Chapter Sixty: The Crude Secret Chamber

Suddenly, the stone before his eyes, red as blood and resembling a pair of pupils, blinked. Shen Wan felt his scalp crawl, every pore on his body standing on end as if electrified. Terrified, he swung the black blade in his hand, hacking wildly at those "eyes."

"Damn it! Why did it blink? Trying to scare your old man, huh? Ahhh!"

Though his heart raced with fear, his hands showed no mercy. He hacked at the stone again and again, sparks flying up more than a meter high. At last, Shen Wan grew tired, and when he looked again at the two blood-red stones, they sat quietly embedded in the wall, still glowing with a chilling crimson light, unmoving.

Clutching the Black Blade of Ten Thousand Demons tightly, the icy chill that had suddenly enveloped him now began to dissipate, replaced by a touch of warmth.

"Hahaha..."

His breath came in short gasps, but with each inhale and exhale, his wildly beating heart slowly calmed. They stared at each other in silence for three or five minutes—Shen Wan and the pair of stones. At length, Shen Wan could bear it no longer; this terror of the dark, without any response, was more unbearable than knowing what lurked opposite him.

Clenching his teeth, he lifted his foot and delivered a flying kick to those blood-red "eyes."

"To hell with you!"

Bang! Creak...

It felt as if his foot struck something not entirely lifeless; the force of his kick seemed to make the object sink back slightly. Shen Wan stood still, foot raised, sensing he had seized upon something crucial. His brow furrowed, his eyes flickered, and then he lifted his foot again, pressing forward. As his sole touched the wall, he suddenly pushed hard, kicking with all his strength.

Creak... creak... groan!

Just as he suspected—a door! With that kick, the door slowly swung open.

"Damn it, I've been terrified by a door all this time! Whew!"

He wiped the cold sweat from his brow, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. Thankfully, Yun Yi and Gu Zhiping weren’t around; otherwise, his heroic image would be shattered beyond repair.

Looking ahead, the door hadn’t opened completely, only pushed ajar by his momentum. Whether from its weight or rusted hinges, it moved just enough to leave a narrow gap and then refused to budge.

Now, the two blood-red stones were separated, one fitted into each door, facing each other.

Even knowing it was just a door, Shen Wan dared not relax. Who could say if this was a gateway to life or death? If it led out, well and good; but if it was Pandora’s box, then Shen Wan had all but sealed his own fate.

When the door cracked open and nothing stirred within, Shen Wan approached cautiously, taking small steps, finally pressing his hand against the door and slowly pushing it inward.

The door resisted stubbornly, requiring tremendous effort to open fully. With a sharp crack, seemingly from beneath the door, Shen Wan stepped back two paces. Then, along the stone walls inside, lights suddenly flared to life—one after another.

The flames were dim, coming from oil lamps perched on shallow dishes. Whether stirred by wind or oxygen, they burned in a manner utterly unscientific. But nothing in the world of cultivation made much sense, so Shen Wan thought little of it.

Twelve lamps in total, six on each side, their combined glow illuminating the passage clearly, despite their faint light. Shen Wan had lingered in darkness so long that even this dim illumination seemed dazzling.

Through the hazy flames, he finally saw the true appearance of the doors. Each bore a carved rune, reminiscent of abstract tattoos. The blood-red stones were not eyes at all, but set at the center of each rune. Perhaps, due to a shortage of "power" or some other reason, the stones had lost their luster just moments before, making Shen Wan think they had blinked.

Perhaps it was precisely that moment which opened the door.

Looking at the dozen or so scratches on the doors, Shen Wan swallowed nervously. The beautiful design had been ruined by his hacking; if an archaeological team ever discovered this place, would they curse him to high heaven for defacing the doors?

"Sinful, sinful! But who told it to scare me? Can't blame me!"

He shamelessly excused himself, offering comfort, for in this world, archaeologists and tomb raiders were of the same ilk.

He glanced back; the cave where the divine tree had stood was still pitch-black. Returning the way he came was clearly unwise, while the passage ahead, clearly manmade, offered a far greater chance of escape.

The tunnel was not high; Shen Wan could stroll through comfortably without stooping. He pressed forward, not caring that the passage was not the work of the Giant Gods.

The oil lamps were spaced close together, and after only a few steps, he reached the end of the corridor.

A dripping sound echoed—a trickle of water.

Delighted, Shen Wan thought, where there’s water, there’s life; and where there’s life, there’s usually a way out. He hadn’t read all those adventure novels for nothing.

Quickening his pace, he soon came upon another door, this time wooden, and badly damaged. Cracks riddled its surface, half of it had fallen to the ground, and the other half, rotted by years of decay, was thick with moss.

Turning sideways, Shen Wan easily squeezed through the gap left by the missing door.

Inside, it was not quite a cave, nor entirely a chamber.

The walls had been shaved smooth; tables, chairs, and wooden racks were arranged with careful order, clear evidence that someone had once lived here, though the furniture was now badly corroded.

Shen Wan surveyed the place—nothing particularly noteworthy. He passed through another broken screen into an inner room.

The inner room resembled a living area, furnished more fully, though simply. Everyday items were all present.

On either side, there were doors, both collapsed and decayed. Through the frames, he saw a bedroom to the left, and to the right, what seemed to be a garden.

The bedroom held little interest, so Shen Wan headed right.

Though the interior was in ruins, the garden was lush with exotic flowers and herbs, grown wild from years of neglect. The plants were immense, blocking the path entirely.

Without hesitation, Shen Wan raised the Black Blade of Ten Thousand Demons and hacked his way through, slicing down the huge leaves and forcing a passage.

At last, the foliage thinned. With a few more strokes, Shen Wan entered the courtyard proper.

Inside, the smooth walls and familiar furniture were gone. Instead, there was a vast reservoir pool.

The pool appeared naturally formed, with no sign of artificial carving. Watching the ripples in the water, Shen Wan saw it was clearly still flowing.

The source was revealed: from one side, a stone fissure gushed springs into the pool, like a miniature waterfall; on the other, water drifted slowly away, vanishing into another crevice.

"Damn, what kind of unscientific cycle is this?"

Just like the soundproof materials he’d encountered, things in this world were always wondrous—and equally unscientific.

Smacking his lips, Shen Wan wondered if there was space behind the pool, or perhaps a passage out.

He lifted his gaze and saw something floating in the air above the pool—a multicolored object, beautiful and intricate. Looking closely, it resembled a lotus pedestal.

The lotus pedestal hovered above the pool, several trailing vines dipping into the water. With the view so close, he could only see its base.

Shen Wan silently retreated a few steps, finally able to see the lotus pedestal in full. But as he looked, his heart seized with shock.

Seated atop the floating lotus, hands forming a mystic seal, legs crossed in meditation, was a person.

Shen Wan’s eyes widened; he hurriedly raised the Black Blade of Ten Thousand Demons to shield his chest.

He had never expected—there was someone here!