Chapter 65: The Old Imperial Clan

In the northwestern part of Zhongzhou, Ningcheng County.

As evening fell, the sky gradually darkened, and street vendors poked at the stoves beneath their stalls, trying to make the fires burn brighter.

Soon, a woman walked along the street and stopped before a stall.

The woman was breathtakingly beautiful, wearing a snow-edged long skirt, her gaze as soft and deep as autumn water, her skin like piled snow, yet her expression cold, radiating an aloofness that discouraged approach.

Every evening she came to buy a sweet potato, seemingly fond of it, yet always muttering that it wasn’t as tasty as his roasted ones.

At first, the vendor dared not speak out, but as he heard it more and more, he couldn’t help but complain a few times.

“You always say I can’t roast as well as he does—then why do you keep coming to buy?”

“Because he’s not here.”

The woman peeled the sweet potato, squinting as she said: “Do you know? I only met him once.”

After hearing this, the vendor pursed his lips, thinking to himself: Where would I know that? But I do know—if the “he” in your words is a man, he’s clearly moonstruck.

After buying the sweet potato, the woman walked away along the street toward a derelict courtyard.

Disciples of Lingjian Mountain had once been attacked in Qingzhou; after extensive tracking and investigation, the trail led to Qiling Ruins.

But one thing many had overlooked.

That was Chen Qinghe’s original identity.

The Chen Immortal Clan had a rule for taking disciples unlike any other immortal sect: all who joined must change their surname and adopt the clan name.

This rule existed because they did not wish to see overly powerful secular families nearby.

According to the records she had uncovered, before changing his surname, Chen Qinghe had not been surnamed Chen—he was surnamed Zheng.

During the era of warring states, Zheng was an ancient imperial surname.

After the Great Xia received aid from immortal sects and waged war across the Central Plains, the Zheng state surrendered, transforming from imperial family into a mighty aristocratic house—but it did not decline, for its descendants possessed exceptional cultivation talent.

Especially the last patriarch of the Zheng family, who had once been the senior brother of Chen Ruhai, the current leader of the Chen Immortal Clan; a century ago, they were called the Zheng Twin Paragons.

But lacking a true Dao lineage, the Zheng patriarch could never reach Immortal Threshold; when his lifespan ended, he passed away.

Since his death, the fortune the Zheng family had carried since the warring era seemed to have been utterly spent; now, their descendants had dwindled to nothing, even their ancestral home sold, the entire clan relocating elsewhere.

If Chen Qinghe had merely been surnamed Zheng, it wouldn’t have warranted the personal visit of Lingjian Mountain’s Junior Inspector.

But another matter was even stranger: Hongshan Mine.

Hongshan Mine lay in Zhongzhou and was originally controlled by the Zheng family; it was said that miners accidentally breached a tunnel leading deep into Qiling.

When the Zheng family learned of this, they nearly emptied their ranks; their ancestral fortune seemed to have been lost from that moment onward, their descendants dwindling continuously.

First, the Zheng family’s Hongshan Mine was dug through, connecting to Qiling.

Then, their clansman Zheng Qinghe became something neither human nor ghost, constantly shuttling back and forth across the Qiling Mountains, escorting caravans.

If there were no connection, Yan Shuyi would not believe it for a moment.

The long street soon ended; the Junior Inspector had already eaten half her sweet potato.

She now stood before a ruined courtyard, looking up—the plaque had vanished.

Only the characters carved on the stone pillars before the gate indicated this had once been the ancestral home of the Zheng family.

The estate had once been vast and thriving, but now the main gate stood tightly shut, its bronze lock rusted.

Boom!

A sliver of sword qi leaked out, and the Zheng ancestral gate collapsed with a thunderous crash.

Yan Shuyi stepped inside and immediately felt a chilling coldness pressing against her; a strange odor drifted through the air.

The first courtyard was filled with waist-high weeds; besides them, only broken tiles and bricks, and a main hall half-collapsed.

The Junior Inspector surveyed the place for a long while, then left the front courtyard and moved deeper into the Zheng residence.

If someone wants to hide something, they won’t put it on the surface—that’s something even a three-year-old knows.

As Yan Shuyi stepped through the weeds, she opened her delicate palm.

With the surge of immortal light, a stone mirror floated into the air; beams of immortal radiance descended, revealing every detail, piercing into the inner chamber of the last house.

Yan Shuyi drew her sword and entered the room; watching the immortal light flicker, she pondered briefly, then slashed her sword through the rear stone wall.

With a crash, half the wall was sheared away—but what lay behind was not the twilight of the courtyard, but another wall.

This wall was hollow; it appeared solid, but concealed a narrow passage with a stone staircase descending downward.

“...”

Yan Shuyi stood atop the stairs in silence for a long time, not moving.

She feared the dark.

It had nothing to do with her cultivation realm—purely a psychological fear.

But after a moment’s thought, she descended the long, dark passage, climbed the endless stone steps, and finally reached the depths.

Before her stretched a vast underground palace, nearly as large as the Zheng family’s aboveground estate.

Unlike the aboveground grounds, filled with pavilions and towers, the underground palace held nothing but row upon row of stone cells sealed by iron bars.

“Zheng Jinghui, Zheng Yu, Zheng Chen, Zheng Hongwen...”

Yan Shuyi’s gaze swept over the name plaques on the cells, then halted; her brow furrowed deeply.

From the plaques, those imprisoned were all Zheng clan descendants.

But what Yan Shuyi saw inside the cells... were not humans.

They were desiccated corpses, blackened like charred wood, long dead, locked in individual cells, buried under layers of dust.

Yan Shuyi walked deeper into the cells; when she reached the very end, she suddenly stopped.

Beyond the iron bars, she saw a demon seed brimming with malevolent energy, curled in the corner; the walls were covered in deep gouges—all made by its claws.

Seeing a living person enter, the demon seed erupted into violent frenzy, lunging forward, its withered claws scrabbling wildly, as if determined to tear everything apart.

Yet, contrary to its ferocious actions, a weak voice emerged from its mouth.

“Save me...”

“The ancestors lied to me—save me.”

Seeing this, Yan Shuyi felt a chill surge through her heart.

Why had the Zheng family’s descendants dwindled? Was it truly, as outsiders claimed, because their fortune had vanished and they could no longer bear children—so that a once-mighty imperial house had fallen to the point of abandoning its ancestral home?

Even as she looked at the earlier cells, an answer had already been forming in her mind.

But even with preparation, seeing the demon seed speak in human words still filled her with overwhelming revulsion.

Yet then, Yan Shuyi noticed another desiccated corpse, hidden in the shadow behind the demon seed.

It was a true corpse—not a demon seed that had lost its malevolence.

She could see the corpse had long, flowing hair; it was a woman, still clad in the long robe of Lingjian Mountain, clearly drained dry.

Yan Shuyi turned and left the underground prison, her heart icy cold.

As she stepped onto the surface, Qiling Mountain far away erupted once more in brilliant immortal light.

Compared to the last time the immortal sect disciples entered the mountain, this light was far more violent; colorful auroras blanketed the sky, like golden scales spreading across the mountain peaks.

The immortal sect prodigies who had previously ridden flying swords and followed the disciples beyond the malevolent energy now could no longer contain their excitement; one after another, great swords plunged into the mountain.

(End of Chapter)