Volume Three Twin Blossoms One Tree Cannot Hold Up Alone Chapter Fourteen Seal Script

Lang Xian, feigning mystery, twirled the scant few strands of his beard and spoke with pride, “These ancient characters, even among the clan’s nobility, few can recognize them. Years ago, I had a stroke of fortune and happened upon a teacher well-versed in this script. Every day, I would give him a bowl of rice and a piece of salted meat, and in exchange, he taught me one or two characters daily. Thus, I studied the tadpole script with him for some time. However, with such dense and obscure text, I cannot discern the full meaning of this silk manuscript.”

Yuan Ji stared wide-eyed at the self-satisfied middle-aged man before him, tamping down the anger rising in his chest as he growled, “Then, may I ask, strategist, if you don’t know what’s written on this manuscript, what are you so pleased about?”

Lang Xian shot him a sidelong glance, still brimming with pride. “Though I cannot read it all, I can decipher a few key words. And those I recognized happen to be central to the whole text.”

Hearing this, Yuan Ji’s interest was piqued. He tugged at Lang Xian’s sleeve, urging impatiently, “Strategist, strategist, tell me quickly, you’re driving me mad with suspense!”

Lang Xian pointed to several characters on the silk scroll and said, “General, look here. These words speak of Zhu Yuan’s ancestor founding a sacred temple in Moonveil Valley.”

Yuan Ji smacked his lips. “We already knew that! Did we need a manuscript to tell us?”

Lang Xian glanced at him again and said, “Don’t be so hasty, General. Let me finish.” He pointed to another passage and continued, “These words say: ‘Under the bright moon, a person suddenly appeared in the temple.’ Then, ‘The mysterious figure claimed to come from beyond the heavens.’”

“And then?” Yuan Ji pressed anxiously.

Lang Xian remained unhurried, utterly shaken by the contents of the manuscript. He murmured to himself, “The sacred temple can reach other voids? This valley, hemmed in by high mountains, under the moon’s glow, has the power to warp space… Incredible.”

He read on, then suddenly shook his head in regret. “What a pity! The Zhu Yuan clan was thrown into panic by the arrival of the mysterious visitor, fearing their secluded existence would be exposed to the world. Therefore… therefore…”

Yuan Ji grabbed Lang Xian and shook him violently. “Therefore what? Speak, quickly!”

Lang Xian’s gaze was lost in emptiness, his mind caught in the shock of it all. He muttered, “They buried the entire Moonveil Valley! Buried it!”

Lang Xian raised his head, incredulity written across his face as he addressed Yuan Ji, “Moonveil Valley is actually entombed underground.”

Yuan Ji was so delighted at this revelation that he leapt into the air. He clapped his hands and exclaimed, “We’ve finally found it! I wondered where Moonveil Valley had vanished to on the map—turns out our ancestors buried it.” Then, he shouted toward the tent entrance, “Someone! Summon all the centurions to me!”

The soldier on guard complied and rushed off to relay the order to other camps.

Yuan Ji’s shout snapped Lang Xian from his daze. He stared blankly at Yuan Ji and asked, “Why is the General calling for the others?”

Now it was Yuan Ji’s turn to look proud as he replied to Lang Xian, “To have them dig up the sacred temple!”

Lang Xian burst out laughing at this. Yuan Ji looked at him, puzzled, and asked, “Strategist, why do you laugh?”

Lang Xian’s laughter grew louder until he was clutching his belly, sitting on a stool, and asked Yuan Ji, “General, do you know how vast that valley is? The manuscript says Zhu Yuan’s ancestor mobilized the entire clan—over one hundred thousand elders and children—and spent a year hollowing out earth and stone from the surrounding mountains just to fill in that great valley. You think our humble thousand men can dig it out again? Isn’t that a ridiculous notion?”

Yuan Ji was taken aback. Upon reflection, he realized Lang Xian was right. Not only was their manpower insufficient, but with the current shortage of provisions, they couldn’t sustain such labor. Excavating the valley was far more demanding than marching; the consumption of supplies would be staggering. Yet, without digging, how could they find the sacred temple and fulfill the mission entrusted by his elder brother?

As Yuan Ji pondered, footsteps echoed from outside the tent, and more than ten men quickly entered the command tent. These were his centurions, summoned at his call. They had evidently heard something about the manuscript; faces were alight with hope, though military discipline kept them from discussing it openly. Still, Yuan Ji could sense the renewed hope emanating from each.

Clearing his throat, Yuan Ji addressed his stalwart officers, “You’ve all heard about the ancient silk manuscript found within the map. Our strategist has deciphered some of the ancient script. In essence, the reason we found no trace of Moonveil Valley at the end of the stone road is that our ancestors concealed their tracks by burying the sacred temple and the valley together.”

At this, the crowd broke into whispers. Normally, Yuan Ji would reprimand them for disregarding discipline, but today he refrained.

Raising his voice, Yuan Ji continued, “Originally, I called you here to lead men and excavate the valley, but the scale of the task is immense—far beyond the capabilities of our Spirit Helm Army.”

Here, he paused, seeing the joy vanish from his officers’ faces.

The command tent fell silent, until Lang Xian slapped his thigh and stood up.

Everyone turned to him, and Yuan Ji asked curiously, “Strategist, have you come up with a clever plan?”

Lang Xian shook his head. “Not quite clever, but I do have an idea.”

Interest rekindled, the officers gathered closer to hear his proposal.

Lang Xian stroked his short beard and mused, “We can’t dig up the whole valley, but we can dig a large pit. Since the valley was called Moonveil, it must be tied to the moon. The manuscript says the mysterious visitor arrived on the night of the full moon, warping in from the outer void—so the sacred temple must manifest some anomaly on the night of the full moon. All we need do is observe that land during the full moon; wherever there’s a strange phenomenon, dig there, and we’ll surely find something.”

His words ignited the crowd, rekindling the hope that had just been extinguished. Yuan Ji eagerly asked, “When is the next full moon?”

Lang Xian looked up at the tent’s ceiling, murmuring and calculating with his fingers. After a moment, he announced, “In five days, the full moon will come.”

Silence fell again. The army knew provisions would last only two or three days at most—after five days without food, the troops would be incapable of any work.

Just then, a messenger outside announced loudly, “Reporting to the General! Scout leader Du Wei has returned to camp with urgent information.”

Without hesitation, Yuan Ji called out, “Quickly, report inside!”

Soon, Du Wei, weathered and worn, entered the tent, led by the messenger, with a white-haired elder following behind.

Yuan Ji immediately questioned, “Du Wei, you set out half a day earlier than me—why are you so late returning? Do you know the penalty for returning late?”

Du Wei knelt on one knee, clasped his hands, and replied, “Reporting, General. My team scouted along the road but found nothing, so we set out to return a day ago. On the way, we were suddenly attacked by wild beasts—half our men killed or wounded. In desperation, we were rescued by a group who formed a defensive array and skillfully drove off the beasts. They brought our wounded back to their village, and thanks to their help, we survived.”

Yuan Ji raised his brows. “Oh? Such a thing? How could there be inhabitants in this vast forest?”

Du Wei continued, “General, I wouldn’t dare lie. Their chief heard that a Zhu Yuan descendant army was camped here and insisted on coming with me, saying he had urgent matters to report to the General.”

Lang Xian stepped forward, pointing to the elder behind Du Wei. “Is it this old man?”

Du Wei glanced back and nodded.

Yuan Ji greeted the elder with the respect due a younger generation, then gently asked, “May I ask, venerable elder, where do you come from?”

The old man trembled as he knelt, kowtowed three times to Yuan Ji and Lang Xian, and spoke, voice quavering with tears, “Reporting, General! I am a descendant of the Zhu Yuan Imperial Guard, charged by the late king’s decree to guard the sacred temple for generations. Ten years ago, a woman in purple came to us, claiming that a Zhu Yuan descendant army would arrive in this great forest seeking the ancient temple, and instructed us to await the army’s arrival. Back then, I thought she was delirious from too much miasma, rambling nonsense. Since the Zhu Yuan clan left the forest, how could they muster an army? But just days ago, our villagers, out hunting and gathering, found warriors battling wild beasts. Our people helped drive the beasts away and brought the wounded to our village. After introductions, we learned they truly were Zhu Yuan descendants and that the clan had poured all its strength into forming the Spirit Helm Army. We heard the commander was a descendant of the Yuan royal house, so I begged the young warrior to let me see the General in person. Never did I imagine I’d truly meet you today.” As he spoke, the elder broke down, unable to compose himself.