jing Hui, Zheng Yu, Zheng Chen, Zheng Hong Wen…”
Her gaze swept over the nameplates on the cells before she paused, her brows furrowed deeply. Judging by the nameplates, these were all descendants of the Zheng clan. But the beings confined within were not human.
Each cell contained a mummified corpse, shriveled like charcoal, long devoid of life. Dust covered them, and they were locked in solitary cells.
Yan Shu Yi continued deeper into the prison until she stopped before a particular cell. Beyond the iron bars lay a malignant being, curled in a corner, its aura exuding menace. The walls were marred with claw marks, evidently left by this creature.
Upon sensing a living presence, the being went into a frenzy. It lunged at the bars, its decayed claws scraping violently as if trying to tear everything apart. Yet, in stark contrast to its savage behavior, a feeble voice emerged from its mouth.
“Help me…”
“The ancestors deceived me. Please, save me.”
Yan Shu Yi felt a chill run down her spine as she watched. Could the Zheng clan’s dwindling descendants truly be due to their luck running out, as the world believed? Had their fortune failed so utterly that they could no longer bear children, leaving a once-proud royal family to sell even their ancestral home?
As she gazed at the other cells, an answer began to form in her mind. Though she had mentally prepared herself, seeing the malignant being speak human words left her deeply unsettled.
Her attention shifted to a shadow behind the being—a genuine mummified corpse. Unlike the others, it was not a deceased malignant being drained of its aura. This corpse had long, elegant hair and wore the robes of Spirit Sword Mountain. It had clearly been drained of life.
“Damn it…”
“The people sent into the mountains were sacrificial offerings…”
Yan Shu Yi turned and left the dungeon. As she stepped outside, she looked up toward the Qiling Mountains, where celestial radiance erupted once more. This time, the light was even more intense than before, vibrant clouds spreading like golden scales across the sky.
The immortal sect prodigies who had followed their sect’s disciples into the mountains could no longer contain their excitement. One by one, they leapt from their flying swords, plunging into the heart of the brilliance.