Chapter Sixteen: The Golden Skull

Feng Yisheng remarked that the fruit indeed carried a hint of loquat, yet lacked the loquat’s astringency. “No matter, let’s just pick some and eat,” he said, plucking the fruits one by one and tucking them into his pocket.

After gathering about a dozen, Feng Yisheng noticed a particularly large fruit higher up in the tree. He reached for it with his right hand. When he tugged, he realized the stem was surprisingly sturdy, which sparked his competitive spirit. He mustered all his strength.

What followed could only be called a disaster. Overexerting himself while still in the tree, Feng Yisheng lost his balance and pitched forward, tumbling toward the ground. He managed to wrench the fruit free, but at the same time, he toppled from the tree, rolling several times before coming to rest in an area that should have been grassy ground.

With a cry, Feng Yisheng felt himself plunging into a pit, falling deeper and deeper. Within a few breaths, he’d dropped over ten meters before hitting bottom.

He landed atop a heap of dry grass over a meter high, and the fruits in his pocket scattered around him. Surveying his makeshift landing, he felt a lingering dread. If he’d landed on bare earth or if the grass had been thinner, a fall from such a height would have left him dead, or at least paralyzed.

Still, his whole body ached. Looking up, he estimated the mouth of the pit was at least ten meters above.

After several minutes of pain, Feng Yisheng finally stood, brushed the grass from his clothes, and peered around the cave. Only now did he notice that the interior was as bright as day, as if lit by incandescent bulbs.

He examined the walls and discovered the light emanated from luminous gems embedded in the stone—Night Pearls, surely, for they glowed on their own.

He considered prying one from the wall but murmured, “Could someone be living here? Better not for now. Let’s see what lies ahead.”

With that thought, he pressed forward, dragging his aching body deeper into the cave. The fruits he’d picked were now smashed and scattered from his fall; there was no hope of eating them—any attempt would surely lead to an upset stomach.

After walking twenty or thirty meters, he reached the innermost part of the cave. The ground was spotless, and at the center was a pattern resembling an eight-trigram array, about three meters in diameter. At its heart, a figure sat cross-legged.

It was, in truth, a skeleton sitting in meditation, radiating a golden glow.

The golden skeleton was dazzling, and Feng Yisheng puzzled over its origin. Skeletons were white, after all—this golden one seemed undoubtedly manmade.

Drawing closer, Feng Yisheng saw the skeleton seated at the array’s center. With the Night Pearls reflecting off the walls, the naturally yellowed bones gleamed even more magnificently, awash in golden light.

He couldn’t help but feel delighted—could this skeleton be forged of pure gold? If so, he was about to strike it rich!

Suppressing his excitement, Feng Yisheng approached. But as he neared, the golden skeleton suddenly lunged straight toward him, startling him out of his wits.

He instinctively backed away, but the skeleton only accelerated.

Sensing danger, Feng Yisheng tried to flee, but the skeleton was too fast. Before he could even turn, it crashed into him and vanished into his body without a trace.

“Come out! Get out of me!” Feng Yisheng cried in shock, frantically patting himself all over, desperate to find where the golden skeleton had gone.

The events of the past few seconds were beyond belief. As he struggled to comprehend how the skeleton had disappeared, unspeakable agony swept over him—as if his flesh and blood were being torn away, piece by piece, only to be reassembled again.

A shriek tore from his lips. He collapsed, too wracked by pain even to roll on the ground. He felt as if his entire skeleton had separated from his body, and with terrifying clarity, he sensed his bones growing, as if each of his 206 bones was being rebuilt one by one.

Then the flesh reattached, fusing rapidly over the new skeleton, and the torment repeated itself several times.

Feng Yisheng was driven nearly to madness by the pain, yet his mind remained lucid, as if he were pacing the threshold of life and death. Like a creator reshaping his vessel, the golden skeleton seemed to be forging his body into perfection before finally relenting.

He had no idea how much time had passed, but at last the pain faded. Reflexively, he stood up.

The discomfort was gone, replaced by a newfound lightness. Muttering to himself, he grumbled, “Damn it, what did I do to deserve this? One night, I get hurled a thousand kilometers, and now this torture.”

He shouted again, “At least give me the golden skeleton! Otherwise, I suffered for nothing!”

“Young man, don’t be so quick to anger. What I granted you was a stroke of destiny—something countless souls have yearned for in vain. It’s worth more than any gold,” a venerable voice echoed in his mind.

The sound was soothing—so much so that even the most irritable person would be calmed, as if hearing a sage chant scripture.

“Senior, who are you?” Feng Yisheng asked, wondering if he’d stumbled into the sort of old-master plot straight out of a web novel.

“I am the first master of the Supreme Cloud Palace, ancestor Pure Yang, and the sixteenth-generation descendant of the Great Emperor of Mount Tai,” the ancient voice replied.

That title rang a bell for Feng Yisheng. He pondered a moment and recalled: the Great Emperor of Mount Tai was revered as the god of Mount Tai in antiquity, also known as Lord of Mount Tai, sovereign of the Five Sacred Peaks, second only to the Jade Pure Monarch in the celestial hierarchy.

Legend held that the Great Emperor of Mount Tai was the fifth-generation descendant of Pangu, overseeing the souls of mankind and presiding over life and death, fate, and officialdom.