A Pawn's Passage

For an ordinary person entering this kind of rainforest, there would always be a certain degree of danger, even for a Xiantian Being. The terrain was treacherous, with places where a single fall could prove fatal. Venomous snakes, poisonous insects, ferocious beasts, and miasma were everywhere. But for someone of Qi Xuansu’s cultivation level and lineage, none of this amounted to much.

His vigorous blood qi kept snakes and insects from approaching, while his powerful physique allowed him to traverse the terrain as though he were walking on level ground.

As a result, Qi Xuansu advanced with remarkable speed. He forcibly carved a path through the endless rainforest, toppling trees and tearing up vegetation wherever he passed, leaving behind a trail that looked as though some colossal beast had rampaged through the jungle.

After searching for about two days, Qi Xuansu finally discovered a cave deep within the rainforest that bore traces of human excavation around its entrance.

Upon entering the cave, Qi Xuansu found that the passage sloped steadily downward. He could not help but wonder whether the city portion of Paititi had sunk underground or whether this was in fact some vast subterranean tomb.

With those thoughts in mind, he continued deeper into the cave.

There was no source of light within the cave. Fortunately, Qi Xuansu had his Dragon Eyes, so the darkness posed no obstacle whatsoever. Everything remained perfectly clear before him. The deeper he went, the wider the cave became, and the more skeletal remains he saw lining both sides of the passage. In some places, the bones were piled so high that they resembled mountains.

Qi Xuansu had not grown up in an age of chaos. He had been born during an era of peace, when the Daoist Order stood at the height of its power. Even when wars did occur, they took place overseas. For nearly two centuries, the Central Plains rarely heard the thunderous hoofbeats of the cavalry nor the roar of cannon fire. Scenes of scorched earth stretching for hundreds of kilometers, villages emptied of their inhabitants, mountains of corpses, and seas of blood existed only in the books he had read.

Even though Qi Xuansu had participated in the wars in Fenglin and on the Southern Continent, those conflicts had been fought primarily between armies. Sage Qingwei had repeatedly insisted that Fenglin must remain a land that retained the people’s support. The Western Daoist Order had also conducted orderly civilian evacuations before the outbreak of war. As a result, the ordinary populace had been spared to a large extent.

When armies fought one another, casualties generally remained within a controllable range. After all, when Sage Qingwei suppressed the Fenglin Rebellion, he did so with fewer than 100,000 troops, not counting auxiliary forces. Likewise, when the Western Daoist Order and the Holy Court clashed, casualties exceeding 10,000 on either side were enough to inflict serious damage. If losses surpassed 100,000, the balance of victory would be tipping decisively.

Once civilians became involved, any side with lower moral restraints could easily turn the conflict into outright slaughter, with hundreds of thousands of innocent lives lost. On top of that, war shattered every social system. If natural disasters or calamities such as plague or famine followed, and no one were to organize relief efforts, the death toll would spiral beyond control. Over the course of years, casualties could easily reach into the millions, even tens of millions.

That was what truly made an age of chaos terrifying. Corpses left to rot in the open fields, and for a thousand kilometers not even the crow of a rooster could be heard. Such descriptions were no exaggeration.

The countless corpses accumulated within the Ghost Kingdom had come primarily from the century or so between the southward invasion of the Golden Horde and the founding of the Wei Dynasty. Even to this day, the Daoist Order had yet to finish dealing with them. This was a testament to the staggering number of deaths.

The Holy Xuan had been born into such an era, and it was because of that age that he resolved to save the world. One must remember that the Holy Xuan had come from a distinguished family of immense wealth and prestige. The storms raging outside could never have touched him. He could easily have followed the conventional path, discussing affairs of state from a place of safety rather than leaving that shelter and repeatedly risking death. Yet he chose the latter. Put simply, he could not bear to stand by and watch the people suffering. The scenes were so horrific that they struck his soul.

Qi Xuansu had never experienced anything like that. Words alone made it difficult for him to truly comprehend what the Holy Xuan had felt at the time. After all, the deaths of a few thousand people and the deaths of tens of millions were two entirely different concepts. In the latter case, no matter where one went, corpses would litter the landscape. Every imaginable human tragedy would unfold one after another, making it impossible to avoid. It would be all too easy to become completely desensitized to the atrocities.

Today, Qi Xuansu felt that he understood the Holy Xuan a little better. He could not claim complete understanding, but he had at least been deeply moved. Along the way, he had already seen what was likely more than 10,000 piled-up corpses.

For some unknown reason, these bodies had not decomposed. They had largely retained the appearance they bore at the moment of death, as though they had only recently passed, unlike the decayed skeletons scattered throughout the Ghost Kingdom.

One could only imagine the horrific catastrophe that had befallen the Paititi Kingdom at the moment of its destruction.

Paititi Kingdom was a city-state. The same was true of the three great empires, including the Tawantin Empire. They were essentially loose federations of larger city-states.

The truly great empires were powers like the Daoist Order and the Holy Court, whose territories spanned entire continents and stretched for thousands of kilometers. Such empires would not perish because of external enemies but would collapse from internal decay.

This reminded Qi Xuansu of something Zhang Yuelu had once said.

“Tian Yuan, if one day you rise high enough, I hope you won’t concern yourself with the gains and losses of a single place or a single moment. Instead, think in terms of the greater good. Keep your feet planted in reality while looking toward the future. Don’t sacrifice the bigger picture for personal gain or short-term interests. Have the courage to take responsibility, to shoulder burdens, and to live without shame in this world. Become someone who stands tall between heaven and earth, someone who can withstand the test of time.

“Don’t become like those whose hearts are consumed with seizing power by any means necessary, people who possess not the slightest ideal or conviction beyond that. Whether they choose to do something or not depends solely on whether it benefits them personally. They haggle over every tiny advantage, spending every waking moment calculating how to maximize their own interests. For the sake of short-lived achievements, they willingly leave behind disasters that will haunt future generations. All day long, they speak words they don’t truly believe, saying every pleasant thing while committing every evil deed. They wear smiles that never reach their hearts, smiles that conceal knives.

“People like that will see the Daoist Order as nothing more than their personal property, taking from it whatever they please. In the end, they will only doom the Daoist Order to eternal ruin.”

Qi Xuansu pushed those thoughts aside and continued onward, eventually arriving at a vast underground chamber. At its center stood a towering altar, while densely packed rows of human-shaped statues were arranged before it.

At first, Qi Xuansu paid little attention to these human-shaped statues because they were common throughout the Southern Continent. Most of them were painted clay figures found at altars and tombs. However, when he approached, he discovered that these were neither clay nor stone statues. Instead, they looked like actual human beings.

Qi Xuansu snapped off the hand of one of the figures and discovered that it was hollow inside. There was neither flesh nor bone remaining. Immediately afterward, countless black insects poured out of the statue. These insects resembled beetles, though he was unsure about their exact nature. Astonishingly, the insects were not intimidated by Qi Xuansu’s powerful blood qi and crawled straight toward him.

Through his Dragon Eyes, Qi Xuansu could clearly see that their mouthparts were razor-sharp. Had an ordinary person encountered them, they would likely have been devoured in the blink of an eye.

Before Qi Xuansu could make a move, Madam Wu had already appeared. With a single burst of flame, she burned every last insect to ashes for him.

Qi Xuansu asked, “Madam Wu, what are these insects?”

Madam Wu hesitated for a moment. “They resemble the insects used in witchcraft. The Ancient Wuist Sect only represented the witchcraft of the Central Plains, which later spread to the Golden Horde and Nanyang. In truth, every region has its own forms of witchcraft, each shaped by its local culture. What’s strange is that this particular style looks more like the methods used in Nanjiang on the Eastern Continent. How did it end up on the Southern Continent?”

Qi Xuansu said, “Perhaps someone found this place before us? That would make sense. Even Wang Jiaohe had a map, so it wouldn’t be surprising if others got here first. Could it have been someone from the Western Daoist Order?”

Madam Wu pondered for a moment. “That’s certainly possible. Back then, the Western Daoist Order was a mixed bag and was classified among the heterodox factions. It’s entirely possible that someone proficient in Nanjiang witchcraft followed the Western Daoist Order to the Southern Continent.”

A thought suddenly struck Qi Xuansu. “It’s the humanoid insects! They originally emerged in Nanyang, and Poluo has always been rife with witchcraft practices and isn’t far from Nanjiang. Besides, it makes sense that humanoid insects can control regular insects. Earlier, I had Hun Ahau send people to investigate various ruins, and they found traces of the humanoid insects. I thought it was just a coincidence. I didn’t expect they had actually found this place.”

Madam Wu examined several more of the human statues. Having existed since before even the Fox Immortals of Qingqiu Mountain, her experience and knowledge were unmatched. “You just reminded me of something. You know about the Western vampires, don’t you? They produce two kinds of descendants. One consists of true offspring, the younger vampires themselves. The other consists of inferior thralls, who are controlled by the vampires and are known as spawns. The humanoid insects work much the same way. The worthy are bestowed insect eggs known as the Foundation Building Elixir. After swallowing them, they transform into humanoid insects. Those deemed unworthy become incubators. Insects are implanted into their bodies, where they consume their internal organs before laying eggs inside them. The people used as incubators quickly wither away until nothing but an empty shell remains. That’s why all of these human statues are hollow.”

She paused before continuing. “The way you handled them just now wasn’t ideal. It caused the dormant eggs to hatch into larvae. But these eggs would have needed further selection anyway. The later an egg awakens into a larva, the greater its potential. That determines whether it can ultimately form a Golden Core. Only the most perfect eggs can become material for the Foundation Building Elixir. Out of 100 eggs, you’d be lucky if even one was suitable.”

Qi Xuansu fell silent for a moment before saying, “Before I leave the Southern Continent, there are two things I must accomplish. First, eradicate the humanoid insects. Second, abolish blood sacrifice. If I can do those two things, then my trip here won’t have been in vain.”

Madam Wu nodded approvingly. “Good, good. Both are worthy causes. If you can use the influence of the Daoist Order to see them through, your merits will truly be immeasurable.”

Qi Xuansu did not become carried away by the praise. He genuinely wanted to accomplish something meaningful. Just as he had quietly influenced Zhang Yuelu over time, she had, in turn, quietly influenced him.

The noble were often the most foolish, while the humble were often the wisest.

Many of Zhang Yuelu’s actions seemed foolish to others, yet she was noble. That nobility came not from her bloodline but from her conduct and her spirit.

It was only natural for subordinates to obey their superiors and for Daoists to obey the Golden Tower Council. There was nothing wrong with that. But blindly following orders was another matter. Doing whatever those above commanded while refusing to act unless instructed, especially when acting offered no benefit to one’s own career. That simply would not do.

Of course, there were times when simply carrying out orders as instructed was already commendable. What was truly dangerous were those who resisted even after receiving clear instructions, whether through passive sabotage or excessive, malicious compliance. Either way, they obeyed only in appearance while undermining everything in practice, leaving endless disasters in their wake.

Qi Xuansu asked, “What should we do with these human statues?”

Madam Wu replied, “Easy. Burn them all! I’ll handle it, and I guarantee not a single insect will escape!”

It was a quintessential Madam Wu answer. If fire could solve the problem, there was no reason to consider any other method.

After giving it some thought, Qi Xuansu realized it truly was the best solution. So he let Madam Wu burn all of the human statues while he ascended the altar surrounded by them.