From a loser to an immortal sage

Chapter 468 The Secret of the Underground Palace

The dull thud of the stone door closing made my ears ache. I leaned against the wall to steady myself, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end—that oppressive feeling was not an illusion; it was drilling up my veins like countless fine needles swimming through my blood vessels.

The Key of Destiny was burning hot in my palm. When I looked down, my skin was already red, and my whole arm was trembling.

"Miss Xiao!" Qinglian's hand first touched my back, and the warm spiritual energy flowed into my body like a stream, temporarily suppressing the throbbing pain.

Her voice was urgent: "The spiritual energy within your body is in complete chaos, but what in this palace is interfering?"

I gritted my teeth and shook my head, but the fragrance of plum blossoms only intensified.

The aroma carried the scent of my grandmother's hand warmer from my memories, and the bittersweet fragrance of plum blossoms falling from the old plum tree on a snowy night. It reminded me of the last time I saw her before I traveled back in time—she was standing under the plum tree, calling me home for dinner, her silver hair tousled by the wind. "Don't be afraid, Yao Yao is the bravest," she always said.

"I'm fine." I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and looked around.

The palace was more spacious than I had imagined, and the blue stone walls were covered with murals, each painting glowing with a faint golden light, as if nourished by some kind of power.

Ling Feng's sword tassel flickered, leaving afterimages beside him. With his back to me, the tip of his sword swept across every inch of shadow. "The bloodstains have faded; now there's a smell of rotting wood." He paused. "It smells just like the ancient coffins from the Ghost Realm."

I shivered, but my gaze was drawn to the mural.

In the foremost painting, a white-robed immortal is holding a semi-transparent key, the tip of which is pressed against a cloud of dark mist, within which fangs and claws can be vaguely seen.

In the second painting, the immortal inserts a key into the ground, causing the entire mountain to tremble and the black mist to be forced into the cracks in the ground. In the third painting, the edges have peeled off, and only the immortal kneeling on the ground can be seen. The light on the key has dimmed considerably, and blood is dripping from his fingertips as he writes the words "Do not move" on the stone.

“This is…” Qinglian leaned closer, her fingertips lightly touching the key in the painting, “It has the same pattern as the Key of Destiny.” Her voice was hoarse, “Legend has it that in ancient times, there was a Qingwei Immortal who used his natal magic weapon to seal a demonic beast that devoured spiritual energy, named ‘Taoyan’.”

That evil beast devoured the souls of cultivators; after it was sealed, Immortal Qingwei sank into the earth's veins along with it.

As I touched the immortal's eyebrows and eyes on the mural, I suddenly realized that his features were three-tenths similar to Wen Chen's.

A metallic sweetness welled up in my throat again, and the Key of Destiny burned in my palm, almost making me drop it. Yet, the fragrance of plum blossoms grew clearer, like Grandma urging me: "Go see, Yao Yao."

“I’ll try to resonate with the runes.” I took a deep breath and placed my palm on the runes along the edge of the mural.

As soon as the spiritual energy surged into the stone patterns, the entire palace emitted a soft "humming" sound.

The golden light on the murals intensified, and the previously still paintings suddenly came to life—the white-robed immortal turned to look at me, his lips parted, and I heard a clear, resonant voice explode in my mind: "He who holds the key, do you know that this key does not lock away evil beasts, but me?"

I abruptly pulled my hand back, and the stinging pain in my palm turned into a burning pain.

Ling Feng drew his sword with a "whoosh" and blocked my path, the blade crackling with azure lightning: "What's wrong?!"

“He spoke.” I said hoarsely, staring at the runes that had lit up again.

This time, the light from all the murals merged into one, casting a huge phantom image in mid-air—a bronze altar with a golden bead suspended in the center, its surface shimmering with the same silver patterns as the Key of Destiny.

Beneath the golden bead, countless chains pierced the ground, locking a swirling mass of black mist. From time to time, skeletal hands would reach out from the mist, grabbing at the golden bead.

"That's... the real Key of Destiny?" Qinglian looked up at the illusory figure, her fingertips trembling as she pointed at the golden bead. "So it wasn't a key, it was a seal!"

The Immortal Qingwei used his own divine soul to refine this bead and made the lock core himself, thus suppressing the Taotie. "She suddenly grabbed my wrist, 'Miss Xiao, the key in your sleeve is a fake!'"

The true seal is within the altar, and yours...

“It’s the fuse,” I said for her.

The burning pain in my palm suddenly turned into a throbbing pain. I saw the golden bead in the phantom suddenly tremble violently, and the hand in the black mist gripped even tighter, causing the chains to crack with a piercing sound.

Something was pounding wildly in my mind, as if it wanted to burst out of my body—that was the spirit of the Key of Destiny.

Or is it the remnant soul of the Immortal Qingwei?

"Watch out!" Ling Feng's sword suddenly stabbed towards the left stone wall. The blade grazed a dark shadow, sparks flew onto the wall, revealing half of a bluish-gray ghost face.

The demonic face grinned, emitting a shrill laugh like a baby crying, before instantly disappearing back into the stone wall.

“They’re ghost cultivators.” Ling Feng’s face darkened. “There’s more than one.” He tossed me a talisman. “Stick it on your body; ghostly energy will burn you if it gets too close.”

I had just pressed the talisman to my chest when I heard a soft thud of pebbles falling from above.

The sound was very soft, yet it felt like a tap on the heart—like someone climbing up collapsed stone steps, each step accompanied by a wet, gurgling sound.

Ling Feng's sword tassel suddenly stopped. He turned his head to look at me, his pupils reflecting the runes on the mural that had suddenly dimmed—the light went out too abruptly, as if something had cut off his breath.

Qinglian's hand tightened around my back, her spiritual energy suddenly becoming scalding hot: "Miss Xiao, one of the chains in the altar's illusory image... has broken."

I looked up and sure enough, the nine chains that were originally wrapped around the golden beads in the phantom were now reduced to only eight.

The hand in the black mist reached out even higher, now only three inches away from the golden bead.

And in the deepest part of that black mist, I seemed to see a pair of scarlet eyes staring straight at me through the illusory image.

The soft sound of pebbles rolling down overhead suddenly rose to a muffled thunder. As soon as I looked up, I saw several streaks of bluish-gray ghostly mist hanging down from the crack in the dome, hissing and flicking their tongues like venomous snakes.

Ling Feng's sword tassel snapped straight with a "whoosh," and he spun around to block between me and Qing Lian. Lightning and fire crackled softly at the tip of his sword: "Retreat to the side of the mural!"

The ghost cultivators have formed an array—

Before the words were even finished, the entire west wall exploded with a deafening roar.

Amidst the flying debris, I saw a dark figure stepping through the mist, with nine strings of skull bells hanging from its waist. With each step, the ground trembled and black blood seeped out.

His face was as sinister as withered wood, and his left eye was a bottomless black hole from which putrid pus was gushing out—the King of the Underworld.

“Miss Xiao!” Qinglian’s fingertips dug into my arm, and her other hand quickly formed a hand seal. Twelve jade lamps floated around her, their wicks burning with ghostly blue flames. “He is entangled with the aura of the Gluttonous Nightmare!”

The seal loosened, which attracted him here!

The metallic taste in my throat surged violently, and the Key of Destiny burned my palm so much it felt like it would pierce through my skin.

The Ghost King's cold laugh was like a rusty blade scraping against my eardrum: "Little girl, are you still putting on a brave face?"

You think this broken key can suppress the gluttonous demon? "He raised his hand and grabbed, and the replica of the Key of Destiny in my sleeve suddenly trembled violently, trying to break free from my sleeve!"

"Don't even think about it!" I bit my tongue, and the taste of blood mixed with the fragrance of plum blossoms rushed into my nostrils.

Grandma often said that "pain can awaken the mind," and at this moment, that stinging pain really made me clear-headed—I grabbed the key with my backhand, and spiritual power poured into the talisman like free water.

The runes on the mural suddenly came to life, and amidst the burst of golden light, a barrier composed of chains of light "boomed" up between me and the Ghost King.

"A mechanism?" The Ghost King's black eye sockets suddenly burst with red light. He raised his hand and shattered the barrier, his well-defined fingers brushing against my temple. "That's interesting." Behind him, ghostly mist surged, and hundreds of blue-faced ghost soldiers crawled out of the rubble, the sound of their sharp claws scraping the ground making one's teeth ache.

"Yao Yao!" Ling Feng's lightning sword cleaved through three ghost soldiers, his clothes torn in several places by the ghostly energy. "Qing Lian and I will hold off the ghost soldiers, you go to the altar!"

"Quickly!" he said, then threw a thunder talisman at the back of his hand, which blasted the ghosts on the left side into disarray.

The jade lamp of Qinglian shot up with a "whoosh," and the moment the flame enveloped the ghost soldiers, those bluish-gray ghost bodies let out a scream like pigs being slaughtered—it turned out that her lamp oil was mixed with the juice of the Rebirth Flower, which was specially designed to ward off evil spirits.

I gripped the key tightly and ran toward the phantom of the altar, each step feeling like stepping on a red-hot iron plate.

The burning pain from resonating with the runes was still churning in my palm, but what hurt even more was my sea of ​​consciousness—something icy cold was drilling down from the top of my head, like the remnant soul of the Immortal Qingwei speaking, or like the Key of Destiny crying.

The phantom image of the altar became clearer and clearer.

The bronze platform gleamed with a cold light, and the silver patterns on the surface of the gold beads flowed as I approached. The broken chains suddenly shimmered, as if waiting for something.

I raised my hand with trembling hands, and the moment my fingertips touched the illusory golden bead, the entire palace trembled violently.

A deluge of information flooded into his mind—Immortal Qingwei hadn't sealed Taoyan; he'd used his own divine soul as the lock core, trapping both Taoyan and himself within the earth's veins. The replica of the Key of Destiny was merely a fuse; the true seal required the key holder to resonate their divine soul with the golden bead to reinforce the chains. If the key's power were forcibly used, the lock core wouldn't withstand the pressure, and both Taoyan and Qingwei's remnant souls would be released...

"So I was the fool all along." My throat tightened, and the phantom of the golden bead suddenly materialized. The real bronze altar crashed to the ground with a "boom," causing my knees to buckle and I to kneel on the edge of the platform.

With a "hum," the Key of Destiny flew up from the palm of the hand and hovered above the golden bead. The silver patterns on the bead gradually overlapped with the silver patterns on the golden bead—they were looking for a point of resonance, for an opportunity to stabilize the lock cylinder.

"You brat!" The roar of the Netherworld Ghost King shook the dome, causing rocks to fall. He had somehow broken free from Ling Feng and Qing Lian's entanglement. Several holes were burned in his black cloak by lightning and fire, and the red light in his black eye sockets was almost materialized. "Give me the key!"

Once I devour the Gluttonous Nightmare, this entire world will be mine! He raised his hand and shot out a black beam of light, aiming straight for my back.

I wanted to hide, but my legs felt like they were made of lead.

At the critical moment of life and death, the golden pearl suddenly burst forth with dazzling golden light.

The light shot out like a living thing, enveloping me and the altar, and then exploded with a "boom"—the Netherworld Ghost King was thrown by the wave of light and crashed into the wall, the ghost soldiers screamed in chorus and were instantly burned to ashes by the light; Ling Feng and Qing Lian were shaken and fell to the side of the mural, Ling Feng's sword clattered to the ground, and seven of Qing Lian's jade lamps went out.

I lay on the altar, coughing violently. What I tasted in my mouth was not blood, but a sweet, herbal fragrance—just like the plum blossom tea that Wen Chen often drank.

The Key of Destiny fell back into my palm, but this time it wasn't hot; instead, it was cool and smooth, like a piece of warm jade.

I can clearly feel it beating in my mind, like another heartbeat—but something is missing, like a broken string on a musical instrument, no matter how you play it, it will be out of tune.

“Still missing…” I stood up, leaning on the altar. Suddenly, all the silver patterns on the surface of the golden bead lit up, casting a blurry shadow in front of me.

The shadow was very tall, with a semi-transparent key hanging from its waist. It overlapped with the outline of the immortal Qingwei in the mural, and it also looked like... Wen Chen?

Footsteps came from deep within the palace, slow and light, like someone treading on snow that had accumulated for thousands of years.

I looked in the direction of the sound and saw something moving in the darkness. The outline gradually became clearer—it was a figure wearing a moon-white wide-sleeved dress, with a plum blossom hairpin in her hair, which gleamed in the shadows.

"The real trial..." My voice was drowned out by my own pounding heart. The figure drew closer, and I could even smell the faint scent of plum blossoms emanating from him. "Is it only beginning now?"

In the darkness, the hem of her moon-white, wide-sleeved robe swept across the broken rocks, and the silver bell on her plum blossom hairpin jingled softly.

I stared at that figure and suddenly remembered that Wen Chen always said he grew up in Hanmei Valley when he was a child—but he never mentioned that under the old plum tree in the valley, there was a palace that led to the earth's veins.