Chapter Eighty-One: Deep Within the Underground Palace, the Qilin Appears

Xin Zhan, why don’t you share what you’ve discovered with us? I’ve heard bits and pieces, but none of us know the whole story,” said Feng Jihu.

Cheng Xin Zhan nodded and recounted the reasons for his arrival and the events leading up to it. He concluded, “Now we must go to the source, to see where the problem lies—whether this is a natural disaster or a calamity of human making.”

Everyone found a stone to sit on. Jihu spoke again, “Jian Mo, tell us about this Central Capital.”

Zhu Jian Mo nodded, cleared his throat, and began:

“The Central Capital was commissioned by the founding emperor after he seized the throne and settled in Jinling. Its scale was designed to match an imperial capital. The intention was to move the capital to Fengyang after construction.

“At the time, many ministers, military officials, and nobles were puzzled. They petitioned the emperor: If you wish to stabilize the south, make Jinling the capital; if you wish to guard against the north, choose Yanzhao. There was no need to focus on the remote Fengyang. But the emperor refused to heed advice and personally ordered the prime minister to oversee the project.

“The Central Capital was mapped out over five thousand acres, employing a million laborers. After six years, the foundations were complete and the city walls erected. The emperor himself came to inspect the work and distribute rewards. Yet on the very day he returned to Jinling, he halted construction, claiming the cost was too high. No one could fathom the reason, and for the rest of his reign, the work was never resumed.

“Later, Emperor Yongle moved the capital to Yanzhao, a hundred thousand li from Fengyang, making a move to Fengyang even less likely. But Yongle did not wish to let the massive foundations—built at the cost of a million laborers’ toil—go to waste. He ordered that the city be completed, but only as a provincial capital. The grand city would also serve as the guardian of the imperial tombs.

“Over the centuries, the Central Capital expanded again and again, eventually enveloping the imperial mausoleum. But later generations of emperors and their families were buried in Jinling or Yanzhao. This place was left to its own devices, becoming what you see today.”

When Zhu Jian Mo finished, everyone frowned, still perplexed.

“A capital city, built and abandoned at a whim, mobilizing a million laborers—it doesn’t sound like the legendary benevolent founding emperor,” remarked Wang Miaoyuan.

“What is that mountain?” Xu Jishen asked, pointing to a peak behind the city.

“Longevity Mountain, also called Dragon Mountain,” replied Zhu Jian Mo.

“And that one?”

“Phoenix Mountain, also called Feng Mountain.”

“Dragon and Phoenix guarding, Purple Tenuity at the center—truly a palace fit for an emperor!” Xu Jishen sighed.

Cheng Xin Zhan gazed at the city from afar, but could see nothing unusual. So he asked Zhu Jian Mo, “Are there original blueprints for the Central Capital and the mausoleum?”

“There are,” Zhu Jian Mo replied, producing a set of plans, the original layout.

Taking the plans, Cheng Xin Zhan studied the city, then the blueprints, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper.

Sensing he had made a discovery, the others dared not interrupt.

After nearly half an hour, Cheng Xin Zhan placed the plans on the ground and everyone gathered around.

He took out a talisman brush, stained with cinnabar, and began to circle areas on the blueprint.

“This is the mausoleum, the head.” He circled the imperial tomb.

“This is Phoenix Beak, connecting the mausoleum as a neck. The Bell and Drum Towers are the forelimbs. Phoenix Mountain and Longevity Mountain are the rear legs. The Golden Water River is the trailing auspicious cloud ribbon. And this is the city’s foundation, the body. See, connected together, what does it look like?”

With the cinnabar brush, he traced out a shape on the paper.

“A white tiger? Or a qilin?” Xu Jishen asked.

Cheng Xin Zhan replied, “The White Tiger rides the wind, the Qilin treads on clouds—this is a qilin. The mausoleum, as the qilin’s square head, lies in the west: ‘huang’ sounds like ‘emperor’ and ‘yellow’, which is the element metal. This is the formation of the ‘Qilin Swallowing Gold’!”

He murmured, “‘Qilin Gazing at the Moon’ indicates the source of the vein, but the earth’s pulse terminates at ‘Qilin Swallowing Gold’. Is there really a qilin buried beneath?”

Thinking it over, he asked, “What was the virtue of the Ming dynasty?”

Zhu Jian Mo answered, “The former Yuan held the virtue of metal; Ming, which overthrew Yuan, took the virtue of fire.”

“I see.” Cheng Xin Zhan nodded. The ‘Qilin Swallowing Gold’ formation made more sense, but something was still off. The qilin swallows the virtue of metal from the former dynasty, gathering it here. It is both a lingering aura and a murderous force—unfit for habitation. Why build a capital here?

Could it be that the grand layout was only meant to set up a formation—and once the formation was complete, construction was halted?

Still, something didn’t add up. Later, Emperor Yongle turned the capital into a provincial city, and generations of ordinary people lived here. If the city was suppressed by metal’s killing force, how could people have flourished for centuries, and the city continued to grow?

Moreover, the mausoleum serves as the mouth for swallowing gold. Was the founding emperor not concerned that his ancestors would rest uneasily?

Cheng Xin Zhan seemed to grasp something and pointed at the mausoleum, asking, “Before the founding emperor ascended the throne, were his ancestors’ tombs always here?”

Zhu Jian Mo shook his head. “No. When the emperor became a general, he returned home in glory and moved his parents’ and brothers’ graves here, expanding them repeatedly.”

Cheng Xin Zhan’s eyes lit up. “So the mausoleum and the city weren’t built at the same time?”

“Of course not,” Zhu Jian Mo replied. “When the emperor raised his army against the Yuan, he began renovating his family graves as soon as he had power. Before his enthronement, there were three expansions. Afterward, there were more. By the second year of his reign, the mausoleum was complete, and only then was the Central Capital built.”

Cheng Xin Zhan returned to the map, as if suddenly enlightened. “So that’s it.”

The others immediately asked what he had discovered.

Cheng Xin Zhan explained, “If you consider the mausoleum and the city as separate, the formation changes.

“The whole layout still looks like ‘Qilin Swallowing Gold’, drawing all the metal energy of the land to the mausoleum.

“But if you ignore the mausoleum and look only at the city—with the Bell and Drum Towers, Phoenix Mountain, and Longevity Mountain as the four limbs, and Phoenix Beak opposite the mausoleum as a gaping mouth—then the city is not the body of a qilin, but a great-bellied fire pig!

“In this way, the mausoleum swallows the metal energy, becoming a gold pearl. But this gold pearl is constantly being drained and absorbed by the fire pig, nourishing the city and the Ming imperial line. I’m certain the mausoleum is a decoy—what’s buried there is not the Zhu ancestors.”

Everyone nodded. Xu Jishen and Sun Miaoshu wore expressions of contemplation, surprise, and agreement; the others simply nodded.

“But if the city’s dragon vein draws on the old dynasty’s metal energy, and fire overcomes metal, the city should flourish. Why, then, has it spawned so much yin energy?” Xu Jishen asked.

Cheng Xin Zhan replied, “That I can’t say for certain yet. Perhaps the city’s vein is flawed, or perhaps something happened beneath the mausoleum, and the fire pig absorbed the disaster.

“Let’s wait until sunset. As the yin energy rises and the last rays of the sun sweep the land with golden light, we may see the truth.”

No one objected. They waited in place.

Fortunately, the sky was clear. At sunset, golden light poured from the west, illuminating half the heavens.

With the art of seeing qi, Cheng Xin Zhan saw that the mausoleum no longer radiated the slightest trace of metal or sunlight. Instead, a current of yin energy rose from the tomb and was siphoned into the city.

“It’s the mausoleum,” Cheng Xin Zhan and Xu Jishen said at the same time.

Xu Jishen glanced at Cheng Xin Zhan. He, too, knew the art of seeing qi, but had not thought to use the sun’s afterglow to observe metal and yin; no book had ever described such a method.

“Then we must visit the mausoleum,” Cheng Xin Zhan said.

“Let’s go, or our journey here would be wasted,” Sun Miaoshu laughed.

Though the mausoleum was now surrounded by scattered homes, no one lived within. Under cover of night, the group rode the clouds and descended inside.

Stepping into the realm of the dead, they all felt a vague unease—an inexplicable restlessness.

Zhu Jian Mo led the way; the entrance was clearly marked on the original plans.

They followed the straight, wide Spirit Path, lined with stone figures and horses, which looked rather eerie. But as cultivators, they paid it no mind, reaching the end of the path—the entrance to the underground palace, blocked by a massive dragon-severing stone.

Again, as cultivators, they would not bother searching for mechanisms.

Sun Miaoshu formed a seal and chanted, “Gods of merit and virtue, part the stone and earth—Vanish!”

A flash of divine light—six figures vanished as the earth flowed like water around them.

Moments later, their feet touched solid ground. The eternal lamps, set every ten paces, still burned, revealing a grand underground palace larger than the city above.

Within, they sensed a faint, sinister energy—not enough to taint the earth’s veins. It was likely the remnant souls of workers or sacrifices, turned into minor ghosts after centuries.

“In the name of the Supreme One, redeem these lonely souls; all specters, all beings, receive grace…”

The six chanted the scripture of the Supreme Lord’s Salvation of Grievances and Rebirth several times. The restless ghosts turned to pure light and dissipated.

“Xin Zhan, can you see where the source of this evil lies?” someone asked.

Cheng Xin Zhan could not discern the source. “Let’s check the main coffin first, just to be sure.”

No one objected.

Zhu Jian Mo released a dozen puppet spiders to scout the passageways. Nothing happened; they reached the main tomb without incident.

“In the past, the metal energy here was so dense that mortals would cough blood and die if they lingered. There should be no need for traps or poison,” Cheng Xin Zhan remarked.

Zhu Jian Mo entered the main chamber, apologized to the ancestors, and opened the coffins of the founding emperor’s parents.

As expected, they were empty—no bodies, no mechanisms.

Cheng Xin Zhan pondered, then tapped the ground with his foot and asked Sun Miaoshu, “Brother Miaoshu, how deep can your earth-walking spell take us?”

“Forty li; if we wish to return, twenty li each way.”

“Let’s go deeper, then?” Cheng Xin Zhan sensed nothing dangerous here; if there were a force strong enough to disturb the earth’s veins, they would have felt it.

Sun Miaoshu looked at Xu Jishen.

Xu Jishen understood, took out a bundle of yarrow stalks, and began to divine—switching the stalks between his hands and fingers in patterns Cheng Xin Zhan didn’t recognize.

“That’s yarrow—Jishen is casting the Six Lines hexagram,” Feng Jihu whispered.

Soon, Xu Jishen put away the stalks. “The hexagram says: Fright, but no danger. We will return whole.”

“Good,” Sun Miaoshu agreed, and used his spell to take everyone deeper.

“Hm?” In the darkness, Sun Miaoshu voiced his surprise.

“What is it?” The rest waited in darkness, uncertain.

“We’ve gone five or six li down—there’s a barrier blocking the way,” Sun Miaoshu replied.

“Try moving sideways,” Wang Miaoyuan suggested.

“Which direction?”

“Any direction. The barrier must be protecting or sealing something below. But it can’t be seamless—there will be a weak spot somewhere. We’ll have to try our luck.”

“All right.”

Fortune favored them. Before long, they saw a faint light—emerging into a deeper burial chamber. This level was narrower, with a single long passage lined with niches holding bizarre beasts. There were no eternal lamps here; the passage was lit by fluorite and luminous pearls.

They found themselves at the entrance, with carved steps seemingly leading up to the tomb above.

“So cold!” Unlike the previous level, here the chill was bone-deep, freezing even their thoughts.

“Shine!” Cheng Xin Zhan chanted.

He cast a talisman, which burst into clear, ginger-gold flame. The light dispelled the darkness and some of the cold.

Everyone felt better.

“The metal energy is much stronger here,” Zhu Jian Mo said.

They all sensed it—indeed.

“This is Sinking Fragrance Replenishing Pill—good for the liver and spleen, protects against yin and metal energy invading the flesh,” Feng Jihu offered everyone a pill.

They passed the bottle around, each taking one. Warmth flowed through them, easing their discomfort.

Again, Zhu Jian Mo led with his puppets.

After a while, Cheng Xin Zhan noticed a glow ahead—the passage’s end.

Zhu Jian Mo slowed; the group approached cautiously. At a distance, they saw it opened into a vast cavern.

Cheng Xin Zhan could not tell what lay below; the glow was strange—dark gold and vivid green with streaks of black, giving the cavern an eerie look.

As they neared, Zhu Jian Mo’s steps slowed to a crawl. He crept forward, peered out—and immediately jerked back, as startled as a rabbit, his face a mix of horror, confusion, and shock.

He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling silence, then pointed outside to let the others see for themselves.

Sun Miaoshu went next, peered out, but after several breaths, turned back in bewilderment. He shrugged—he saw nothing.

Zhu Jian Mo looked even more confused and urged the rest to try.

So the rest crept forward.

Cheng Xin Zhan was among them. He slowly leaned out and looked down.

The strange dark gold and vivid green light grew stronger below, with black smoke rising thick with deathly energy.

Not far beneath the passage, he saw a crimson net. The dark gold and green light shimmered through its mesh.

Beneath that fiery web, the light pooled like liquid.

His eyes widened as his vision adjusted—what he saw was clear:

At the source of the light, lying on its side, was an enormous qilin, its green scales and golden horns as massive as a mountain!

(Written in the spare moments of a trip, my head aches terribly. Please vote for this story and leave your comments—I welcome your thoughts!)