Chapter Six: Confusion

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the transport plane began its approach, calling the control tower—yet no response came. The pilot tried repeatedly, but not a sound nor any instruction answered him.

“Master Ge, something’s wrong. No response from the tower,” the pilot informed through his headset.

Master Ge’s expression remained unchanged. He gazed through the window at the makeshift airfield below and said, “Land.”

“Understood, commencing landing.” The pilot replied.

The transport adjusted its angle, descended onto the runway, and after a short taxi, rolled to a gentle halt. The hatch swung open. Zuo Baixing and Baili Zhuishun leaped out first, surveying the deathly silence around them; both frowned. Zuo Baixing’s usual mischievous grin vanished, his hand tightening around the hilt of his Tang blade.

Tong Wushao and Long Shaoxian followed, jumping down in silence as they took in their surroundings.

Inside the cabin, Master Ge looked at Luo Longyu and spoke slowly, “This is all we know about your mother. Whether you call her a god or something else, whatever clues she held could change everything. Now that she’s gone, it all falls to you. Sometimes, a man must bear a heavy burden; cruel as it may be, it’s yours to carry now.”

Luo Longyu sat, head bowed, silent as Master Ge’s words echoed in his mind. At last, he understood why his grandfather and the others had coughed blood and died. Though he carried no contagion, it was, in the end, because of him.

“A rejected monster… so I too am a monster, a half-corpse… ha…” Luo Longyu shook his head with a bitter smile.

Master Ge’s eyes flickered with a trace of pity at Luo Longyu’s words, but it quickly vanished, replaced by steely resolve. “Longyu, remember: a half-corpse is not a monster. The half-corpses are warriors left behind by the Xuanyuan clan for the sake of Earth’s races, fearless beyond words. ‘Great’ can’t begin to describe it. Your mother possessed immense will—she saw you as the seed of the Corpse Path. I believe the one who suffered most was her. Ahead, that cliff is where the Tomb of Ten Thousand Corpses lies. Everything your mother worked for began with it. Now, only you can fulfill her dying wish.”

Luo Longyu kept his head low, silent. Master Ge sighed after a long pause: “Think on it. The crisis is upon us. As for your choice, you have your freedom.” With that, Master Ge disembarked.

“How is he?” Long Shaoxian’s brow furrowed as he watched Master Ge descend alone.

Master Ge glanced back at the empty hatch. “I don’t know. Even though he’s a half-corpse now, it doesn’t mean he must inherit the Corpse Path. The choice is his. But he is the most suitable heir we have.”

“And if he refuses?” Long Shaoxian pressed.

Master Ge was silent for a moment, then spoke slowly, firmly: “If he refuses, then we fight with our lives. The duty of guarding as members of the Xuan Yi Pavilion falls to us.”

“Tong Wushao reporting: Unknown energy fluctuations detected toward the Tomb of Ten Thousand Corpses. Everyone in camp has been trapped in a dream state.” Tong Wushao’s voice came through the headset.

Master Ge frowned. “Tong Wushao, stay and break the dream. The rest, move to the tomb.”

“Without him, entering the tomb is dangerous,” Long Shaoxian said instinctively.

“If he can’t face this, it makes no difference whether he’s with us or not,” Master Ge replied gravely.

Inside the cabin, Luo Longyu sat motionless, his gaze fixed ahead, lost in thought. The two pilots glanced at him, then at each other, and shrugged.

“I met your mother, Xuanyuan Qianqian, once. It goes back to the very founding of the Xuan Yi Pavilion, just after the Liberation. The Pavilion was established on Xuanyuan Yi’s suggestion—a member of the Xuanyuan clan. After careful consideration, the authorities combined the powers of extraordinary individuals and non-human races on Earth. Your mother was by Xuanyuan Yi’s side then; by blood, Xuanyuan Yi is your grandfather.”

“The secret of the Tomb of Ten Thousand Corpses came to light around that time, and the Pavilion was created to monitor the increasingly frequent anomalies there. Your grandfather tried to forcibly inherit the Corpse Path and perished when his life force burned out—he wasn’t a half-corpse and couldn’t withstand the fusion. When your mother was pregnant with you, she gave you all her strength, exhausting her own life force. She died in childbirth, using her power to keep you from dying entirely, and you were born in the coffin as a half-corpse.”

“This is why your fellow villagers always regarded you with taboo. Your grandfather brought you back from the graveyard, but as a half-corpse, your presence inevitably harms ordinary people’s bodies. A day or two is fine, but long-term contact inevitably shortens their lives. This is what killed your grandfather, the village chief, and his wife.”

Inside the camp, Tong Wushao’s eyes glowed white. Pulses of power rippled from his pupils, shattering the strange field enveloping the camp and awakening everyone from their dreams.

Commander Liu awoke in the command tent, clutching his aching forehead, feeling as though his skull would split apart.

“Waking from a dream always hurts. It’ll pass soon,” came a sudden voice, startling Liu, who instinctively reached for his sidearm.

Looking up, he saw it was only a child and paused in surprise.

Master Ge entered the tent. “We’re the Second Research Team sent by Central Command. What happened here?”

“Second Research Team?” Commander Liu came to his senses and stood up quickly. “Thank goodness you’re here. I’m not sure of the details. We only know that the tomb’s anomaly value spiked past a thousand, then the instruments failed, a piercing sound rang out, and we blacked out.”

“I see… over a thousand…” Master Ge looked toward the tomb, his expression grave.

“Long Shaoxian requesting communication, over,” came Long Shaoxian’s voice through the headset.

Master Ge pressed the button. “Go ahead, over.”

“We’re a hundred meters from the Red Cliff. The ground is splitting open, and corpses are rising from below. Judging by their clothing, there are people from every era. Should we advance, over?” Long Shaoxian reported calmly.

“Hold position. We’re on our way. Over.”

“Copy, over.”

Master Ge turned to Commander Liu. “Colonel, assemble your men, increase security, and repair the instruments. Something big is about to happen at the tomb.”

“Understood.” Commander Liu nodded.

Master Ge and Tong Wushao hurried to Long Shaoxian’s position. Even Master Ge, who had lived through World War II, drew a sharp, cold breath at the sight: The Red Cliff loomed vast, like a colossal bowl set in the Gobi. For hundreds of meters around, the earth was riven with cracks, sand and soil overturned. Countless dried corpses emerged, twisted and grotesque, their expressions frozen in terror.

“The Tomb of Ten Thousand Corpses… It’s more like a hundred thousand…” Zuo Baixing muttered, awestruck.

Staring at the endless corpses, Master Ge felt a chill well up from deep inside. There was something inherently sinister about this place.

“Everyone, be careful,” Master Ge warned grimly.

Yet there was no need—each of them was already moving with utmost caution. For all the Pavilion’s purpose of watching the tomb, none of them had ever approached it before—not even Master Ge.

They moved gingerly among the corpses, chilled to the bone. As they walked, they noticed that not only human remains from every age were present, but also prehistoric apemen and unidentified animal bones—likely from ancient demon clans.

One mummy was clad in the tattered uniform of the early Republic, but Master Ge couldn’t be sure it was the most recent, for there were simply too many corpses to check individually.

Tong Wushao crouched and turned over a corpse with a twisted face and fangs—not human, but from some ancient demon race. The body stood nearly two meters tall; its right arm was broken, the left hand bizarrely large, with thick, shattered nails. The massive form sprawled awkwardly, as if it had died in agony.

A mysterious cross-shaped slash marred its chest, as though a creature had torn it open by hand. Its innards were long gone.

Tong Wushao examined nearby corpses—human and ape alike—each one with its chest split open in a cross-shaped wound.

Master Ge watched Tong Wushao sift through the corpses, his expression grave. Long Shaoxian and the others did the same, and all found the same cross-shaped wounds.

“An ancient sacrifice?” Zuo Baixing mused aloud.

Tong Wushao nodded. “It’s possible. This is the Tomb of Ten Thousand Corpses, after all—who knows who’s buried here?”

“If it’s sacrifice, then it’s been ongoing since before humanity itself. There are apes, demons, and even ancient beasts whose names are lost. Who’s been conducting these sacrifices for so long? Look at this one—mummified but dressed in a modern suit, dead less than five years by the look of it. And since the Pavilion has watched the tomb since the Liberation, how did these sacrificial victims get in?” Long Shaoxian looked at the corpse at his feet, baffled.

Tong Wushao scratched his head; he had no answer. Zuo Baixing and Baili Zhuishun exchanged glances and shrugged.

Master Ge took a deep breath and looked up at the Gobi as night fell. “It seems we haven’t even scratched the surface of the tomb’s secrets. What did Xuanyuan Qianqian truly know…?” He paused, recollecting himself. “Night is falling, and the yin energy will only grow stronger. Everyone, be on guard.”

Zuo Baixing glanced at Master Ge, surprised. “Boss, are we really going to explore the tomb at night?”

“What else?” Master Ge shot him a look, unwilling to waste words.

Just as they prepared to approach the Red Cliff, a beam of light shone in the distance, rapidly drawing nearer. The roar of a Junshi jeep followed, and several figures with large packs leapt down in a hurry as the vehicle screeched to a stop nearby.