Chapter 87: Ten Thousand Coffins Pay Homage, Heaven and Earth Are Split

(PS: Still not satisfied—lacks feeling.)

The golden crow sinks in the west; the moon rabbit rises in the east.

After much effort, Fang Shi finally dug up the entire root system of the Owl Tree.

Along with it were countless bones—human and beast alike.

These were the remains of the Owl Tree’s victims.

They were buried beneath the soil under the Owl Tree, entangled by its roots.

Converted into strands of nourishment to sustain the Owl Tree.

If left unchecked for centuries,

The Owl Tree would grow into an ancient giant owl, a legendary terrifying plant.

At that time, its cry of despair would blanket a forest, turning the land into a dead zone.

Its terrifying power would spare no legendary creature weaker than itself.

Unless one used a Wish Spell or a legendary technique, the Owl Tree could not be killed.

Those struck by it could only close their eyes and wait for death.

Fang Shi went to such lengths to move the Owl Tree

because its roots were planted in an inconvenient spot.

Right atop the Yang family’s ancestral tomb.

The broken walls and ruins still hinted at the site’s former glory.

It was built by descendants of the Yang family who returned to the homeland.

And they regularly performed ancestral rites.

Looking back now, the Yang family’s intentions were far from pure.

They had not forgotten the ancestral edict passed down by their forebears.

After returning, under the guise of investment, they claimed land in the cemetery and built a ancestral hall.

The authorities, swayed by the money and knowing the land originally belonged to the Yang family, did not interfere.

They allowed the Yang family to act as they pleased.

Every year during the Yang family’s ancestral worship, it was a lively affair.

Hundreds of clan members from around the world gathered together, a true grand ceremony.

Eventually, nearly all staff at Yi Gao Cemetery were Yang family descendants.

They expanded into upstream and downstream industries, turning the Yang family into the leading force in Ancheng’s funeral industry.

Of course, talking about this now is utterly meaningless.

After the apocalypse, ten households were empty in nine; the Yang family’s former glory was long gone.

The Owl Tree’s immense power had smashed the grand ancestral hall into ruins.

Everything vanished completely.

After clearing the Owl Tree’s roots, Fang Shi eagerly slipped through the opened fissure into the tomb chamber.

Indeed, the Yang family’s ancestral tomb was built with remarkable spaciousness.

Through generations of expansion,

it resembled an underground residential district—well-ventilated and equipped with full living amenities.

Fang Shi carried his smokeless oil lamp, searching everywhere.

He saw not only the quiet chambers housing coffins,

but also modern equipment: electric lights, computers, air conditioners, televisions.

Before his rebirth, the tomb above had been destroyed by legendary figures.

So this was Fang Shi’s first time seeing such a sight—he couldn’t help but be stunned.

Clearly, the Yang family, to maintain long-term control of this tomb,

had turned it into a living quarters.

The corpses aboveground were clear proof.

Even before the apocalypse, people had been stationed here long-term.

But Fang Shi had no interest in anything the Yang family had done.

He was searching for a passage—a direct route down to the ancient tomb cluster.

That place was his true destination.

Soon, Fang Shi arrived before a massive door cast in concrete.

It was clearly built to military bunker standards.

Fang Shi was speechless—why had the Yang family been so cautious?

The door looked at least twenty centimeters thick—extremely careful.

He was too lazy to find a key, so he drew his Earth Dragon Sword and slashed forward.

BOOM!

A torrent of air surged from the blade’s tip—Fang Shi had unleashed his full strength, striking at supersonic speed.

CRASH!

A deep sword scar instantly appeared on the thick concrete door.

A cold gust of wind shot straight through the crack.

CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!

Three more strikes—the bunker door now bore a small opening wide enough for one person to pass.

Fang Shi shoved hard—the small door crashed heavily to the ground.

At the same time, a peculiar underground chill swept in with the wind.

Fang Shi waited a long while, until the air inside had fully refreshed.

Then he slowly descended the stairs.

The stairs spiraled downward, stretching endlessly into darkness.

Added to the profound blackness below, the smokeless oil lamp was the only light source.

Walking upon it felt like treading the ancient Yellow Spring Road to the Underworld.

He couldn’t fathom how the Yang family’s ancestors had ever constructed this passage.

Though now there were clear signs of concrete and steel reinforcement,

traces of wooden load-bearing structures were still visible.

Indeed, when humans chase money, they can achieve any impossible miracle.

In the latter half, the wall style gradually changed.

From modern concrete to ancient, weathered stone bricks.

Fang Shi knew—he was close. The ancient tomb cluster would soon appear before him.

…

Stepping out from the stairwell, Fang Shi entered a vast expanse.

It was a massive underground cavern, roughly twenty meters high.

In the distance, dark silhouettes stood in dense rows.

This was a true underground city.

It had city walls, watchtowers, even a moat encircling the entire settlement.

But it was also a vast necropolis.

In the deep, dark waters, coffins floated upon the surface.

Encircling the entire city.

Moreover, on bridges, streets, inside houses—in every corner—lay a coffin.

As if every spot required a guardian.

Even more astonishing: no matter where the coffins were placed,

their heads all faced toward the city’s center, as if paying homage.

As to why, Fang Shi knew perfectly well.

The legendary Golden Corpse now rested within the building at the city’s center.

All other coffins were merely its subjects.

Alive, be a hero; dead, be a ghostly champion.

This was clearly a feng shui arrangement.

Fortunately, Fang Shi had no need to enter the city—his treasure lay elsewhere.

Fang Shi walked along the edge of the moat to the left side of the underground city.

There stood a massive stone wall, riddled with hollow pits.

With the smokeless oil lamp’s light, he could clearly see:

Inside each dark pit lay a statue, sized like a human.

Like a cave of ten thousand Buddhas.

The statues grinned, glared, or wore countless bizarre expressions—each a reflection of mortal faces.

Especially lifelike were these carvings.

Its eyes, like those of a living person, seemed to gaze upon worshippers bowing before it.

Fang Shi paid no mind and rushed straight toward a statue in the corner.

It was a lively statue, like an innocent, pure child.

Yet in this deep, dark environment, it radiated an aura of malevolence.

Fang Shi carefully observed it, then confirmed without doubt.

He reached behind the statue and pressed hard on the coccyx.

A passage slowly revealed itself within the hollow behind the statue.

But it was only one meter high—Fang Shi didn’t mind.

He crawled straight in, crawling and turning for dozens of meters.

Suddenly, a vast secret chamber appeared before Fang Shi.

In the center of the chamber lay a meditation cushion.

Upon it sat a skeleton, cross-legged.

The skeleton wore a Daoist robe, its bones gleaming like white jade.

It emitted a soft, glowing white light in the darkness.

This was Fang Shi’s destination—the skeleton held the opportunity he sought.

On the skeleton’s right hand rested a jade ring.

It was this ring that had raised Fang Shi’s perception to 18 points.

With no flesh to hinder him, he easily removed the ring.

As he had in his previous life, Fang Shi extended his consciousness into it.

Shhh!

A wisp of ethereal energy flowed from the ring, spreading along Fang Shi’s consciousness into his mind.

This was the miraculous object that had once enhanced his perception in his past life.

Fang Shi anticipated it would work its magic again.

No! What’s happening?

The ethereal energy did not, as he expected, directly reshape his brain.

Instead, it surged straight toward his niwan palace.

The fragile, narrow niwan palace was instantly filled with the ethereal energy.

Fang Shi felt his forehead swell with unbearable pain.

But this was not the end—the ethereal energy began to slowly rotate within the niwan palace, growing faster and faster.

Fang Shi’s pain intensified, becoming unbearable.

His forehead swelled high, like a pus-filled boil.

As the boil pulsed, thin spiritual energy from outside began pouring into Fang Shi’s forehead.

Gradually, the speed of the ethereal energy increased further.

The energy core he carried on his person began leaking energy.

In an instant, it was completely drained.

At this moment, Fang Shi’s niwan palace was brimming with immense energy.

He felt as if a massive bomb had been planted inside his brain.

And it was about to begin its countdown.

According to the knowledge he had learned, the niwan palace was the location of the upper dantian.

It was extremely fragile; flooding it recklessly with spiritual energy would only burst his brain.

Then his soul would be damaged, turning him into a fool.

Unconsciously, Fang Shi grew panicked—why had his once-perfect past-life fortune turned into this disaster?

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to stop it—he had absolutely no way to do so.

As the ethereal energy spun, a searing pain struck directly at his soul.

In an instant, Fang Shi lost control of his body.

He could not even extend his consciousness outward—he was trapped, shrinking within the cramped niwan palace.

Helplessly watching it all unfold.

“Should I use my newly acquired trump card?”

“This is the best thing I pulled from the Silver Chest.”

“I really hate to use it!”

Boom!

Infinite spiritual energy exploded from within the niwan palace, tearing it apart instantly.

The torrent of spiritual energy surged to burst forth, ready to obliterate Fang Shi’s head.

Yet the ethereal energy accelerated further.

It sucked the spiritual energy back in—and along with it, the fragments of the niwan palace.

Under the nourishment of the torrential spiritual energy, the niwan palace’s wounds began slowly healing.

“You have opened your upper dantian.”

“You have gained spiritual sense.”

“Your spiritual sense value: 5/5.”

“Your magic power has increased: 9 → 14.”

“Your perception has increased: 21 → 23.”

“Your intelligence has increased: 14 → 18.”

“Your magic control I → magic control II.”

“【Magic Control II】: Your control over magic power has improved further; your minimum control unit is now 0.01 magic power points.”

Fang Shi slowly opened his eyes and gently spread his five fingers.

In the center of his palm, a speck of white light slowly emerged, hazy and mist-like.

Instantly, it coalesced into a tiny sword, hovering and slowly rotating in his palm, just like the ethereal energy.

Looking at the tiny sword, Fang Shi finally allowed himself a faint smile.

“Pangu!”

“Split Heaven and Earth!”

This was the new inheritance he had just gained—he never expected it.

Inside the jade ring, besides the multiple-force inheritance,

there was another inheritance: the method to open the upper dantian.

The ethereal energy’s ability to enhance perception was merely incidental—its true purpose was to open the niwan palace.

Like Pangu splitting heaven and earth, it used the method of shattering the niwan palace, then repairing it—a shortcut.

Fang Shi vaguely recalled that the legend of Pangu splitting heaven and earth originated in the Wei-Jin period.

And the Wei-Jin period was when aristocrats fervently cultivated the Dao.

At that time, five-stone powder and external alchemy were at their peak.

Whether true or not, this ancient tomb clearly bore Wei-Jin style.

The ten-thousand-gods cave carved into the stone wall was modeled after Buddhism introduced into the country during the Wei-Jin era.

Fang Shi strongly suspected that the legend of Pangu splitting heaven and earth

was, in fact, a metaphor for opening the niwan palace.

The niwan palace represented the spiritual world—and humans were the creators of their own spiritual world.

Pangu was himself; the shattered chaos was the niwan palace.

Fang Shi was stunned by his own thought—he found the theory absurd.

Yet, upon reflection, it seemed strangely plausible.

Most importantly, the elder before him might not be dead at all.

Fang Shi had once wondered: how could bones glow like white jade?

Only someone with an unimaginably powerful physique could achieve such a state.

Only then would their bones appear this way.

In short, one needed a physique equivalent to a legendary warrior.

Then how could flesh so easily rot away in such a being?

At this level, natural decomposition by microbes had become utterly irrelevant.

As long as no external force damaged it, the body could endure eternally, like gold.

Unless the decay was self-inflicted.

Fang Shi recalled a legend.

During the Wei-Jin period, the leader of the external alchemy school, Ge Hong, once proposed:

“The highest cultivators ascend bodily into the void—called Heavenly Immortals; the middling ones wander among famous mountains—called Earthly Immortals; the lowest ones die first, then shed their mortal form—called Corpse-Release Immortals.”

A skeleton with no flesh, only bones—

clearly matched the characteristics of a Corpse-Release Immortal.

Could it be that this elder achieved immortality through corpse liberation and departed to some unknown realm beyond the veil?

A corpse-liberated immortal, a legendary golden corpse—this ancient tomb is certainly no ordinary place.

Yet for some reason, there are virtually no extraordinary artifacts here.

Even this jade ring is merely an item for storing light spiritual energy and transmitting legacy.

Its material is utterly ordinary, with not a single special feature.

And once used, it becomes indistinguishable from ordinary jade.

Fang Shi cannot use it to store legacy information or anything similar.

But regardless of how many questions he had, Fang Shi first bowed respectfully to the skull.

He planned to leave immediately—after all, so many legendary cultivators before him had failed to uncover these mysteries.

What merit or virtue does a mere first-rank cultivator like himself possess to accomplish what even the legends could not?

With these gains, he was already more than satisfied.

So Fang Shi cheerfully began crawling toward the cave entrance.

But gradually, his expression changed.

For Fang Shi sensed a sliver of light piercing through the cave entrance.

And that beam of light was extraordinarily bright—not candlelight, not firelight.

It was sunlight!