“I knew Wudang and Shaolin, with their legacies, shouldn’t have been unable to produce even a single Heaven-Human.”
“So it wasn’t that they couldn’t, but that they dared not.”
Li Miao said, looking at the two corpses, one monk and one Daoist.
Wang Zhi had already given up trying to persuade him and had no strength left to struggle. He just stared intently at Li Miao’s eyes beneath the mask, trying to memorize them.
Li Miao didn’t care and continued walking forward, dragging Wang Zhi.
Corpses, the corpses of renowned experts from the pugilistic world, hung on the walls on both sides, extending forward.
In recent years, about three-quarters of all Heaven-Humans in the pugilistic world had died here silently and without dignity. After having their hearts and lungs dug out, they were hung here like cured meat drying during the New Year.
Heavenly Talents, Divine Monks, Enchantresses, Daoist Priests.
Swordsmen, Fist Masters, Great Heroes, Demonic Leaders.
With ruptured intestines and stomachs, broken limbs.
Unable to speak, dying with eyes open.
This place was the hell of the pugilistic world.
The smell of blood grew thicker.
Finally, this path, lined with corpses, also came to an end.
What appeared before Li Miao was a spacious hall.
In the center of the hall was a large golden chair carved with dragons, with thirteen golden dragons coiling around its back.
The entire chair was carved with fire bead patterns, cloud patterns, and scrolling grass patterns, clearly a “Dragon Throne.”
And the scent of blood reached its peak here.
Li Miao casually broke Wang Zhi’s hands and feet, throwing him to the ground, then walked over leisurely. He had studied Mechanical Engineering, and with just one glance, he understood the structure of the Dragon Throne. He reached out into the empty air and pulled out the hidden compartment beneath the Dragon Throne.
Swish—splash.
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The hidden compartment opened, emitting a sound of water.
Li Miao looked closely, his brows furrowing.
The hidden compartment was filled with blood, and worm-like creatures, resembling earthworms, were swimming within the blood.
And beneath the hidden compartment, there was a charcoal basin.
A scene immediately appeared in Li Miao’s mind: a middle-aged man in a dragon robe, sitting on the Dragon Throne, wrapped in thick blankets. The charcoal basin below burned, transferring heat to the blood in the hidden compartment. The blood then evaporated, turning into a crimson mist that enveloped the man—
Only a pair of cold eyes and a mouth and nose greedily devouring the blood mist were visible.
The so-called “squeezing the bone marrow” was originally a metaphor, but here, it was a straightforward description.
“Heh, I really shouldn’t have expected anything.”
Li Miao sneered.
“In my previous life, it was only said that ‘feudal society devours people,’ but I never thought it was literal, and that the emperor himself would lead the way in devouring.”
Li Miao shifted his gaze to the surroundings.
He was all too familiar with the furnishings here.
In the northwest corner was a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, with countless broken limbs piled up, and the bloody smell came from here; in the northeast corner were several broken jars; in the southeast corner were several cages cast from raw iron, in which several figures stood, their chests slightly rising and falling, still alive, but seemingly unresponsive to the surrounding commotion.
And in the southwest corner was a “Gu Pool.”
Inside were countless writhing Gu worms.
This place was the “Cocoon Chamber,” a “Cocoon Chamber” no different from those in Miao territory.
A place that housed the Witchcraft legacy, the Miao Royal Family.
Li Miao turned to look at Wang Zhi, who was rolling on the ground, wailing softly.
“Wang Eunuch, stop wailing.”
“I have a question for you. If you answer truthfully, I’ll turn around and leave immediately, giving you a way out. How about it?”
Wang Zhi stopped wailing.
Of course, he wanted to live. Eunuchs had no noble sentiments; no matter how well they did, they were still slaves who wouldn’t make it into historical records. All they sought was wealth and glory. And wealth and glory, naturally, could only be enjoyed by the living.
“Your Excellency.”
Wang Zhi sighed.
“Whether I can answer depends on what Your Excellency asks.”
Li Miao chuckled softly.
“It’s a very simple question. There’s probably no one in this world who knows the answer better than you, the Eunuch of the Imperial Stables and the Emperor’s confidant.”
“What I want to ask is—the current Emperor—
“Who is he?”
Boom—
Wang Zhi’s mind exploded, and his hair stood on end.
After a long pause, he spoke hoarsely.
“What do you mean, Your Excellency!?”
“What do you think?”
Li Miao took a few steps to the side, allowing the entire hall to enter Wang Zhi’s line of sight.
“Eunuch Wang may not have been to Miao territory, but I am familiar with it.”
“The moment I entered, I felt a sense of familiarity—this place is clearly a most authentic and traditional Miao people’s sacred site, the place where Witchcraft is passed down—the Cocoon Chamber. It is also the Miao King’s lair.”
“I’d like to ask you, why would His Majesty the Emperor build a Cocoon Chamber in his own mausoleum? And where did the methods for building this Cocoon Chamber and the essentials for refining Gu worms come from? What are those Heaven-Human corpses hanging outside used for?”
Wang Zhi did not speak again, merely remaining silent.
Li Miao chuckled softly.
“It seems I wasn’t clear enough, so I’ll make it plainer.”
“Fifteen years ago, the entire Jinyiwei (Imperial Guards) went south, bringing the Heaven-Humans raised by the imperial court, and executed Ji Tianrui in Miao territory. At the same time, a team of Ming Cult members went to Shuntian Prefecture, where they were killed by the Jinyiwei (Imperial Guards), and the Ming Cult subsequently declined and went underground.”
“And what I want to ask is, did only one group of Ming Cult members come to Shuntian Prefecture fifteen years ago?”
Li Miao walked towards the cages in the southeast direction, looked them over, and then struck them with a palm, shattering them with a loud crash.
The person inside fell forward, caught by Li Miao, who grasped their pulse.
Then, a sigh.
“The blood and qi above the Dazhui acupoint are stagnant, accumulated over many years, and half of the brain is already ruined. There’s no saving them.”
“It’s a pity that they pressed golden threads year after year, only to make wedding dresses for others.”
“I’ll give you a quick death.”
Puff.
With a soft sound, Li Miao’s hand had already plunged into the person’s chest. After fumbling for a moment, he abruptly pulled it out. The person fell to the ground, lifeless, losing their breath in a moment.
Li Miao walked over and crouched in front of Wang Zhi, opening his palm.
In his palm lay a worm.
A Gu worm.
“Eunuch Wang, what is this thing?”
Without waiting for Wang Zhi to answer, Li Miao continued on his own.
“This thing is the Miao King’s method of controlling and tracking ‘furnace tripods.’ It’s also why my subordinate tracked them here that day.”
“Every cage here holds a ‘furnace tripod.’”
Li Miao said slowly.
“I won’t ask what His Majesty the Emperor uses these furnace tripods for; it’s nothing more than prolonging life or practicing martial arts.”
“But there’s one question I absolutely must have Eunuch Wang clarify for me.”
“The true Miao King died centuries ago. The two Miao Kings in recent years were both possessed by Gu worms from her body, gradually becoming more and more like her substitutes, resurrecting through another’s body.”
Li Miao leaned close to Wang Zhi’s ear and whispered.
“And what I want to ask is, the current Emperor—”
“Is his surname Zhu, or—Ji?”