Chapter 7: Corpse Flies (1/2)

The cavern behind the wall yawned into the distance, giving no clue as to where it led. Wind occasionally howled out of it, a sign that it was linked with the outside world.

“Weird, there was an unspeakably gross odor when we were outside. How come there’s none of it now that we’re inside?” The night pearl in Wanfeng’s hand radiated a soft light, illuminating their way.

“That was tomb odor. Now that the tomb’s been opened and the air vented, there won’t be any smells.”

“I see,” Wanfeng murmured in half understanding.

“Evil, completely evil! They built a fake passageway so that no matter what direction we walk in, we’ll always end up at the trap on the mountain’s south side,” Lu Yun spoke sotto voce.

Thankfully, he’d calculated the tomb’s design through the shape of the bricks they’d just smashed through. He might’ve actually fallen into the trap, otherwise!

“But there’s a wind in this tunnel, so one of the tunnels branching off from the cavern should eventually lead to an exit,” Wanfeng remarked doubtfully when she heard his muttering.

“That’s why the tomb builder is so sinister. The wind we’re feeling isn’t a real wind, but a product of a calculated layout. It’s a death trap no matter which way we walk.” Lu Yun approached the stone wall at the end of their chosen branch and sounded it out with knocks and slaps.

Though he didn't have a complete handle on the feng shui layout they’d entered, he could roughly deduce the blueprint of the entire tomb from its building materials—this was what was meant by the saying of visualizing an entire leopard by focusing on one of its spots.

“Wanfeng, crack this stone wall open. The real tomb is behind it!” Delight twinkled in Lu Yun’s eyes. “This layout may be clever, but it’s not particularly sophisticated.”

As he rummaged through his mind, Wanfeng chiseled a large hole in the stone with the longsword.

“Milord, this wall is really hard. I wouldn’t be able to break it if not for this spirit weapon,” she huffed, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead.

Spirit weapon? Lu Yun blinked. He didn’t know what a spirit weapon was, but didn’t ask. To ask too much would be to expose himself. He'd know everything after going back and flipping through a few books, anyway. “The real tomb should be inside. Can you start a fire?”

“A fire?” Wanfeng snapped her fingers, summoning a dancing flame at the tip of her finger.

“What, this is a thing?” The sight shocked Lu Yun to new depths.

“Milord, this is just a regular mystical art of the five elements. Even ordinary cultivators can do it.” The maid sighed, remembering that her master couldn’t cultivate.

Lu Yun nodded and took out a sheet of yellow paper. Lighting it with the small flame, he flung it into the hole that Wanfeng had chiseled through the wall.

He fixed his eyes intently on the ball of light.

“It’s burning regularly. There’s no problem then, we can go in.” Lu Yun sighed with relief. If the ball of flame were extinguished before it burned out, he would’ve left without another word.

“Milord, you know so much. How come Wanfeng didn’t discover this before?” she asked inquisitively as she stared at Lu Yun.

“How would I be the governor if I didn’t know this much? Or, do you know something I should know?” His heart skipped a beat, but he maintained cool aplomb on his face.

“That’s true.” Wanfeng nodded and deflated slightly. “Milord’s kept this servant at a distance ever since that time, and this servant is ignored half the time.”

Lu Yun blinked. “That time?”

The girl turned beet red and fidgeted, refusing to respond.

I bet this kid wanted to eat Wanfeng, but didn’t have what it took to finish the deed and pushed her away instead. But looking at how she’s acting, she probably wouldn’t resist if I wanted to take her now.

Pushing these thoughts out of his mind, Lu Yun strode into the tomb.

“Milord!” the maid shrieked the moment both of them walked into the tomb proper.

“What is it?” Lu Yun turned back and saw pitch-black darkness. He couldn’t even see the fingers of his outstretched hand. The indistinct haze of a pale-green ball of light floated dismally in mid-air—Wanfeng’s night pearl.

“My, my consciousness vanished.” Thick unease colored the girl’s voice.

Thanks to a night of Cultivation 101 by Wanfeng, Lu Yun knew what that was. A consciousness was the equivalent of a cultivator’s eyes. When it vanished, it meant the cultivator was half-blind.

“Don’t worry,” He reached out and grabbed ahold of her soft hand, “there’s a feng shui layout here—I mean a formation. The formation is restricting your consciousness. Look, even the light from the pearl is being suppressed.”

Wanfeng nodded in the darkness and her longsword howled softly, every inch of her on full alert.

To most living creatures, the dark was what frightened them the most. But having excavated tombs for many a year, Lu Yun was perfectly at home in such darkness.

One could say that this was his home territory.

Lu Yun placed Wanfeng’s hand on his shoulder. “Hold on to my shoulder and follow me.”