Chapter 93: TO HEAD IN

CHAPTER

93

TO HEAD IN

JIEYUAN

—∞—

Jieyuan wasn’t sure which one was the bigger surprise—the sight of the city, or the expanded range of sight.

But he took it all in, standing at the edge of what wasn’t just a pocket of clear mist anymore, but a massive zone—almost like a second dome, except one of clearer mist.

The view didn’t go on without end, though. It didn’t even encompass all of the city. He could see the thicker, deeper curtains of mist close near the edge of his vision, off to the side, and deep within the parts of the city visible through the gateway.

Daojue stepped up beside him, but Jieyuan barely took notice. Meiyao was further ahead, though not too far, her back to him.

He walked over, his eyes still running through the city’s massive walls. They were as tall as the brightgold walls that enclosed Radiant Gold City, if not taller. The city itself was significantly smaller from what he could see, given the curve of the city walls far off in either direction, disappearing into the distance and mist.

But Radiant Gold City hadn’t started off that size, but rather expanded, with new walls raised as its population grew. It was divided into multiple sections, and the city before them should be about the same size as Radiant Gold City’s innermost zone, the First City.

As he eyed the walls, though, he noticed something off. They were covered in vegetation—bright green, glowing vines, brambles, and creepers forming a layer almost as thick as the undergrowth on the ground. But even then, the hints of stone he could see were oddly dark—brown, even—and up at the top of the walls, there were strange, uneven structures, almost like… growths.

He squinted. And then he realized that the walls weren’t of stone at all. Nor was it metal, like Radiant Gold City. It was wood. Deep, dark wood sat underneath all the sprawling vegetation. And not logs, either, or any sort of processed wood—it was bark, straight from a tree.

He was reminded of how, back in Radiant Gold City, the Viridian Death Palace had been grown, rather than built—several massive chromal trees, cultivated through some secret means to form a single, massive, dome-shaped building coated in green leaves, supposedly as a way to mimic the Viridian Dome. The seat of the cult was said to be just the same, except on a bigger scale.

The walls must have been grown through similar means.

“Viridian Death City.”

He turned to Meiyao, who’d just spoken. “You know this place?” Even as he voiced the question he already figured out the answer, though—given the name, and Meiyao’s reaction, earlier, when she’d been puzzling over just what all those Linzushen corpses were doing here.

“Viridian Death City,” she repeated. She wasn’t looking at him, or at the walls, but into the city, past the gate, at the ruins lying beyond. “The original seat of the Viridian Death Cult, and the Linzushen Clan.”

She paused, then looked over. “I told you just now, didn’t I? That two thousand years ago, the Dome was still expanding. The city was founded by the First Linzushen, five thousand years ago. Back then, the Dome had been over a mile away.”

Jieyuan had never really stopped to wonder about how the Viridian Dome had come about. It’d always just been there—a fixture as surer as any mountain or feature of the land, though a great deal more ominous than any work of topography.

It’d never even occurred to him that, once, it hadn’t existed—or that it’d grown over the years to its current, monstrous size, taking up more and more of Incandescent Serenity Island. He was fairly sure it wasn’t growing anymore, at least—which was a relief. He’d have heard of it if it were, and Meiyao’s words implied that the Dome had stopped expanding.

“It started off as just the home of the clan, then of the cult, but as it expanded and our mundane numbers increased, it grew into its own city,” Meiyao went on. She started off slow, but picked up the pace, like she was trying to remember it all and finding it easier as she went. “Radiant Gold City already existed back then, but even the mundane population wanted to stay as close to the Dome as possible. And they didn’t like the metal of it, either. Viridian Death City was grown—that was important, to them.”

Jieyuan didn’t really see it—didn’t really understand why anyone would want to be closer to the Dome, even more so when it had still been growing back then. But matters of faith, by definition, didn’t intersect much with logic or reason.

And he wasn’t in any real position to judge, really, when it’d been his idea to go into the Dome, circumstances notwithstanding. Couldn’t judge someone for bidding when he’d placed one first, and all that.

“What happened, then? The Dome took over?”

“Yes,” Meiyao said. “About two thousand years ago.”

Ah. “Roughly how long those corpses have been dead for,” Jieyuan said. If that was a coincidence, he might as well trade his gold for copper.

“Exactly. The details of what exactly happened then are sparse, but it was that event that supposedly set off the downfall of the Linzushen Clan. The Dome expanded slowly, so there’d been plenty of time to evacuate, but many of the Linzushen—most, even—chose to remain behind. Cultists, too.”

And to something like that, all Jieyuan could really say was, “Why?” Even as irrational as faith was, he reckoned that was a tad too far. He could see a couple of them deciding to stick around—there were always those a few coins short of a full purse, even from birth—but most of them?

Meiyao narrowed her eyes, looked off at the city again. “Like I said, there’s no real way to know. Many of our jade books were left behind, and the cultists and Linzushen that survived, the ones that fled the city… From what I understand, they didn’t want to talk about it—because they felt shame, for not staying behind.”

“They did know the Viridian Dome as a death zone back then, right?” Jieyuan asked, just to be sure. “They felt shame for not being reasonable?”

“No. You don’t understand. Back then, the cult was much stronger than it was today. Both in numbers and in belief. And the Liangshibai were said to be the most fanatic of them all, the most obsessed with the Viridian Dome—with the Viridian. Those that left, they felt shame because they believe they lacked faith. They envied those that stayed behind, envied their unshakable trust in the Viridian.”

Out of everything, that was the part Jieyuan found the hardest to believe. “You’re telling me that current cultists—the ones that seem to believe you’re some sort of goddess, regularly kill people on grounds of blasphemy, and seem ten steps removed from insane, in the other direction—are the watered-down version?”

Meiyao winced, flushing a little, but she didn’t look away. “I’m afraid so, yes. But that’s not the point.”

“Agreed,” Jieyuan said. Despite himself, he’d started to imagine what a more fanatic Viridian Death Cultist would be like, and the kind of images that brought up were far from pleasant. “So the city got swallowed up by the Dome, and a lot of the cultists decided to stay because their faith was strong, as you put it. Those we caught earlier might’ve had second thoughts, then.”

“Maybe,” Meiyao said. “Probably.”

She stared off at the city again, falling silent.

Jieyuan stared at it too. And he thought about those that had stayed behind. Everyone from back then was most definitely dead, but… cultivators didn’t go down that easy. They could even subsist on chroma, depending on their soulsign. And if they had a bunch of Linzushen with them—who might be way to tap into the mist like Meiyao… If they’d managed to survive, have children, descendants…

“Is there…” He wet his lips. “Is there any chance that anyone’s alive, in there?”

The lack of surprise on Meiyao’s face—and how quickly she answered—that the same thought had occurred to her. That she might’ve been considering it, even. “I don’t think so. Earlier, it wasn’t the Linzushen themselves I felt, but their blood in the plants that grew around them, from them. It’s the same with the city. There are plants inside, grown in Linzushen blood, but… I can’t feel anything else. No living Linzushen. Not beasts, either. There’s something, however—far off, so distant I can barely feel it. But still in the city, I think. It feels like a plant, but… bigger. Larger.”

A vague, big something. That sounded as promising as it was precise. As if a mysterious, abandoned—hopefully abandoned, at that—city on its own wasn’t enough, they now had some big, vague something to look forward to.

Jieyuan was pretty sure he already knew the answer, but he asked anyway, just in case. “Are we going in?”

And sure enough, Meiyao didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

“Should we go in?” But even as he said so, he was sighing, shifting his shoulders back, resigned.

Meiyao gave him a long, searching look. Then she did that thing with her eyebrows—arching them just so—and let a sly smile tug at her lips. “Don’t tell me the big, bad Firesoul’s scared.”

He Jieyuan, but didn’t rise to the bait. He had at least that much self-control. “Just because I’m a Firesoul doesn’t mean I’m suicidal. Or entirely senseless.”

She smiled wider, but when he thought she’d press, she let it drop. She didn’t drop the smile, though. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep my senses out. And maybe we’ll find something inside. Artifacts, even.”

Then she took a breath, and the smile faded, and she looked into his eyes searchingly. And in a lower, more serious tone, she said, “You understand, right? I can’t… I can’t just turn away. This is my history. There’s something off about it, and I agree it might be dangerous but… My mother would tell me about Viridian Death City, growing up. Of the heyday of the Linzushen Clan. I need—”

“I get it,” Jieyuan said. “You don’t have to explain.”

Except he didn’t get it. He didn’t understand. He’d never cared much for history or culture. But he could tell it meant a lot to Meiyao. And that was enough for him.

He also did like the sound of artifacts. The corpses they’d come across hadn’t had anything on them, but this hadn’t been just a city, but the seat of a cult and a clan. It was bound to have something.

“Just one thing—what’s up with the mist?” He indicated vaguely with his hands. The range of sight they got in each pocket wasn’t set in stone, but it only ever varied by a foot or two. “Why can we see so far all of a sudden? Is there a reason, or just the mist being the mist?”

“I’m not sure,” Meiyao said. “But I think it’s got to do with the city. Or something inside it—maybe that thing I’m sensing, way off in the distance. I think that’s also what’s keeping the beasts away. We’ll have to go in to find out.”

“Well,” Jieyuan said, “lead the way, then.”

But just as he said it, he remembered something.

He took a quick glance back at Daojue—who, as always, even now, lingered at the very edge of this new, massive clear zone. His face was carved from stone, expressionless as ever. Apparently, even the sudden reveal of an entire city wasn’t enough to rattle Daojue.

Granted, Jieyuan had been talking with Meiyao for a while, and maybe Daojue had been surprised at first but had gotten it under control. Still, in Daojue’s case, surprise might’ve been nothing more than the slightest widening of the eye.

“We’re heading inside,” Jieyuan said to him, louder. “You all right with that?”

Daojue didn’t answer—just shifted his deep, dark violet eyes over to Jieyuan. That was answer enough.

And that was that.

“Let’s go,” Jieyuan said.

Meiyao didn’t need him to say it twice. Without another word, she was off, striding ahead.

The gates were only a few dozen feet away, and Meiyao crossed the distance in instants. Jieyuan was just behind her, almost by her side, and Daojue a little farther back

And then they were walking through the gateway, stepping inside the city.