The mummified corpse slowly grew still.
Blood welled from her eye sockets, trickling down her shriveled cheeks and splattering into tiny craters in the yellow sand.
Tuoba Feng, Su Xue, and Piao stood back-to-back, forming a tight circle around her.
There was no need for that.
She did not need to be protected.
She would not die.
She had been dead for a very, very long time—so long that she could no longer remember the passage of years.
Perhaps it had been tens of thousands of years, or maybe even more.
More and more monsters surged from beneath the ground, formless entities that resembled shifting pools of black sludge.
This batch of monsters was strong; Tuoba Feng’s breathing had grown heavy, yet his blade remained steady.
Watching the man’s blood-soaked figure fighting fiercely, the mummified corpse’s thoughts suddenly drifted, falling into memory.
She had always been a corpse, lying quietly in the god's tomb, sealed by the array.
Senseless, feelingless, and painless, time held no meaning for her.
But when was the first time she had gained consciousness, having a clear memory?
It seemed... it was a thousand years ago.
Yes, a thousand years ago, she had suddenly awakened.
At that time, she still could not see; her eyes had been gouged out, leaving only two hollow pits.
Her mouth was also sewn shut, rendering her speechless.
Her body was confined within a coffin, suppressed by sealings, unable to move.
All she could do back then was listen.
She heard many sounds.
"Father, the sandstorm is so heavy today," a crisp, tender child's voice echoed in the corridor outside the tomb chamber, filled with the typical liveliness of a youngster.
"Mhm. Wrap your face-cloth tighter. Don't let the sand choke you," a deep, masculine voice replied, his tone gentle.
It was the daily conversation of the Grave-keepers.
The mummified corpse lay in the coffin, listening quietly.
She heard footsteps.
A pair of small feet went pitter-patter across the stone floor, followed by a pair of steady, large feet.
"Father, when will the sacrifice begin?"
"The Hour of the Rooster."
"Feng'er, remember this: you must be respectful during the sacrifice. No playing around."
"I know, I know."
The child answered dismissively, his voice tinged with a hint of indifference.
The mummified corpse remembered this voice.
The little boy back then was only a child of seven or eight, innocent, adorable, and mischievous.
"...May the divine remains rest in peace and protect our kin."
"...Using sinners' blood as a guide to wash away misfortune."
"Western Region yellow sands, forever lock the divine soul; let the heavenly punishment not descend, for eternal peace..."
"Feng'er, don't touch that!"
She heard him running around in the tomb chamber, making the sacrificial bronze vessels clatter and clang.
"Oh..."
Footsteps rang out again, this time running further away.
The mummified corpse listened as he ran out of the chamber and through the corridor, his footsteps gradually disappearing into the depths of the god's tomb.
She did not know what the outside world looked like; she could only imagine it through sounds.
Footsteps were light and brisk, like a young deer leaping on stone slabs.
The voice was crisp and clear, like the flowing of rare spring water in the desert.
Even though she had never seen any of it.
She did not know why she would conjure images of things she did not recognize, as if those things were naturally present in her mind.
But regardless, she liked listening to him speak.
At least it was much more pleasant to hear than the sorrowful eulogies.
...................
Another day.
"I don't want to stay here! I want to go out!"
"Father, I want to go out and see the world outside!"
The boy’s voice rang out in the clearing outside the tomb chamber, filled with excitement and anticipation.
"You brat! You're trying to sneak out again?!"
"Beyond the Western Region is a forbidden land. Do not violate the ancestral teachings."
A stern masculine voice scolded, followed by the sound of clothes being grabbed and the child’s struggling.
"Let me go, Father!"
"I don't want to spend my whole life facing this yellow sand."
"I heard Grandfather say that outside there are green mountains and clear waters, red flowers and green grass, and even birds that can sing!"
The boy’s voice was full of defiance.
"Why must we stay in the sand sea forever?"
"There is nothing here!"
"Shut up!"
The man was furious and seemed to have struck him.
Slap!
A loud slap echoed.
The boy let out a muffled groan and fell silent.
The mummified corpse listened from within the coffin, feeling a strange surge of tension.
She did not know the meaning of what they were saying, but she could hear the longing in the boy’s tone.
"Feng'er, remember this."
Tuoba Feng’s father’s voice lowered, carrying a heavy exhaustion.
"We of the Tuoba clan are descendants of sinners."
"Our ancestors committed a great error and were exiled here to guard the god's tomb with our bloodline to atone for our sins."
"This is our fate, and it is our responsibility."
"If the divine remains were to emerge, heavenly punishment would surely fall, bringing devastation to all living things and eternal ruin."
"We are not just guarding this tomb; we are guarding all the common people under heaven."
"You want to go out?"
"You can."
"When you die and your sins are atoned for, you can drift out through the Yellow Spring Crossing. In your next life, you can go see the outside world."
"But while you are alive, you cannot."
The boy did not speak.
The mummified corpse heard him sobbing, very softly and repressed.
"Go back," the man said coldly. "Confine yourself in the sacrificial chamber. You are not allowed out for three days. Reflect on your actions."
"Yes..."
Soon, the heavy stone door was pushed open.
The mummified corpse knew he had likely been shut inside, sharing the same space as her.
This was where the sacrificial offerings were usually prepared, and it was occasionally used for solitary confinement.
The door was closed and locked.
Silence fell over the tomb chamber.
There was only the sound of the boy’s soft sobbing and the noise of him walking to a corner and sitting down.
Lying in her coffin, the mummified corpse felt a sudden curiosity.
He was crying?
Why?
Was it that important to go outside?
She could not go out, and she had never even thought about it.
The coffin was her entire world; though dark and narrow, she had grown used to it.
After an unknown amount of time, the sobbing stopped.
Perhaps because he was too bored, or perhaps because he was too miserable and could find no one to talk to.
The boy suddenly spoke, his voice muffled and nasal.
"Tell me... why won't Father let me go out?"
The mummified corpse was startled.
Was he talking to her?
But there seemed to be no one else here, so he must be speaking to her.
So she thought.
The boy did not pause, continuing to speak to himself.
"My name is Tuoba Feng, and I am eight years old."
"My father hit me. He’s so mean... I just want to see the world outside. Is that wrong?"
"I want to see what green mountains look like. Are they really tall and green with trees growing on them, like Grandfather said?"
"I want to see what clear springs look like. Are they really clear and transparent, enough to show a person's reflection, like the stories say?"
"I want to see what flowers look like. Are they really colorful and fragrant, like the pictures in the books?"
"And I want to see what birds look like. Do they really sing?"
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