With no mausoleum guards blocking their way, Serena and Prince Nolan finally enjoyed a brief period of peace. As long as they followed the Nine Provinces Map and stayed outside the imperial mausoleum, they faced little danger—and were much less likely to stumble into a tomb and bury themselves alive.
Still, Prince Nolan didn’t pick up the pace for safety’s sake. Instead, he used this rare calm to properly recover from his wounds, making sure his fighting strength wouldn’t drop once they entered the mausoleum.
Everyone knew the mausoleum was far more dangerous inside than out. The Former Dynasty set up endless traps to stop bold tomb raiders—even if you were a master fighter, one wrong step inside could mean instant death.
The mausoleum stretched for miles. Just reaching their target tomb would take at least ten or twenty days—even moving fast. If they walked and healed at the same time, just getting to the mausoleum would eat up a month.
“How did those funeral processions get in before? I doubt horses could even make it this far.” The weather kept getting hotter. Even though the mausoleum always felt chilly, walking under the blazing sun was miserable—especially for Snow Wolf, whose fur clumped together in the heat, making it terribly uncomfortable.
“There’s more than one road.” The living have their own path, the dead have theirs, and funeral processions have a route meant just for them. Once you step onto Yellow Springs Road, the twin flowers on either side naturally guide you forward.
“Which means we chose the longest route.” Serena quietly wiped the sweat from her brow.
Lately, she was sweating way too easily.
“It’s still better than marching straight into the mausoleum and dying a glorious death underground.” Sean was used to this kind of life; wandering the jianghu meant trekking through mountains for months was normal. This mountain was just bigger—and weirder—than most.
“True enough. If we went straight in, we might never come out.” This mausoleum was seriously cursed. Even with Prince Nolan leading the way, they’d run into plenty of danger. Luckily, it was just traps and arrays—no ghost soldiers or generals. By now, their wounds had mostly healed.
Prince Nolan spoke at the right moment: “Starting tomorrow, we pick up the pace. Three days from now, we enter the mausoleum.”
They had to cross the mausoleum to reach the Former Dynasty’s treasure. They’d already been on the road for a month. Sean and the Eighteen Riders didn’t object—the sooner they got out of this cursed place, the better. None of them wanted to stay a moment longer than necessary.
Far away in the Capital, Lady Min was thinking the exact same thing. The sooner she left this rundown temple, the better. She couldn’t stand another minute there.
A whole month—thirty days straight—Empress Dowager Xie and her pack of palace women had come to bother her every day. She was about to lose her mind. She’d always played the gentle and kind role, making others suffer under her pretense of virtue, but this was the first time she’d been suffocated into silence herself.
She had to leave—had to get out before Prince Nolan returned to the Capital. Lately, Lady Min spent more and more time copying Buddhist scriptures, all the while plotting how to get rid of those annoying women and escape this cursed place.
But before Lady Min could come up with a good plan, bad news arrived from Liancastle: “Jason Lan is failing.”
Even with the Master of Mystic Healer Valley treating him, Jason’s illness could only be slowed—not cured. Lately, no matter how hard the Valley Master tried, Jason’s body kept collapsing faster and faster.
There was no hope left!
If even the Valley Master said that, then there wasn’t a doctor in the realm who could cure Jason Lan.
After hearing the news, Lady Min didn’t say a word all day. She knelt before the Buddha, knocking a wooden fish from dawn till dusk, praying with true desperation for the Lan Clan: Please, Buddha, leave us a single blood heir!
Empress Dowager Xie and the others had no idea what was wrong with Lady Min. Then again, Lady Min was always hard on herself—she’d either copy scriptures all day or kneel for hours, sometimes till her wrists and knees were swollen and red.
Sometimes, even Empress Dowager Xie couldn’t help but admire Lady Min. She was just glad that when she entered the palace, there hadn’t been a consort like Lady Min—if she’d had to face such an opponent, she never would have made it.
Lady Min’s endurance and patience were beyond ordinary. Most people could last a day or two, but no one else could persist as long as she had. If they weren’t natural enemies, Empress Dowager Xie might have sided with her.
Lady Min was performing too well.
The news from Liancastle kept getting worse. Jason Lan’s death was only days away, and Lady Min grew more and more silent. For a while, she even considered giving up—letting Nolan Dongling take the throne.
After all, Nolan Dongling was her son, and he carried Lan Clan blood. It stung, but there was no one left in the Lan Clan. As for all those distant collateral branches, Lady Min refused to acknowledge them.
But... she just couldn’t accept it. Not truly. If only Nolan Dongling weren’t that man’s son, she might not hate it so much. But every time she remembered that Nolan carried the blood of the founding emperor of Dongling, Lady Min was consumed by rage.
That man was the Lan Clan’s mortal enemy. How could she let her enemy’s son unite the continent and put his descendants on the throne?
Tears slipped from Lady Min’s eyes—not for pity, but for herself alone.
Her whole life, and in the end she got nothing. Every scheme, every calculation—turned to dust!
But just as Lady Min was on the brink of despair, good news came from Liancastle: Jason Lan’s personal maid was pregnant—three months along, and the doctor said it was a boy.
The Lan Clan had an heir again!
Lady Min barely had time to celebrate before more good news arrived: while Jason Lan was lucid, he spoke a name—Clara Phoenixfield!
Clara Phoenixfield—the missing woman of the Phoenixfield Clan, once Jason’s lover. Maybe it was the nearness of death, but Jason kept recalling every moment with Clara. He realized he truly liked her, though not enough to change for her.
As Jason Lan lay awake, remembering his time with Clara, he grew more and more certain: Clara Phoenixfield was likely carrying his child. If so, the Phoenixfield Clan would surely support them.
He’d left behind so few heirs, and a maid’s child would always have low status. But if Clara bore his child, boy or girl, that child would inherit everything from the Former Dynasty.
If it was a boy, Lady Min’s restoration would succeed, and that child would become the founding emperor. The Phoenixfield Clan would have no reason to support Prince Nolan, an outsider, over their own blood.
It was like spring after a long winter—this news revived Lady Min, gave her hope. She cast off her old despair, sent people to search for Clara Phoenixfield, and began planning her escape with renewed energy.