Mu Qingyan looked down at his empty arms, then at the excited girl standing in the center of the hall. "Are you blind or can't count? There are clearly six walls here."
He gestured around them. The hall was enclosed by five equally massive sky-high stone walls, each carved with ancient intricate murals. Beyond these stone walls were three-foot-thick forged iron barriers. Two of the five stone walls angled slightly outward, leaving a gap several feet wide between them.
Embedded flush between these two iron barriers was the narrow iron wall they had just come through.
Five stone walls plus one iron wall made exactly six.
"You're the blind one!" Cai Zhao turned her head. "Come look, come here..." She grabbed Mu Qingyan's left hand with both of hers, eagerly pulling him up from the ground.
"I didn't dare say earlier because metal objects are harder to date than wood or stone, but now I'm certain—this iron wall wasn't built at the same time as the rest of the underground palace." Cai Zhao dragged Mu Qingyan to stand before the iron wall they'd come through. Outside, the arrow storm had ceased, leaving only short arrow shafts embedded in the passage walls and floor.
Mu Qingyan examined closely and noticed the iron wall he'd torn open was merely a few inches thick, vastly different from the opposite iron wall he'd shattered earlier. Its casting was also less refined, giving it a slightly grayish hue rather than the deep black characteristic of the entire Dark Iron Underground Palace.
As Cai Zhao had said, this hall was indeed a pentagon enclosed by five stone walls, with the iron wall they'd come through added later.
"Not only was this iron wall added later, but these five stone walls weren't built at the same time either." Cai Zhao gestured at the stone walls surrounding them. "Look at the grain and carvings—these five walls were carved at least two hundred years ago. Your Demonic Cult was also founded two hundred years ago, while this underground palace was built by your fifth cult leader. Even if the first four leaders had short reigns, it would still take decades to reach the fifth generation..."
"One hundred thirty years," Mu Qingyan suddenly interjected.
Cai Zhao: "?"
Mu Qingyan explained, "Leader Mu Donglie ascended to power over one hundred thirty years ago. Fifteen years later—about one hundred twenty years ago—he abandoned his position and disappeared without a trace."
Hearing this timeline, Cai Zhao paused briefly as a fleeting thought crossed her mind, gone before she could grasp it.
"Fifteen years in power, then abandoned his position..." she murmured before suddenly asking, "Why would he build this underground palace in the first place? Even at the height of your Demonic Cult's prosperity, he wouldn't undertake such a massive project without reason."
Mu Qingyan frowned in concentration. "Actually, I've had a strange thought since earlier. It seems Leader Mu Donglie built this underground palace to hide something."
"Hide something?" Cai Zhao looked up at the surrounding stone walls. "If that map wasn't lying, these five walls are the heart of the underground palace. Was he trying to hide these five walls?"
"Unlikely." Mu Qingyan shook his head. "As you said, this hall was originally enclosed by five identical stone walls with an intentional gap left between two of them for entry. Such design doesn't suggest an attempt to hide these walls."
Cai Zhao: "Could there be treasure hidden here then?"
Mu Qingyan: "I don't know whether Leader Mu Donglie left any treasure, but those corpses outside certainly believed there was treasure here."The two were completely at a loss. Finally, Cai Zhao let out a long sigh and slumped against the stone wall. "Alright, Young Master, tell me about this esteemed leader of your sect, Mu Donglie."
Mu Qingyan sat down beside the girl, leisurely stretching his long limbs. "Leader Mu Donglie was the most ambitious and visionary leader our sect has ever had, just one step away from devouring the Big Dipper Six Sects and unifying the world—at least, that's what the records say."
"You've already said that. Tell me something else," Cai Zhao retorted sourly, as a disciple of the 'almost devoured' Big Dipper Six Sects.
Mu Qingyan thought for a moment. "When Leader Mu Donglie ascended to the position, he was only twelve or thirteen years old."
"What?!" Cai Zhao was greatly surprised. Suddenly, she remembered something. "Ah, right! You mentioned before that the tradition of adopting foster sons to assist biologically weak heirs began with the third-generation leader. Since Mu Donglie was the fifth-generation leader, his father must have been..."
"Correct. Leader Mu Donglie's father was the fourth-generation leader, Mu Huaning—a weak and incapable only son of the Mu family," Mu Qingyan admitted frankly.
Across the chasm of 130 years, the Mu family of that era bore striking similarities to the present one. Young Mu Qingyan often thought this while perusing the Nether Sect's historical records.
Like Mu Qingyan's great-grandfather, the third-generation leader Mu Sheng was also a tolerant and benevolent man, so much so that he couldn't bring himself to discipline his only son strictly. As a result, Mu Huaning grew up sentimental, frail, and indecisive. At that time, the Big Dipper Six Sects had just finished dividing their territories and had only been independent for a little over a decade. Their influence was at its zenith, and they were eyeing their sworn enemy, the Nether Sect, with hostility.
Mu Sheng knew he couldn't entrust the heavy responsibility of leading the sect to his weak son, so he initiated the foster son system.
And just like Nie Hengcheng, the first foster son was an exceptional talent—wise, decisive, and skilled in both civil and martial arts. He could help his foster father intimidate the sect members and manage the Nether Sect with remarkable efficiency and prosperity.
Thus, like Mu Qingyan's great-grandfather, Leader Mu Sheng couldn't help but feel a faint unease amidst his pride in his foster son. But he was fortunate—though his son and daughter-in-law were equally useless, his eldest grandson was a fierce and formidable youth, already showing extraordinary promise at a young age.
This youth was Mu Donglie's elder brother, Mu Dongxu.
After Mu Sheng passed away, his foster son's power indeed grew day by day. Though Mu Huaning held the title of leader, the real authority lay entirely in the hands of his foster brother. As the loyal old ministers grew increasingly anxious, they could only hope that the young leader, Mu Dongxu, would grow up quickly and take over the leadership as soon as possible.
But then, just one month before Mu Dongxu turned eighteen, he suddenly fell off a cliff and died.
"Was it really an accident? Or did the foster son have a hand in it?" Cai Zhao couldn't be blamed for suspecting foul play—she had heard too much about Nie Hengcheng's underhanded tactics lately.
Mu Qingyan replied, "The records mention this. Leader Mu Donglie later investigated repeatedly and confirmed that Mu Dongxu's death was indeed accidental and unrelated to the foster son."
Upon hearing of his eldest son's death, Mu Huaning immediately vomited blood and fell unconscious. When he awoke, he was barely clinging to life.
By his side stood only his twelve- or thirteen-year-old second son, Mu Donglie, and Mu Dongxu's infant son, Mu Song, who was still babbling and was born to a lowly concubine.Under such circumstances, the supporters of the adopted son faction immediately became active. They networked extensively, openly and covertly advocating that Mu Huaning should follow the example of ancient sage rulers Yao and Shun by abdicating the sect leader position to his younger adopted brother, who was in his prime and had achieved numerous merits.
Mu Huaning wavered.
Alas, they were not dealing with Mu Qingyan's indifferent and desireless father, but with Mu Donglie, whose cunning and suspicion were unmatched under heaven.
When the usually silent and reclusive second son proposed to inherit the sect leadership in place of his elder brother, even Mu Sheng thought it was a joke and comforted his younger son not to worry, as his old father could still hold on a while longer.
Mu Donglie didn't waste words trying to persuade his father. He withdrew without a word.
The next day, as the elders, protectors, and other sect leaders including the adopted son were arguing by Mu Sheng's sickbed, a cold-blooded youth covered in blood arrived carrying two heads. He shook the bundle, and the heads rolled at everyone's feet—they belonged to the two most vocal advocates for abdication among the adopted son's inner circle, who were also two of the Seven Stars Elders.
"He killed two elders alone? At just twelve or thirteen years old?" Cai Zhao exclaimed in shock. "Were the Seven Stars Elders of that time not very capable?"
Mu Qingyan poked her forehead in annoyance.
Chaos immediately erupted by Mu Sheng's sickbed.
No one had expected that Mu Donglie, at such a young age, already possessed such astonishing cultivation, completely unbeknownst to anyone.
According to Nether Sect rules, sect members were forbidden from killing each other. Even in cases of betrayal or violation of sect rules, one needed authorization before taking action—no unauthorized executions were permitted.
Throughout the entire sect, only one person was exempt from this rule—the sect leader himself.
Now that Mu Donglie had killed two Seven Stars Elders without cause, Mu Sheng faced only two options: punish his younger son according to sect rules or pass the leadership to him early.
Mu Sheng naturally chose the latter.
"Did the adopted son just accept his fate like that?" Cai Zhao found it hard to believe.
Mu Qingyan's expression was complicated: "From later records, that adopted son wasn't someone who schemed for power. During the early days of Mu Donglie's leadership, although they had disagreements, it was always for public matters. Later, he became utterly loyal, risking his life countless times for Sect Leader Mu Donglie."
Cai Zhao sighed with emotion: "Ah, so you see, ambition is nurtured. If your father had been like Sect Leader Mu Donglie, perhaps Nie Hengcheng..." She shook her head. "No, that old dog Nie had been scheming against him since before your grandfather was even married—he'd clearly been harboring ill intentions for a long time."
Mu Qingyan remained silent, a subtle, barely perceptible emotion flowing through his heart.
Cai Zhao stood up, paced a few steps, then looked up: "Did no one suspect that Sect Leader Mu Donglie might have harmed his own elder brother to seize the leadership?"
Mu Qingyan shook his head: "There were indeed such rumors initially. But later, when Sect Leader Mu Donglie abdicated without hesitation, abandoning immense power and the sect leadership as if they meant nothing, it became clear he wasn't someone who coveted authority."
Cai Zhao thought for a moment: "After he left, his elder brother's son succeeded him, right?"
Mu Qingyan: "Correct. That was the sixth sect leader, Mu Song. He was only seventeen when he took over, but fortunately, the loyal subordinates his uncle left behind ensured no chaos erupted in the sect. Sect Leader Mu Song revered Mu Donglie deeply, with a devotion akin to that between father and son."
"That's obvious," Cai Zhao laughed. "The way he recorded Mu Donglie's ascension was full of twists and turns, vivid as the most popular storybooks on the market."Mu Qingyan also smiled. "That's true. When I read historical records, other sect leaders with great achievements only had brief mentions, just enough to document clearly. But for Sect Leader Mu Donglie's life and deeds, every detail was recorded, praised and extolled, with words full of reverence and admiration. No wonder—after all, Sect Leader Mu Song was personally raised by his uncle."
"If everything was recorded in such detail, then why wasn't there any mention of Sect Leader Mu Donglie building the underground palace or the reason for his retreat?" Cai Zhao asked curiously.
"The first twelve or thirteen years were indeed meticulously recorded, but in the last two years before Sect Leader Mu Donglie left, the accounts became vague, with key points glossed over. By the time he departed, it was mentioned only in passing." Mu Qingyan frowned. "I always felt Sect Leader Mu Song was hiding something."
Cai Zhao shook her head and paced around. "Ah, it seems we can't guess what was on your ancestor's mind. Forget it, let's just look at these stone walls—maybe there's a way out."
Mu Qingyan agreed, and the two craned their necks to examine the five stone walls.
The walls were enormous, and they could only clearly see patterns up to about ten meters high. Beyond that, the details were indistinct. The edges of each wall were carved with intricate, ancient floral and animal motifs. Among these patterns were numerous figures—old and young, male and female—depicted vividly, along with pavilions and towers, creating a lively scene.
Mu Qingyan's expression grew more solemn as he looked. "Zhao Zhao, don't you think these carvings of flowers, birds, fish, and insects look familiar?"
The girl was so absorbed that he had to call her twice before she snapped out of it. "Familiar? Is this carving style found elsewhere in the Vast Sea Mountains?"
"No, this metal-and-stone engraving technique is an ancient art long lost to time. While there are traces of such carvings in the Vast Sea Mountains, that's not what I meant." Mu Qingyan said, "I mean these designs—don't they look almost identical to those in Dusk Micro Palace?"
Cai Zhao gasped and hurried closer for a better look. "Oh! You're right! This large cloud pattern of the Dragon's Nine Sons—I've seen it on the beams of Facing Sun Hall. And this section depicting the Kunlun Goddess subduing mythical beasts is on the beams of the side hall behind Myriad Waters, Thousand Mountains Cliff, where I stayed on my first night. How... how is this possible?"
Mu Qingyan was equally puzzled and asked, "What were you looking at earlier? You seemed so engrossed."
"Oh, look." Cai Zhao pointed at the human figures carved into the walls. "This person, that person—almost every wall has them. If you connect their images, it's like a continuous picture-book story."
She wasn't boasting—since childhood, she had read no fewer than nine thousand storybooks, many of which were fully illustrated for illiterate women and children.
Mu Qingyan was startled to realize she was right.
To follow the story, they had to start from the beginning. The two circled around and headed toward the cracked iron wall, following the direction of a scroll's unrolling—from right to left.
Since the walls were too high, Mu Qingyan used the silver chain on Cai Zhao's left wrist to hook onto a protrusion high above, pulling them both up.
The first image showed a frail, ragged young child kneeling to pay respects to his master. The master was an ethereal, immortal-like figure with a house, land, and seven or eight servants attending him, while exotic beasts frolicked in the background.Mu Qingyan let out a sound of surprise. "So this stone wall depicts the story of our sect's founding ancestor, Mu Xiujue."
Cai Zhao asked curiously, "How can you tell?"
"Look at the child's left foot—doesn't it have seven moles?" Mu Qingyan pointed to the small bare foot of the young boy. "The historical records clearly state that our founding ancestor, Mu Xiujue, was born with an unusual trait—Seven Stars Underfoot—a sign of great destiny bestowed by heaven."
"Really?" Cai Zhao looked astonished. "According to my family's genealogy, Old Ancestor Bei Chen also had seven moles on his foot, known as Seven Stars Underfoot, destined to save the common people from birth."
"You must be joking." Mu Qingyan was taken aback.
Cai Zhao retorted, "Would I joke about something like our ancestors?"
Mu Qingyan thought for a moment. "Fine, maybe two hundred years ago, most people had seven moles on their feet."
Cai Zhao: "..."
"So, this stone wall tells the story of how the Mu ancestor apprenticed under a master. This isn't mentioned in the historical records, so it's worth a look." Mu Qingyan seemed intrigued. "Ah, it seems the ancestor's entire family perished."
Following his gaze, Cai Zhao saw the young boy wearing mourning bands on his forehead and waist, with ancestral tablets spilling from the bundle on his back.
After the master took the boy under his wing, he painstakingly taught him martial arts and literature, showing great affection.
To emphasize this "affection," the stone wall meticulously depicted scenes of the master visiting the boy at night with a lamp—either tenderly tucking him in, covering his exposed feet, or examining injuries from daytime training.
The unnamed master carver displayed exceptional skill, rendering not only the boy and the master vividly but also the servants, each engaged in their duties without a single misstep.
While the boy trained, the servants guarded the gates, tended the alchemy furnace, prepared carriages and ceremonial items, inventoried treasures in the storeroom, or trimmed plants with large shears. One young servant dressed as a page remained by the master's side at all times.
The only flaw was that one elderly servant's face lacked a mouth—below the nose was blank.
Over a decade passed, and the boy grew into a refined scholar-warrior, befriending many like-minded companions and, apparently, falling in love with a maiden—much to the master's delight, as he stroked his beard with paternal pride.
"Your ancestor was quite fortunate to have such a doting master," Cai Zhao remarked.
"Quiet, keep watching." Mu Qingyan's expression grew increasingly solemn, as if recalling something.
Sure enough, the next scene took a dark turn.
Massive black clouds rolled in, unleashing demons that slaughtered innocents and ravaged the land, leaving devastation and bones in their wake. The noble master naturally led the righteous forces in resistance, with his beloved disciple fighting valiantly at the forefront, unmatched in battle.
—At this point, Cai Zhao also felt a vague sense of unease.
But the demons proved overwhelming, and casualties mounted on the master's side.
One by one, Mu Xiujue's companions fell. He erected countless tombstones, each marking a dear friend with whom he had once shared wine and sworn brotherhood.
Amid the graves, Mu Xiujue stood alone, his silhouette desolate.
Finally, even his beloved maiden met a gruesome end at the hands of the demons.
Cradling her mutilated corpse, Mu Xiujue's face twisted with malice and hatred, the warm, bright smile of his youth gone forever.Subsequently, a fierce argument erupted between Mu Xiujue and the revered master. Several servants stood behind the master, all visibly indignant, except for the one with a large floral pruning shears hanging at his waist, who attempted to mediate.
Just as Cai Zhao was wondering what the master and disciple were quarreling about, the next scene depicted a dark haze behind Mu Xiujue—vast clusters of shadowy black mist that vaguely took the form of a horde of Demons!
When the revered master led the remaining heroes of the world to battle the Demons, Mu Xiujue charged into the fray with a group of ferocious-looking Demons to aid them. The master's side, which had been retreating, immediately turned the tide. However, Demons were still Demons, difficult to control. After the enemy Demons were vanquished, the ones under Mu Xiujue's command could not rein in their bloodlust and ended up slaughtering many innocent civilians and righteous heroes.
Seeing his disciple refuse to abandon his unruly Demon subordinates, the master flew into a rage, leading to another heated argument.
Mu Xiujue left in anger, unaware that his master was already injured. Under the strain of internal and external pressures, the master fell gravely ill. Knowing his time was short, the master sent people to find Mu Xiujue and asked the righteous heroes to spread the news, hoping his beloved disciple would return upon hearing it.
The master waited and waited, but his cherished disciple never came.
On his deathbed, he entrusted many words to the mute old servant, along with several chests and numerous scrolls.
By the time Mu Xiujue rushed back, the master was already near death.
Mu Xiujue clearly believed that the servants and righteous heroes had deliberately obstructed him, preventing him from seeing his master one last time. A violent clash ensued between the two sides until the old servant ran out, holding high a letter the master had written before his death.
After reading the letter, Mu Xiujue left in despair.
The old servant departed with him.
He followed Mu Xiujue to a vast, ocean-like mountain range, where they began constructing palaces, towers, barriers, and countless tunnels.
Eventually, the old servant also passed away.
With his last remaining strength, he had five massive stone slabs brought to him and carved upon them day and night.
The day he finished the fifth slab was the day his life ended.
The final image was the old servant's memory.
A memory of the master, whose beard was not yet so long, leading a young Mu Xiujue to gaze at the sea. Master and disciple, barefoot in the waves, laughed with eyes that bore a striking resemblance.
As they ran, the master's left foot lifted, revealing seven moles on its sole.
The story ends.
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