Chapter 140

Standing directly beneath the magnificent and luxurious palace, which resembled a "Heavenly Palace," I felt utterly insignificant. This type of palace architecture embodies the very essence of classical Chinese architectural style and achievement. It is a direct reflection of imperial politics and ethical concepts. As early as the Xia Dynasty, prototypes of palaces appeared in Chinese history, reaching their peak during the Sui and Tang dynasties. Later dynasties such as the Ming and Qing could not surpass them, merely refining the details further.

Although the "Ancient Dian Kingdom" was tucked away in the remote southwestern wilderness, considering itself a barbarian state outside civilization, it was originally part of the Qin state, and royal authority remained firmly in Qin hands. By the time of Emperor Wu of Han, the construction of this "Xian King's Tomb" naturally followed the overall framework of Qin-Han architecture, its appearance and layout adhering to Qin royal standards, while its building materials incorporated substantial advanced experience from the Han dynasty.

Before the palace stood a long flight of jade steps, their number corresponding to celestial bodies, totaling ninety-nine steps. Due to the terrain, although the steps were wide enough, they were extremely steep, with the lowest step extending upward straight from the rainbow light below to the palace gate. The main hall was constructed from 160 nanmu trees as its primary structure, its roof tiled with golden glazed tiles, towering coiled-dragon golden cassia trees on both sides, and a base of intricately carved Han white marble balustrades. Not to mention the carved beams and painted pillars, purple columns and golden beams—all exemplifying the utmost in luxury.

These details exactly matched the description in the "Zhen Ling Pu." On this perilous cliff, layered rocks overlapped, tier upon tier of palaces embedded into the cliff face, gradually ascending. In the midst of "suspending void and mist," there existed a peril of wanting to cling yet not clinging. We three gazed until dizzy and terrified, stepping onto the stone plank path along the mountain hollow, ascending the jade steps and looking out: we saw golden peaks with rocks containing pavilions, ancient cliff paths with waterfalls hanging like curtains, and ancient trees and strange vines surrounding the deep pool. Rainbow lights shimmered in all directions, distant bird calls echoed from secluded valleys—a scene utterly detached from the world, refined and otherworldly. Had we not previously witnessed numerous horrifying things hidden in this deep valley, we might truly have mistaken this place for a fairyland.

Yet now, regardless of how wondrous the "Heavenly Palace" spectacle appeared, I instinctively felt a sinister aura within. No matter how lavishly decorated or how luxurious, it remained a palace for the dead—a great tomb. And who knows how many perished to build this great tomb, as the saying goes: "Ten thousand fell felling timber, one ascended to heaven."

The white jade steps hung above the deep pool in the secluded valley, both steep and slippery. Possibly due to a shift in center of gravity, the entire palace leaned outward several degrees toward the deep pool, creating the constant possibility of toppling into it; those with less courage could not ascend the "Heavenly Palace." Pangzi had already turned pale on the plank road, unable to utter half a word, and now, at this extreme height, his feet planted on this perilous step, he was utterly disoriented, only able to proceed slowly as Shirley Yang and I supported him, eyes closed.

Upon reaching the top of the jade steps, I suddenly noticed: the air here was completely different from that beneath the dragon halo below. Below the dragon halo, moisture pervaded—everything, including the vines and plank road stones, was damp as if recently rained upon—yet where we now stood in the Heavenly Palace was extraordinarily cool and dry. Who would have thought that between high and low, the humidity difference would be so great? This must be the effect of the dragon halo sealing off the moisture below. It is precisely in such an environment where clarity and turbidity are indistinct that the palace architecture has remained intact until today, as good as new. Indeed, it lives up to being a marvel of subtle profundity, the foremost divine aperture for auspicious signs. The divine positioning of the "Heavenly Wheel Dragon Halo" is truly extraordinary.

This jade step was already difficult to traverse, and carrying Pangzi made it even more arduous. The three of us dragged and climbed, finally scraping onto the platform, where I asked Shirley Yang for the Diamond Umbrella and approached the palace gate. There, beside the gate stood a stone stele, beneath which knelt a strange beast, posed as if bearing the stele in the clouds. The stele bore several large characters, their strokes intricate, none of which I could recognize, though I suspected they were ancient seal script.

I had Shirley Yang come over to decipher them; after a single glance, she pointed to each character and read them aloud: "Mysterious beyond mysterious, the gateway to all wonders (from the Dao De Jing?). Lingyun Heavenly Palace, Hall of Immortal Gathering." It turned out this ancient tomb's upper pavilion had a name: "Lingyun Palace," and within it stood a hall called the "Hall of Immortal Gathering."

I couldn't help but laugh and scold: "The Xian King must have gone mad wanting to become an immortal, thinking that by building a palace on a cliff precipice, he could summon immortals to come and meet him, play chess, discuss music, and pass on some immortal arts of eternal life."

Shirley Yang said to me: "Which emperor doesn't pursue longevity? But after Qin Shi Huang and Han Wu Di, later rulers mostly realized it was merely a fleeting dream like light and shadow—birth, aging, sickness, and death are nature's law, even a true Son of Heaven cannot defy it. Even after understanding this, they still hoped to enjoy their former glory and wealth after death, hence their great emphasis on the layout of imperial tombs."

I said to Shirley Yang: "If they hadn't indulged in extravagant excess and lavish burial goods, there would be no such thing as gold-digging grave robbers in this world." As I spoke, I lifted my leg and kicked open the palace gate. The gate was merely closed, not locked, but extremely heavy. Even after three kicks, I only managed to open a narrow slit, barely wide enough for one person to squeeze through. Inside was pitch black, nothing visible.

Although past experience suggested that mechanisms and hidden weapons were rare in such upper structures, I still unwillingly took this unnecessary risk, fearing an accident. As soon as I opened the gate, I immediately darted aside to the door's edge, raised the Diamond Umbrella to shield my vital points. After a moment, seeing no abnormal movement inside, I returned and widened the gap further.

I nodded to Pangzi and Shirley Yang, signaling it was safe to enter. We three took our weapons and lighting equipment, jointly pushed the gate fully open, but due to the angle, although it was daytime, sunlight could only reach the doorway. The deep interior of the vast palace remained dark and gloomy, so we had to raise our flashlights to probe the path.

Just as I stepped over the tall redwood threshold of the gate, I saw dozens of colossal statues standing on either side inside. First were two mighty bronze guardian lions, each taller than a person; the one on the left was merely a male lion, its paw pressing a golden ball, symbolizing supreme power to unify the universe.

The one on the right had its paw resting on a young lion, symbolizing endless descendants—this was the lioness.

The bronze pedestal on which the lions crouched was carved with phoenixes and peonies. Together, the three symbolized "king": king of beasts, king of birds, king of flowers.

Although stone lions are common, bronze lions are rarer but not unheard of, so this was not strange in itself. What was strange was that this pair of bronze lions was not placed before the gate, but inside, for unknown reasons—altogether, it was highly unreasonable.

Behind the bronze lions, in order, stood one pair each of xiezhi, qilin, elephants, camels, and horses. Behind the bronze beasts were thirty-six statues of military officers, civil officials, and meritorious subjects. As for the bronze figures, their postures and attire were highly peculiar; rather than saying they served the king's way in court, they seemed more like performing strange movements in some ritual. A host of bronze beasts and bronze figures, like stars surrounding the moon, guarded the innermost depths of the palace where the throne stood.

Pangzi said: "How is this palace any different from the Minglou we visited at the Thirteen Tombs? Although the Thirteen Tombs' treasure tops and golden covers are also palace-form, they lack these strange bronze figures and bronze sales."

I said to Pangzi: "Not really strange—after all, all pursue serving the dead as they served the living; different dynasties, different forms. But their purpose is entirely the same. When we went to Shaanxi for... travel, didn't we also see piles of large tiles in the Han Mausoleum area? Those are the remnants of palace structures collapsed above Han tombs, the wooden beams long rotted into nothing after a millennium of erosion, while the bricks and tiles have endured to this day.

The so-called 'different dynasties, different forms' is merely my own words to comfort myself; as for what these silent bronze statues, standing for a thousand years in the palace, might signify, I still have not the faintest clue. But I do not wish to turn this doubt into psychological pressure on Pangzi and Shirley Yang; I hope I am merely overthinking.

Seeing the extraordinary spectacle in the palace, Shirley Yang also said: "This Dian Kingdom, a southwestern barbarian region, has a royal tomb of such grandeur; compared to that, the tombs of Tang Zong and Han Wu, which represent centralized authority, contain treasures calculated in thousands of tons, and who knows their true scale. Unfortunately, they were severely damaged long ago, so we modern people will never have the chance to see them—we can only let our imaginations soar."

I said to Shirley Yang: "Not every royal tomb possesses the grandeur of this Xian King's Tomb; the Xian King apparently made no provisions for his descendants, possibly his lifelong pursuit was simply to be buried in the dragon halo after death, to become an immortal. During Qin and Han times, the craze for seeking immortality and alchemy was at its height."

Since this "Lingyun Palace" is an above-ground facility of the tomb, not the burial chamber housing the coffin, we felt relatively at ease, unlike the tension of entering the dark palace proper. As we talked, we had already walked deep into the palace, the light from the gate behind us now seeming very distant. The silence in this hall was extraordinary; the less movement, the more it began to feel gloomy and terrifying.

My palms began to sweat—after all, this place had likely seen no living person for over two thousand years—but there was not the slightest trace of damp mold; relatively speaking, it was slightly dry. Nearly every object was covered in a thick layer of dust, this dust originating from the palace's own bricks and tiles, each layer preserving two thousand years of history, with not a speck of foreign dust.

The gold-inlaid, jade-inlaid throne stood at the deepest part of the "Hall of Immortal Gathering," before it a golden water pool acting as a barrier, yet with no white jade bridge connecting across. The pool was not narrow, but its water had long since dried up. From here, shining the "Wolf's Eye" across the pool, I could only faintly see a red jade dragon coiled upon the throne, unable to discern whether a seated statue of the Xian King was present.

Pangzi, seeing this, cursed: "Is it that once someone becomes a leader, they all like to distance themselves from the masses? And he's that far from his ministers, still damn discussing state affairs? Come on, let's go take a look." He shouldered the "Chicago Typewriter" and leapt first into the dry pool, over a meter deep.

I and Shirley Yang followed him into the dry golden water pool, where we saw a wooden boat, shaped like a lotus leaf; apparently, crossing this pool previously required boarding a boat. It seems the Xian King also enjoyed some pastimes.

Before we could even reach the far end of the dry pool, we grew impatient, waving the "Wolf's Eye" wildly across to the opposite side. The throne appeared to have no statue upon it, but behind it was something highly unusual; we three stared, growing ever more curious, unable to wait, scrambling up to the far side. My heart began to flutter with anxiety: Could it be that, relying on my Hu某人's godlike ability to predict events, I had actually misunderstood the matter of heavenly collapse? It seems heavenly collapse and plane crashes should be unrelated—so is the Xian King's corpse still in the tomb or not?