Where Immortals Once Walked

He Chunhua said solemnly, “Yes, there have been casualties, but never because we deliberately caused them.”

“Human life is indeed precious, but the front at the central region is hanging by a thread. If we don’t return in time with the Generous Pot, the rebels will follow the river downstream, and the state capital may be washed in blood,” Sun Fuping replied with a long sigh. “When that happens, how many innocents will die? Hundreds? Thousands? Tens of thousands?”

He Chunhua opened his mouth but could not find words to respond. On one hand were the lives of border citizens, while on the other was the fate of the state, which was weightier?

Seeing him fall silent, Nian Songyu also quietly relaxed, releasing the tension in his body.

If Commandery Administrator He insisted on being a stubborn old fool, he had been ready to draw his blade.

“The season of mad sand usually begins around the ninth month, and it lasts until the second or third month of the following year,” Sun Fuping said, utterly familiar with the details. “However, there have been exceptions, correct?”

He Chunhua thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Yes. According to the official chronicles of Qiansong Commandery, there have been years when the Season of Raging Sand arrived unpredictably, causing heavy loss of life and livestock.”

“What’s it like when it begins?”

“First comes violent wind and rain, along with flashes of lightning and claps of thunder. Then, it’s as if wailing ghosts sweep across the desert, wind and sand twist into dragons and serpents.” He paused, then added grimly, “If you’re caught in it, you’ll be buried alive within moments. And the wind and sand won’t relent until the following year.”

“I looked into the records, too. Over the past hundred years, the Panlong Desert’s season of mad sand has deviated five times. Three times it came early, while twice it was delayed. The most recent instance was twenty years ago when it arrived in the middle of the fifth month.”

He Chunhua nodded in recognition. “I remember. I had just arrived in Qiansong Commandery back then. The locals talked about it for years. In fact, for the next seven years, the Hongya Trade Route’s traffic suffered. It only recovered slowly over time.”

After all, people traveled the Hongya Route for its safety. If the desert’s temper could not be predicted, who would risk their life chasing profit?

Sun Fuping said, “What’s interesting is that I uncovered a detail from Ancestor Zhu Gen. Twenty years ago, he dispatched an expedition from Baling to re-examine Panlong Ancient City. He did not go himself, but based on the dates, that team would’ve arrived right around the fourth or fifth month.”

Even Nian Songyu looked startled. “State Preceptor, are you saying... the early arrival that year was caused by them?”

“That is highly likely to be the case. At the very least, the timing lines up,” Sun Fuping said with conviction. “Zhu Gen’s prized grand disciple led that expedition. He would’ve received direct instruction beforehand. And after reaching this place... it seems they succeeded in triggering the season of mad sand early.”

He Lingchuan’s expression was dark. “But did they make it back?”

Sun Fuping let out a heavy breath and shook his head. “That mission failed. The loss hit Zhu Gen hard. After that, Baling never organized another expedition to Panlong City.”

“Doesn’t that prove it’s a death trap?” He Lingchuan laughed in disbelief, his anger now evident. “So why the hell are we here?”

“But what if I told you that during the season of mad sand, the safest place in the entire desert... is Panlong Ancient City itself?” Sun Fuping said, tilting slightly and pointing to the rough ceramic wine set on the shelf. He gestured around. “Look around you. Would any of the things around you survive a real sandstorm?”

The moment he said this, everyone began glancing around in surprise.

It was true. The tavern was open on three sides, exposed to the wind. Yet the tables in the front hall were orderly, the kitchen in the back intact. From where Situ Han sat, he could see two earthen jars still resting on the stove, likely holding salt or lard. If the season of mad sand had swept through here year after year, how could these things still be here? How could this entire tavern, and the rows of shopfronts facing the street, how could any of these wooden structures, many over a century old, still be standing?

When they entered the city earlier, no one had given it a second thought. However, Sun Fuping had just planted a seed.

He Chunhua exhaled softly. “There’s no wind in the eye of the storm.”

So even if the season of mad sand was triggered, no matter how violently the winds howled and the sands flew outside, Panlong City itself would remain untouched.

“You should’ve said that earlier! No wonder we got the wrong idea.” He Lingchuan threw his head back with a loud laugh, dropping the fight with Nian Songyu for now and returning to his seat for a drink of water.

Situ Han muttered cautiously, “But... the season of mad sand lasts four or five months at least. What are we supposed to eat and drink during that time?”

After all, even cultivators needed food eventually, and this was especially the case for this group that was made up of vigorous, ravenous men. This was not a group of ascetic spellcasters who could carry out grain avoidance.

Before anyone else could answer, He Lingchuan beat them to it with a mocking tone, “Use your brains for once. If the state preceptor manages to take the Generous Pot, how’s it gonna keep producing sandstorms? We’ll probably have an easier trip back than the one here!”

He Chunhua’s brow furrowed slightly.

Blunt as he was, He Lingchuan was not wrong. Sun Fuping allowed himself a small breath of relief and stroked the long beard under his chin. “Exactly!”

Getting these two to cooperate took no small effort. But if he had simply tried to eliminate them, leading the remaining expedition would have become a nightmare. The winds of loyalty shifted easily in unfamiliar territory, and a local tyrant like the He Family, even with a lackluster reputation, could be surprisingly brutal to deal with.

But then He Lingchuan turned around and asked another sharp question, “State preceptor, you still haven’t answered my question. What if, after we trigger the season of mad sand... we fail to find the Generous Pot? How do we get out then?”

Now that was the real issue.

Sun Fuping smiled with practiced calm. “Before departing, I received express royal sanction to invoke the origin energy from the state divine altar.”

Everyone’s eyes lit up at those words. The tension in the room immediately eased.

Origin energy was the combined manifestation of a state’s fate, the will of its people, and the morale of its armies.

It significantly amplified divine arts, repelled all manner of demons, and could even unravel enemy arrays. It was one of a state’s most valuable strategic resources, useful in countless ways.

As a protected state reserve, origin energy was typically sealed away within divine altars. Not even high-ranking officials could lay a finger on it. However, state preceptors were an exception, and Sun Fuping had received special permission from the King himself.

With that assurance, the odds of escaping the desert alive suddenly skyrocketed. Though the fate of Yuan was far from its peak, drawing on origin energy to safeguard two hundred people was still well within its capabilities.

Now that things had been said and done, He Lingchuan—fed, watered, and satisfied—stood up and stretched lazily. “In that case, do we get started at dawn?”

Nian Songyu gave a crooked smile that did not reach his eyes. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Sleep,” He Lingchuan said with a yawn. “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day, right? No fine ladies, no music, what else is there to do here but sleep?” Clearly, he enjoyed getting under the man’s skin.

“Who told you you’re done for the night?” Nian Songyu sneered openly now, not even bothering to hide his disdain. “Your work starts tonight. Right now.”

“Work? Like what?” He Lingchuan shot back, lip curled. “You?”

Nian Songyu stepped forward with a dark look on his face, but He Lingchuan casually stepped back, positioning himself next to Zeng Feixiong. “Deputy Commandant Zeng, protect me!”

Sun Fuping gave a dry cough. “Enough. Back to business. Bring over the puppets.”

Only then did He Lingchuan remember the two puppets possessed by Three Corpses Worms, the ones bound back on the walnut boats and had been dragged all the way here. They were still being held outside.