Chapter 2281: The Unreturnable Home

He Lingchuan had many questions for the Great Shaman, so he asked them.

But after waking up, he couldn't recall a single detail of the conversation!

He Lingchuan rubbed the back of his head and sighed.

With his current Primordial Spirit strength, he shouldn't be able to forget what he saw and heard in the dream.

So, what external force is clouding his memory?

"How annoying!" the mirror muttered, "If the City of the Dead still existed, you wouldn't suffer this disturbance!"

He Lingchuan flicked the mirror with his finger, making it cry out "Ow!" in pain:

"It hasn't disappeared—it's just temporarily shut down."

"Yes, yes." Whatever you say, old man, it's just self-deception.

In fact, He Lingchuan's last entry into the Panlong World was during the earth-shattering battle between the Red General, the Dragon God, and Mitian.

After that, he could no longer enter the Panlong World, whether by day or night.

During those great battles, the Panlong World frequently displayed celestial omens, and He Lingchuan had a premonition then, knowing the Great Vase had undergone new changes.

But he never expected the Panlong World to remain closed for several years!

The last time the Panlong World closed, it lasted only a few months; this time it's more than ten times longer.

I don't know how the Panlongcheng's eastern campaign against Xiluo is progressing, or whether the war between the Panlong Army and the Bekaa forces has ended.

I don't know how far Xin Yi has led the Shahe tribe in resisting Bekaa oppression.

Most importantly, I don't know if Sun Fuzi is still well.

After the Panlong World closed, He Lingchuan could at least dream normally.

But he doesn't like this change at all.

Will the Panlong World ever reopen? He's pondered this for a long time, with no sign.

The path taken in that world has already diverged completely from real history.

Does it still need He Lingchuan?

He has no idea.

If he can never enter again...

He Lingchuan rubbed his temples, feeling a bit irritable.

Though he now commands splendid rivers and mountains and hundreds of millions of subjects, being unable to return to the Panlong World feels like being unable to go home; in his idle moments, his heart feels hollow and unsettled.

Even the most splendid palace in the world cannot replace his ordinary dwelling in Panlongcheng. He still remembers the day before the western campaign against Xiluo, sitting on a bamboo chair under a large tree, sunlight filtering through the gaps of the parasol tree leaves, casting dappled light on the chessboard. He wanted to renege, but Sun Fuzi slapped the back of his hand:

"Hey, a true man has no regrets in his moves!"

No matter how great the achievements, they cannot fill the loss of being unable to return home.

Two hours later, Elder Blade of Yingshan arrived to report back after an audience:

"Your Majesty, we met with Sun Hongye this morning and exchanged a few words. The young man who drank with us at the Baishawan inn back then is indeed him."

The Emperor has always required subordinates to report work directly and concisely, with more detail and less ornamentation, so Elder Blade continued:

"Time has passed, and I don't recall the conversation details clearly, but my two disciples beside me remember—they recalled cursing the demonic puppets while drinking and mentioning the heavenly demon's plan. At the time, Sun Hongye asked in great detail; my grand-disciple Wang Mengyan had some suspicions, but thinking we were about to set sail, he didn't press further. This time, the disciples deliberately asked him more details, such as what wine he drank that day, who among us settled the bill, and which two gangs were fighting outside the house. These could only be answered by the person himself."

He Lingchuan hummed in acknowledgment.

Elder Blade's recollection matches Sun Hongye's description.

This is good. He Lingchuan least wants to see his old comrade turn into an enemy shooting arrows at him from the shadows.

￥￥￥￥￥

However, He Lingchuan and his three companions were unable to depart as planned due to an unexpected incident.

The next evening, an urgent transmission flew in from the southeast:

North of Wei'an City, at the mouth of the Bingjiang River, a mountain suddenly appeared, diverting the river and cutting off the Luo River!

Currently, the Luo River's water level has dropped below the dry line; the riverbed will be exposed in two days, and Wei'an City will lose water in three.

The Xianfu Qixia Sect has admitted responsibility for the Bingjiang's diversion, though the method is unknown.

The Qixia Sect has already shown signs near Wei'an City and may intend to establish a base there.

Wei'an City, due to its geographical advantage, has been developed by the authorities into a major city, as the Bingjiang splits into two tributaries here: the Lu River to the northeast and the Luo River to the southeast. The Luo River flows directly through Wei'an City year-round.

With the Luo River cut off by the Qixia Sect, people must now fetch water from the Lu River forty-five li away, passing several mountains along the way, and no one knows how the Qixia Sect will make things difficult.

The city's production and life cannot lack water; the Qixia Sect's actions endanger the survival of over a million people.

Along with this urgent report, a packet of soil was also attached.

The water that should have flowed into the Luo River from the Bingjiang is blocked by this suddenly appearing mountain. Local officials have brought people to excavate and dig soil these past two days, but no matter how they dig, the mountain's elevation remains unchanged—it cannot be removed.

Nowadays in Cangyan, when they encounter a mountain, they open it; when they encounter a bridge, they build it—their engineering capabilities are immense. Yet the seventh-largest city by population is stymied by a small hill, which must be the work of immortals.

In Wei'an City, opinions vary; some call this mountain that sprang up overnight the "Flying Peak," believing it must have flown from elsewhere.

The Wei'an City garrison, while organizing the mountain excavation, also sent the excavated soil over.

This is certainly not baseless or idle speculation. Upon seeing the soil sample, He Lingchuan frowned.

Normal forest soil should be loose and breathable, with occasional clods that crumble when pinched.

But this soil is dark red, feels as soft and pliable as dough when taken out, and can even be pulled into threads when stretched.

Upon close inspection, the soil contains abundant colloid, making it very sticky; if brought near the nose, it also emits a strange fishy odor.

What is this?

He Lingchuan divided the sample into seven or eight portions and sent them to seven or eight experts, urging immediate analysis.

Today's Cangyan is full of talent, with strong research capabilities. However, most samples yielded no substantial answers, except the one sent to Dong Rui, which received feedback:

Dong Rui himself dropped his current experiment and rushed over in haste.

"Where did this come from?" Upon seeing He Lingchuan, he immediately demanded, "Where was this soil sample dug up from?"

"A mountain suddenly appeared at the source of a tributary of the Ice River, blocking the Luo River's water—no matter how they dug, it wouldn't collapse. This lump of mud was taken from the mountain's peak." He Lingchuan summarized in a few words. "So, is there anything special about it?"

"A mountain that won't collapse?" Dong Rui automatically translated, "Meaning, this mountain can grow on its own?"

"Probably, I haven't seen it myself."

"Then you'd better see it for yourself!"

He Lingchuan raised an eyebrow: "Why?"

Dong Rui said word by word: "This soil sample contains demonic essence!"