Chapter 85: Beneath the Graveyard of the Dead

“Stop!”

Ten li from the Graveyard of the Dead, the three were halted.

A squad of soldiers had set up a checkpoint at the crossroad; farther out, across the open plains and grasslands, cavalry patrolled with mastiffs on leashes.

Sha Lifei quickly dismounted, bowing with a grin: “Sir soldier, we’ve been invited by Daoist Luo of the City God Temple’s Enforcement Hall to attend the ceremony—hope you’ll grant us passage.”

“City God Temple…”

The blocking soldier eyed them with suspicion. “Do you have a travel permit?”

Sha Lifei froze, glancing back; Li Yan shook his head.

Daoist Luo had only issued a verbal invitation; after returning, he’d been swamped with work. Li Yan had gone to the City God Temple to inquire about Leng Tan’s wandering master, but hadn’t found him—how could they have a permit?

“None?”

The lead soldier’s face darkened. “Captain Fan of the Mounted Cavalry has ordered a lockdown today at the Graveyard of the Dead—to prevent rogue cultivators from sneaking in and causing trouble.”

“You three look like no good folk. Best leave now while you still can!”

Today was the Double Ninth Festival—he’d begged his superior for leave to visit his aging father, but this last-minute order ruined his plans. He was already in a foul mood, so his tone was harsh.

Sha Lifei kept smiling, slipping a string of copper coins into his palm and whispering: “Sir soldier, do us a favor. If you doubt us, send someone to verify…”

“Shut your dog mouth!”

The lead soldier’s expression turned lethal. He raised his spear. “Dismount—all of you! Seize them—they’re definitely bandits!”

No sooner had he spoken than a cavalry unit galloped up from afar, drawing bows and aiming sharp arrows at the three.

Li Yan’s brow furrowed at the sight.

These soldiers came from Xianyang’s local garrison, under the jurisdiction of the Chang’an Regional Military Commissioner’s Office. Even with strict training, they were no match for battle-hardened veterans.

Take this squad leader—he hadn’t even reached Dark Force yet. Even with his comrades’ help, he couldn’t stop Li Yan.

But fighting soldiers meant escape would be unavoidable afterward.

Worse, these men were already fired up—if caught, they’d be whipped. If they met a cruel one, even their money would be seized.

Li Yan was about to speak when he suddenly felt something and turned his head.

“Stop!”

Hooves thundered as a group of riders galloped toward them.

Seven men in all, clad in black brocade robes, silver-threaded with images of Yanzi and Bì’àn on chest and back, each radiating deep aura, riding with flawless skill.

The Commandant’s Office?

Li Yan narrowed his eyes—he recognized the attire.

The Commandant’s Office was much like the Embroidered Uniform Guard: ruthless, unrestrained, with a terrible reputation among cultivators—called “hawks and hounds” in the Spring Canon.

What startled him more: their leader was Guan Wanchè.

Wasn’t he Xianyang’s chief constable? When did he join the Commandant’s Office?

Li Yan suddenly recalled: Guan Wanchè had already uncovered evidence of Zhou Pan’s betrayal of his father, yet said nothing—had handed it to Li Yan to expose.

Strange behavior. This man was far more complex than he appeared…

As Li Yan pondered, Guan Wanchè rode up, flashing his official token before speaking coldly: “What’s going on?”

The lead soldier bowed quickly. “Commander, these three are acting suspicious—we were about to apprehend them!”

Sha Lifei, seeing Guan Wanchè, sighed in relief and bowed with a grin: “Commander Guan, congratulations on your promotion! We were invited by Daoist Luo of the City God Temple to attend the ceremony.”

“Attend the ceremony?”

Guan Wanchè snorted, biting back words, then said gravely: “These three are indeed connected to the City God Temple. I’ll take them to meet the person. If they lie, I’ll capture them myself and deliver them to you.”

“Yes, Commander!”

Though reluctant, the soldier ordered his men to remove the barricades.

Once the path cleared, Guan Wanchè ignored them entirely and rode off with his men ahead.

Li Yan and the others exchanged glances, then spurred their horses to follow.

Ten li was nothing on horseback.

Before long, they reached the foot of the Graveyard of the Dead.

Once a vast open field surrounded by scattered woods, the area had now been cleared. In the center stood a three-tiered ritual altar, square-shaped, with redwood pillars, banners, standards, and streamers neatly arranged, painted with Bagua, Taiji, the Big Dipper, and massive yellow talismans hanging down.

It looked garish—but Li Yan and Wang Daoxuan both held their breath.

Wang Daoxuan was an insider, mentally verifying every detail against his teachings.

Li Yan was an outsider, but his spiritual sense told him this was different.

The altar’s location pulsed with thick incense smoke, drawing from the earth’s veins and reaching into the heavens—as if a temple had materialized out of thin air, radiating solemn, suffocating pressure.

Merely standing here, Li Yan felt his breath grow shallow.

Of the three, Sha Lifei was the most relaxed.

Ignorance breeds fearlessness—he only felt the air unusually fresh, and with the Double Ninth Festival in full swing, he twirled his zhuyu branch, genuinely feeling like he was on a countryside outing.

Li Yan took a deep breath. “This is the ritual altar?”

Li Yan took a deep breath, “Is this the altar ground?”

Wang Daoxuan spoke gravely: “The altar I used barely stirred a minor ‘force.’ This altar of the Tai Xuan Zheng Jiao has already formed a ‘pattern.’ Dozens of century-old ritual artifacts are enshrined here—this altar-city alone represents generations of accumulation by other sects.”

“And this is merely the City God Temple of Xianyang…”

Wang Daoxuan sighed, eyes filled with envy.

Li Yan’s expression remained calm—no surprise.

The Tai Xuan Zheng Jiao’s lineage had flowed since the Han Dynasty. Though battered by dynastic upheavals, its incense never ceased.

Every imperial house had enshrined it as the state religion—how could it be ordinary?

Around the altar, tents were arranged according to the Eight Trigrams. Daoists moved about busily—some burning incense, some sweeping, others ringing bells and chanting beside the altar.

All were novice Daoist acolytes, clearly preparing. As they spoke, a Daoist emerged from the left tent—wearing dark robes and a square eight-directional cap, a long sword on his back—it was Luo Mingzi.

He hurried over, smiling wearily: “I’ve been swamped these past days. Didn’t expect the imperial troops to seal the roads—sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Priority is the ritual—we thank you for letting us attend,” Li Yan bowed politely.

Beside Luo Mingzi stood a Commandant’s Office officer, who bowed and said gravely: “Daoist, if this is a misunderstanding, I’ll report back immediately.”

It was Guan Wanchè’s man sent to verify.

Seeing him turn to leave, Li Yan’s mind stirred. He pulled Sha Lifei aside, whispered a few words, and told him to follow.

Li Yan had learned the truth of the Gu Shui Village massacre in the bandit stronghold—and had promised Zhao’s dying wish. He wouldn’t break his word.

But since returning, he’d been buried in troubles and had no chance to report it.

Guan Wanchè had helped him multiple times and had just joined the Commandant’s Office—this was the perfect chance to repay the favor.

Luo Mingzi paid no attention, gesturing with a smile: “Let’s go. I’ve told my senior, Qingyangzi, about your matter—he’s intrigued. He might have a solution.”

Li Yan’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, Senior.”

Without another word, he followed Luo Mingzi toward a large tent.

…………

“Ah, sir officer, please slow down…”

Sha Lifei trailed the Commandant’s Office captain.

“What do you want?”

The captain turned, eyes dark.

One of the Commandant’s Office’s duties was to monitor the cultivation world.

Official and bandit paths never crossed—Sha Lifei wasn’t a bandit, but clearly, this captain held no fondness for cultivators.

Sha Lifei didn’t mind, grinning: “Why so angry, sir? We’ve got a huge favor to offer Commander Guan.”

The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Then follow.”

Sha Lifei didn’t mind, grinning, “Why so angry, sir officer? We’ve got a tremendous merit to present to Official Guan.”

Sha Lifei hurried after him, soon reaching a small hillock.

On top stood several riders, tossing meat into the air as giant eagles swooped down, snatching it before soaring away.

Guan Wanchè was among them.

On the mound, several riders sat astride horses, gesturing as giant falcons soared up, squabbling over the meat chunks they tossed, then flapped away.

He’d heard of these birds—since the founding of the Da Xuan Dynasty, the court had gathered all manner of strange talents, including eagle-trainers, whose art was passed to the Commandant’s Office.

With the empire’s vast resources, the Commandant’s Office perfected falconry: golden eagles capable of killing beasts, swift peregrines skilled in reconnaissance, and countless breeds of hunting dogs.

Hence, the cultivation world called them “hawks and hounds.”

But even so, these raptors held undeniable allure for men.

Sha Lifei’s mind raced—he considered trading the information for an eagle. But remembering Li Yan’s warning and the Commandant’s Office’s fearsome reputation, he quashed the thought.

“What do you want?”

Guan Wanchè glanced at him dismissively.

He and Li Hu had once been brothers—he knew this useless disciple well, held no affection for him, and had no ties.

Sha Lifei grinned: “Commander, perhaps we should speak privately.”

Guan Wanchè’s face darkened at the sight of the one-eyed man beside him. “I act openly. What can’t be said in front of others?”

This was the Commandant’s Office—he’d just joined. He wouldn’t give anyone grounds to slander him.

Sha Lifei meant well, yet got scolded for no reason. He gritted his teeth: You cowardly fool—don’t you fear someone else will steal the credit?

The Commandant’s office is no place for him—he just joined; he wouldn’t give anyone grounds to criticize him.

Sha Lifi had meant well, yet he’d been scolded for no reason and was now annoyed, thinking: You coward, don’t you fear someone else will snatch the credit?

If that’s the case, don’t regret it afterward!

As long as the message is delivered, the favor is repaid.

Thinking of this, he no longer concealed anything—he recounted everything: the events in Gu Shui Village, the bandit stronghold, the cockcomb snake, and the mysterious sorcerer.

At these words, every officer in the Regional Military Commissioner’s unit turned pale.

The one-eyed man slowly turned his horse and growled, “Any lies?”

“Every word is true!”

Sha Li Fei bowed and said, “Who would dare fabricate such a thing? We never sought trouble—we came solely to repay Commissioner Guan’s favor.”

In truth, he regretted speaking out loud—Guan Wanchè had already been promoted; he might need him again someday—so he added this to soften the blow.

The one-eyed man nodded and said, “Reward him!”

No sooner had the words left his lips than one of his men pulled a sack from his waist and hurled it with a whistle to Sha Li Fei’s feet—the sack split open, spilling pure white silver coins.

Sha Li Fei raised an eyebrow. “Favor and righteousness are not for sale—even for a thousand gold!”

The one-eyed man’s eyes gleamed with approval. “Good. You’re a true man. Let me warn you: forget this matter when you return, or it may cost you your life.”

Sha Li Fei bowed again and turned to leave.

Halfway there, he pressed his chest, face twisted in anguish, muttering inwardly: My heart’s breaking—damn it, pretending to be a hero costs too much. I won’t do it again…

After he left, the one-eyed man’s gaze returned to calm:

“Wanchè, what do you think?”

Guan Wanchè bowed and replied, “These people are likely remnants of the Mílè Sect!”

The one-eyed man nodded gravely. “Same as I suspected. The man who commanded the cockcomb snake is Dúgū Qián, nicknamed Tomb Serpent—one of the Mílè Sect’s sixty-four Incense Masters. He escaped the last purge years ago, and now it seems his cultivation has advanced greatly.”

“The Mílè remnants have been crushed repeatedly, yet always rise again like spring grass—impossible to eradicate. Their traces appear across Shenzhou. Not a serious threat.”

He sighed. “The real trouble lies in the capital!”

(End of Chapter)