Chapter Forty-Nine: The Iron Duke's Mausoleum

The Iron Duke’s Mausoleum lies at the border between Chu Prefecture and E Prefecture, an unregulated territory with no jurisdiction, no law, and no ownership. Yet, unlike the desolate expanse of the Flying Rock Gorge, which is a wild wasteland sparsely populated, the surroundings of the Iron Duke’s Mausoleum are lush with verdant mountains and clear waters, the vegetation thriving in abundance.

“It is said that the Iron Duke was originally a native of E Prefecture. Born into poverty, he studied diligently and only succeeded in the imperial examinations at the age of twenty-six. At thirty, he traveled to the capital and achieved second place in the highest imperial exam, entering government service, and eventually becoming the Prefect of E Prefecture, ranked as a second-grade official. The Iron Duke was upright and incorruptible, known for his stern and impartial nature. He dared to speak frankly and offend many officials at court, yet he was beloved by the people of E Prefecture. Thus, the emperor conferred upon him the title of Iron Duke Marquis...” Hua Feihong, clearly, had delved deeply into the lore of the game.

Ma Junmei, eager to flatter, chimed in, “Senior Sister Hua is truly learned and talented. Qianye is full of admiration.”

But Zhong Shuman was not so easily impressed. “I’ve heard that the Iron Duke’s Mausoleum is frequented by thieves, who steal whatever valuables they can find. By your account, the Iron Duke was a righteous official with no wealth to his name. So why are there so many thieves?”

Hua Feihong explained, “I also heard from our master that the Iron Duke, though he served in high office, often withdrew to the martial world and befriended many wanderers, some of whom were renowned martial artists. These friends admired him greatly and entrusted him with martial arts manuals and precious artifacts for safekeeping. Upon his death, these treasures were buried with him in the mausoleum, inevitably attracting those with ill intentions.”

Zhang He had heard of the Iron Duke’s Mausoleum as well. Many players often ventured in to rob graves and collect equipment, but the tomb was vast, and no one had ever managed to reach the true burial chamber. For Zhang He and his companions, heading to Chen Prefecture by shortcut required passing through the mausoleum.

Dusk was approaching. On a flat patch of green atop the hills, a stone-carved tombstone stood before a mound of earth, bearing only four simple characters: “Tomb of the Iron Duke.”

No matter how renowned the Iron Duke was in life, in death, he was reduced to a handful of earth.

Beneath the mausoleum, a hidden realm unfolded. Rather than a burial chamber, it was more akin to an underground palace. Eternal lamps shaped like guardian beasts flickered eerily, casting ghostly glows throughout the palace. Hundreds of stone coffins stood in neat rows, most of their lids pried open, revealing empty interiors—evidence of players having looted them.

On each palace wall—east, south, west, and north—were eight massive doors leading deeper into the mausoleum. The scene was grand and ominous, evoking the sensation of entering the underworld.

“How should we proceed?” Zhong Shuman’s head spun; she knew the mausoleum’s layout was labyrinthine and easy to get lost in.

“I know!” Ma Junmei raised her hand eagerly. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll figure out the correct path.”

Zhang He asked curiously, “You’re not going to scout ahead, are you?”

Ma Junmei replied, “Wait here for me. I’ll log off and check the forum guides. I’ll have it sorted in no time.”

The three could only sigh—last-minute cramming rarely yields success in practice.

Less than ten minutes later, Ma Junmei logged back in. Zhang He quickly asked, “Well? What’s the route?”

Ma Junmei, full of confidence, smiled sweetly. “I’ve memorized it all. To exit through the west gate, we start from the north side of this hall. The route is: left, left, right, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, south, north, north, east, north, south, west…”

She hadn’t finished when the other three were already exasperated. Sister, this isn’t memorization—it’s brute force. You can’t just recite the path like this; even improvisation needs some logic.

The mausoleum was crawling with monsters—mostly fire lizards, venomous spiders, and spotted geckos. Hua Feihong explained that after the Iron Duke’s death, various creatures naturally appeared in the ancient tomb over the years. Of course, Zhang He took the opportunity to loaf around for experience points, not out of laziness, but simply because the three formidable women were far too efficient at slaying monsters for him to be needed.

They darted from one palace chamber to another, with each room containing stone coffins. Zhang He seized every chance to open coffins in hopes of scavenging loot. To put it nicely, he was collecting equipment; to put it bluntly, he was robbing graves.

Hua Feihong and Ma Junmei, being disciples of reputable sects, would not stoop to such acts. Zhong Shuman, a follower of chivalry, would never engage in anything that diminished her virtue.

But Zhang He had thrown caution to the wind, unconcerned about any rise in his evil value. Grave robbing was child’s play to him; if conditions permitted, he’d gladly take up the role of a tomb raider. Yet, after opening forty or fifty coffins, his best haul was two copper coins and half a candle. Most coffins had nothing—not even a stray hair. They were emptier than empty.

“Did you really memorize the route?” Zhong Shuman asked, unimpressed with the two Shushan disciples. She was the sort to only respect the strong and had little patience for the showy airs of orthodox sects.

“How could I not?” Ma Junmei knew she was lost, her head spinning from all the circling.

Zhong Shuman sneered, “I don’t think so. We’ve already been in this palace chamber before. After all your leading, we’re still just walking in circles.”

“Well, why don’t you lead, then?” Ma Junmei retorted with a cold smile.

Zhong Shuman replied icily, “I always thought Shushan disciples were formidable, but today, it seems they’re nothing special.”

Hua Feihong took offense. “Miss Zhong doesn’t seem to have any better ideas herself.”

“Do you?” Zhong Shuman challenged.

Hua Feihong pointed at the second door on the east wall. “I believe that door is the correct exit.”

“‘Believe’ isn’t enough—it should be ‘should be’!” Zhong Shuman argued.

Hua Feihong retorted, “If you disagree, you’re welcome to go alone.”

Zhong Shuman was about to argue further when Zhang He’s head began to ache. The saying about three women making a drama was spot on; they were united in extorting him before, but now they were quarreling incessantly.

“What’s all this fuss?” Zhang He interjected sternly. “Do you know the saying?”

“What saying?” The three women were curious.

Zhang He’s sly eyes quickly swept over each of their ample bosoms, then he declared loudly, “Big and fierce!”

Hua Feihong was bewildered, “What does ‘big and fierce’ mean?”

Ma Junmei blushed furiously, “Why don’t you drop dead?”

Zhong Shuman snapped, “Are you saying I’m brainless?”

Zhang He shed his playful grin and spoke gravely, “You’re all focused on memorizing the route, but none of you noticed the changes.”

Zhong Shuman stared at him. “What changes?”

Zhang He asked, “When we first entered, weren’t there a lot of monsters in every room?”

All three nodded.

Zhang He continued, “Didn’t you notice that in the last ten or so rooms, the monsters have become fewer and fewer?”

His words struck a chord. The three women realized he was right.

Zhang He adopted a serious demeanor. “The last three rooms didn’t have a single monster.”

Hua Feihong asked, puzzled, “What does that mean?”

Zhang He replied, “It means someone’s already been through these rooms, clearing out all the monsters.”

Ma Junmei, stubborn as ever, protested, “What makes you think someone’s been here and cleared them? Maybe the game system simply doesn’t spawn monsters in these rooms?”

Zhang He countered, “And what makes you think the system doesn’t spawn monsters here? We’ve been through so many rooms—even if we’re off the right path, we shouldn’t be lingering on the outskirts. The closer we get to the core of the mausoleum, the more and stronger monsters there should be.”

Ma Junmei fell silent; she could not refute Zhang He’s reasoning.

Zhong Shuman fixed her gaze on Zhang He for a time. “Have you been here before?”

She realized upon asking that it was a foolish question—Zhang He’s previous abilities would never have allowed him to reach this place. But Zhang He replied with a straight face, “Have I ever asked you your bust size?”

Zhong Shuman’s face darkened. “No.”

“Have I ever asked who your father is?”

“No.”

“Have I ever asked your master’s name or your ultimate move?”

“No.”

“Exactly!” Zhang He glanced at her. “So why ask me other questions?”

Zhong Shuman was momentarily speechless. Hua Feihong hesitated, “Brother Wu, what do you mean?”

Zhang He gazed at the eternal lamp atop the guardian beast and murmured, “Those who dare to delve into tomb raiding and exploration are not ordinary people.”

This everyone understood. All three women, to varying degrees, were aware that in “Dynasty,” equipment came in myriad forms and from countless sources. The simplest way was looting corpses and hunting monsters. Harder was completing advanced or storyline quests. The most difficult was forging equipment oneself. Yet the most obscure and unconventional belonged to the tomb raiders.

It wasn’t just about high martial skill or great strength; “Dynasty” had spawned a class of players who specialized in arcane and trickster paths. These players might not possess powerful martial arts, but their expertise in exotic weapons, mechanisms, and traps was unparalleled, complemented by extensive knowledge and broad vision.

Clearly, Zhang He meant that such a player had already been here.

Staring into the gloomy underground mausoleum, the three women felt a faint premonition—escaping this tomb unharmed would not be easy.

Just then, something strange occurred. A harsh creaking sound echoed from the ground. Not far away, a stone coffin began to move eerily, sliding slowly toward them as if the vengeful spirit within had awakened.

All four stepped back in unison, eyes wide with alarm. The coffin lid snapped open by itself, releasing a cloud of black mist. The mist formed a humanoid shape, drifting toward them like a ghost from the underworld.

The sinister mausoleum was deserted, the eternal lamps flickered like will-o’-the-wisps, the black mist was uncanny, and the coffin stood empty. Anyone placed in such a scene would be frightened—the sight overwhelmed Ma Junmei, leaving her utterly stunned.