Where Immortals Once Walked

He was a general who had left a lost city in the third year of the Panlong Calendar to join Zhong Shengguang. He was someone with a long list of victories to his name. Under Commander Zhong, he had gone straight to commanding troops and had won plenty more battles since.

He gathered true energy, and his voice boomed across the square, “You may have already heard today’s objective. That’s right, we’re escorting the most important caravan of this autumn and winter back to Puxi Gully! As long as we see them safely from Baixiong Pass to Puxi Gully, we can return in triumph. Ever since Wei City fell, Puxi Gully has been Panlong City’s forward line in the west, shielding us from the fangs and claws of the States of Baling and Xianyou. To protect our ally is to protect Panlong City; to protect our countrymen and neighbors is to protect ourselves! All of you, fight at the fore, and guard our Panlong!”

Spirits surged below the platform, and the crowd roared in unison, “Fight at the fore, guard our Panlong!”

By the second shout, even the onlookers, most of whom were ordinary cityfolk, had joined in, their voices shaking the southern quarter.

Then the southern gate of Panlong City swung open, and General Nanke led the army out.

Passing beneath the mighty gate once more, He Lingchuan looked up and could not help sucking in a breath.

He remembered the chill he felt the first time he had come through here. In later entries to the dreamscape, he had made a point of gathering herbs and, at last, the previous night, he had managed to purchase rottencore herb, which grew only in places of extreme yin and was the rarest of the key ingredients he required to refine a batch of soul-masking powder.

Yes, among the things that Sun Fuping left behind after his death was the recipe for soul-masking powder. Taken in small doses, it allowed the user to see “unclean things” for a brief time, and it could also cloak life fires so that one’s living aura could be concealed. For now, He Lingchuan only needed the first effect.

He had swallowed some soul-masking powder during the oath-taking at South Gate Square, and now, passing through the gate again, he finally confirmed a long-held suspicion.

Beneath the southern gate, countless nearly-invisible Three Corpses Worms were whirling!

They looked no different from the misty swarms he had seen in the Panlong Desert. However, the ordinary soldiers and citizens of Panlong City felt and heard nothing out of place when they crossed the threshold.

They were like the air—unseen and untouchable—yet undeniably there.

He even saw them slipping in and out of tiny vents in the Barbican. Between the first and second gates, the walls were so high and the eaves so deep that even at noon, sunlight barely touched the ground. It was thus prime territory for the Three Corpses Worms to move freely.

They passed straight through every traveler who came and went. That must have been the source of the cold He Lingchuan had felt under the walls. Despite that, they did not seize human bodies or muddle human minds of their own accord.

It was plain that Zhong Shengguang, with the Generous Pot in his keeping, wielded powerful control over the Three Corpses Worms.

At last, He Lingchuan understood why Panlong City dared keep its gates open for trade, unafraid of enemy agents slipping in to stir up trouble.

The gate was guarded by an unseen host, keenly sensitive to human emotions, especially malice.

Anyone harboring ill will toward Panlong City, no matter how well hidden, would have that malice provoked and magnified by the worms, usually presenting as a sudden fit of madness, at which point the gate troops only had to seize the culprit.

With the Generous Pot’s blessing, the city’s basic policies, and even its very character, had been reshaped. Once more, He Lingchuan felt how inseparable the divine artifact was from the city’s fate.

* * *

Thirty-six hours later.

General Nanke’s army was moving across the boundless wasteland.

The Panlong Wasteland was nothing like the lush, well-watered Chipa Plateau behind Panlong City. The landscape here was mostly shrub-steppe studded with the occasional grove.

It was autumn; the pasture grass had gone yellow, and the stark desolation of the season showed all the more clearly on the open plain.

Saddle-bound, He Lingchuan raised his waterskin and downed a mouthful of water.

The force that had set out twelve hundred strong for Baixiong Pass was now nineteen hundred, along with more than two hundred freight wagons piled high with goods.

They had, in other words, successfully linked up with the merchants and were now escorting them back to Puxi Gully.

The cargo was largely for civilian livelihood, and it was enough to see Puxi Gully’s residents through the grinding winter of the wastes.

Veteran that he was, General Nanke had not rushed the return after making contact at Baixiong Pass. He ordered the whole force to stand down and rest for about six hours, so that men and mounts alike could recover fully.

Everyone knew the truth. The real test would come on the way back.

From the moment they left Panlong City, He Lingchuan had been quietly working through the ins and outs of his newly acquired divine technique. After roughly a day had passed, he had gotten a feel for it.

He got on well with his squadmates. He was easygoing, never forced things for merit, and his skills were solid. What was not to like about a teammate who checked all three boxes?

Doorboard rode abreast of him, chatting off and on for a long stretch.

True to his nickname, the big man had shoulders and chest like a slab of timber. When he planted himself in front during a fight, he made everyone feel safer. People say “nine out of ten burly types are slow on the uptake,” but his temperament was far from the simple “honest and dull.”

From him, He Lingchuan had already picked up plenty of gossip. For instance, the battle at Baijia Ridge three days ago had also been under General Nanke’s command. It had been a beautiful fight. Over eight hundred enemies had been cut down, and the enemy general, Hua Muna, had been killed on the spot.

Hua Muna was the younger brother of Hua Mucuo, the supreme commander of the Baling army garrisoned at Wei City. Both men were renowned for their ferocity. The brothers had fought back-to-back for years. Hua Muna’s death would be a heavy blow to Hua Mucuo.

Buoyed by that victory, Panlong City decided to strike while the iron was hot and immediately launched the most important resupply run to Puxi Gully. Right now, the Baling forces at Wei City had just taken a drubbing; their morale was low, and they likely would not pick a fight again until they had regrouped.

Still, the keyword there was likely.

At that, He Lingchuan could not help asking, “What kind of temperament does Hua Mucuo have?” In war, you had to factor in the opponent’s mindset, especially the opposing commander’s.

“I hear he’s quite steady. He’s not one to go in for reckless glory.” Doorboard sighed. “If he were the table-slapping, hotheaded sort, there’d be a ninety-percent chance our convoy would get ambushed this trip.” In truth, no one could say whether Hua Mucuo would lash out in rage or swallow the insult, at least for now.

Inwardly, He Lingchuan turned over Sun Hongye’s proposed stratagem. Reality was always messier than plans on paper, but might Panlong City be laying its pieces in just that direction? After all, the sides had already clashed seven times, with wins and losses on both sides; Panlong City’s true intentions were well masked by the back-and-forth.

No one had spelled it out, but He Lingchuan felt, faintly but surely, that this escort was very different from the ones before.

With each return to the Panlong Dreamscape, he had realized his time there was not a neat, linear flow. It came in slices—scene to scene.

Every entry dropped him at some moment that mattered, with events large or small unfolding.

While this world honed him, it also seemed to be showing him something.

Maybe he had gone quiet too long, because Doorboard suddenly asked, “Broken Blade, why’d you join the patrols?”

He Lingchuan blinked. “To protect home and country, what else?”

“That’s too vague.” Doorboard smiled. “Skinny signed up to grind away and save money so his family can live decent lives; Willow’s brother was killed by people from the State of Xianyou, so she wants revenge; me, I want merit and a career. Who doesn’t have their own little abacus clicking in the back of their head?”

No matter how lofty a person’s beliefs, they need something real under them.

“I want to join the Gale Army,” He Lingchuan said honestly. “But I’ve heard you can’t even apply unless you make platoon leader first.”

“Join the Gale Army?” Doorboard shot him a look. “Chasing the Red General’s renown, are you?”

“Something like that.” He had entered the dream many times now and still had not met the Red General face-to-face. He had only caught a glimpse from afar before being kicked out.

“The Red General is why a lot of folks enlist. I took you for the quiet, tight-lipped sort. I didn’t expect you to be chasing heroes, too.”

He Lingchuan could not help but let out a laugh.

Quiet and tight-lipped were actually being applied to him? Applied to the swaggering little tyrant of Heishui City? He wondered what the He Family would make of that if they ever heard it.

Then again, in the dreamscape, he did think more and do more, as well as talk less.

In the waking world, he had to cover his tracks and wear a mask.

Here, he could be himself.

A different line of scenery rose on the horizon, and Doorboard let out a long breath. “Up ahead is the Guizhen Stone Forest.”

As the convoy advanced, the view sharpened by degrees.

He Lingchuan had been here a few times before. The Guizhen Stone Forest was a famous sight along the Hongya Route. Its outer rim lay at least 333 meters off the main road, so travelers in later times could only admire it from afar.

Countless years ago, this must have been a lush river valley; the water had carved a maze of ravines. Then the river changed course, leaving the wind and sand to take over, sculpting peak after peak into shapes like folding screens or billowing sails.

If you had the mind for it, you could walk a thousand different paths through the Guizhen Stone Forest.

It was one of the rare marvels amid the otherwise level, monotonous steppe.

“It’s the perfect ambush ground,” He Lingchuan murmured. It was multi-layered and crisscrossing, and there was no telling how many levels there were above and below. “Do you think we’ll be going through it?”

“If we can see that, there’s no way General Nanke can’t.” Doorboard lifted his chin. “My bet is we won’t.”

Skinny urged his horse up alongside. “How about I open a little book? One tael of silver that we’re going in.”

“I’m in,” He Lingchuan said, smiling. “I say we will. The stone forest is too big, and going around will add at least twenty hours. More time means greater risk.”

“Betting pool open, betting pool open!” Skinny crowed, raising his voice so it carried. “Wagers start at one tael on whether we march through the Guizhen Stone Forest!”

The wastes were grand but bland; after a long enough time, the marching got dull. Word of a betting pool lit the ranks right up.

Skinny grinned till his face could barely hold it. The house won both ways. He could practically hear the silver clinking already.

* * *

“What’s that racket in the rear?”

At the forefront of the army, General Nanke glanced back.

The adjutant said at once, “I’ll ride back and shut them up.”

General Nanke let it drop and turned to the signal officer. “Pass the order, we’re bypassing the Guizhen Stone Forest.”

The terrain in the stone forest was far too convoluted, making it perfect for an enemy ambush. He felt that there was no need to take that gamble and that taking a detour was a better choice.

The signal officer took the command and was about to spur away when a sudden drumming of hooves sounded ahead. A lone rider came tearing in.

One of the forward scouts had returned.

The horse steamed with heat. He had clearly been riding for his life.

The scout did not even dismount. He saluted on the fly, panting hard as he reported, “Large enemy force to the northwest, less than eight kilometers from us!”