Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Mummified Duplicate

Seeing the Flame Xuanwu being lured out of the water, Narugel drew his bow and released an iron arrow composed of three fused shafts. The arrowhead struck the creature’s thick, molten armor with a resounding clang.

It worked!

Hit by such a powerful arrow, the Flame Xuanwu instantly flew into a rage. It opened its massive maw and charged straight at him. Narugel leaped back just in time as a stone in front of him was smashed to pieces, shards scattering in all directions. While dodging and weaving, he cast a worried glance at the water, anxious that Li Pingyang had yet to resurface.

Did he find the entrance?

Beneath the surface, Li Pingyang swam blindly through murky water, quickly losing all sense of direction. Fortunately, he managed to grab a chain and used it to guide himself forward. After a short while, he emerged for air and saw that he’d reached the area near the great bell, allowing Narugel to finally breathe a sigh of relief.

At the base of the bell was a triangular gap. Li Pingyang turned sideways and slipped through. Suddenly, the space expanded, and before him stood a stone door.

The stone door wasn’t fully closed—just wide enough for a person to squeeze through. Li Pingyang slipped inside and found himself within the Xuanwu’s shell.

Inside, he was greeted by a peculiar sight—there was no water at all. It was as if the stone door itself formed a barrier, keeping every drop of water at bay. Two entirely different worlds existed on either side, separated by something invisible and impenetrable.

Li Pingyang, who had never been good at holding his breath, felt his chest burning. But realizing there was no water, he stopped worrying about drowning and gasped for air. The stench inside was overpowering, so foul and fishy it made his eyes water. He tore a strip from his clothing to fashion a makeshift mask.

Breathing was easier now, and he pressed on until the path abruptly ended. There, he found a set of descending stone steps and followed them down.

He entered a corridor lined with thick cobwebs on either side, the floor sticky beneath his feet, and the stench growing ever stronger. Every few meters, an oil lamp set in a stone recess flickered to life as he passed, startling him at first.

Thankfully, the corridor seemed free of traps or mechanisms. Emerging from it, he found himself in a vast, dark red chamber.

In one corner, gold and silver treasures were piled high as mountains. Any single piece, plucked at random, would be worth a fortune—enough for a lifetime.

Beside the treasure stood a bizarre stone statue: its face resembled an owl, yet its body was unmistakably human. Its eyes were eerily lifelike, as if the statue might spring into motion at any moment.

Who would have thought the Flame Xuanwu’s shell concealed so many secrets?

Suddenly, the ground shook violently.

Barely keeping his footing, Li Pingyang watched as the walls began to writhe. Mummified corpses, their bodies wrapped tight, emerged from the shifting stone. What struck him with horror—they all looked exactly like him!

Each corpse, tall or short, fat or thin, bore his features to the last detail, as if he were being replicated again and again.

Before he could process what was happening, his doppelganger corpses lunged at him. Forced to defend himself, Li Pingyang drew his short sword.

But the walls acted like a relentless printer, churning out copy after copy of himself. Sweat beaded on his brow as the pressure mounted.

He failed to notice the owl-faced statue’s eyes shifting slightly.

As he fought off the clones in front, more would attack from behind, catching him off guard. Surrounded on all sides, Li Pingyang soon found himself gasping for breath.

“Damn it! Will this never end?”

He switched from slashing to channeling sword energy, expanding his attack range and making the fight easier—but at the cost of rapidly draining his inner strength.

At last, with a sweeping arc of sword energy, he accidentally sliced off the head of the grotesque statue. Instantly, all the doppelgangers froze in place, as if someone had pressed ‘pause.’

Then, each mummified clone dissolved into plumes of black mist, vanishing before his eyes. The chamber fell silent once more, as if nothing had ever happened.

The wall ahead split open, revealing a passage. Peering inside, Li Pingyang saw a stone coffin waiting in a hidden chamber.

He entered, sword in hand, and the passage behind him sealed shut, the stone merging seamlessly. No matter how hard he pounded, it wouldn’t budge. A single lamp flickered to life, illuminating the coffin flanked on either side by the same bird-faced, human-bodied statues as before.

Remembering the earlier ordeal, Li Pingyang wasted no time—he swung his sword and decapitated both statues to prevent a repeat of the nightmare.

He wasn’t sure if it had all been an illusion, but it felt far too real. The thought of battling his own desiccated doubles again unsettled him deeply.

With effort, he pushed open the stone coffin, eager to see what lay within.

But as the lid creaked aside, shock and bewilderment overtook him. The coffin was empty.

There was only a groove shaped for a sword, but the weapon itself was missing, as if someone had already taken it.

Staring at the outline, Li Pingyang felt a sudden sense of familiarity. He instinctively glanced at the short sword in his hand.

Could it be?

Nervously, he set the sword into the groove—and found it matched perfectly. His heart trembled.

So this short sword, his father’s keepsake, had come from within the Flame Xuanwu itself?

Who had forged this sword? How had his father learned of its existence? New questions crowded his mind.

Just then, the Xuanwu’s tongue shot back into the shell, lashing out to attack. Li Pingyang swiftly raised his short sword, blocking the blow but being knocked backward by the impact.

Outside, Narugel could only feel the earth shaking, oblivious to the events transpiring within. If the Flame Xuanwu continued its rampage, the entire place might collapse.

The serpent head struck at Li Pingyang again. This time, he leaped onto it, gripping his sword with both hands and driving it down with all his might.

Part of the blade sank into the serpent’s head, making the beast shriek in agony and thrash wildly. Li Pingyang clung desperately to the sword, refusing to be thrown off.

He had set out to find the creature’s heart, but instead discovered a hidden world and the origin of his short sword—an unexpected windfall.

After a bout of wild thrashing, the sword, never deeply embedded, finally loosened. Li Pingyang, sword in hand, was flung from the shell and sent flying out.