Chapter 10: Aftermath

Lingyu sat in silence for a long time. By the time she returned to herself, the crisp calls of birds could be heard from outside. Only after making absolutely sure she had scavenged everything worth taking did she tug the coarse cloth her master used as a seat cushion, fashion a large bundle, and hoist it onto her back to leave.

She took a few steps, then looked back. The three corpses lying on the ground looked more and more unsettling the longer she gazed at them.

After a moment’s hesitation, she returned and dragged the bodies together. Being small and slight, she struggled to move the three grown men, quickly exhausting herself and panting heavily. Then she fetched the oil lamp from the corner—it hadn’t been used in who knows how long—poured the last of the oil over the corpses, found a firestone, and carefully set their clothing alight.

Though she could not give them a proper burial, she could at least spare them from exposure. This would have to do.

Finally, Lingyu knelt beside Xuanchenzi’s corpse and bowed three times. “Master, though I disliked being used by you, you did save me back then and taught me for three years. I remember that debt. I will fulfill the promise I made before. Go in peace.”

With that, she did not look back. Stumbling and staggering, she made her way toward the exit.

The secret passages leading to the treasury twisted and wound in all directions, and there was no light at all. Lingyu had only just entered the Visualization Realm; her eyesight was far inferior to a cultivator’s, enough only to make out shifting shadows. When she entered, Feiyun had dragged her along, leaving her dizzy and disoriented, unable to distinguish north from south, with no idea how to find her way out. After wandering for ages, she was still lost in a maze.

This wouldn’t do. Lingyu pressed a hand to her empty belly, listened to the birdsong outside, and guessed that another hour had passed. No light penetrated the hidden corridors; if she kept blundering about like this, she would starve to death before ever finding her way out.

She pondered a while and realized that the most important thing was to have light. With light, she could see her way and mark her path.

But among the three men’s belongings, there were only firestones and a few fire sticks. The fire sticks could provide light, but only briefly—nowhere near long enough to get her out. What a pity she’d wasted the oil lamp earlier—she was still a child, after all, and hadn’t thought things through.

Lingyu turned around and stared at the faint glow shining from the other end of the tunnel—the fire consuming the corpses, and the glimmer from the luminous pearls. Luminous pearls! Of course!

Delighted, she hurried back toward the treasury hall.

Winding her way through the passages for over an hour, by the time she returned, the three bodies had been burnt beyond recognition, fat oozing from the flesh and fueling a hissing, spattering fire. The hall reeked with the acrid stench of scorched hair and burning skin.

On any other day, such a scene would have made her retch. But after the upheaval she’d been through that night, it oddly set her at ease. These three were dead beyond all doubt—only then could she feel safe.

Standing in the treasury hall, Lingyu looked up. The ceiling soared nearly ten zhang overhead—she would have to stack herself twenty times over to reach it. The luminous pearls were all set in crystal lamps, suspended high above.

She glanced around and her eyes brightened. The shelves heaped with treasures reached about the height of a person beneath the lamps. If she stood on top and used a wooden sword, she could just about reach the lamps.

Without further ado, she found a shelf topped by a crystal lamp containing a luminous pearl and estimated the height of each tier. Good—each was about two feet high, not too difficult to climb.

She set down her bundle, picked out the longest wooden sword, and strapped it to her back. Rolling up her sleeves and rubbing her hands, she began to climb.

She had scarcely scaled two tiers when a tremendous force struck her, pitching her heavily to the ground.

The fall made her bare her teeth in pain. She’d spent the whole night being dropped or throttled—not seriously injured, but certainly battered.

“So you can’t climb the shelves?” she muttered, rubbing her sore backside. “No, I definitely made it up two tiers just now.”

Thinking it over, she recalled the moment before she fell and suddenly understood. “Ah! There’s a seal on the shelves—you’re not allowed to take anything. I must have accidentally touched something and triggered it.”

She tested her theory at once. Sure enough, as soon as she touched anything on the shelves, a force threw her off.

“It hurts!” Lingyu rested a long while before recovering. She was certain she was already bruised all over.

Now that she knew the cause, climbing became easier. She found a relatively empty shelf—one also topped by a luminous pearl—and carefully avoided touching any items as she climbed.

Lingyu had never been the docile sort. As a child, she’d chased chickens, teased dogs, climbed walls and trees—she’d try anything, and more often than not, paid for it by getting thrashed and left unable to get out of bed. But she never repented. It was only after falling in with Xuanchenzi that her nature softened—a daily regimen of reciting sacred texts was bound to refine one’s temperament.

Thanks to her restless childhood, she was healthy and strong, barely ever suffering so much as a cold. Climbing a shelf was nothing to her.

Step by steady step, she made her way up. There were a few thrilling moments, but after half an hour she finally reached the top.

Looking down from the height of the shelf, she felt a wave of dizziness. Nearly ten zhang—like the height of a nine-story pagoda. If she fell from here… The thought sent a shiver down her spine and she quickly looked away from the floor.

How they’d managed to build shelves so high was beyond her. She forced herself to stop thinking about it, focusing instead on maintaining her balance.

Fortunately, the shelf was broad enough for her to rest. Sitting atop it, she waited for her breath and nerves to steady, then took the wooden sword from her back, rose carefully, and reached toward the crystal lamp overhead.

The lamp was exquisitely crafted—clear and flawless, shimmering with light. But compared to the luminous pearl it housed, it was merely a delicate trinket. Each pearl was the size of a bowl, smooth and white as jade, glowing softly like a sphere of gentle light. Even more astonishing, there were dozens, perhaps hundreds, of such pearls suspended above.

Gazing at the crystal lamps and the luminous pearls, and at the towering shelves and the row upon row of chests, Lingyu couldn’t help but marvel at the Duke of Chu, ancestor of the Cheng clan—what a master of amassing wealth! The later generations of Cheng were nothing in comparison.

She raised the wooden sword above her head and nudged the crystal lamp; it tilted, and the luminous pearl rolled out.

Perfect. She had what she came for.

Carefully stowing the sword, she slowly lay flat against the shelf, ensuring her safety.

Once her nerves had steadied, she began to inch her way down, moving her feet with the utmost caution.

Climbing up, she hadn’t noticed the height, intent only on reaching the top. But descending, she found the distance daunting—her legs felt weak with every step. Moreover, while she could see where to place her feet on the way up, now she could only grope her way down, her toes searching for each foothold.

After only a couple of tiers, Lingyu was drenched in sweat, and there were dozens more to go.

“Calm down, calm down,” she murmured, breathing deeply. Only after a long pause did she continue her descent.

Good—her foot found purchase. She let go with her left hand, bent low, and grabbed the next tier, then her right hand.

As soon as she released her right hand, she sensed disaster. Her palms were slick with cold sweat—now the weight was all on her left hand, and it slipped.

“Ah!” Her body lost balance and fell backward.

In this critical moment, Lingyu grew strangely calm. Falling from this height would be fatal unless she could somehow cushion the impact.

With that thought, her body reacted instinctively—she kicked off with her feet, launching herself sideways.

With a thud, her head smashed into another shelf, stars exploding before her eyes, and a hot stream gushed down her face.

Ignoring the pain, she grabbed frantically, catching hold of the edge of a shelf. It wasn’t enough to stop her fall entirely, but it slowed her descent—just enough. She repeated the maneuver, slamming into shelf after shelf, her head battered and her limbs aching, each time using the boards to bleed off her momentum.

If all went well, she would emerge battered but alive. But she was no body-tempering cultivator, nor had she learned real martial skills. Her head struck another shelf and dizziness overwhelmed her; she missed her footing, kicking a pile of treasures—

“Ah!” A powerful force struck her, hurling her violently away.

It was over.

A chill seized Lingyu’s heart. She was still five or six zhang above the ground. A fall from this height would cripple her, if not kill her outright.

Could she really be so unlucky? After fighting so hard to survive, would she die from her own carelessness?

Now, all she could do was shield her head and pray: “Three Pure Ones, ancient ancestors, please let me survive…”

Just as she braced herself for the pain, there was a sudden buzzing in her ears—and her body stopped in midair.