Chapter 25: The Bamboo Grove of Sacred Sounds

Brahma Sound Grove lies ten miles outside Yunzou City. Its name is elegant, but in truth, it is nothing more than an abandoned bamboo forest. It is said that this bamboo grove was once the forbidden ground of Baoning Temple—the most revered and bustling temple of Yunzou City—and thus acquired its name.

Regrettably, a year ago, Baoning Temple was consumed by a sudden heavenly fire and reduced to ash. Since then, Brahma Sound Grove has fallen into desolation.

When the innkeeper heard that Shen Qianmo and her companions intended to visit Brahma Sound Grove, he kindly tried to dissuade them. “That place is cursed,” he cautioned. “They say the vengeful souls of the monks burned alive in Baoning Temple linger in those woods. The wind is always cold, the air thick with resentment—no one in the city dares set foot there. Some foolhardy souls once defied the warnings and forced their way in, but none ever returned. I urge you to think twice.”

Shen Qianmo did not rule out the possibility that this clue about Brahma Sound Grove was a trap, but it was the only lead they had. Even if it were a dragon’s lair or a tiger’s den, she would have to brave it. As a child of the twenty-first century and a staunch atheist, she did not believe in ghosts or spirits—unless someone was deliberately playing tricks. If that were the case, there must be hidden secrets in Brahma Sound Grove.

Without further delay, she gathered the necessary supplies and instructed Lvzhu and Bi An to wait and provide support at the inn. She was about to ask the innkeeper to ready a carriage for her journey.

Lvzhu, uneasy at the thought of Shen Qianmo going alone, insisted on accompanying her. But Shen Qianmo refused—Lvzhu was too timid; she did not want to be burdened.

No sooner had she stepped out of the inn than she saw Meng Yuanheng standing at the doorway, his handsome face pale, his eyes smoldering with a concealed anger as he fixed his gaze upon her.

“Do you mean to venture into Brahma Sound Grove alone?” he demanded.

Meng Yuanheng was nearly driven mad by this woman, who appeared gentle yet was in truth stubborn as stone. Even he could not be certain how dangerous that place was, yet she intended to march in, single-handed and unafraid—was she courting death?

“For Xie Mingyu, you’d even disregard your own safety?” His anger only deepened, and he stepped forward, seizing her shoulders as he roared.

“Xie Mingyu is my cousin. I will not let anything happen to him.” What was he so angry about? Shen Qianmo was baffled.

Meng Yuanheng would never admit that he was jealous upon seeing Shen Qianmo so anxious for Xie Mingyu’s sake. Nor would he allow her to face danger alone.

“I will accompany you,” he said, his tone softening as he realized she would not easily be swayed.

“But your leg…” She remembered his agony the night before—was he really fit for such a journey?

“It’s nothing,” Meng Yuanheng replied coolly, refusing to let her protest. He took her hand and led her toward a waiting carriage.

Situ Gong had already prepared enough medicine for him—he could endure a few days. As for how severe the backlash would be when the cold poison returned, he had no patience to hear Situ Gong’s nagging.

“Your Highness, Your Ladyship.” Changdong, standing by the carriage, greeted them respectfully and lifted the curtain.

Shen Qianmo was momentarily distracted by Meng Yuanheng’s grip on her hand, scarcely registering Changdong’s address. Meng Yuanheng, seeing that she did not object, allowed a subtle smile to curl his lips.

His princess? That didn’t seem so bad.

The carriage set off at once, racing toward Brahma Sound Grove. By midday, they reached the ruins of the former Baoning Temple.

It was said that Baoning Temple had once been the most prosperous temple in Yunzou City, thronged daily with pious men and women and wreathed in incense. But in a single night, a strange, sudden fire consumed it entirely.

That fire was shrouded in mystery and came without warning. Among those who perished were not only the monks but also Tao Zhirui, Yunzou’s newly appointed prefect of less than a month, and his new bride, Meng Fu.

Meng Fu was none other than the Princess of Qingping, daughter of the Prince of Nanyang. In his wrath, the Prince forbade the rebuilding of Baoning Temple. Now, only a few broken walls remained, battered by the wind.

Shen Qianmo and her companions passed through the temple ruins and reached the rear mountainside, where the scene suddenly opened up—a lush, boundless sea of bamboo covering the entire hillside. The forbidden ground of Baoning Temple was, surprisingly, a place of remarkable beauty.

The three entered the bamboo grove. The leaves formed a canopy, blocking out the sun, and as they ventured deeper, the light grew dim. Meng Yuanheng stayed close to Shen Qianmo, guarding her at every step. After a while, he paused, scrutinizing their surroundings, and muttered to himself, “A shifting maze formation.”

Shen Qianmo also sensed something amiss. The bamboo forest felt like a labyrinth, and they seemed to be circling the same spot. She turned to Meng Yuanheng. “Is there a formation here?”

He nodded, taking her hand. “This is no ordinary bamboo grove—someone has tampered with it.”

“Is this formation powerful?” she asked, intrigued by his mention of the shifting maze, and allowed herself to be led by the hand, unaware of her own acquiescence.

“The shifting maze has long been lost to the martial world. Apart from members of the Mo Sect, none should know of it. I never expected to find it here,” Meng Yuanheng admitted, surprised.

“Mo Sect?” Shen Qianmo asked. “You mean the Mo family of Shandong?” Had she inadvertently borrowed the identity of someone from that very sect?

Seeing him nod, she pressed further. “Are you familiar with the Mo Sect?”

“I was once one of them,” he replied, his expression unreadable.

No wonder he had provided her with such a flawless cover when he helped her out of trouble with Lu Ziqing—he was a fellow member.

“So, you can break this formation?” she asked.

Meng Yuanheng snorted disdainfully. “Such petty tricks are beneath me.”

With that, he called, “Changdong.” Before Shen Qianmo could see clearly, Changdong leapt forward, swiftly chopping down a swath of bamboo. In an instant, an opening appeared before them.

Shen Qianmo was amazed—so breaking a formation could be this simple. Yet she knew that without finding the formation’s heart, one could be trapped here until exhaustion and death.

She regarded Changdong with surprise and admiration. She hadn’t expected so much from this quiet, taciturn youth. No wonder he was the Prince’s trusted guard.

Meng Yuanheng, however, shot Changdong an annoyed glare. Changdong instantly lowered his head, puzzled: The Prince told me to break the formation, so why is he upset now? Was it because I did it too quickly?

Meng Yuanheng snorted softly to himself. He was indeed displeased that Changdong had been so efficient.

The three pressed deeper into the bamboo grove, passing through the newly opened gap, and soon reached a gentle slope. As Shen Qianmo set foot on the slope, a rotten stench assailed her.

Corpses. Her forensic instincts made the judgment at once.

Following the source of the odor, she found in a thicket of dense shrubbery a heap of human body parts scattered in grotesque disorder. There were hands, legs, torsos—all in advanced decay, crawling with maggots and flies, the stench unbearable even for one accustomed to death. Shen Qianmo could not help but frown.

Seeing her about to approach, Meng Yuanheng stopped her. “Let Changdong clear the way.”

He knew Shen Qianmo was unafraid of corpses, but he could not tolerate such filth.

“No,” Shen Qianmo objected. “Don’t disturb the scene.”

She retrieved a pair of white gloves from her sleeve—specially made in Shengjing, flexible and sturdy, reminiscent of modern forensic gloves. With her face already veiled, she had no need for a mask, so she handed it to Meng Yuanheng, gesturing for him to wear it. She donned the gloves and approached the shrubs.

The body parts were jumbled together, the cuts jagged and irregular, as if gnawed by some beast. At first glance, they did not seem to come from the same person.

She began by examining a severed hand—one’s profession often leaves traces on the hands. Sure enough, the index finger bore a callus at the tip, likely from long hours of gripping a brush.

Could these be the missing scholars of Yunzou?

Suddenly, Meng Yuanheng called out warily, “Who’s there?”

Changdong darted away to investigate. Moments later, he returned with a group in tow. Shen Qianmo looked up in surprise to see Lu Ziqing and Feng Ze at the forefront.

Feng Ze, spotting Shen Qianmo from afar, broke into a joyful grin and hurried over. Shen Qianmo was about to greet her long-lost friend when, without warning, the ground beneath her feet gave way.

With a cry, Shen Qianmo plummeted downward.

“Mo’er!” Meng Yuanheng, standing nearby, sprang after her without hesitation.