A Pawn's Passage

This altar had not been built by the humanoid insects. Its architecture bore a distinctly Southern Continent style, whereas the humanoid insects’ style leaned more toward Nanyang and the Central Plains, remaining heavily influenced by Central Plains culture overall.

Qi Xuansu stepped onto the altar and discovered that above it hung yet another black sun. It was both unexpected and, somehow, perfectly reasonable.

His guess had been correct after all. Paititi truly was connected to the Shadow Tide.

Qi Xuansu took out the key he had obtained from the Baron and raised it high overhead but the altar showed no reaction whatsoever.

It seemed this key was not meant to be used here.

Qi Xuansu put the key away and began examining the altar to determine its true purpose.

By this time, Madam Wu had already reduced all of the human statues to ashes.

As for the enormous pile of corpses outside, Madam Wu left them untouched. Once the number of corpses reached a certain threshold, they formed a kind of aura. It was much like how a sufficiently large gathering of living people generated overwhelming blood qi, making a military encampment untouchable even by ghosts and spirits. The only difference was that the dead accumulated yin energy instead of blood qi.

However, yin energy was no less formidable. Back in the Ghost Kingdom, the concentration of yin energy had become so immense that it eroded a fissure leading directly into the netherworld. That was why the Daoist Order had spent more than two centuries resolving the problems of the Ghost Kingdom by planting the Emperor Willow and employing the Three Yin Beings to clear away the countless corpses.

Although this place was nowhere near as severe as the Ghost Kingdom, burning all these corpses by force would still consume an enormous amount of power. Madam Wu certainly enjoyed setting things ablaze, but in her eyes, corpses that had already formed such an aura were effectively nonflammable. Trying to burn them would be about as wasteful as setting mountains aflame or boiling the seas. It was better to leave them where they were.

Qi Xuansu soon discovered one of the altar’s secrets. Its surface was carved with a network of blood channels that crisscrossed one another, forming patterns resembling talismans or runes. Evidently, the altar could be activated by filling these channels with fresh blood.

Given the altar’s enormous size and the fact that these blood channels covered its entire surface, the quantity of blood required was unimaginable. Draining every last drop from a single person would not even fill one channel. It would likely require the blood of many people.

Even so, it probably did not require the sacrifice of 10,000 people. The corpses outside most likely had not died as sacrificial offerings. A blood sacrifice on the scale of 10,000 victims would leave the ancient gods worried that karmic fire would burn their divine kingdom to the ground.

As a Martial Arts Practitioner, Qi Xuansu possessed abundant blood qi thanks to his body-regenerative properties. But blood qi also formed the foundation of a Martial Arts Practitioner’s combat strength, replenished only through massive food intake. Naturally, he had no intention of draining his own blood. In the end, he decided to substitute divine power for blood.

That was precisely why divine power was considered the ultimate hard currency. Its extraordinary versatility allowed it to be transformed into almost any form and used for nearly any purpose.

As Qi Xuansu infused the altar with divine power, the entire structure immediately lit up. The blood channels filled with radiant divine light, becoming lines of talismanic inscriptions. Westerners called such things runes, but regardless of the name, they were fundamentally the same. The individual talismans merged and interlocked into a formation.

In an instant, the entire underground cavern began to rumble violently, as though an earthquake were about to erupt.

At that same time, the corpses outside all stirred back to life, like hibernating insects awakened by the first thunder of spring. They staggered to their feet and were reanimated. They then surged toward the altar like a giant tide of corpses.

At this point, even Madam Wu had no choice but to intervene. She opened her mouth and exhaled, unleashing a torrent of flames that instantly reduced the first wave of the undead to ashes.

Puffing out her cheeks, Madam Wu continued breathing fire without pause. The flames expanded into a sea of fire that pushed directly against the tide of corpses, forcing them backward.

This cave contained more than 10,000 corpses. Now that they had become a corpse tide, the bodies that had once lain piled atop one another rose together, nearly filling the entire cavern. Everywhere Qi Xuansu looked, he could only see these reanimated corpses.

The sight was utterly horrifying. If viewed from the top, it would resemble the collision of two overwhelming tides—one a sea of fire, the other a tide of the undead.

Had these been ordinary corpses, no matter how numerous, Madam Wu’s flames would have burned straight through them. But these undead had already generated an immense concentration of yin energy that greatly counteracted the flames. This was also why Qi Xuansu had found the corpses unrotted when he first entered. Protected by the dense yin energy, Madam Wu could not simply burn through them all at once and instead had to incinerate them gradually. It was not difficult for her, but it was time-consuming and exhausting, like trying to ignite a pile of damp leaves that refused to catch fire.

The principle was the same as in the Ghost Kingdom. Once yin energy reached a certain concentration, many conventional methods ceased to be effective. The only viable approach was to weaken the yin energy itself, which was accomplished primarily by relying on the yang energy that was naturally present in the mortal world. As long as the source of the yin energy was cut off, the world’s yang energy would gradually neutralize it. If that process proved too slow, one could also channel and disperse the yin energy, much like diverting floodwaters.

Using the Emperor Willow to seal the fissure leading to the netherworld and clearing away the corpses were both methods of cutting off the source of yin energy, not destroying the yin energy itself. The actual elimination of yin energy still depended upon the world’s yang energy, much as many illnesses ultimately relied upon the body’s own ability to heal.

Of course, such overwhelming yin energy did not accumulate overnight. It first required a vast number of deaths, sufficient time, and a sealed environment that prevented the yin energy from escaping. Only under those conditions could such an immense concentration of yin energy build up. This cavern happened to satisfy every one of those requirements.

It now seemed that the yin energy here had reached a delicate equilibrium, suppressing the corpses much like the still waters of a stagnant pond. When Qi Xuansu activated the altar, that balance was disrupted, allowing the previously suppressed corpses to rise once more.

Qi Xuansu paid no attention to Madam Wu’s side of the battle. His full focus remained on the altar.

After the infusion of divine power, the altar underwent a dramatic transformation. The black sun slowly faded away, replaced by a brilliant golden sun.

Whether by coincidence or not, it perfectly mirrored the changes within the cavern. It was as if the black sun’s tide of the undead was steadily retreating while the golden sun’s sea of flames advanced triumphantly.

As the golden sun appeared, a stone doorway slowly opened within the rock wall behind the altar. Earlier, Qi Xuansu had swept the area with his divine sense, yet he had failed to detect the hidden entrance. Perhaps it was because of the surrounding yin energy or the altar itself was interfering.

Qi Xuansu called out to Madam Wu before stepping through the doorway first.

Beyond the doorway stretched a passageway with obvious signs of human construction. It was neatly built and sloped steadily upward. When Qi Xuansu emerged from the passage, his view suddenly opened up. He had returned to the mountain valley.

Unlike the area on the other side, however, the ground here still bore faint traces of a stone-paved road. There were even remnants resembling curbstones along both sides. Yet with the rainforest canopy completely covering the area, these traces were impossible to spot from above.

This was likely one of the many roads leading to Paititi. Or rather, this doorway was the proper front entrance to the altar complex from Paititi, while the cave entrance Qi Xuansu had discovered was little more than a back entrance.

Qi Xuansu knew that his efforts over the past several days had not been in vain. At last, he had found genuine traces of Paititi.

Not long afterward, Madam Wu caught up with him. “I’ve cleaned out all the filthy things in the cave. It nearly exhausted me to death. Don’t forget to reimburse my divine power when we get back.”

Qi Xuansu glanced at her. “Can’t you cultivate and recover on your own?”

Madam Wu replied, “I can use divine power too. Did you think you were the only one who could make use of everything? Don’t tell me you’re trying to dodge reimbursing me!”

Qi Xuansu quickly said, “Of course not. Once we’re back, just submit an expense report, and I’ll approve it immediately.”

As he spoke, Qi Xuansu mentally calculated how much of his remaining allocation was left, wondering whether it would be enough for the two of them. If not, he would have to seek approval from Sage Qingwei, which would be another troublesome affair.

“Now that’s more like it,” Madam Wu muttered. “This is official business, not a personal errand.”

The two then proceeded along the ancient road that was now nearly swallowed by overgrown weeds. They deliberately kept a slow pace, wary of overlooking any crucial clues hidden along the way.

Sure enough, their caution proved justified. Along the way, they discovered a temple almost completely overgrown with lush green vegetation. Had they simply flown past, it would have been easy to overlook.

The temple’s layout differed considerably from the temples of present-day Tawantin, though that was expected. Architectural styles in the Central Plains had likewise undergone many changes. The styles of the First Emperor and the Wei Dynasty were already vastly different. They changed again after the Daoist Order came to power.

This temple, the ancient road, and the altar hidden within the cavern were most likely parts of the same complex. The cave had probably served as the temple’s forbidden sanctuary or perhaps a secret passage. Qi Xuansu had essentially entered the site in reverse.

The temple’s entrance had been completely engulfed by vines. Qi Xuansu tore them away and forced his way inside. The floors and walls were covered with images of a golden sun, indicating that this was a temple dedicated to the Sun God. However, the chief god was not Kukulkan, but Itzamna.

From this, it appeared that even during the era of Paititi, the influence of the Northern Continent Ancient Gods had already penetrated into the south, laying the groundwork for their later migration. Had the Holy Court not invaded, the Northern Ancient Gods might well have unified the New Continent. Yet despite all of Itzamna’s painstaking planning and tireless efforts, he ultimately could not escape death, while Kukulkan reaped the rewards without lifting a finger.

That said, what exactly did the black sun upon the altar signify? Did the black sun represent a closed gate, while the golden sun represented an open one?

Could it be that these Ancient Gods also embraced the concept of yin-yang transformation?

Madam Wu looked around before suddenly saying, “There’s something here.”

With that, Madam Wu flashed behind Itzamna’s statue. When she returned, she was carrying someone with her.

More precisely, it was the corpse of a woman. Judging from her attire, she had been a priestess of this temple, and one of considerable rank, as evidenced by the elaborate patterns and ornaments decorating her mask.

Madam Wu reached out and removed the mask from the corpse’s face, revealing the features of someone from the Central Plains.

Qi Xuansu and Madam Wu exchanged glances, both visibly surprised.

Could she have been a member of the Western Daoist Order?