Chapter 418: Chapter 329: Deep into the Underworld (Extra 3-in-1)
Chen Yi casually tore a strip of burlap from the lining of his shirt and placed it over Yin Weiyin’s eyes.
Realizing it was his shirt, Yin Weiyin’s face flushed red, her delicate lips pressing lightly together as she gave a small tug.
"Don’t take it off."
Chen Yi’s voice echoed by her ear, and Yin Weiyin’s hand froze mid-motion. Hesitant, she asked:
"What have you discovered?"
Chen Yi replied nonchalantly, "Some ghostly artifacts—looking at them might cloud the mind."
As his words fell, Yin Weiyin lowered her hand and quietly waited.
Chen Yi gazed intently at the corpse within the coffin, occasionally turning back to examine it more closely. Its figure resembled Yin Weiyin’s, and it was dressed in the celestial robe from Taihua Mountain—the only uncertainty was the face.
Chen Yi pondered for a moment and then asked:
"Luanhuang, when is your birthday?"
"February 7th, Year of Guiwei," Yin Weiyin responded, "Dragon King’s Day—the day to worship the Dragon King."
At that time, she had promised Chen Yi that if she liked, he could gift her a hairpin on her birthday. However, her birthday was still far off, and she had not disclosed the exact date to Chen Yi.
Chen Yi lowered his head to look at the female corpse in the coffin. After searching with his hand at her waist, he discovered a token.
The token was engraved with a set of birth date characters. Chen Yi instinctively felt it likely belonged to the corpse.
June 9th, Year of Guiwei.
The date didn’t match Yin Weiyin’s birthday.
Chen Yi exhaled lightly. Since the dates didn’t align, it meant Yin Weiyin truly wasn’t a paper effigy.
Creating an identical paper effigy required matching birth dates.
Previously, he had speculated whether Yin Weiyin might also be a paper effigy and that the corpse in the coffin represented the real "Yin Weiyin." But now, seeing this, that assumption could be ruled out.
Then, Chen Yi formed another hypothesis.
He picked up the knife in his hand and thrust it downward, piercing straight through the corpse.
The body responded with tangible resistance, with solid flesh intact—it did not dissolve into the wind, clearly confirming it wasn’t a paper effigy, but rather a genuine corpse.
Chen Yi’s eyes narrowed as he thought silently:
This corpse and Yin Weiyin are entirely different individuals...
But she wears the celestial robe of Taihua Mountain...
Was it later draped on her? Or was she originally the Taichua Goddess?
Threads of speculation interwove in his mind. Chen Yi came to multiple conjectures, each plausible yet requiring further verification.
Chen Yi glanced at the pile of shredded paper near the floor—the remnants of the Prince’s eldest son—and couldn’t help but wonder: could it be that both the King Jing and the Princess were paper effigies?
The thought was far too frightening and almost impossible to accept.
Yet, the possibility was... alarmingly high.
Chen Yi turned his gaze to the awaiting Yin Weiyin, pondering deeply for a long while.
Whether King Jing and the Princess were paper effigies or not—did it even matter?
Earlier investigations allowed Chen Yi, under the guise of a son-in-law, to probe nearly every corner of the King Jing’s Mansion. He even uncovered incidents involving the use of the Jade Ruyi by a concubine, but found not a single further clue.
Thus, whether King Jing and the Princess were paper effigies had no bearing—no clues were unearthed, nor was the mastermind exposed.
If the mastermind stays hidden, then does their identity even matter?
Thinking this, a sense of clarity suddenly dawned on Chen Yi: whether King Jing and the Princess were paper effigies mattered little—unveiling the mastermind was all that counted.
Moreover, if this revelation were laid before Yin Weiyin, it might well shatter this female crown’s spiritual resolve once more.
Chen Yi took a deep breath, dragged the corpse and coffin aside, and directed his attention further inward.
There seemed to be more space ahead, though it was too obscured to discern under the moonlight.
Chen Yi pulled out flint and a small oil lamp from his pocket. As the striking of flint sparked, Yin Weiyin chuckled.
"What’s so funny?" Chen Yi turned back.
Yin Weiyin stifled her laugh before softly replying, "You’ve achieved Golden Core, yet you still use flint to light a fire?"
"I haven’t studied magic much," Chen Yi replied.
Though channeling True Qi into Heavenly Vision to deduce spells worked quite well, and though he had accumulated a fair amount of True Qi through the Resentment Yin-Yang Technique, Chen Yi hadn’t come across many magic manuals—the Taoist Scripture counted as one, yet its spells were so basic they were practically useless.
The fire came alive, and Chen Yi grasped Yin Weiyin’s hand, leading her slowly toward the space beneath the coffin. Beneath was a long, narrow, pitch-dark corridor. Cold energy seeped from the earthen walls alongside, an unmistakable eerie chill closing in.
The corridor was lengthy and narrow, allowing passage for only one person at a time. Chen Yi and Yin Weiyin proceeded one after the other, the oil lamp illuminating the path forward. They seemed to descend deeper and deeper underground.
Who knew how long they had walked when the surroundings began to change? By the dim light of the oil lamp, Chen Yi caught sight of an ancient bronze door in the distance. The door was carved with lion-like beasts, but they were broken and mangled, layers of verdant rust cascading over its surface.
Chen Yi scrutinized the other patterns on the door, his gaze landing on a solitary spider lily. In an instant, he realized the significance of what lay beyond the door.
The underworld.
Who would’ve thought that hidden in the rear mountain of the King Jing’s Mansion was a door leading to the underworld?
Chen Yi took a deep breath, placing his hand against the bronze door, then slowly pushed.
The door opened immediately.
As the bright yellow flame of the oil lamp crossed the threshold, its core flared an eerie blue, morphing into ghostly underworld fire.
Chen Yi surveyed his surroundings, releasing Yin Weiyin’s hand and removing the burlap covering her eyes.
Yin Weiyin opened her eyes at once, staring dumbfounded at the ghostly underworld realm before her.
What greeted her was a dim, sinister expanse. Deep greens and murky blues dominated her view. The barren ground was devoid of life, and yet scattered sporadically were clusters of spider lilies and grass of oblivion. The farther she looked, the more hazy the scene grew, as if shrouded in a thin veil of mist.