Looking down from above, it was easy to see that this naturally formed, massive stone platform was actually a formation diagram depicted with complex patterns.
As for the eight stone lotus lampstands, they happened to correspond to eight runes, and the very center where the locust corpse lay was the formation eye of this array.
Although Nan Zhi had only recently begun learning about formations, whenever she had a moment of leisure, she would meticulously study the diagrams in the 《Encyclopedia of Formations》.
Therefore, the ones that had left the deepest impression on her were teleportation-type formations.
These types of formations involved worldly laws such as space and time, making them far more complex than other arrays like defensive, offensive, or recovery formations.
Much like a computer program, the more profound and unpredictable a teleportation formation was, the more complex its runes would be.
The subtleties within were something that could not be deciphered by anyone who was not a master of formations.
Nan Zhi squinted to look at the runes. The moment she tried to focus, she felt her divine sense throw into chaos, and a sudden, needle-like pain stabbed through her brain—
Although this formation was not active, profound mysteries were hidden within the dust-covered runes. Looking at them for just two seconds was already almost too much for her to bear.
Such a massive and complex formation was absolutely not something that could be constructed by a single person's power.
The cultivation of the person who drew this formation diagram must be at least above the Nascent Soul stage, and could possibly even be a Deity Transformation or Void Refinement existence!
Not daring to act rashly, Nan Zhi first landed on the edge of the altar, enduring the sickeningly sweet fragrance as she pondered:
“Countless demon beasts have been drawn here by this fragrance, yet not a single trace of a demon beast can be seen within a thousand meters of the altar. What are they afraid of?
The locust corpse? The lotus lamps? Or this formation altar?
Activating an array requires a massive amount of spiritual energy, and a formation this large would undoubtedly consume an enormous amount. So where did the person who created this formation go?
Of course, the origin of the formation might also be related to this locust corpse. But where does its other end lead? The depths of the Imperial Tombs? Another world? Or maybe even...”
The game world.
It wasn't entirely impossible.
Nan Zhi suddenly remembered Liu Ruhe mentioning that they had discovered a tomb chamber near the altar with signs of habitation.
With a stir in her heart, she swept her divine sense along the altar to investigate closely. Sure enough, she discovered an entrance at the northeast corner beneath the altar.
...
Ancient people revered ghosts and gods, believing that after death, people would continue to live in the Underworld. Thus, tomb chambers were generally constructed and decorated according to the preferences of the deceased during their lifetime.
Rather than a dwelling for a soul after death, the layout of this tomb chamber beneath the altar looked more like a residence for the living:
There were stone tables, a stone couch, stone desks, wooden chairs, brick-and-mortar windows and doors made to look like wood with exquisite carvings, and a tall bookcase covered in a thick layer of dust.
On a stone table sat a green jade wine pot, several pairs of gold plates and jade chopsticks, and even a few small bowls inlaid with gemstones and gold thread.
On a heavy wooden desk of unrecognizable material lay several writing brushes, an inkstone, and inksticks, scattered haphazardly.
In the northwest of the tomb chamber, behind a carved screen, highly stylized and brilliantly colored murals were painted on the wall, depicting immortals riding deer and heavenly maidens scattering flowers.
At the very top of the mural, a green-robed Taoist stood upon a reef by the sea, gazing toward the east.
A thick layer of dust lay on the floor, marked with chaotic footprints, and there was a faint trace of residual spiritual energy in the air.
Even though the person who lived here might have been dead for hundreds or thousands of years, the furnishings in this stone room remained as good as new, completely intact.
In a daze, it felt as though the green-robed Taoist on the mural had never left, but was instead sitting right behind that screen with a jade brush in hand, looking at the newcomer with a relaxed and cheerful smile.
Nan Zhi did not touch anything here, merely observing cautiously from a distance.
The sudden appearance of a massive formation altar in such a perilous, crisis-ridden secret realm was suspicious enough on its own, let alone this seemingly safe stone room before her.
These were all things that once had an owner. Thinking on a smaller scale, if the owner of the stone room had set some kind of restriction or trap on them, touching them carelessly would at most result in a bit of suffering.
Thinking on a larger scale, what if the owner's soul was still lingering, just waiting for some unlucky fool to take the bait so they could perform a soul-snatching and murder them?
—Since they could drive such a massive formation, the owner of the stone room might very well be a great powerhouse of the cultivation world. It was better to be cautious.
She turned her attention to the murals on the stone wall.
The murals were brilliantly colored, and even after so much time, the paint showed no signs of peeling.
Looking from right to left, Nan Zhi found that the narrative depicted in these murals was highly coherent:
The first mural depicted a green-robed Taoist standing among a crowd, seemingly performing a trick where flowers sprouted upon touching the ground, with the surrounding commoners cheering him on.
At first glance, this scene appeared completely peaceful. However, if one observed closely, they would discover that ghosts were hidden everywhere within the crowd—inside sleeves, under long robes, on top of the pear seller's head, behind the flower-selling girl, and behind the ear of the old man steering the boat...
Beside every person, two or three bizarre, hideous-looking evil ghosts followed. These ghosts hid within the mortal realm, waiting for their chance to strike, sending a shiver down one's spine.
In the second mural, the Taoist's cultivation seemed to have progressed. Holding a red-skinned gourd, he was slaying demons and subduing monsters. Beneath his feet lay a sea of raging fire, within which innocent commoners were suffering and struggling.
The ghosts that had previously remained hidden seemed no longer willing to cover themselves up, walking openly in the world instead.
Greater Ghosts held human legs in their hands, chewing on them greedily, while lesser ghosts gathered around children's heads, gnawing on their scalps with mouths full of blood.
In the third mural, the green-robed Taoist was locked in combat with a red-clothed female ghost covered in resentful energy. The female ghost wept tears of blood, her malevolent aura filling the sky, leaving scorched earth wherever she went. Beneath her were countless ghosts—lesser ghosts clearing the way, Greater Ghosts slaughtering people, stepping on mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Above her head, the towering figure of a majestic Demon King, as massive as a mountain, loomed indistinctly.
Standing among a group of immortals resisting the demons, the Taoist seemed to be no match for them. He hid his face and fled in secret, leaving behind his fellow cultivators to fight the demons, as city after city burned.
What was once a peaceful land had suddenly transformed into a living hell.
Blood splattered everywhere, and wails of grief echoed across the land.
The fourth mural showed a shift in focus, abruptly changing from the mortal realm to the immortal realm. Immortals rode blue deer among the clouds, heavenly maidens held fresh flowers and fragrant fruits, cranes spread their wings, and young boys led oxen.
Every immortal wore a compassionate expression, appearing to be discussing some matters of grave importance.
The green-robed Taoist stood upon a reef, weeping toward the East Sea. The direction he gazed in was precisely where the mortal world had been in the previous mural.
The fifth and sixth murals were completely blank, as if someone had deliberately erased their contents to prevent anyone from seeing them. Anxious to know what happened next, Nan Zhi skipped straight to the seventh:
The contents of the seventh mural were even more direct. The green-robed Taoist sat upon a divine altar, his entire body enveloped by a thick, transparent barrier, outside of which commoners were kneeling and kowtowing in worship.
Below the altar lay the Three Sacrificial Animals and Six Livestock, along with offerings of incense, the smoke rising straight into the clouds. The green-robed Taoist was unable to leave, his human form gradually blurring over time until, in the end, he grew a conical, bright green grasshopper head.
The final mural looked somewhat crude, having neither color nor much of a narrative. It was as if someone had casually sketched it, following the format of the previous ones:
The green-robed Taoist with the grasshopper head sat behind a stone table, holding a jade slip in his hand. From the two compound eyes on his large head, a single tear slowly fell, and his insect-like mouth was slightly agape, as if trying to warn future generations of something.
The green-robed Taoist in the murals was the locust corpse on the formation eye?
That locust corpse was the owner of this stone room?
Nan Zhi sucked in a breath of cold air.
Rate on N.U.
