Chapter 83: Illusory City Mausoleum Part 2

Gazing at the scene, no one doubted they stood before a palace from some feudal dynasty. Ascending the steps might lead to the legendary throne hall. Considering their location, they suspected the top held the Wang Mausoleum Bright Hall!

Behind them stretched the main street directly facing the Illusory City Labyrinth’s city gate. At that moment, all the coffin lids on the street had opened, and ranks of soldiers stood rigidly in military formation in the centers of the coffins, facing the palace. The three armies stood poised, awaiting only a command from the king atop the heights!

A chilling, powerful aura spread down from the top of the high steps. Under this pressure, they felt as insignificant as ants.

That was a king—a true king commanding the three armies! The Illusory City King!

Wang Ya felt she should be afraid, should feel fear. But in this lifetime, she feared ghosts the least. Even if this was a ghost king leading a Ghost Army, she wasn’t afraid. To her, ghosts were ghosts. No matter how strong, a ghost was still just a ghost. The difference between powerful ones and weak ones was merely whether fighting them took effort or not. This was the confidence cultivated from childhood—or perhaps innate, in her bones.

She slowly stepped forward, ascending the steps one by one. Facing the king above who hadn’t even shown himself yet but already exuded such might, Wang Ya—calm, composed, head held high, striding forward—seemed more like a sovereign ascending to the throne and ruling the world.

Old Tang, Zhang Qingshui, Huang Qi, and Wang Cheng’an followed nervously behind Wang Ya. To them, this place was too eerie. They weren’t Wang Ya, who possessed Demonic Aura, Demonic Power, and was half-human, half-demon—Wang Ya herself was eerie enough! What they could see and sense was already so powerful and strange; what about the unseen and unfelt lurking in the shadows?

Soon, Wang Ya reached the top of the steps, where a wide platform stretched out. Both sides of the platform were neatly lined with black Corpse Nurturing Coffins painted with Yin Gathering Symbol Patterns, each guarded by a armored soldier wielding sharp weapons, radiating Yin Fiend and ghostly aura.

Wang Ya’s gaze swept over the Ghost Generals on both sides before lifting to the majestic palace straight ahead.

She stepped onto the smooth, Yin Qi-infused floor tiles toward the palace.

Upon closer inspection, the floor tiles were identical to those in the Azure Dragon Palace of the mausoleum, with massive amounts of Yin Qi converging toward the hall along their patterns. This might explain why the airborne Yin Qi here was relatively sparse.

Wang Ya knew they had to pass through this palace to reach the Bardo Realm. The map on the Yin Spirit Scroll depicted it that way. Though simple, the Yin Spirit Scroll’s map clearly showed the path to the Bardo Realm lay within the palace. In such a vast Illusory City, only here stood a palace. She also knew the Illusory City King was inside and might not let them pass.

The ancient-style architecture and old palace gave Wang Ya a sense of time travel, like walking through a costume drama. But the atmosphere here was too heavy and oppressive, permeated with thick Deathly Aura everywhere, and the air reeked of herbal decoctions mixed with corpse stench, giving her more the illusion of walking through the Underworld Courts.

Crossing the two steps under the eaves, passing under the roughly three-meter-wide eaves, and stepping over the knee-high threshold, Wang Ya saw light.

Cold light pierced the dim palace. Along the walls on both sides stood rows of eerie small oil lamps, the air filled with the unpleasant smell of burning animal fat or something similar.

The sides of the palace were lined with ornate coffins covered in runes. These coffins were all lacquered black, their decorative patterns replaced by runes, though pure gold bird-and-beast motifs were still inlaid at both ends, varying by position and design. Wang Ya guessed these patterns represented the ranks and statuses of the coffin owners.

Unlike the outer coffins, all these were sealed tight—no lid was open, no corpse or undead burst out. Yet each exuded a terrifying aura, each harboring a powerful, horrifying existence within.

Compared to the Illusory City Labyrinth, the Azure Dragon Ten Thousand Coffins Array seemed petty and insignificant. In contrast, the one in the Azure Dragon Ten Thousand Coffins Array was merely a minor viscount of some standing, while this one was a hegemonic king.

The few following behind Wang Ya feared the aura in the hall and were reluctant to enter, but in this place, sticking close to Wang Ya was the safest. They could only steel themselves and follow her in.

Wang Cheng’an stuck especially close, never more than an inch from Wang Ya’s side. His eyes darted left and right, body huddled tight. The words “Yaya, Daddy will protect you” had long been chased away by “scared,” while “Yaya, save me” hovered on his lips, ready to wail out at any moment.

Wang Ya eyed the empty throne at the center-top of the hall—no ghost shadow sat there—but she felt a majestic, powerful aura slowly emanating from somewhere behind it, suppressing all directions. She figured the Illusory City King’s resting chamber lay behind the throne.

Without that aura leaking from behind the throne, Wang Ya would have searched for the path to the Bardo Realm herself. But with the aura present, she knew the one lying inside was aware of her arrival and had released it—perhaps to intimidate, or for some other reason she couldn’t read.

Wang Ya couldn’t charge in and wipe them out like in the Myriad Coffins Array. The Illusory City Labyrinth was leagues above the Myriad Coffins Azure Dragon Palace. If a fight broke out, the one inside wouldn’t even need to emerge; the coffin-dwellers in the hall wouldn’t need to rise; the army charging from outside—corpses or not—could bury them under a pile of bodies from which they couldn’t escape.

Wang Ya’s lips parted slightly, and she lightly said, “Anyone breathing in here? Come out, one of you!”

Zhang Qingshui speechlessly glanced at Wang Ya, silently grumbling in her heart: Besides us few, there’s really not a single one breathing here.