# 367
Chapter 367 – The Demon God’s Bedchamber
“Since the hall’s empty, should we go in and take a look?” Baili Pangpang craned his neck curiously toward the interior.
“I’m afraid we have no choice.”
An Qingyu stepped back from the vermilion doors, frowning. “They’re locked from the outside—can’t be opened from within.”
“Locked?”
Li Deyang glanced at the slender An Qingyu, skeptical. He strode up and yanked the handles several times; the doors didn’t budge. “That’s odd. They swung open easily a minute ago.”
Cao Yuan sighed, sweeping his flashlight across the hall. “If we can’t go back, we go forward. Let’s search for another way out.”
The four advanced cautiously, eyes darting. The front of the hall was bare—only a few colossal pillars—until they reached the center, where a gilded throne rose before them.
Over thirty meters tall, nearly seventy with its carved backrest, the seat was so enormous it would have punched through a normal roof.
Baili Pangpang traced the throne with his beam. “That’s one heck of a chair.”
“It belongs to the demon god who guards this celestial palace. Divine beings are huge; I bet Emperor Fengdu’s throne is even bigger,” Cao Yuan said.
He turned. An Qingyu was staring at the floor, lost in thought.
“What’s on your mind?” Cao Yuan asked.
An Qingyu adjusted his glasses. “Remember the gray-green wall we saw outside?”
“Yeah.”
“Something bothers me.” An Qingyu frowned. “If this really is the legendary Fengdu, why is there a Han-dynasty rampart encircling it? Fengdu predates the Han. Whoever built that wall must have known it was here. Constructing a subterranean fortification that size would drain a kingdom’s resources—yet history books never mention it.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand why they did it.”
Cao Yuan pondered. “Maybe an emperor seeking immortality struck a bargain with Fengdu?”
“Possible. But why a wall?” An Qingyu countered. “If an emperor wanted eternal life, wouldn’t he offer tribute instead? That barrier looks like… they were afraid something inside Fengdu might get out.”
“Get out…” Cao Yuan murmured. “A Mystery? No—Mysteries appeared only after the fog arrived a century ago. Timeline’s wrong.”
An Qingyu’s eyes sharpened. “Who says there were no Mysteries before the fog?”
“Without Night Watch back then, Great Xia would’ve collapsed,” Cao Yuan replied.
An Qingyu gave him a meaningful look. “But before the fog… we had gods.”
Cao Yuan froze, shock spreading across his face. “You’re saying Mysteries might have existed earlier, and Great Xia stayed intact because gods protected us?”
“Just a theory. No proof.” An Qingyu shrugged.
Cao Yuan exhaled, glancing at the throne. “Whatever the truth, that wall is weird. For now, let’s find a way out.”
They circled the throne and followed a side passage into a vaster space. Here, furnishings appeared: a bed, a table, a black bookcase stuffed with scrolls, and spent incense in a corner.
“A bedroom?” Baili Pangpang asked.
“…A bedchamber,” Cao Yuan corrected. “The demon god’s private quarters.”
“Gods sleep?”
Cao Yuan ignored him, sweeping his light across the colossal furniture. To mortal eyes the pieces were titanic; the bed alone spanned two football fields. Searching the room would take forever.
While Baili Pangpang pondered divine slumber, An Qingyu approached the bookcase. His gaze locked on one scroll. Threads shot from his palm, snagged the document, and eased it down.
“What is it?” Li Deyang asked.
An Qingyu unrolled the scroll on the floor, skimmed the text, and looked up at Cao Yuan.
“I think I know how that wall came to be…”
……
Lin Qiye dodged paper soldiers as he raced toward the earlier crash. Thanks to Baili Pangpang’s distraction, most of the troopers were gone; only cold gusts—unseen ghosts—brushed his skin.
Soon he reached the collapsed house. Empty.
“Which way?” he muttered, tracing the road with his eyes. Ahead, black palaces loomed.
Demon gods’ halls?
He hesitated only a moment, then strode toward them. Baili Pangpang’s group had to be inside one of those structures.