Chapter 48: Old Tales Told at the Thirteen Tombs
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A few days ago, Xu Yourong had mentioned that if he wanted to know about the situation in the Mausoleum of Books, he could ask someone. Even if the Holy Empress Dowager didn’t say anything, someone would surely know. Since it concerned the Mausoleum of Books, who in this world could know more than that person? That person had already sat in the Mausoleum of Books for centuries, withered and still.
They walked past the clear canal water and arrived before the pavilion, bowing to the man beneath it.
There were few in the world worthy of receiving a bow from both her and Chen Changsheng, but the man beneath the pavilion was different after all.
The continent’s foremost divine general, Han Qing, was of the highest seniority, the oldest in age, and possessed boundless cultivation. Years ago, he had already approached the sacred realm infinitely. On the battlefield, he was practically invincible. He was the only one in the present world who could compare to the legendary divine generals of old. Figures like Xu Shiji and Xue He were utterly incomparable, and even the current Eight Winds and Rains dared not claim they could defeat him with certainty.
What inspired the most awe and lament among the people was that this man had guarded the Mausoleum of Books for centuries without leaving, as if he intended to sit there until the end of his life.
“Greetings, I am Xu Yourong. By order of my master, I have come to ask you a few questions, senior.”
Xu Yourong looked at the man inside the armor and spoke softly.
Because he was covered, it was impossible to confirm whether the man inside the armor had opened his eyes, but Chen Changsheng saw it clearly. Some dust in the gaps of the armor suddenly flew up, like tiny moths dancing in the sunlight. At the same time, he felt it distinctly—a gaze like an iron spear had landed on him and Xu Yourong.
“Who is your master?”
An aged voice emerged from deep within the armor, carrying a rusted, weathered tone, filled with immense vicissitude.
Xu Yourong said, “I come from Nanxi Zhai.”
Nanxi Zhai was divided into outer and inner sects, but only the current saintess or direct lineage disciples could walk the world in the name of Nanxi Zhai.
The winter light fell on the surface of the armor, adding no warmth but instead making it seem even colder, just like the voice from within.
“Why didn’t she come herself?”
“My master said that the questions she had, you couldn’t answer back then, and you still can’t answer now. So she left this opportunity to me.”
“Then ask.”
“How many Heavenly Book Stele were taken from the Mausoleum of Books?”
Xu Yourong’s gaze passed through the dancing dust and winter light, landing on the divine general’s armor, calm and gentle.
But her question was as direct and sharp as the sacred path on the southern slope of the Mausoleum of Books, as if it would pierce the sky itself.
Chen Changsheng glanced at her, thinking that Divine General Han Qing had guarded the Mausoleum of Books for centuries, watching over its sacred path and secrets. Many Heavenly Book Stele were not in the Mausoleum of Books but had been lost outside. This was undoubtedly the greatest secret of the Mausoleum of Books. How could he possibly answer?
Unexpectedly, the next moment, that aged and cold voice came from within the armor.
“Twelve.”
Hearing this answer, Chen Changsheng was surprised. First, that Divine General Han Qing was willing to answer this question at all, and second, the answer itself.
He exchanged a glance with Xu Yourong, seeing each other’s shock—twelve Heavenly Book Stele had been lost to the outside world?
“Were all of them taken by that person?” Xu Yourong continued, looking at the man beneath the pavilion.
“Eleven.”
“And the last one?”
“Taken by the Founding Emperor.”
Hearing this, Chen Changsheng recalled the notebook Wang Zhice had hidden in Lingyan Pavilion.
In that notebook, Wang Zhice had mentioned that in his later years, the Founding Emperor was confined in the palace, indulging in pleasure and music, and finally gave him something…
“Zhou Dufu took the Heavenly Book Stele, so that’s why there’s the concept of the former tomb?”
“Correct. That’s why the current Mausoleum of Books is actually thirteen tombs.”
One broken stele served as a boundary marker; twelve steles naturally made thirteen tombs. This wasn’t a particularly difficult calculation. (Note)
“Where… are those Heavenly Book Stele now?”
Xu Yourong finally asked the most critical question.
Before coming to the pavilion on the sacred path, both she and Chen Changsheng had believed that all the Heavenly Book Stele were in their hands, but now it seemed otherwise.
“Where the Heavenly Book Stele taken by that person are now, no one knows.”
Hearing the voice from within the armor, Chen Changsheng lowered his head and said nothing, thinking to himself that he did know.
“But one Heavenly Book Stele… should be in the hands of the Demon Lord.”
Hearing this, Chen Changsheng and Xu Yourong were finally shocked.
The mountain tomb was silent. The clear, shallow water in the canal flowed slowly, making no sound either.
“What use do they have for taking these Heavenly Book Stele?”
“First, this goes beyond what I originally agreed with Nanxi Zhai. Second, if I knew, why would I have sat here withered for centuries?”
After saying this, no more sound came.
The winter wind howled inside and outside the pavilion, carrying dust from the armor and stirring the cold light. That divine general seemed to have turned back into a statue.
Leaving the pavilion and returning to Xun Mei’s small courtyard, Chen Changsheng and Xu Yourong looked at the few plum blossoms outside the fence and were silent for a moment.
“Around Zhou’s tomb, there were originally eleven Heavenly Book Stele. If the one Wang Zhice got from the Founding Emperor wasn’t originally there, that means we were all wrong from the start. The person who entered Zhou’s Garden and took that Heavenly Book Stele, forcing Zhou Dufu to use ten thousand swords to suppress it, wasn’t Wang Zhice—it was the Demon Lord.”
“That Heavenly Book Stele is now in the Demon Lord’s hands, and we have eleven.”
Xu Yourong turned to face him and said softly, “There’s no need to worry too much.”
Besides Chen Changsheng, she was the only one in the world who had seen the ten Heavenly Book Stele around Zhou’s tomb and the black stone Chen Changsheng had taken from the sword sheath. Since Zhou’s Garden had reopened, Chen Changsheng should have had eleven Heavenly Book Stele, but that night by the palace window, he had only produced ten.
Xu Yourong had never asked him where the last Heavenly Book Stele was. She could probably guess, and even if they split them evenly as Chen Changsheng had said, they should have had ten each. That black stone, secretly given to Wang Zhice by the Founding Emperor and then passed to Chen Changsheng, was something he had brought into Zhou’s Garden—it was his own possession.
“I never worry about whether I’ll get lost in worlds I’m not yet capable of entering.”
Chen Changsheng looked at her and said, “I just worry that you might have to bear unnecessary pressure because of me.”
This was a question they had never discussed.
Xu Yourong was the current Southern Saintess. Since childhood, she had been seen as the future leader of the human world. From birth, she had grown accustomed to living with a sense of responsibility.
Back in the snow temple on the Never-Setting Sun Grasslands, she had told him that this kind of life was indeed tiring, but she was used to it. The reappearance of the Heavenly Book Stele was a matter of great importance to the human world, possibly even affecting the balance of power between humans and demons. With her heart embracing the world, if this matter hadn’t been related to Chen Changsheng, she would have long since announced it to the world and returned those Heavenly Book Stele to the Mausoleum of Books.
That snowy night, after Chen Changsheng handed the five stone beads to her, he had only then thought of this issue.
He didn’t want her to bear that kind of pressure.
…
…
(Note: Actually, to make sure I had exactly thirteen tombs, I did do some serious verification. Then, see you at eight in the evening. This really feels like I’m constantly using up my saved drafts and risking a hiatus.)