All the Well Mountains were connected. Huang Ji used the Enlightened Beast to open every hidden doorway between them.
The group split up and searched each area.
Sure enough, at the bottom of every Well Mountain was an Art Hall, and each hall held an Embroidered Star Chart.
They photographed the charts, then pried the grains of five-colored stone off them.
Brando deliberately went off alone. He wandered into an Art Hall, only to be left speechless the moment he entered.
A conch-shaped aircraft floated in the middle of the hall. It resembled a flying chair, and seated on it was a corpse! The body was perfectly preserved, lifelike even: an elderly woman.
Dressed in plain clothes, her hair dry and brittle, she rested her left arm on the chair's armrest and lightly supported her cheek. Her head tilted to one side as though she had dozed off while sitting there. It was almost as if she had never died, only fallen asleep.
On her right hand was a thin glove that shimmered with starlight. Her hand hung naturally at her side, but a quail-egg-sized piece of five-colored stone floated three centimeters from the glove's palm.
No one knew how many years ago the woman had died. It seemed she had still been assembling the star chart on the wall right up to the end.
The conch-shaped chair beneath her remained in its working state, floating silently as it had when she was alive.
Her right hand had fallen after her death, yet the glove still held the five-colored stone three centimeters from her palm.
Thousands of years had passed, but nothing in this room had changed.
"Hua Ji was right after all!"
The moment Brando saw it, he knew he had lost. Worse, he had found the body himself.