Chapter Seventy-Three: Startled Souls, Bewitching Beauty

On the floor not far away, over a thousand headless mummified corpses sat in neat rows, their shriveled bodies covered in dust. Every corpse, regardless of gender, had long white hairs growing from their backs, which drifted slightly in the circulating air, making it appear as though the corpses were moving. Many of their fingernails had grown to a grotesque extent, curling into spirals like snails. I had seen something like this on television before—it only ever happened to the living who hadn’t cut their nails for sixty or seventy years. But these before me were corpses—how could their nails have continued to grow after death?

My gaze swept row upon row, until suddenly it landed on a pale corpse. This one still had its head attached. The moment I recognized its face, a groan escaped my throat—I nearly screamed. It was a recently deceased body, and that person... that person was Dog.

Dog, with his bushy beard, sat cross-legged in the center of the corpses. Like the others, his mouth hung open, his body naked, his eyeballs long gone. The only difference was a human-head-sized hole gaping in his abdomen. I could see a few fragments of broken organs inside—liver, perhaps, or lung, it was impossible to tell. A small cluster of spiders circled his neck, gnawing at the flesh; at this rate, it wouldn’t be long before Dog’s head was chewed clean off.

Beyond Dog, I saw several other similar corpses, some already missing their heads. They must have entered with my father, and now, they had all died horribly.

In the center of these bodies sat a yellow jade coffin, square and plain, with no sign of carving—its size only slightly larger than a typical coffin. This must have been the coffin of the King of Yelang. Yet, compared to my imagination and the blood-red cypress coffin below, it seemed unimpressive, not fit for a king. Perhaps, though, this yellow jade coffin possessed some special properties.

All these things I observed only briefly, for what truly filled us with terror hung above the jade coffin.

It was a woman. Though to call her that seems inappropriate—for what hung there could not simply be described as a female corpse.

The first instant I saw her, I thought—she was beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that to call her a peerless beauty seemed almost an insult. She was naked, her graceful body suspended at an angle in midair, like a celestial maiden drifting from a dream. That delicate waist, those long legs, her perfect breasts, her translucent skin—every detail was so flawless, it felt unreal. And when I saw her face, it was as if my very soul was being drawn away by the faint, alluring smile upon her lips.

The pale blue radiance we had seen before seemed to emanate from her, and in that moment, I forgot my purpose for coming here. I stood, dazed, simply gazing into her eyes.

I knew deep down she must be a corpse, and yet she was so perfect. I could not imagine what methods had preserved a woman’s body from ancient times in such immaculate condition.

If I had to find a single flaw, it would be the seven nearly transparent spider threads embedded into her back. These same strong, resilient threads we had seen before now pierced straight from the darkness above, anchoring into her spine. What purpose did this serve?

Perhaps, the King of Yelang only wished that he might gaze upon this beauty for all eternity.

I greedily drank in her form. Only after a long while did I notice a spider-shaped tattoo on the back of her right hand. It seemed oddly familiar, and after much thought, I suddenly recalled the mural I had once seen.

My god—it was her. She was the woman sitting in that ancient palanquin.

A suspicion surged up within me. Perhaps the legend Peanut had told was a lie. The mysterious vanishing of the ancient Yelang Kingdom might well be connected to this woman. With such beauty, any era would have seen men go mad to possess her. Now she was but a corpse—imagine, had she been alive, what manner of enchantment she would have wielded.

My mind grew ever more clouded, my face twisting into an uncontrollable grin.

Suddenly, I heard the low sound of sobbing in my ear. I snapped to my senses and realized my hands were no longer supporting my father. Alarmed, I whirled around and saw my father staring up at the woman above the jade coffin, his body trembling, sobs wracking his throat, tears streaming down his aged face.

“Dad, what’s wrong?” I wondered if he had also been bewitched by the corpse’s beauty. Before I could finish speaking, he suddenly dropped to his knees before the coffin.

I reached out to steady him, but he waved me away. Then, pressing his palms hard against the ground, he began to howl and weep uncontrollably.

His grief stunned me—I didn’t know whether to help him up or leave him be, so I simply stood there, frozen.

After a long while, his cries subsided. Staring at the woman, he said softly, “Yuanzi, you go out first. We’ll be leaving soon.”

“But—” I started, then simply sighed, glanced at the old man, and slowly backed away.

My feelings were in turmoil. In all my life, I had never seen my father weep—let alone cry like a wolf. More than that, I was filled with confusion. I had no idea what could have moved him so.

I wandered back behind the tiers of funerary objects and saw Fatty leaning against a stone rack, smoking, peering thoughtfully through the gap between two earthenware jars at the scene beyond.

“Never seen a hero cry?” I didn’t want an outsider to witness my father’s tears, so I gave Fatty a shove.

He didn’t mind. Instead, he turned and smiled at me, lowering his voice. “Looks like your old man’s been keeping plenty of secrets from you.”

Something in his tone and expression suggested he meant more than he said. I asked, “What are you getting at?”

Fatty threw an arm around my shoulders and led me a little farther away, as if we were lifelong friends. I knew he didn’t want my father to overhear, so I said nothing. Once we’d gone far enough, I shrugged off his clammy hand.

He seemed to have recovered completely from his earlier excitement, and grinned at me. “If you were a woman, I’d marry you on the spot.”

I laughed. “And if you were a woman, I’d send you straight to the King of Hell. Enough nonsense—out with it.”