Guide to the Rebirth of the Evil Woman in the Immortal Realm - Chapter 36

A moment later.

Shen Fuxin crouched beside a deep, bottomless black hole where a section of the ground had collapsed. The hole was about three or four people long and extremely wide. The yellow mud that originally covered the top had fallen away following their violent excavation just now. After a fall lasting dozens of heartbeats, Shen Fuxin finally heard the sound of it hitting the bottom.

Ji Ting went down to scout the way. Shen Fuxin thought nothing of it, but Chu Huailing and Chu Huaizhuang, who stayed above with her, were quite nervous. Chu Huaizhuang waited and waited but saw no sign of Ji Ting coming up, so she couldn’t help but ask Shen Fuxin again, “How is it? Can Immortal Shen see the situation below?”

Shen Fuxin was growing annoyed by her frequent questioning. Just as she was about to snap, a hand stained with some mud gripped the edge of the hole, and Ji Ting flipped up gracefully.

While cleansing her hands, Ji Ting looked down at the collapsed entrance with a relaxed expression. “I saw fallen steles below. The things that just fell down smashed them. The imperial tomb should be right here.”

Both she and Shen Fuxin were from the Immortal Realm; their constitutions were different from mortals. The stagnant air and poisonous gases trapped below for ten thousand years meant nothing to them, let alone the mechanical traps and spells of thirty thousand years ago.

However, Shen Sha and the two sisters, Huaizhuang and Huailing, had mortal bodies. If they went down recklessly, one mistake could lead to disaster.

Ji Ting simply cast individual spiritual shields around them so she wouldn’t have to watch over them every second. Shen Fuxin flew down first, and Ji Ting brought the remaining three down one by one. The group of five stood in the flooded underground tomb. For a moment, everyone was busy searching for the passage leading to the coffin, and no one spoke.

The hole Shen Fuxin had split open with her sword was only three or four people long, but when they actually flew down, they landed in a vast, empty space. On the ground were not only the mud and dust from the sword strike but also the steles Ji Ting had mentioned. Shen Fuxin bent down to examine a flying stone fragment. It was carved with many ancient characters, presumably the script commonly used in Taiyin thirty thousand years ago.

She couldn’t understand it and casually called Chu Huailing over. “Do you recognize this?”

Chu Huailing identified it for a while and said hesitantly, “I only recognize a few scattered words. The current script of Taiyin evolved from a script called ‘Women’s Writing.’ For example, this character for ‘Emperor,’ although its shape is far removed from modern writing, one can still recognize it as the posture of a woman supporting an imperial crown. The characters of ancient Taiyin were more like pictures.”

She paused, piecing together the few characters she vaguely recognized. “Emperor, tomb, coffin…”

“What is carved here is ‘The Collective Imperial Tombs of the Si Dynasty of Taiyin.'”

Ji Ting knelt down, using her spiritual power to piece together the shattered stone stele. She said softly, “The Si Dynasty lasted for a total of three hundred and six years, beginning with the Si Sovereign Li Jingwen and ending with Emperor Renmi, Li Xi’e. This is the collective burial site for the entire Si Dynasty; seven emperors are buried here.”

In the dim underground tomb, Ji Ting stood quietly amidst the swirling dust like a ghost from an ancient era. Her eyes were calm. Shen Fuxin looked at her and formed a suspicion. “You can read the ancient script of Taiyin?”

Chu Huaizhuang and Chu Huailing exchanged glances, an answer forming in their hearts. The face on that statue was perhaps no coincidence; that was Ji Ting.

Ji Ting did not answer Shen Fuxin’s question; she simply shook her head. In the tomb passage, her clothing—which seemed overly intricate and magnificent even in the Immortal Realm—became harmonious, as if she were an ancient person who had walked out of distant time, yet had been abandoned by it.

Protected by spiritual shields, Shen Sha and the two sisters of the Chu royal house were unharmed. Ji Ting walked at the very front, and Shen Fuxin brought up the rear. Occasionally, they stepped on traps left by predecessors, but these were all intercepted by spiritual power. Shen Fuxin walked forward over the clattering mess of fallen cold arrows and hidden weapons. Ji Ting’s figure seemed ethereal, and Shen Fuxin suddenly felt a surge of inexplicable restlessness.

“Among the seven emperors of the Si Dynasty, Li Kunling was the sixth,” Chu Huaizhuang said as they walked through the passage. “Their coffins shouldn’t be placed within the same burial chamber.”

The passage ahead was narrow; they were practically walking against the walls, with illumination provided solely by Shen Fuxin’s unyielding spiritual fire. Turning a corner in the passage, they reached a slightly larger small chamber. There were no stone steles here, but the entire stone wall was covered in murals.

Shen Sha leaned in to look by the light and said in a low voice, “Seven emperors are painted here.”

The first was likely the founding Si Sovereign. In the mural, she could be seen wearing ceremonial robes, holding a sharp sword in a martial stance, riding a fierce tiger. The emperors in the middle were painted more elegantly. Throughout Taiyin’s long history, the Si Dynasty was famous for its poetry and literature; aside from the Si Sovereign, only one other person held a sword.

The pigments of the murals had long since become mottled and peeled away, but it was clear the craftsmen had carved them exquisitely at the time; even the expressions on the faces were lifelike.

Shen Fuxin’s gaze fixed on the other sword-wielding emperor. This emperor appeared particularly young in the mural, perhaps not even twenty years old. She held an exceptionally majestic sword, outlined in blue pigment, its blade covered in beautiful patterns.

Unlike the other emperors who were either at war or holding pens to write poetry, this young emperor held her sword and looked up at the sky in thought. The tomb’s craftsmen and painters perhaps wanted to depict her as being entrusted by heaven’s mandate, painting her sleeves fluttering in the wind, giving her a bit of a celestial air. Shen Fuxin’s fingertips touched the sword in her hand, her heart stirring.

Standing beside her, Ji Ting also looked down at the emperor in the mural. Shen Fuxin couldn’t guess her thoughts. She only heard Ji Ting whisper softly in her ear, “The sixth since the Si Sovereign… she is Li Kunling.”

The others gathered around. Chu Huailing looked at Emperor Kunling, who was about her own age, and guessed, “The murals likely depict the image these emperors most wanted to leave for future generations to admire. Look, the Si Sovereign, as the founder, wanted posterity to see her bravery. This one in the middle is likely Emperor Si Ti, right? During her reign, Taiyin’s poetry and songs flourished, so she is holding a pen and writing. As for Li Kunling, I checked the historical records last night; she was not skilled in martial arts nor did she expand the territory through war. Therefore, this sword must have a significant origin.”

They continued toward a side passage, finding several burial chambers and avoiding several hidden weapons along the way, finally reaching a wider tomb passage. Shen Fuxin sent out several clusters of spiritual fire to hover in the passage, instantly lighting up the long murals on both walls.

“This should be the passage leading to the main burial chamber of Li Kunling’s coffin,” Shen Fuxin said with certainty after seeing the faces in the murals. “The murals on these two sides are her life story.”

Aside from the long murals, there was a line of small characters at the entrance of this passage.

“Li Kunling, reigned for twenty-six years. She ascended the throne at seventeen and died at forty-three. Her posthumous title is Piao Jing.”

Ji Ting looked up at the young Li Kunling in the mural. Her heart was suddenly touched, and memories from too far away made her vision blur, rendering the mottled lines and peeling colors almost indistinguishable.

She took a step back. Li Kunling seemed ready to walk gracefully out of the painting.

Just like back then.

The mural began with the childhood of Emperor Piao Jing, Li Kunling.

Li Kunling’s Imperial Mother was the previous emperor of the Si Dynasty, Li Wu Yuan. The late emperor had died suddenly of a sharp illness at the age of only thirty-five. She had never given birth in her life but had two daughters, both orphans adopted from the school, named Li Kunling and Li Kunyun.

Li Kunyun was three years older than Li Kunling. After being adopted by the late emperor, she was raised as the Crown Prince, yet she departed even earlier than the late emperor. Li Kunling first lost her sister, then her Imperial Mother. At only seventeen, she was pushed onto the throne. The grief and helplessness of it could only be known by her.

“On the day Emperor Piao Jing ascended the throne, an omen descended from the heavens. While changing robes at the Women’s Altar, the Emperor, who had dismissed her servants, happened upon a miraculous encounter.”

She had changed into her imperial robes and donned her crown, but she stood quietly beneath the altar for a while, her heart filled with trepidation about how to walk the path ahead. Li Kunling was not as resolute as the late emperor, nor as clever as her late sister Kunyun. She was still young and not yet ready to become the Emperor of Taiyin when her Imperial Mother suddenly passed away; it had taken only seven days from falling ill to her passing.

At that moment, Li Kunling saw a deity descending from the Divine Realm.

Chu Huailing looked at the Great God in the mural, whose back was turned to them as she faced Emperor Piao Jing, and asked in confusion, “…Who is this?”

Chu Huaizhuang was very happy. “Regardless of who it is, it’s a woman!”

Shen Fuxin watched quietly. This person felt a bit familiar to her. Perhaps the craftsmen who carved this mural were afraid of causing offense, so the War God in the painting had no face, only a finely outlined silhouette.

From ancient times to the present, the women of Taiyin were generally around seven feet tall; rarely were any especially short. In the mural, Emperor Kunling looked up at the War God. The War God was about eight feet tall, with broad shoulders and long legs. She wore no crown, instead having her hair tied back. She held a long sword in her hand.

Aside from this image of the War God from behind, there was also a profile view of her handing the long sword to Emperor Piao Jing. They all saw the curves of the War God’s chest. This could never be a man—at least not the current male War God, Jie Fanyin.

“Thirty thousand years ago, Taiyin was still worshipping a female War God. Why is she no longer worshipped today?” Chu Huailing examined the mural closely. “I’ve never even heard that there was a female War God. The history concerning her has been cut off in the middle.”

Shen Sha stared blankly at the mural, wanting to reach out and touch it but afraid of smudging the fragile stone walls. She withdrew her hand, but her gaze remained fixed on the War God from behind. She watched for a long time before saying in a low voice, “I feel as if I’ve seen her somewhere before.”

Shen Fuxin was not surprised. No matter how clean the Draught of Forgetfulness wiped one, for a true god who once possessed divinity, it was likely only a temporary fix. Didn’t the gods of the upper realm cast Shen Sha into the reincarnation of a poor mortal precisely because they didn’t want her to come into contact with her past memories, for fear she would remember everything and fight her way back?

“I don’t remember this part of history either,” Chu Huaizhuang thought more deeply, murmuring, “Why has no one ever mentioned it? We’ve flipped through many history books in the library. If we hadn’t gone searching yesterday, I wouldn’t remember that the story of Emperor Piao Jing and the War God was ever recorded.”

Ji Ting stood in place, looking at the mural of the War God gifting the sword to the Emperor of Taiyin.

Li Kunling was only seventeen that year. From her ascension to her passing, the twenty-six years in between were but the blink of an eye to a Great God, yet they encompassed the entire life of Emperor Piao Jing.

She still remembered the little emperor standing beneath the Women’s Altar. She said she was the soon-to-be-crowned Emperor of Taiyin and asked the name of the one who had trespassed into the forbidden grounds. Having discovered some clues that year, she was in a state of frustration and disappointment, but who in all the Three Realms didn’t know her name? Hearing those long-unheard words, she stood beneath the Taiyin Women’s Altar, a place she hadn’t returned to in ages, and looked at the green little emperor. Her features, hardened by slaughter, softened, and she couldn’t help but smile.

Just like many, many years ago.

She heard the rustling sound of memories loosening. Those words echoed in Ji Ting’s ears in the tomb passage. She stared blankly at the face of Li Kunling in the mural from thirty thousand years ago and finally remembered.

She said, “My name is Wu Zhen, and yours?”