Chapter 96: BURIED DEAD

CHAPTER

96

BURIED DEAD

JIEYUAN

—∞—

The garden sat on a large, walled-off lot of land, easily covering thrice as much ground as the biggest of the buildings they’d come across so far. The walls were short—barely waist-high—clearly meant more to mark the garden’s boundary than to keep anyone out.

Jieyuan didn’t like it.

Viridian Death City was, despite nature’s best attempts, still a city. It still had the appearance of one, even if two thousand years had gone a long way bending it out of shape. But somehow, the one part of the city that had been, originally, strictly nature’s realm, the one place that should’ve been the most overgrown—that by all rights should have given way to a forest by now—was by far the tidiest, most orderly area they’d come across so far.

Jieyuan frowned. That couldn’t be natural. Never mind two thousand years—this garden didn’t look like it’d been left unattended for a day.

The highlight of the garden was doubtless the trees. They were all of the same type, with thick, sturdy trunks—and very unusual crowns. The lower half of each canopy flowed downward like a green waterfall, drooping branches covered in long, slender leaves that formed a dense curtain around the trunk. The upper half was completely different, with upward-sweeping branches and smaller, firmer leaves rising to form a high, sheltering green canopy. The overall impression was of domes that bled seamlessly into waterfalls of foliage.

Each tree had its own patch in the garden, neatly divided in a grid-like pattern. Around each patch was a circle of violet flowers—wide, blooming, and lotus-like. Connecting everything was a short, verdant carpet of grass, tidy and well-kept.

The trees didn’t glow. Neither did the flowers or the grass. The only thing glowing was the viridian mist hanging in the air. The vegetation was still clearly chromal—there was a deep, almost unnatural vibrancy to it, the kind you’d never find in mundane plants—but it wasn’t like the usual flora of the Dome. The lack of glow was one thing, but there were also the dimensions of it all. The trees weren’t particularly tall—just about twice his height, he guessed—whereas all the other ones he’d seen so far in the Dome were so tall he could barely see their tops. These looked more like the kind of plants he’d seen around the Viridian Death Palace back in Radiant Gold City.

And exactly because of that, Jieyuan wasn’t at all surprised when Huaxin blasted warnings at him again and Meiyao came to a sudden stop, staring straight at the garden. And, of course, there was how impossibly neat and well-kept the garden looked.

It was just like with the river earlier. In a dangerous place, if you came across something that seemed harmless, eleven times out of ten you were better off steering clear. You were better off dealing with the obviously dangerous than with the deceptively safe.

They were still some ways off the entrance of the garden, which took the form of a neat, little open archway. Jieyuan wasn’t too worried—assuming they stayed away. He did wonder about the garden, though.

Just looking around, Jieyuan could tell this region was special. The center of anything—and they must be very close to the city’s center now—usually was. But it was more than that. The buildings here—all of them tall and wide and ornate, boasting grandiose columns and domes—had clearly been temples, once. You could still tell, despite the best efforts of nature and time.

So the garden must’ve been important, too.

But then Meiyao set off again, toward the garden—and when Jieyuan saw the distant, unfocused look on her face, he reached out and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back. “Meiyao?”

She turned to him, but didn’t shrug his hand off. “What?”

Jieyuan studied her, watching the flicker in her eyes. She didn’t seem dazed—no trance, no dullness in her gaze. Just confusion, like she had no idea why he’d stopping her.

Huh. Maybe I was wrong. He gave a quick jerk of his head toward the garden. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

She looked at him for a moment, frowning. “I— Of course…” She blinked, took a breath, and looked back at the garden, her brow furrowing deeper.

Jieyuan let go of her shoulder, but she didn’t move away. She just kept staring at the garden like she was trying to see something he couldn’t.

“Right,” she said, after a while. “For me, it’s safe. But you and Daojue should stay away. The garden’s… I think it’s Sacred Garden. You remember how I told you earlier, that the Linzushen bury their dead in gardens? That’s one of them. A funeral garden. But this one’s special. How many trees do you think there are, over there?”

Jieyuan scanned it briefly, did a quick count. “Fifty? Sixty?”

“About that, yes,” Meiyao said. “But Viridian Death City was home to several hundred thousand, at its peak. There were tens of thousands of Linzushen alone, and our burial practices spread to the non-Linzushen too—it became a part of the Viridian Death Faith itself. There wasn’t enough space to bury everyone, so what we did—and what the Viridian Death Cult still does—is build underground gardens. Beneath Viridian Death City, there should be a massive funeral garden, as big as the city itself. Maybe even with several layers.”

Jieyuan looked down, at the roots-covered ground. Oh. He’d thought the roots extended from the nearby buildings or had sprouted from the wooden streets themselves. It hadn’t occurred to him that they were standing over a garden—no, a forest, more like, given the size of it. Or possibly multiple forests, one under the other. And he really didn’t like the sound of that, not when the plants here were what they were.

“Viridian Death City only had one topsoil garden,” Meiyao said. “The Sacred Garden. Only the Sacred Ones were allowed to be buried there—Linzushen whose bloodright was fourth-order, the highest ever recorded in the clan’s history. Supposedly the same as the founder’s. I’d have been one of them, myself.

Jieyuan recalled the way that disciple from the Viridian Death Cult, the so-called Viridian Eye, Houliao, had referred to Meiyao as Your Sacredness. She was one of those Sacred Ones, all right—as far as the cultists were concerned.

Meiyao nodded toward the garden. “Those trees—they are special, too. They’re called viridian oakwillows. Sacred trees created by the First Linzushen, the clan’s founder. Their seeds were one of the clan’s greatest treasures. None of the Linzushen who fled during the Dome’s advance were allowed to take them, so these trees can only be found here. I’ve only ever seen them in jade books.”

Jieyuan gave the trees another look. They were certainly beautiful—and that was saying something, coming from someone who didn’t care much for plants. But… “What’s so special about them? Or is it just the fact your founder—”

“They’re Orangesoul,” Meiyao said.

Jieyuan really, really hoped he’d heard that wrong. “What?”

“They’re Orangesoul,” Meiyao repeated. “The only plants in Viridian Death City at that realm, as far as I know. Nobody really understands how the founder created them, since she was only a Redsoul herself. Everything else in the city is tenth-sign Redsoul.”

“Right,” Jieyuan said, letting out a slow breath. “Orangesoul. Great. Golden. So… what do they do? Are they dangerous?”

Huaxin kept insisting that the garden was bad news, and Jieyuan didn’t doubt that for one second. But unlike with the tunnel, Huaxin couldn’t provide so much as a hint as to why or how. Granted, Orangesoul was probably reason enough.

“I don’t know much about them. They shouldn’t be dangerous, but… I still think you and Daojue shouldn’t go near the garden. Or anyone without Linzushen blood. There’s something… off about it, something in how it was preserved. Even though the trees look just like the old recordings, I can feel the Dome’s touch on them. They’ve been changed somehow.”

“But it should be safe for you?” Jieyuan asked. “Do you— Will you head inside?” He didn’t like the sound of that, but it was Meiyao’s choice, and she’d know it best.

“I…” She looked hesitant for a moment. Then she shook her head. “Yes. But later. That thing I’ve been sensing in the city—it’s not the garden. But it’s close, and we should take a look at it first.”

She turned away from the garden without another word and started back down the avenue. Jieyuan didn’t say anything as he followed—and, of course, neither did Daojue. He cast one last glance at the garden as they moved away, noting how the neat rows of trees faded into the thicker mist at the edges.

It wasn’t long before they reached the end of this pocket too. The garden ended right alongside them, within feet of the curtain of dense mist.

Again, Meiyao stopped at the boundary, standing still for a moment—but alert and intent, like she was listening for something only she could hear.

“It’s right on the other side,” she said finally, her voice low.

As she spoke, her right hand drifted to the handle of her saber

Jieyuan took that as his cue to reach for his weapons, himself. He closed his hands around the handles of the Shifting Feathers. Daojue was the only one who didn’t have much of a reaction, but that was because he was holding Gleaming End at all times anyway.

Meiyao stepped forward first, pushing through the wall of thick mist. Jieyuan followed right at her shoulder, and Daojue brought up the rear.

As Jieyuan’s vision cleared, one thing immediately jumped out at him.

The biggest building they’d seen in Viridian Death City. By far. It sat on the left side of the avenue, hulking and rounded. Nothing else crowded its side—just that one, monolithic structure, standing alone. Its walls rose to about half the height of the city’s outer walls, and the dome at the top was half again as high, looming over everything around it. It dwarfed all the other buildings without even trying.

It was wooden, like everything else in the city, but unlike the other buildings, which were layered green with vines and creepers, this one was all brown. Thick, flowing roots—like the ones at the bridge, but without that glossy sheen—clung to every inch of it, forming a living shell of tangled growth.

“An… arena?” Jieyuan stared at it. The building had the right shape for one—broad and circular. It could’ve been an amphitheater, if not for the huge dome up top.

“No,” Meiyao said. “It’s… a temple, of sorts. The Viridian Cradle.”

She was staring at it with wide eyes, in wonder.

Now, Jieyuan would be the first to admit the arena—or rather, the temple—was impressive enough, even after everything they’d seen in the city so far. But the sight of it alone didn’t explain the way she looked at it. Not enough to warrant that sort of reaction.

He took a moment to look around, scanning the other side of the street, the mist-draped buildings behind them. Nothing else caught his eye. Nothing that could warrant her reaction. Nothing that could be pulling at Meiyao like this. She’d said whatever she was sensing was close. Which meant…

“This it?” he asked. His voice came out quieter than he meant, but that was just as well. Probably a good idea to keep quiet.

“It is.” Meiyao’s tone was soft, distant.

Jieyuan watched her a moment longer. “We’re going inside?”

“We are.” Her answer was calm, but her eyes never left the so-called Viridian Cradle.

Jieyuan wet his lips. “Is it safe?”

Meiyao closed her eyes and went still, focusing. She held that pose for a beat, two—then said, “It should be.”

She didn’t sound too sure, though.

Jieyuan’s grip on the Shifting Feathers tightened. Huaxin was making a racket in his chest again. DANGER, it pounded at him, over and over.

Huaxin, buddy, I get it, Jieyuan sent back. Just tell me one thing. Will we die if we go in?

Their connection went quiet for a heartbeat. Then… NEGATION.

That would’ve been just about the best thing to hear—if it weren’t for the flicker of UNCERTAINTY Huaxin had sent along with it.

Jieyuan sighed long and deep.

Golden. Just golden.