Linyun cast a final glance at the distant cityscape, where scattered lights twinkled like stars against the night. Judging by distance alone, he estimated he had ventured nearly twenty kilometers from the city. Tracking Li Lingling's ethereal trail, he had covered the distance in just half an hour—yet his body showed no sign of exhaustion, his breath remained steady, as if he had merely taken a leisurely evening stroll. Such a feat, if witnessed by ordinary people, would no doubt incite waves of astonishment and disbelief.
Though he had grown up in Tongjiang City, Linyun had never once ventured beyond its urban borders. As such, this vast wilderness was entirely unfamiliar to him. A single asphalt road stretched forward in an unbroken line, flanked on either side by endless wild grasses, untamed and uninhabited. To the left, several kilometers away, dense forests unfurled into the horizon, giving way to towering, unending mountain ranges that disappeared into the night.
Li Lingling's trail veered sharply leftward, vanishing into the darkness of the forest.
In the past, as nothing more than an ordinary high school senior, Linyun would never have dared to set foot in such a desolate wilderness at night. His own fear would have overwhelmed him before he even reached the edge of the trees. But the present was far different from the past. Ever since awakening his extraordinary abilities, his courage had grown in tandem with his newfound strength. Bolstered by youthful fervor and unwavering determination, he hesitated only briefly before striding boldly into the waiting embrace of the forest.
The night wind stirred the waist-high grass, rustling through the stalks with a mournful whisper. Moving like a sleek and agile panther, Linyun weaved through the swaying vegetation, his form vanishing and reappearing amidst the shadows. Within moments, he had reached the forest's edge, and with a swift flicker of movement, he slipped inside.
His psychic field remained locked onto Li Lingling's residual energy. Unlike in the bustling city, where her faint aura was easily muddled by human presence, here in the wilderness, her trail stood out with relative clarity. Simultaneously, Linyun became acutely aware of the presence of numerous small creatures in the forest. Their life forces were faint and skittish—whenever he drew near, they would instantly scurry away into hiding, revealing them to be nothing more than nocturnal wildlife.
With each passing moment, he grew more adept at wielding his sensory perception. Though his night vision was sharp, the dense pine trees and sprawling undergrowth obscured his line of sight, limiting his ability to see far ahead. However, with his extrasensory awareness, such obstacles ceased to matter—his perception effortlessly pierced through layers of foliage, detecting every trace of life within his range.
Currently, his sensory field extended to a radius of approximately forty meters. Beyond that, details blurred into obscurity. Yet Linyun knew that as his abilities strengthened, his perception would become sharper, his reach expanding ever further. Given time, it might even manifest as a fully mapped-out vision in his mind's eye.
The forest stretched vast and boundless, its reaches fading seamlessly into the mountains beyond. Though not part of any famed mountain range, these peaks still soared several hundred meters high, standing as silent sentinels untouched by human presence.
As Linyun pressed deeper into the forest, his pace slowed slightly, though he still moved with relentless efficiency. Nearly half an hour passed before he noticed the ground rising beneath his feet—he had reached the base of the mountains. By now, the nearest road was but a distant memory, and the surroundings had transitioned into true, uncharted wilderness. Yet Li Lingling's trail remained steadfast, leading him ever forward as if towards some unknown destination without end.
Then, abruptly, her trail took a sharp turn—slanting diagonally toward a massive rock formation standing over ten meters high. No, calling it a "rock" would be an understatement—it was more akin to a sheer cliff. A frown creased Linyun's brow. Judging by appearances, there should have been no space behind that rock face. And yet, his perception told him otherwise—Li Lingling's aura unmistakably extended beyond it.
Steeling himself, Linyun carefully maneuvered around the cliffside. What he saw next made his breath hitch in his throat.
The landscape before him suddenly widened, revealing a vast, level plateau nestled within the mountainside—an expanse so eerily uniform that it appeared almost artificial, as if shaped by deliberate design rather than the whims of nature. But it was not the terrain that sent a shudder down Linyun's spine.
It was the graves.
Rows upon rows of ancient tombs lay sprawled across the plateau, their silent presence oppressive and foreboding.
Had it not been for his psychic perception, he never would have noticed this hidden cemetery. From an ordinary perspective, the cliffside seemed solid and unbroken, completely concealing the burial ground beyond. This secrecy was no coincidence. Someone had deliberately ensured that this place remained unseen, untouched by wandering eyes.
Pale, flickering flames floated aimlessly amidst the tombs, their eerie glow resembling ghostly will-o'-the-wisps. Even with his formidable strength, Linyun felt an involuntary chill run down his spine. His heartbeat quickened. Yet now that he had come this far, retreat was no longer an option. Besides, Li Lingling's faint presence lingered unmistakably at the heart of the graveyard.
Cautiously, he stepped forward. Beneath his feet, the ground was solid and unyielding. A closer look revealed that the entire cemetery was paved with neatly arranged, rectangular slabs of ancient green stone. Time had buried them beneath layers of dust and soil, rendering them nearly indistinguishable from natural earth.
Each grave bore the same eerie uniformity—rounded mounds of compacted yellow earth, simple yet solemn. At the front of each tomb stood a stone-carved headstone, though most were weathered beyond recognition, their inscriptions long eroded by the passage of time. Even when Linyun strained to decipher them, the characters remained elusive, reduced to indecipherable scars upon the stone. Only the last two characters on each gravestone remained vaguely legible—written in archaic script, they read: "之墓" (meaning "the tomb of"). Strangely, not a single headstone bore a date.
The use of traditional script hinted at the cemetery's great antiquity. Linyun's mind raced with speculation as he maneuvered carefully through the graveyard, his every sense on high alert.
As he observed the cemetery more closely, a striking realization dawned upon him. The arrangement of these tombs was not random—rather, they were meticulously positioned in an elaborate, structured pattern. It was as if the entire burial ground was a colossal, calculated formation. Though he lacked an aerial view, his instincts told him that the graves had been placed with precision, forming a carefully constructed layout.
If he could see this cemetery from the sky, he would no doubt be astonished—hundreds of graves arranged in the shape of an enormous eight-sided Bagua formation, mirroring the sacred geometry of ancient Chinese metaphysics. Above, in the night sky, an eight-star constellation aligned perfectly with the formation below. Though faint, the starlight cast an imperceptible veil over the entire graveyard, as if an unseen force enshrouded the land beneath it.
A cold shiver ran through Linyun's spine. His psychic field abruptly registered an overwhelming surge of bone-chilling energy—a suffocating aura of death and decay. Within that darkness, an eerie wailing echoed, as if countless tormented souls wept and lamented in agony. Mere moments ago, outside the graveyard, the air had been crisp, the sky dazzling with stars. But the instant he stepped within, it was as if he had entered another realm entirely.
A ghostly mist drifted across the tombstones, thickening into an unnatural haze. The graves blurred, their forms twisting and shifting as though viewed through a warped, translucent barrier. When Linyun turned back toward the path he had entered from, his heart clenched in shock—though he had walked only a few dozen meters into the cemetery, the outside world had already vanished from sight.
Drawing a deep breath, he slowly shut his eyes, relying solely on his sensory perception. He pressed forward, step by measured step, heading toward the central tomb.
As he neared his destination, Linyun reopened his eyes, and for the first time, he beheld the true scale of the massive burial chamber before him. Unlike the smaller graves, this mausoleum was a towering structure of solid green stone, spanning twenty meters in both length and width, with a height of nearly five meters. A grand staircase of carved stone ascended each of its four sides.
Ascending the steps, Linyun reached the uppermost platform. The structure tapered inwards as it rose, leaving a square summit. At its center lay a gaping, circular entrance—unsealed, open wide like the yawning maw of an abyss, vast enough to accommodate several people at once.
Ling Yun suddenly felt an inexplicable sensation and raised his head to gaze at the night sky. A faintly flickering star seemed to align directly above the entrance of the tomb. His psychic field could vaguely detect a subtle energy fluctuation emanating from the tomb's opening.
*Wouldn't the rain flood the tomb?* Ling Yun wondered, puzzled. He leaned forward to peer into the cavernous depths of the tomb. Inside, directly opposite the entrance, stood a massive coffin, its lid wide open and unsealed. Strangely, the coffin contained no corpse—only an ancient bronze lotus-shaped lamp stand, weathered by time.
Without hesitation, Ling Yun leaped into the tomb. In that brief glance, he had spotted a pair of feet—feet clad in modern, branded sandals. Only a missing girl would be wearing sandals in such a place.
Landing softly on the tomb's earthen floor, Ling Yun barely spared a glance at the coffin. His attention was immediately drawn to the five young girls lying near the tomb's walls. Li Lingling was among them, positioned farthest to the right. All five girls lay motionless, as if lifeless.
A wave of dread washed over Ling Yun. He rushed to Li Lingling's side, lifting her gently. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes tightly shut, and she showed no signs of consciousness. Placing his fingers beneath her nose, he felt a faint breath and sighed in relief—she was still alive.
Setting Li Lingling down, he quickly checked the other girls. He didn't recognize them, but they were undoubtedly the missing girls reported in the news. Somehow, they had been brought to this horrifying tomb.
Though their vital signs were weak, their hearts still beat, and their breaths were shallow. It was a small mercy, but if they remained here much longer, they would surely perish.
Ling Yun stood and meticulously searched the tomb, but found nothing of note. His gaze eventually settled on the massive coffin at the center of the chamber. A frown creased his brow. So far, he had encountered no signs of danger, and the coffin appeared devoid of any unnatural presence. Yet, the girls couldn't have appeared here on their own. Something must reside within the coffin—perhaps its lair. If there was anything unusual, it likely lay with that ancient lamp stand.
Approaching the coffin, Ling Yun examined the lamp stand closely. It stood about half a meter tall, its base cast in bronze, with a long stem supporting a lotus-shaped disk. The disk was empty, save for seven evenly spaced holes along its edge. The craftsmanship was exquisite, undeniably ancient, but beyond that, it seemed unremarkable.
Ling Yun attempted to move the lamp stand using telekinesis, but it remained immovable. To his surprise, he realized the base was fused with the ground—as was the entire coffin.
Unable to shift the lamp stand, Ling Yun lost interest. This was no time for exploration. Whatever had abducted the girls was likely absent from the tomb, and he needed to act quickly. Saving the girls was his priority.
He had taken only a few steps when an inexplicable sensation gripped him—a faint, almost imperceptible call, as if something were summoning his very soul. The feeling was so compelling that, after a moment's hesitation, he turned back and fixed his gaze on the coffin.
The coffin remained empty, save for the lamp stand. But this time, Ling Yun closed his eyes, extending his senses to scan the interior. Suddenly, he reached out and made a grasping motion in the air. With a soft *thud*, a thin, yellowish booklet, nearly the same color as the coffin, flew out from a hidden corner and landed in his hand. Without a second glance, he tucked it into his pocket and prepared to carry the girls out of the tomb.
At that moment, an icy, malevolent presence enveloped the entire tomb.
A massive, grotesque shadow descended rapidly from the tomb's entrance, lunging straight for Ling Yun's head.