A possibility

Li Miao stepped forward to take a closer look. He saw a line of characters carved above the stone gate, and after careful scrutiny, he discerned it read “Maha General’s Tomb.”

This was a burial site.

The passageways and caves outside were merely the tomb’s periphery; it was behind the stone gate that the true burial chamber lay. Both demonic and spiritual auras emanated from within, and though the gate had been smashed open, what lay inside remained unknown.

Ordinarily, those of status and rank would inter many treasures as grave goods. For mortal emperors and ministers, the offerings were typically gold, silver, jewels, paintings, and antiques. Cultivators, less concerned with formality, might not bury their most powerful artifacts, yet even so, some possessions used in life would accompany them into the grave.

The title “Maha General’s Tomb”—the term “General” seemed ambiguous, suggesting a mortal, yet hinting at something extraordinary, perhaps a cultivator. Judging from the spiritual and demonic energy wafting from within, the latter seemed more probable.

Li Miao drew his battle blade and approached the entrance, cautiously squeezing through the two-foot-wide breach. Having come this far, it was not his style to turn back without exploring further.

Inside the gate was a wide burial passage. The ground was damp, covered in thick, fuzzy moss; walking atop it was slippery, and a faint, fishy stench lingered in the air. It was easy to imagine that when the river rose, water would flood into the tomb, soaking it entirely.

Li Miao proceeded slowly.

By the light of the perpetual lamp tube, he could see murals carved along both sides of the passage. Their general theme depicted a general clad in armor, wielding a long-handled blade, galloping across the battlefield and slaying enemies.

The passage was deep, and the murals many—each step revealed a new scene.

At first, the general battled human foes: some wore vine armor, some chainmail, others simple cloth. But after Li Miao had walked a dozen steps, the style abruptly changed—the general’s adversaries became fierce beasts and even monsters capable of spitting fire and water.

The murals grew more intricate; it took two or three panels to relate a single tale.

After scenes of combat with beasts, the general’s first conquered monster was a canine demon.

The vicious dog was as large as a bull, fond of devouring infants, and had terrorized many townsfolk. The general, bearing a fiery token at his waist, was ordered to eliminate the demon. With his radiant blade, he fought the beast fiercely, and finally cleaved off its head, holding aloft the bloodied canine skull to calm the people.

Next came the serpent demon.

The python hid deep in the mountains, masquerading as a fallen tree, swallowing unsuspecting woodcutters whole. The general, again with the fiery token, battled it amidst the forest, swinging his long-handled blade. The serpent coiled around him, seeking to kill, but was severed in two—head and body split apart.

The third monster was a gigantic crab.

Seeing the crab on the mural, Li Miao felt a sudden familiarity.

Its body was as large as a small house. The first mural showed the crab demon destroying fishing boats and slaughtering fishermen. The second depicted the general, fiery token at his waist and blade in hand, engaged in combat. The third showed the blade, now separated from the general, stabbing through a gap in the crab’s shell at its tail, the tip emerging from its mouth—the crab slain.

“This giant crab bears a striking resemblance to the River King,” Li Miao mused.

The crab demon depicted fighting the general looked almost identical to the green crab fiend he had recently encountered in the Cangyun River: same serrated carapace, same eight spiked legs, and two enormous pincers like mountain-crushing hammers.

Were it not for the mural clearly showing the crab demon slain, he would have believed the River King he met was the very one depicted.

Still puzzled, Li Miao moved on to the next mural.

The fourth monster was a bat demon—not as massive as the previous creatures, but even more ferocious. Sonic waves tore through villagers’ eardrums; many died with blood streaming from their orifices, faces twisted in terror.

Again, the general, fiery token at his waist, engaged in a brutal struggle. Like the afflicted townsfolk, he bled from his seven apertures, his steed perished, and only after paying a terrible price did he fell the bat demon, splitting it in two with a stroke from behind.

The fifth monster was a mountainous rhinoceros demon.

The rhino rampaged across the land, demolishing countless villages and towns, wreaking havoc.

As always, the general—fiery token in place—came to halt its tyranny, stepping into the void and battling until mountains crumbled and fire rained from the heavens.

---

The general’s blade had its handle broken, armor shattered; finally, he unleashed a technique unseen in previous murals: summoning a colossal finger from the heavens that pierced the rhino’s skull, slaying the mountainous beast.

That divine finger’s power was awe-inspiring—the sky in the mural turned pitch black, evoking wrath from above and a universe in turmoil.

In this image, the general seemed gravely wounded, standing before the rhino’s corpse with the melancholy of a fallen hero.

Yet his battles were not over.

The sixth mural’s adversary was a great eagle.

This eagle demon’s wings blotted out the sun, larger than a town, like the legendary golden-winged roc; a single sweep of its wings overturned cities.

The general, fiery token at his side, fought with his broken blade, even invoking the divine finger once more.

But—

He could not overcome. The blade’s edge shattered, the finger dissipated mid-air. The general himself was struck on the head by the eagle’s massive beak, his skull crushed—he fell as a headless corpse from the sky.

Thus the murals ended.

This was the life of Maha General: from a mortal commander waging wars across the land, to a cultivator battling monsters, and finally, dying in combat. He fought many battles, won much glory, and ultimately paid with his life.

Dog, serpent, crab, bat, rhinoceros, eagle.

Six monsters, each stronger than the last. The final eagle demon was unimaginably powerful—its wings evoked the wrath of heaven.

The general was no doubt formidable, yet before the eagle he was humbled, dying with regret.

As the murals concluded, the passage reached its end.

Li Miao raised the eternal lamp, peering ahead.

Before him lay a vast burial chamber, dozens of yards high and several hundred yards across, its distant corners swallowed by darkness.

At the chamber’s center was a raised platform bearing a coffin—it must be the general’s resting place.

Below the platform was a broad empty space, encircled by five round pedestals.

Four small, one large—the large was empty.

Of the small ones, two were empty; only the two nearest the entrance each held a massive block of black ice.

Left and right, the black ice emitted faint spiritual energy.

In the left pedestal’s ice was a snarling dog, its neck clearly severed—once slain.

In the right pedestal’s ice was a serpent, its body cut at the seven-inch mark, the wound obvious.

Both corpses gave off faint demonic energy, mingling with the ice’s spiritual aura, forming a strange cycle with a peculiar synergy.

Li Miao examined the two blocks of ice, then the three empty pedestals. His heart gave a violent jolt, and sweat broke out on his palm.

A possibility occurred to him—

Since Maha General was buried here, the five pedestals surely held his grave goods.

Dog, serpent, crab, bat, rhinoceros—the monsters he slew, just five.

Four small, one large, matching the pedestals’ sizes.

Now, three pedestals were empty, and he had recently encountered a giant green crab, the River King, eerily similar to the mural’s crab. Instinctively, he considered a terrifying possibility.

That the monsters slain by the general had all been resurrected.

The dog and serpent remained sealed in the black ice, but the crab, bat, and rhinoceros corpses had vanished—clearly revived and departed.

Li Miao wiped his brow, mind swirling, unable to calm himself.

He had seen many great events—even participated in interstellar wars—but this was his first encounter with resurrection.

Though not absolutely certain the River King was the slain crab, he was at least seventy percent sure they were connected.

---

Fortunately, he had arrived late—three powerful monsters had already “risen” and left the chamber. Had he met them, he might not leave alive.

Li Miao looked around.

Besides the five pedestals and the central coffin platform, there were other objects.

Near the entrance, along both walls, long weapon racks stood. At the head of each was a flame symbol identical to the general’s token depicted in the murals. The racks held all kinds of arms: blades, spears, swords, halberds, axes, whips—all present.

On closer inspection, each rack bore small inscriptions: Flame God Army, Maha Legion, Camp A; Flame God Army, Maha Legion, Camp B; and so forth—ten racks in all, matching the celestial stems.

Moreover, each weapon carried the flame symbol and a name inscribed—such as Camp A Guard Xiao Tianzhi, Camp B Vanguard Liang Lutong, Camp C Crossbowman Zhuo Yijie—names of the soldiers, over a hundred in all, likely the centurions of each camp.

Li Miao took the weapon marked “Camp A Guard Xiao Tianzhi,” and examined it.

It was a short sword—blade fifteen inches, grip six inches. The upper part of the hilt bore tiny characters, the base the flame symbol. The blade gleamed cold and sharp.

“Must be forged from black iron. Not a magical artifact, but its quality rivals one. After countless years, it still remains so sharp,” Li Miao marveled.

Even low-grade magical items, left unused for years, would lose their aura, become ordinary, and succumb to corrosion.

Yet these black iron weapons had endured ages, sometimes immersed in river water, yet remained untouched by rust.

Their material and craftsmanship far surpassed mortal smiths.

Sadly, no matter how fine, these were but grave goods—fit for mortals, but for him, somewhat redundant.

Li Miao replaced Xiao Tianzhi’s sword and moved on.

This Flame God Army seemed formidable; even its burial relics surpassed mundane weapons, and those used in battle were surely magical artifacts.

A few steps farther, he discovered paintings and silk among the offerings.

These were less refined; time and water had reduced them to mush, scattered and foul-smelling.

Beyond lay armor of various kinds: plate, chain, and lock armor forged from black iron, lightly corroded; flexible and vine armors fared worse, their forms lost.

Li Miao circled the chamber, seeing many items related to the general and his grave goods.

When he reached the spot farthest from the entrance, he encountered a cavern nearly thirty feet wide.

It was a tunnel, bored straight through, deep and dark, revealing yellow-brown earth and grayish rock, alongside debris washed out by rising river water.

Clearly, the tunnel was dug by the resurrected rhinoceros demon, and the bat and crab demons most likely left through it as well.

Where it led, no one could say.

Li Miao had not finished inspecting the chamber and did not wish to leave yet.

He turned toward the central platform.

Beneath it were eighteen tiers, each five feet high. The top rose nearly thirty feet above the floor.

He leapt lightly, soon reaching the summit.

Atop the platform lay Maha General’s coffin.

The stone coffin was huge—nearly twenty feet long, ten wide—inside, a stone sarcophagus and several important grave goods.

The chamber had been visited before; the coffin stood open.

Strangely, its contents appeared untouched.

Li Miao peered inside: a battered set of crimson armor, covered in all manner of scars—slashes, bites, burns.

Also a reconstructed long-handled battle blade.

The blade, overall, was about eight feet long, hilt and blade each half. But now it was broken into many pieces; the hilt remained less than two feet, the blade’s tip shattered into seven or eight fragments, with only about two feet left attached.

Yet, curiously, the blade’s middle section remained intact, merely reduced in size—from a “cavalry weapon” to a short “infantry weapon.”