Chapter 38: The Secret Realm of Yang Yinglong

A flash of white light erupted, and five men and three women appeared out of thin air in a desolate, dense forest.

One man, in his early twenties, stood at the center of the group, clearly their leader. He was dressed in the official uniform of a Ming Dynasty military officer, his appearance heroic and his presence imposing.

Beside him stood a woman of breathtaking beauty. Her skin was as white as snow, and her demeanor possessed a transcendent, ethereal grace—a celestial majesty that would make even the legendary Goddess of the Moon pale by comparison.

Another woman, carrying a flintlock musket, possessed a stunning figure. Beneath a pair of arched eyebrows that seemed painted with misty emerald, her bright eyes danced with vivacity. A playful smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth, revealing faint, dimpled hollows on her rosy cheeks. Her dark hair, cascading over her shoulders as if freshly washed, shimmered like silk in the autumn light, accentuating the grace of her slender neck and supple waist.

A middle-aged couple stood respectfully behind the trio. The man was sturdy and robust, while the woman possessed a mature, alluring charm. Three other middle-aged men, dressed as tribal chieftains and armed with curved scimitars, completed the group.

They were, without a doubt, Yun Zheng, Ye Xi, An Miaotong, Jin Kaijia of the Jin Earth-Eye, Shui Rouqin of the Shui Earth-Wood, and the three tribal chieftains: Wumeng, Wusa, and Yongshun.

"Have we arrived at the surface?" the Chieftain of Yongshun asked in astonishment.

The Chieftain of Wusa shook his head. "There is no such vast forest in Zunyi Prefecture. Could it be that Yang Yinglong’s spatial array transported us hundreds of miles away?"

The Chieftain of Wumeng, the strategist of the three, immediately dismissed this. "So-called spatial displacement arts can only function within an area heavily laid with arrays, which require massive natural energy—such as ley lines, great waterfalls, volcanic heat, subterranean water systems, or strong wind vents—to function. If Yang Yinglong had the power to teleport someone hundreds of miles away, he could have simply plucked the head of the enemy commander from afar. How then could he have been defeated?"

He refrained from adding that if Yang Yinglong were truly that powerful, he could have plucked the head of the Wanli Emperor from outside the Forbidden City. Given the presence of a Ming military officer and a hereditary general, such treasonous thoughts were best left unsaid.

"Perhaps we walked much further in the underground city than we realized," Wusa suggested. "We might be beneath a forest we don't recognize. After all, no one knows the true scale of the underground city."

Wumeng countered again. "That is plausible, but while your senses may deceive you in the dim underground, your physical stamina does not. Judging by the energy we expended to reach the exit, I believe we are still within Chishui City."

The situation was undeniably strange. The three chieftains turned their gaze toward Yun Zheng. Having witnessed his near-flawless planning, they had grown deeply reliant on his judgment.

According to Yun Zheng, while the secret realm of Yang Yinglong could not compare to the Great Wilderness City built by the Prince of Mu, it had remained unconquered for years, implying hidden dangers. Thus, for this expedition, he had selected only those with the greatest skill and martial prowess, leaving the common soldiers to rest in the Great Wilderness City.

Yun San, Yun Si, and the Taoist Li had been left behind—the former two to lead the troops, and the latter to recover from severe chest injuries sustained in battle.

After a moment of contemplation, Yun Zheng spoke. "If I am not mistaken, we have entered a massive illusion."

"What?" Wusa exclaimed. "But look, it stretches endlessly. We can even see a misty mountain in the distance. What kind of illusion could be this vast?"

This doubt was valid; illusions created by spirits or sorcerers were typically confined spaces, as the sheer volume of sensory detail in an open environment was impossible for human spiritual energy to simulate. Even Duan Zheng-yan, who had achieved the status of a 'Yang Spirit' and possessed near-immortal abilities, could only manage to simulate an empty imperial palace.

An Miaotong lowered her binoculars. "Would you be even more shocked if I told you that the mountain you see is Mount Fanjing?"

Wusa fell silent. Mount Fanjing was located in Tongren Prefecture. To travel from Chishui City in Zunyi to Tongren in an instant was a feat of thousands of miles, not hundreds. Compared to such an absurdity, a vast, boundless illusion seemed almost acceptable.

Wumeng suddenly realized. "If Yang Yinglong used the earth's energy to power an array only slightly smaller than the Great Wilderness City, creating such a vast illusion is possible. But what is his purpose?"

Wusa curled his lip. "Perhaps he just wants to live out his imperial fantasies in this world."

At these words, Yun Zheng, Ye Xi, and An Miaotong all turned their gaze toward him.

Wusa touched his nose. "Why are you looking at me? I was just guessing."

Yun Zheng looked at him seriously. "Is it possible that you are right?"

Wusa was stunned. A formidable warlord like Yang Yinglong, risking the execution of his entire clan to build an underground palace, only to create a fake world for his own delusions? It sounded less like a legendary rebel and more like the laughingstock of the martial arts world who claimed the throne amidst a crowd of children.

The three campaigns of the Wanli Emperor represented the final glory of the Ming Dynasty. Whether in Ningxia, Korea, or Bozhou, they were monumental achievements. Of these, the Bozhou campaign was the most massive. How could the mastermind of such a rebellion be a mere clown?

Yet, Yun Zheng offered no further explanation. This was highly unusual. In the perilous Great Wilderness City, he had always articulated every step of his strategy with clarity, his deductions and judgments precise and logical.

However, since entering this "illusion," he had become tight-lipped. He exchanged knowing glances with Ye Xi and An Miaotong, both wearing expressions of tacit understanding, refusing to elaborate on their conclusions.

*Could it be,* Wusa wondered, *that in this illusion, there are eyes and ears watching our every move from the shadows?*

At that thought, a cold chill crept up his spine.