The City of Undead

"Is this what Coiling Dragon City looked like before its destruction?" Mao Tao lowered his voice, as all three men held higher status than him. "The Young Master and I have walked all this way without encountering a single soul."

"There is no one in the city, at least not in the immediate vicinity we scouted," Sun Fuping said slowly. "I was transported into the well, while Commandant Nian landed directly in the moat."

The four of them passed through the city gate, and behind it lay a large plaza. It seemed that in this era of Coiling Dragon City, the triple-walled defenses had yet to be built.

"It appears the year we find ourselves in is even earlier than the fall of Coiling Dragon City," He Lingchuan said, looking around. "There aren't as many fortifications yet."

The Coiling Dragon City they had seen in the desert was armed to the teeth, constantly flexing its muscles to the outside world; the city here seemed remarkably gentle.

The same city, yet it manifested differently across time and space.

The group crossed the plaza. The pool found in the desert version of Coiling Dragon City was absent here, though fortunately, the Black Flood Dragon Totem remained.

Nearby stood a row of buildings, with a post house and inn at the front, followed by various residential homes.

"The layout of the houses is different, too." Nian Songyu took the lead, stepping into a tavern. "When I entered, the stove was still warm."

The tavern doors were open, draped with two hanging cloths. Inside sat six or seven tables, the chairs arranged haphazardly. He Lingchuan noticed that three of the tables held wine jars, with dregs still in the cups and a dozen peanuts left on a plate.

Behind the counter lay an account book. The character for "wine" had only been half-written—just a "sa"—before the brush was tossed aside, the ink barely dry.

Nian Songyu walked to a table and tapped his knuckles against it, producing a dull thud.

"It's all solid matter; this is far too realistic." He then picked up a wine cup and shoved it into Mao Tao's hand. "Drink it."

Mao Tao was startled. "Ah, drink?" Who would dare consume something of unknown origin?

Nian Songyu's expression didn't look like he was joking.

Mao Tao had no choice but to tilt his head back and take a small sip, smacking his lips cautiously.

"It's wine, but the flavor is very weak. In a corner of Blackwater City, this wouldn't even be worth three coppers."

"Drink it all." It wasn't just for a taste.

He Lingchuan remained silent, so Mao Tao, under the gaze of the three men, had to swallow the wine.

"Finished. Now, what do we... ah, my stomach hurts!" Before he could finish, Mao Tao let out a strange cry, dropped the cup, and bolted toward the back.

The latrines were in the rear.

After waiting a while, Nian Songyu gestured toward He Lingchuan with his chin. "Go, see if he's dead yet." His attitude was one of extreme arrogance.

With He Chunhua and the Blackwater City troops absent, he felt no need to show He Lingchuan even a shred of courtesy.

In fact, if the kid dared to put on airs, Nian Songyu intended to beat him until he was spitting teeth, just to vent the frustration he'd been harboring for days.

To his surprise, He Lingchuan neither grew angry nor made excuses; he turned and walked toward the back of the building, giving Nian Songyu no opportunity to lash out.

Nian Songyu was taken aback; the kid was surprisingly sensible.

Halfway there, a breeze blew, causing the leaves to rustle.

He Lingchuan sensed a gust of wind behind him and instinctively dodged, drawing his blade.

Huh? It was just a tree branch swaying in the wind, nearly grazing his back.

He Lingchuan didn't rush to sheath his sword.

Ever since entering this city, he had felt that something was off, as if he were being constantly watched.

That feeling of being shadowed was incredibly grating.

Just then, Mao Tao came toward him, still pulling up his trousers. Seeing the blade in He Lingchuan's hand, he couldn't help but pause. "Young Master, is everything alright?"

"It's fine." He Lingchuan sheathed his blade and took a half-step back. The kid's complexion was dark, and he reeked—it was clear he'd had a harrowing experience. "And you?"

"Not dead, just feeling hollowed out in the gut." Mao Tao rubbed his stomach as he walked out with him.

They returned to the tavern, where Sun Fuping carefully observed Mao Tao's complexion, eyelids, and tongue before saying, "You've been poisoned."

Mao Tao nearly jumped out of his skin, but the National Master continued, "The toxicity is weak. You won't die, but I fear you'll be making a few more trips to the latrine."

Isn't that because that guy surnamed Nian forced me to drink it? Mao Tao cursed the man's ancestors to the eighteenth generation in his mind, though he forced a smile on his face. "That's good, that's good."

"You ate food meant for the dead." Sun Fuping picked up a peanut, crushed it, and rubbed it between his fingers, leaving a handful of ash. "These weren't prepared for the living. No wonder the city is empty."

Nian Songyu understood. "You mean the city's residents are those vengeful spirits that rushed out of the pool?"

"Highly likely. Once they left, this place became a ghost town."

"Those vengeful spirits are the residents of this city?" He Lingchuan asked in surprise. "That can't be right. They seemed completely insane. How could they be law-abiding citizens in this city?"

Although Coiling Dragon City was currently a ghost town, everything was orderly; it was simply devoid of people. The vengeful spirits he had encountered outside were filled with deep-seated hatred, looking as if they wanted to tear the world apart. If they had lived here for a long time, how could the city be so tidy?

"I fear the Great Square Pot is at work," Nian Songyu said. "Coiling Dragon City was destroyed long ago; this place is the most abnormal thing of all."

Mao Tao whispered, "How are we supposed to find the Great Square Pot?" He had thought jumping into the pool would provide a lead, but to find another city inside? How were they supposed to handle this?

He Lingchuan suggested, "Let's go to the Mitian Temple. We found an entrance there before; perhaps we can find new clues now."

"We've already been there. There is no temple," Nian Songyu flatly denied.

He Lingchuan was stunned. "No temple? What do you mean?"

"There is no such temple, can you not understand?" Nian Songyu said coolly. "In that location, there are two restaurants, a theater troupe, and two large shops—one selling jewelry, the other silk."

Right. If clues were so easy to find, would these two have waited for him? He Lingchuan thought for a moment. "The Red General's Mansion?"

"Searched, and there's nothing."

"No mansion, or no clues?" He Lingchuan's patience only grew.

"Neither." Sun Fuping smoothed things over. "The Red General is a demigod body bestowed by the Mitian Deity. If there is no temple, naturally, there is no Red General."

No Red General meant no Red General's Mansion.

"Then there's only one place left?" He Lingchuan scratched his head. "Zhong Shengguang's residence?"

Sun Fuping stood up. "Let's go."

The illusion restored the entire landscape of Coiling Dragon City. He Lingchuan had never expected that one day he would tour this legendary city in such a manner. Judging by the markets, architecture, rivers, and the various utensils and machinery used by the common folk and along the riverbanks, Coiling Dragon City, before it was razed by the fires of war, had been exceptionally prosperous, densely populated, and commercially advanced.

He even spotted waterwheels by the river; these were not for irrigating fields, but for supplying water to nearby shops, sparing the need for manual labor. To accommodate this, there were even specialized bamboo pipelines connecting the riverbanks to the water troughs of the shops.