The party ventured deeper into the belly of the mountain, their footsteps echoing against the damp stone.

Perhaps it was the residual heat from the spirit-infused wine they had consumed earlier, but a reckless sort of courage seemed to have taken hold of the group. They moved with a swagger, invigorated and eager for violence.

Whenever a shade or specter dared to materialize from the gloom, it was met not with caution, but with immediate execution.

Gu Can, in particular, was a whirlwind of destruction. The alcohol seemed to have sharpened his aggression rather than dulled his senses. With his silver spear dancing like a streak of moonlight, he cut down ghosts as if he were a demon god reaping wheat.

Emperor Wulie’s mausoleum was vast, a subterranean city designed to mirror the capital above. Naturally, it was rigged with sophisticated anti-theft mechanisms.

As they progressed, they triggered tripwires and pressure plates. Hidden crossbows snapped, firing bolts capable of piercing heavy armor. Clouds of hallucinogenic poison puffed from vents. Swarms of flesh-eating corpse beetles scuttled from the cracks.

Against mortals, this tomb would have been a slaughterhouse.

But against cultivators? It was child’s play.

The crossbow bolts shattered against basic protective barriers. The poisons were purged by circulating spiritual energy. The bugs were incinerated by simple fire arts.

As they pushed forward, the environment grew more hostile. The air thickened with malevolent energy, and the density of the ghosts increased. Dozens of wailing spirits threw themselves at the intruders, mindless in their hate.

It was pathetic. Fearlessly rushing a squad of Late-Stage Qi Refining cultivators was akin to a pebble trying to crack a boulder—an exercise in absolute futility.

With casual brutality, the group hacked and slashed their way through, their progress utterly unimpeded.

Before long, their path was blocked by a colossal stone gate, sealed tight against the ages.

“Out of the way,” Gu Can grunted.

“Bang!”

His spear, wreathed in spiritual light, slammed into the stone. The complex locking mechanism inside disintegrated instantly, and the heavy doors groaned open, revealing the grand chamber beyond.

The group stepped through the dust and into the main burial hall.

It was a cavernous space, brightly lit by whale-oil lamps that had burned for a century. The floor was paved with massive, perfectly fitted flagstones, and the air was bitingly cold.

In the center of the hall stood a high platform. Resting atop it was a massive coffin, glowing with a faint, eerie green light.

Gu Can rested his spear on his shoulder, glancing around with bored arrogance. “We’ve been walking for half an hour. This must be the heart of the tomb.”

“These earthly emperors certainly knew how to indulge themselves,” Cao Yunxi scoffed, looking at the gilded pillars. “Spending such immense manpower and resources, bleeding the country dry… all to comfort a rotting corpse.”

“Tsk. That’s mortal royalty for you.” Gu Can curled his lip in disdain and strode toward the platform. “Let’s see what’s so special about this coffin.”

Qin Lu followed at a more measured pace, his eyes scanning the shadows. “Stay sharp. This is the only room we’ve entered that is devoid of ghosts. The anomaly suggests the secret is hidden here.”

The warning sobered the group slightly. Qin Lu was right; the silence here was unnatural compared to the chaotic wailing in the tunnels.

“Huh?” Gu Can’s voice rang out from the platform, laced with genuine surprise. “The coffin is empty?”

The others crowded around.

The lid had been pushed aside. Inside, there were piles of gold, silver, and jade artifacts, but no body. No rotting silk, no dust, no bones.

“Grave robbers?” Lu Xuan guessed.

“Unlikely,” Lu Anchen shook his head, pointing back at the entrance. “That stone door required spiritual force to breach. No mortal thief could have entered. besides, if robbers had been here, they wouldn’t have left this mountain of treasure behind.”

“Tap!”

Suddenly, Emperor Zhang Ju slammed his hands against the side of the coffin, his face flushed with a manic joy.

“I knew it! It really is true!”

The cultivators looked at the mortal monarch with confusion.

“What madness has taken you now?” Lu Xuan asked impatiently. “What is true?”

Zhang Ju danced in place, his fear replaced by fanaticism. “The High Ancestor ascended! The ancient chronicles were right! They said he consumed an Immortal Elixir and ascended to the heavens on the spot. That is why there are no bones!”

“Hmph.”

Lu Xuan flicked his sleeve, his expression withering. “Do not be absurd. We cultivators spend decades tempering our bodies and refining our Qi, yet we barely scratch the surface of longevity. You think a mere mortal can swallow a pill and bypass the Dao to become an Immortal? Your logic makes our entire existence a joke.”

“This…” Zhang Ju froze, the cold water of reality splashing over his fantasy.

Qin Lu stepped forward, his tone calmer but probing. “Did your High Ancestor seek the Dao?”

“Yes!” Zhang Ju nodded vigorously. “In his later years, he became obsessed with immortality. He scoured the world for secret arts and eventually appointed a powerful Daoist as the State Preceptor. After years of alchemy, they created the Elixir, and he ascended.”

Zhang Ju’s voice lowered. “The court dismissed it as the madness of a senile old man. Even I didn’t believe it… until now. Seeing you, the Immortal Masters, proves the supernatural exists. Therefore, my ancestor must have succeeded!”

He raised his arms, eyes shining with a desperate hunger for eternity.

Qin Lu shook his head, pitying the man’s delusion. “Do not let your imagination run wild. The path to immortality is paved with bones, not shortcuts. Even for us…”

“Hey! Look at this!”

Gu Can interrupted the philosophy lesson, pointing to the back of the coffin. “There’s a secret compartment here. It looks like a magical artifact!”

Qin Lu’s eyes narrowed. He moved in for a closer look.

Embedded in the wood was a small golden disc with a circular indentation. It was subtle, blending perfectly with the ornamentation. Only a cultivator’s eye would catch the faint hum of energy it emitted.

“It looks like a formation key,” Gu Can surmised. “It needs Qi to activate.”

“A magical artifact in a mortal tomb…” Qin Lu mused. “Perhaps the rumors of Emperor Wulie aren’t entirely false. He may have indeed had contact with a cultivator.”

“Let’s find out!”

Before Qin Lu could stop him, Gu Can channeled his spiritual energy and jammed his finger into the golden hole.

RUMBLE—!

The reaction was instantaneous. The entire hall began to shake violently. Dust rained down from the ceiling, and the sound of grinding stone filled the air.

“You idiot!” Qin Lu roared, steadying himself. “Analyze the trap before you trigger it! Do you want to bury us all alive?”

As the words left his mouth, the shaking stopped abruptly.

Click.

A soft mechanical sound echoed from the rear of the hall.

Two massive stone slabs on the back wall dissolved into the shadows, revealing a pitch-black tunnel descending further into the earth.

“Hahaha!” Gu Can grinned shamelessly, dusting off his hands. “Relax, Brother Qin. See? Just a door opener.”

Lu Xuan nodded slowly, impressed despite himself. “To use a magical artifact as a lock mechanism for a hidden palace… Emperor Wulie certainly had help from our kind.”

“Heheh! I’m getting excited now.” Gu Can rubbed his hands together. “Let’s see what the old man is hiding down there.”

“The source of the ghost infestation should be inside as well,” Lu Anchen added, his expression grim.

“I’ll take point!” Gu Can announced, plunging into the darkness without hesitation.

Lu Anchen and the others followed quickly.

Qin Lu sighed, shaking his head at their recklessness. He grabbed the shoulder of the exhilarated little emperor and steered him toward the tunnel, stepping into the dark.