Chapter 59: Unable to see Changan (2/2)

“So you can’t see Chang’an from here after all,” he murmured quietly. He stood there quietly, wrapped up in countless thoughts. He was not a government official, here to offer sacrifices to the heavens. He was a Cultivator, a Cultivator of the eighth level of Qi Condensation.

“I walk a different path than before, but the direction is the same.” The wind blew his hair about, and the snow stuck to him un-melting, as if it approved of his life, as if he too, were snow.

After a while, he sat down cross-legged and began to meditate quietly.

During the night, the snow fell even harder. The lights shone within the houses of the capital city. From atop the Tower of Tang, everything grew pitch black and quiet. Within the quiet darkness, Meng Hao could see himself years ago, back in Yunjie County, amidst the snow.

The snowy night slowly passed.

At dawn, Meng Hao opened his eyes. It was hard to say whether he glanced at the rising sun, or if the rising sun glanced at him first.

The city came to life with the dawn. Soon, the streets filled with throngs of people. Meng Hao watched the mortal world spread out before him.

He observed silently, all the way until night fell. Another dawn broke. One day, two days, three days.

For seven days, Meng Hao gazed down on everything. At first, his eyes had seemed faint and weak, but then they grew bright, and finally, calm.

Something had changed in his mind. He had achieved a state of enlightenment regarding life itself. At dawn on the eighth day, he looked down to see officials and soldiers arrive at the Tower of Tang to perform a rite. A middle-aged man stood there wearing a golden robe. Behind him were crowds of people, standing neatly in formation. He offered sacrifices to heaven and earth, as did many of the commoners throughout the city.

Meng Hao stood as they began to bow to the heavens. He left the tower, avoiding their obeisance. Stepping onto the treasured fan, he soared forward, knowing that the time had come for him to leave. As he prepared to depart, he looked back toward the tower one more time.

When he did, his eyes grew wide.

He watched as the people kowtowed outside of the Tower of Tang, which then began to glow softly. It was a sparkling glow that the mortals could not see, but someone filled with spiritual energy could.

The light shot upwards, sending the clouds roiling, whereupon a huge vortex appeared. This, also, was invisible to the eyes of the mortals, but not to Meng Hao. He could see the vortex clearly, and it caused him to suck in a breath. He looked shaken.

Inside the vortex, he could see… an endless field of bones and ruins, filled with a ghastly aura and a curling, black fog. He couldn’t see very many clear details, but could sense a mysterious and gruesome air roiling out.

His mind was shaken, especially when he noticed that within the black mist of the vortex was an enormous coffin. There, amidst the ruins, sitting cross-legged next to the coffin, was a shrivelled corpse. It suddenly opened its eyes. They were as gray as ash, and within them seven faint spots of light rotated about like stars. The corpse’s vision shot out from within the vortex, straight onto Meng Hao.

His heart trembled, and he involuntarily closed his eyes as he felt a stab of pain within them. It felt as if seven stars were about to appear within his own pupils, the same as those within the ash-gray eyes.

Suddenly, withered wrinkles began appear across his body, and a terrible black mist began to seep out of his pores.

Shocked, Meng Hao retreated at top speed. At the same time, the vortex was suddenly sucked up into the clouds. The crushing feeling he had experienced vanished, and everything went back to normal. It was as if what he had just seen had been a hallucination.

And yet, his body was still withered, and faint wisps of death aura continued to seep out of him. His facial expression changed several times. He looked down at the Tower of Tang. The glow was no longer present, but the people continued to pay obeisance. His face grew dark, and without hesitation he pushed the treasured fan to its limits. His body turned into a stream of light and he disappeared into the distance.

He soared out of the capital city, looking back toward the Tower of Tang several times. His eyes scanned the sky, and doubt began to rise up in his heart.

“It couldn’t have been a hallucination. The Tower of Tang… what kind of place is it exactly? Originally I thought it was a mortal place, but that’s obviously not true! What was that place within the vortex…? The ruins, the death aura, all those bones…” His scalp grew numb as he thought about the corpse he had seen amidst the ruins.

Its eyes had been filled with callousness, grim and ghastly, especially the seven stars within the pupils of its gray eyes. As he thought of this, his body grew cold and began to drip with sweat.

“And that… coffin.” Meng Hao took a deep breath, his eyes filled with fear.

“Who is inside that coffin, and why did it suddenly appear within the vortex. Why…? Does it have something to do with the Tower of Tang…? Does it have something to do with the Great Tang in the Eastern Lands?” Meng Hao grew thoughtful, looking back yet again at the Tower of Tang. The sense of awe within him grew stronger. He breathed in deeply again, gliding forward a bit before dropping to the ground and running.

He was starting to think that being stared at by the corpse within the vortex… had been a catastrophe….

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This chapter was sponsored by Mitchell Kutchuk, Tu Ha, and Hein Haugeberg