The skeletal remains scattered across the ground seemed like a boundary line. The further they walked, the more bones they encountered. Some were sprawled on the ground, others leaned against giant stones, some lay alone, and others were entangled with another. Some were still clad in rusted armor, others stood with spears still in hand, and there were even numerous horse skeletons.
Every time the wind blew, a clanging sound echoed, but its source was impossible to pinpoint.
Even with Mei Lin’s bravery, the sight of this battlefield-like scene filled her with a deep sense of unease.
“Was there a battle here?” she muttered to herself, though it sounded like a question directed at Murong Jing He. The tattered flag fluttering in the wind and the broken blades and spears strewn across the ground provided the answer.
Murong Jing He rested his head on her shoulder, his gaze calm as he surveyed the scene, but he didn’t respond.
The path ahead became increasingly difficult to traverse due to the growing number of obstacles. Mei Lin had to kick aside some rusted weapons to make room for the small cart to pass. At first, she carefully laid down some dried leaves, placed Murong Jing He aside respectfully, and moved the bones with care. But as the number of bones blocking the path increased, she had no choice but to gently push them aside with her foot.
However, the further they went, the more uneasy Mei Lin felt. It seemed as though the wind carried the distant sounds of clashing weapons and the cries of men and horses locked in battle. By the third time they passed the spot with the broken flag, she finally realized something was wrong and had to stop.
“We can’t seem to get out of this area,” she whispered to Murong Jing He.
“Try going back,” Murong Jing He said calmly after surveying the surroundings.
Mei Lin nodded and was about to turn around when something occurred to her. She pulled out her dagger and carved an arrow into a nearby stone wall before continuing.
As expected, half an hour later, they found themselves back where they started. Frustrated, Mei Lin tried another path they hadn’t taken before, exhausting herself in the process, but the outcome remained unchanged.
Murong Jing He sighed. “Let’s rest here.”
By now, neither of them felt fear. They had gone beyond that point. Mei Lin, following his advice, cleared a space among the bones, laid down some dried leaves, and set Murong Jing He down. Then she began gathering the rusted weapons.
After collecting a pile of weapons and retrieving the flag, she sat down on the dried leaves. She adjusted Murong Jing He’s position, intending to have him sit against her shoulder, but he complained that it made his head ache, so she let him rest his head on her uninjured leg instead. Truth be told, her shoulder was sore from the day’s exertion.
Once everything was settled, Mei Lin took the flag and pieced it together, forming a tattered black banner embroidered with a yellow taotie (a mythical beast). She didn’t understand much about the court’s military, so she couldn’t decipher the meaning of the flag. Before she could ask, Murong Jing He let out a cold snort.
“Greedy Hu people.”
“Who are the Hu people?” Mei Lin couldn’t help but ask.
Murong Jing He glanced at her, a hint of disdain in his eyes. “You don’t even know who the Hu people are? Are you really from Da Yan?”
“I…” Mei Lin stammered, then straightened herself and said confidently, “I’m from Xi Yan.”
Murong Jing He’s expression turned peculiar, and though he tried to hold back, he couldn’t resist asking, “Then say something in Xi Yan.”
Mei Lin was thoroughly embarrassed and chose to ignore him, instead turning her attention to examining the weapons.
“The Hu people were the ruling clan of the previous dynasty,” Murong Jing He explained, surprisingly willing to share. “To this land, they were actually foreigners. Eventually, their greed and moral decay led to widespread suffering, and my ancestor drove them out.”
“There are markings on this,” Mei Lin said as she examined the hilt of a half-broken sword. She brought it closer, but upon realizing it was an unfamiliar symbol, she handed it to Murong Jing He. “Is this writing?”
Murong Jing He glanced at it, his expression shifting slightly. If he could move, he might have sat up in surprise.
“It says ‘Imperial.’ This is a weapon that only the royal guards of the Hu clan could carry,” he said, signaling Mei Lin to check the others.
She found two more weapons with the same mark, but when she picked up a spear, she discovered a different inscription.
“I recognize this one,” she said, her earlier frustration replaced with a hint of excitement. “It says ‘Bing Dao’.”
Murong Jing He’s hand twitched slightly, and he couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Let me see that.”
Mei Lin handed it over.
In the dim light, she could clearly see the two characters Bing Dao engraved along the spine of the spearhead. Despite the rust, the inscription was still legible.
A look of reverence and admiration crossed Murong Jing He’s face as he gazed at the spear for a long time before exhaling deeply and signaling Mei Lin to put it away. He didn’t speak further, appearing lost in thought.
Mei Lin didn’t disturb him and continued examining the remaining weapons, finding no other markings. It was clear that these two symbols represented two different factions, likely enemies.
“Bing Dao were the weapons used by the generals under Cang Zhongwang, the first and foremost of the founding eight generals of this dynasty,” Murong Jing He’s voice suddenly broke the silence. It no longer sounded weak, instead carrying a tone of deep respect. His reverence for Cang Zhongwang was evident. “Cang Zhongwang was a master strategist. Half of Da Yan’s territory was won by him. Bing Dao, Bing Dao... ‘Military is the art of deception’...” He trailed off, shaking his head at the absurdity of discussing military tactics with a woman, and fell silent.
Mei Lin wasn’t particularly interested in Cang Zhongwang or military strategy, but seeing how animated he was, she didn’t interrupt. When he stopped talking, she was content to move on to other matters.
“So you’re saying that the soldiers under Cang Zhongwang all used this type of weapon?”
Murong Jing He shook his head slightly. “Only those directly under Cang Zhongwang used them. His descendants and successors abandoned these weapons to honor his unique status.”
Zang Dao. The thought of these words, representing the most powerful force of the Da Yan dynasty, made his eyes narrow, a mysterious glint flickering within them.
Mei Lin, focused on his words, didn’t notice.
“So, these bones have been here for hundreds of years,” she murmured, picturing those once mighty soldiers, now reduced to bones scattered across the ground. An indescribable feeling welled up within her.
“At least three hundred and twenty-four years,” Murong Jing He replied, his excitement clearly growing, though his thoughts were elsewhere. “Cang Zhongwang vanished suddenly back then. People thought he had retired quietly after his success, but could it be that he came here instead?”
Mei Lin’s face paled at his speculation. If Cang Zhongwang, as powerful as Murong Jing He claimed, had been trapped in this place, then their chances of escaping seemed even more hopeless.
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