Where Immortals Once Walked

“This must be what Panlong City looked like before it was destroyed, right?” Mao Tao spoke softly. After all, the other three all outranked him. “I walked here with Young Master He, but we didn’t see a single person along the way.”

“There’s no one in the city either, at least not anywhere we searched nearby,” Sun Fuping added slowly. “I was brought in through the well, while Commandant Nian landed directly in the moat.”

The four of them passed through the city gate, which opened onto a broad square. Apparently, at this time, Panlong City had not yet built its triple walls.

“It seems we’re in a time even earlier than the city’s fall,” He Lingchuan observed, glancing around. “There aren’t nearly as many fortifications.”

The Panlong City they saw in the desert had been armed to the teeth, always flaunting its strength to the outside world. But here, Panlong City looked quite gentle.

It was the same city, but it looked so different at different times.

The group crossed the square. There was no sign of the current Panlong City’s central pool, though the black flood dragon relief was still there.

Just ahead was a row of buildings, at the very front of which were a posthouse and inn, while various dwellings lay behind them.

“The layout’s different, too.” Nian Songyu took the lead into an inn. “When I came in, the hearth was still warm.”

The inn door opened with a creak. Inside, six or seven tables were scattered about, each with a differing number of chairs. He Lingchuan noticed that three tables still held wine jars, cups with a bit of wine left in them, and plates with a handful of peanuts.

Behind the counter sat an account book, on which the character for “wine” was half-finished, the brush tossed aside, its ink barely dry.

Nian Songyu walked over and tapped a tabletop with his knuckle, producing a solid “thunk.”

“All of these are solid objects, and they’re uncannily realistic.” After saying that, he handed a cup to Mao Tao. “Drink it.”

Mao Tao jumped. “Huh, drink?” Who would dare eat or drink anything so strange?

Nian Songyu’s stare left no room for argument.

Mao Tao had no choice but to tip the cup back and take a careful sip, smacking his lips nervously. “It’s wine. It’s really weak, though. In Heishui City, this wouldn’t fetch more than three copper coins.”

“Drink it. All of it.” This was clearly not just about tasting.

He Lingchuan said nothing, so Mao Tao, under the eyes of the three, had to finish the wine.

No sooner had he swallowed than he clutched his stomach and yelped, “Ah! My stomach hurts!” He dropped the cup and dashed for the outhouses out back.

They waited a while, then Nian Songyu jerked his chin at He Lingchuan. “Go see if he’s dead.” His tone was thoroughly arrogant.

With He Chunhua and the Heishui City troops not here, Nian Songyu did not bother with the slightest courtesy toward He Lingchuan. If the latter so much as put on airs, Nian Songyu was ready to beat him until he was picking up his teeth just to vent his pent-up irritation from these past days.

But He Lingchuan did not get angry or protest; he just turned and went, not giving Nian Songyu any excuse to act up.

This caught Nian Songyu off guard. So this brat knows when to go along with the tide.

Halfway there, a gust of wind set the leaves rustling, and He Lingchuan sensed a sudden force from behind. Instinctively, he sidestepped and drew his blade.

But it was only a branch, swaying in the wind, nearly brushing his back.

He did not store his blade right away. Ever since entering this city, he had felt something off, as if he were being watched constantly.

That persistent, shadowy feeling was maddening.

Just then, Mao Tao came hurrying over, still clutching his pants. When he saw He Lingchuan with his blade out, he paused in surprise. “Young Master, is everything alright?”

“Yeah.” He Lingchuan kept his blade and stepped back. Mao Tao’s face was sallow, and he reeked. He had obviously just gone through quite an ordeal. “You?”

“Still alive, just feel really drained.” Mao Tao rubbed his stomach and walked back with him.

They returned to the inn. Sun Fuping examined Mao Tao’s complexion, checked his eyelids and tongue, and declared, “You’ve been poisoned.”

Mao Tao nearly jumped out of his skin, but the state preceptor went on, “The toxin is mild. It won’t kill you, but you’ll be making a few more trips to the outhouse.”

This is all thanks to Nian Songyu forcing me to drink that wine. Mao Tao inwardly cursed the lot of them, but on the surface, he squeezed out a smile. “Good, that’s good.”

“You ate food meant for the dead,” Sun Fuping said, picking up a peanut, crushing it to gray dust in his palm. “None of this was prepared for the living. It’s no wonder the city is empty.”

Nian Songyu caught on. “You mean the city’s former residents are the very wrathful souls that burst out of the pool?”

“Most likely. Once they left, this place became a ghost town.”

“The wrathful souls are the people who used to live here?” He Lingchuan was surprised. “That can’t be, can it? Out there, they’re all crazed and violent. Are you saying they were law-abiding citizens in this city?”

Right now, Panlong City was empty, but everything was perfectly orderly. The city was merely missing its people. The wrathful souls he had encountered outside were all steeped in hatred and rage, and they seemed poised to tear the world apart if they could. If they had really lived here for ages, how could the city still look so neat and tidy?

“It’s probably the work of the Generous Pot,” said Nian Songyu. “Panlong City was destroyed long ago. This place is what’s unnatural.”

Mao Tao asked quietly, “So how do we find the Generous Pot? I thought jumping into the pool would give us some clue, but we just landed in another version of Panlong City. What are we supposed to do now?”

He Lingchuan suggested, “Let’s go to the Temple of Mitian. That’s where we found the entrance before, so maybe we’ll find a new clue there.”

“We’ve already checked. There’s no temple here,” Nian Songyu shot down the idea.

He Lingchuan was startled. “No temple? What do you mean?”

“There’s just no temple, understand?” Nian Songyu replied flatly. “In that spot are two inns, an opera house, and two big shops—one selling jewelry, the other silk.”

Of course, if there were any easy clues, these two would never have waited for me. He Lingchuan thought for a moment. “What about the Red General’s residence?”

“Checked. Nothing there either.”

He Lingchuan asked, “No residence, or just no clue?”

“Nothing at all,” Sun Fuping said. “The Red General was a demigod granted power by Mitian. If there’s no temple, there’s no Red General either.”

So no Red General, and no Red General’s residence.

“Well, doesn’t that mean that there’s only one place left?” He Lingchuan scratched his head. “Zhong Shengguang’s home?”

Sun Fuping stood up. “Let’s go.”

This illusion had faithfully reconstructed every detail of Panlong City. He Lingchuan had never imagined that he would one day get to tour the legendary city like this. From the streets, buildings, and river, to the utensils and implements used in daily life along the markets and riverbanks, it was clear that, before being ravaged by war, Panlong City had once been extraordinarily prosperous, teeming with people and thriving commerce.

He even saw a waterwheel by the river, not for irrigating fields but for supplying water to nearby shops, saving the labor of hauling it by hand. There was even a special bamboo pipeline running from the river straight to the shops’ basins.