# 311. The Information Load is so Large, Brain Bluescreened
*An abandoned husk?!*
Hearing the monk Shenshu's words, Xu Qi'an did a double take, then swiftly connected the dots.
According to the murals, the master of this tomb was clearly that Daoist, yet the bronze coffin had yielded a withered corpse clad in a yellow robe, positioning itself as a subordinate.
A yellow robe... how could a mere subordinate dare to don that?[^1] That in itself was highly suspicious. Moreover, the corpse bore scars of burning—consistent with the effects of being struck by lightning.
All these clues, revealed after the monk Shenshu’s identification of the corpse, suddenly made sense.
*Could this corpse be the old body left behind when that Daoist failed to transcend? If so, then where was the Daoist himself? Had he succeeded, ascending to the First Rank, or perhaps taken over another body…?* Xu Qi’an’s thoughts couldn’t help but turn back to the Daoist.
*But there’s something wrong here. Daoist Jinlian once said that during the Second Rank Tribulation, success brought one to the rank of Earthly Immortal, while failure reduced one to ash. But this Daoist had managed to preserve his corpse. Did he somehow evade total annihilation, or was Daoist Jinlian simply lacking in understanding, having exaggerated the nature of the tribulation?*
“You’re trying to pry information from me about my Lord?” The withered corpse’s fierce face twisted with disdain.
Its speech was very close to the current mandarin of the Great Feng, though some of the pronunciations differed slightly in details.
Humanity had lived in the central plains since ancient times, and though there were breaks in the historical records, the people still existed, and their language had not changed significantly.
*So, this creature is oddly loyal to its previous self… Well, I guess that makes sense—after all, the former and current owners share the same body,* Xu Qi’an thought to himself.
Shenshu’s tone was warm. “A Daoist, a swordsman, and one who needs fortune to cultivate. Even if you choose not to speak, I can infer this Daoist’s origin.”
*The Human Sect!*
*So that Daoist came from the Human Sect… Now that explains why those murals had such a strong air of familiarity, and why he sought to kill the emperor and seize the throne. It’s a pity Luo Yuheng wasn’t born a man; otherwise… Emperor Yuanjing would be in grave danger!*
Xu Qi’an thought this with a hint of regret.
The corpse was silent for a moment, then replied without denial, “For one of your standing, it wouldn’t be difficult to see through that.”
Shenshu nodded. “Don’t you want to know your Lord’s whereabouts? We could exchange information.”
This time, the corpse did not hesitate. “Very well!”
*The key to negotiation lies in finding out what the other party wants. As long as there is a need, there is room for negotiation…* Xu Qi’an mused, as he absorbed the exchanges between these two mighty figures.
“What era was your Lord from?” asked Shenshu.
“The Great Dynasty of Liang.”
“The Great Liang… Do you know of it?”
Shenshu frowned, his last question directed at Xu Qi’an.
Then, without waiting for a reply, he answered himself in Xu Qi’an’s voice: “Master, I am but a crude warrior, not a disciple of the Confucianists. I haven’t even read the history books of the Great Feng…”
*I’m just a martial artist; don’t make me bear the weight of knowledge beyond my domain,* Xu Qi’an quipped inwardly.
“It seems that my slumber was indeed excessively prolonged,” rasped the corpse, in a voice as if his vocal cords had mostly rotted away, “The Great Liang existed many myriad years after the gods and demons had disappeared from the world. Back then, nations warred across the central plains. The bloodlines left by the gods and demons still roamed Jiuzhou, though they were a dwindling force, no longer a real threat.
“Besides humanity, the Yao tribes also held significant power. However, just as the human race was fractured, so too were the Yao, consisting of scattered tribes and clans. Although they would unite in battle against humans, they were, by and large, a loose coalition.”
*After the age of gods and demons came the era of human-yao struggle… How long did that era last? Why do I get the sense that this world’s history is utterly fragmented, with too many periods lost to time?*
*Even a top scholar like Chu Yuanzhen didn’t recognize the clothing depicted on the murals.*
*This world needs a Sima Qian…* Xu Qi’an muttered to himself.
“How did the gods and demons fall?” Xu Qi’an took the initiative, temporarily wresting control of the “account.”
The corpse shook its head.
*Alright then. There are too many gaps in history, with no coherent cultural continuity. Some of these mysteries may remain forever unsolved—unless I venture to the Abyss in the Southern Marches to question the Gu God…* Xu Qi’an pressed on:
“What rank did the gods and demons hold?”
“Rank?” the corpse echoed.
*Oh, right—the current system of Ninth to First Rank was introduced by the Confucian Sage, who personally defined each level. This corpse dates from a much earlier age…* Xu Qi’an nodded, rephrasing his question:
“What level of strength did they possess?”
“Your question is too vague for me to answer. Each deity had a unique level of power, it would be impossible to generalise. The mightiest among them were immortal, capable of tearing apart heaven and earth.”
*Then am I to understand that the strongest gods and demons possessed power beyond the Nine Ranks?* Xu Qi’an pondered, lost in thought, without voicing another question.
“In your era, how many beings of the highest god-demon strength existed?” The monk Shenshu stepped in, seizing control of the “account.”
“The Gu God in the Southern Marches,” the corpse answered.
At this, Shenshu frowned. “And the Daoist Venerable?”
Xu Qi’an, too, sensed something amiss. Why were there no supreme beings in that era? The corpse’s lack of knowledge of the Buddhist path suggested that the Buddha had not yet achieved enlightenment in its era. The same logic applied to the Warlock God.
Yet, given that there was a Daoist who usurped the throne, he must have appeared after the Daoist Venerable—who was, after all, the founder of Daoism.
The Daoist Venerable must be a supreme being, surpassing all ranks.
“What Daoist Venerable?” The corpse’s tone was bewildered.
*This…* Xu Qi’an was momentarily speechless, his mind blank with shock.
He’s never even heard of the Venerable—never even heard of the Venerable?!
A Daoist practitioner, yet completely ignorant of the Daoist Venerable. How could this be?
“You don’t know the founding master of Daoism?” Xu Qi’an demanded in a low voice.
“Daoism?” The corpse thought for a moment, then replied, “I’ve never heard of it. Perhaps it was founded after the Great Liang.”
*It’s never heard of Daoism, yet that Daoist from the mural was evidently real… So does that mean the concept of the Daoist path wasn’t even formalized at that time?*
*But complete ignorance of the Venerable himself—now, that is truly puzzling.*
Xu Qi’an was then reminded of Wei Yuan’s description of the martial artist system. It hadn’t materialized in one fell swoop but instead emerged over generations of strength practitioners, who used their own intelligence and talent to gradually develop the path. After countless eras, it became today’s martial path.
*Could it be that the Venerable wasn’t the founder of Daoism? Back then, there may have been a nebulous framework that people followed, until the Venerable became its ultimate master, transcending ranks to reach divinity.*
*Was that how the Daoist path came to be?*
*I remember checking the three Daoist Sects’ texts in the Archive once. They recorded that the Daoist Venerable's birth era was unknown and impossible to verify… which aligns with this historical discontinuity.*
*What a shame. Without the Confucians back then, no one knew to record it, making the hypothesis about the Daoist Venerable being a master of all paths nearly impossible to confirm…* Xu Qi’an thought regretfully, then heard Monk Shenshu say, “Tell me about yourself.”
“After my lord failed his tribulation, his Yang Spirit shed his old body. He awakened the remnant soul within that body and collected wandering souls throughout the world to complete it. And thus, I was born.
“Afterward, he built this grand tomb and entrusted me with the jade seal bearing the fortune of the Great Liang. He instructed me to guard it carefully, promising to return someday to reclaim it. But ages passed, and he never came back, until you entered this tomb.”
The withered corpse looked at Xu Qi’an, its tone laced with a touch of betrayed anger. “Your fortune is identical to my Lord’s. That’s why I mistook you for him.”
“Don’t all emperors bear fortune?” Xu Qi’an asked.
The corpse sneered, “If I knew, would I have mistaken you?”
Xu Qi’an replied in Monk Shenshu's voice, “Indeed, emperors bear fortune, yet these do not belong to them but to their dynasties. Thus, emperors can change.
“You, on the other hand, possess refined fortune, uniquely yours. The Daoist must have been the same. Hence, he mistook you for the Daoist.”
*Refined fortune…* Xu Qi’an felt a chill inside.
After answering Xu Qi’an’s question, Shenshu continued, “At present, the orthodox human dynasty is the Great Feng, likely separated from your era by over ten thousand years.
“As for your Lord’s fate, I can tell you this: after the Great Liang, only a handful of beings at the peak of power existed, such as the Gu God, the Warlock God, the Buddha, the Daoist Venerable, and the Confucian Sage.
“Among them, the Confucian Sage died, the Daoist Venerable vanished after splitting himself into three, and as for the others… well, let’s just say each has had their share of troubles.”
*That… that line is chilling in its implications…* Xu Qi’an felt a dull ache in his head as he tried to process the deluge of high-level information.
Analyzing it too deeply was mind-breaking.
“Whether your Lord is among them, that’s up to you to consider. If not, he has either perished or is still gathering strength. If he is, then why hasn’t he returned for you? Heh, this too I do not know.”
The corpse fixed him with a penetrating look, asking, “Among these… are you not one of them?”
Shenshu shook his head, then said, “I offer you two choices: one, I end you now. Two, you remain in the tomb and continue waiting. But this time, you’ll not sleep; you’ll endure unending isolation and solitude.”
“I… I will continue to wait. That is my mission,” the corpse said quietly,
“and the meaning of my existence.”
*What a loyal Hachiko…*[^2] Xu Qi’an couldn’t help but feel moved, only to hear Monk Shenshu say, “Within ten years, he will return your fortune.”
“Very well,” the corpse nodded.
*…what are you doing?*[^3] Xu Qi’an’s face froze.
At that moment, he heard strange footsteps, each fall of the foot differing in weight. Whoever approached seemed to have a limp.
“Someone’s coming,” Monk Shenshu frowned, his voice grave. “I’ll go back into my slumber. If I don’t, I can’t control my hunger.
“Don’t worry about me; the more fortune you consume, the better it is for me.”
The voice faded and disappeared.
The unsteady footsteps drew closer, and at the entrance to the ruined main chamber, a head of tangled hair cautiously peeked in.
“What are you staring at!” Xu Qi’an shouted.
She jumped, withdrawing her head quickly, only to peer back in after a few seconds, timidly.
This time, Xu Qi’an appeared right in front of her.
Zhong Li fell back, terrified, landing hard on the ground.
Xu Qi’an knew she was too afraid to spy with the Qi-watching technique, so he decided to scare her instead, saying in a sinister voice, “Just in time. I’m hungry. Young, tender skin… hehehe…”
Zhong Li shivered, dragging herself backward with her injured leg, looking like a frightened little rabbit.
“What happened to your leg?” Xu Qi’an frowned, switching to a normal tone.
Zhong Li looked up, her eyes hidden beneath her disheveled hair. “You… you’re not dead… you weren’t possessed…” she stammered with some relief in her voice.
“I have a great fortune protecting me; I won’t die.” Xu Qi’an glanced at her leg. “Why did you come back?”
“To look for you,” she answered, then looked down with some grievance. “A rock fell and broke my leg on the way.”
*…What else can I say? That’s just an average Master of Prophecy event!*
After a few silent seconds, Xu Qi’an said, “Alright, let’s head back together.”
Zhong Li let out a sigh of relief, relieved she hadn’t been scolded.
With a limp, she followed him, her twisted leg bleeding through her trousers.
To keep up with him, she was forced to hop, worsening her injury.
Xu Qi’an suddenly stopped and asked, “Does it hurt?”
“Mm…” she whimpered softly.
“That’s what you get for being brainless,” Xu Qi’an grumbled, crouching down. “I’ll carry you out.”
Zhong Li hobbled over, ready to jump onto his back. Just as she did, Xu Qi’an abruptly stood up, his head colliding with her chin, causing her to cry out and fall backward.
*Unbelievable…* Xu Qi’an thought to himself.
He picked up the poor Fifth Senior Sister in his arms, feeling a bit guilty as he explained, “I… I was just thinking if I carried you on my back, another rock might fall and split your head open.”
Zhong Li, her tongue bleeding, mumbled, “It’th jutht my bad luck…”
Xu Qi’an nodded. “So I thought better and decided to carry you like this.”
Zhong Li muttered, “It’th jutht my bad luck…”
Xu Qi’an snickered, “Yeah, you’re really unlucky.”
She flushed, burying her face in his arm.
“I took care of the tomb’s corpse. I dared to remain because I naturally have a contingency plan. I have my own sense of self-preservation, but you… you really don’t. Haven’t you noticed how cursed you are?”
Xu Qi’an brought the conversation back, chiding, “Next time, just run away. What if I survived, but you didn’t?”
“I… I couldn’t bear to leave you,” she said.
“Save it; you’re not my wife. Quit worrying over nothing.” Xu Qi’an snorted.
*I’m going to be a prince consort, after all.*
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[^1]: In China, Yellow is the colour exclusive to royalty.
[^2]: [See this](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hachik%C5%8D)
[^3]: The original text had this written verbatim in English for effect.