Chapter 67: Framing Ding Wugu (3)

“This isn’t the entrance? What’s going on? What should we do?” Yang Zhijiu grew frantic.

“Don’t worry, with Master Wenruo’s help, Ding Wugu will be fine,” Mo Yuxi reassured him.

After comforting Yang Zhijiu, Mo Yuxi looked down the mountain at Yan Chuan and his companions climbing up. Her expression darkened slightly, as though she had already guessed something.

A deafening roar erupted—the entrance was suddenly bathed in blinding white light that shot skyward, illuminating everything around with an unbearable brightness. The entire giant tomb shook violently.

Yan Chuan, halfway up the mountain, paused briefly, gazing thoughtfully toward the summit. “Such powerful righteous energy. This Master Wenruo is truly a hidden expert.”

Another thunderous boom sounded. Master Wenruo emerged, dragging Ding Wugu behind him.

Master Wenruo’s clothes were torn in several places. Ding Wugu was much worse—his body was riddled with bloody holes, his robes soaked in crimson. Through the largest wound, bare white bone gleamed. His left eye was a mess of blood and flesh, barely clinging to life.

“Ding Wugu, how are you?” Yang Zhijiu’s face changed. He quickly took out a pill and fed it to Ding Wugu.

As the medicine took effect, a gentle green light enveloped Ding Wugu, and the wounds began to heal visibly. Only his left eye remained unrecoverable, leaving a hideous bloody cavity.

“Chickens, chickens, so many chickens—they were pecking at me!” Ding Wugu gasped, still shaken.

Master Wenruo’s expression turned grim.

“Master Wenruo, what happened just now?” Mo Yuxi asked solemnly. She knew how powerful Master Wenruo was; for someone of his strength to emerge in such a sorry state, the dangers inside must be unimaginable.

“It wasn’t the entrance,” Master Wenruo replied simply.

At that moment, Yan Chuan’s army finally reached the summit.

Seeing Ding Wugu’s bloodied body, Yan Chuan sighed inwardly, feeling a pang of regret.

“Ding Wugu, didn’t you say this was the entrance?” Yang Zhijiu demanded sternly.

“I felt it… I—now I understand! It must be that dog—he did it on purpose! He wanted to harm me, to kill me!” Ding Wugu shrieked.

“It’s you, Yan Chuan! You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted me dead!” Ding Wugu shouted at Yan Chuan.

“Yan Chuan, was it intentional?” Yang Zhijiu glared coldly at Yan Chuan.

Mo Yuxi scrutinized Yan Chuan again.

The silver-armored soldiers stirred restlessly, each one grateful to Yan Chuan. That dwarf had killed two of their comrades with poison gas; if this was indeed the prince’s doing, it would be vengeance for the fallen. Pity, though, that the dwarf survived.

“On purpose? Don’t make me laugh. How could I have done it on purpose? You found the entrance yourself. Whatever dangers lie inside have nothing to do with me,” Yan Chuan replied disdainfully.

“It must be you! It’s you!” Ding Wugu cried out in hatred.

Yan Chuan smirked dismissively.

“Enough!” Mo Yuxi commanded coldly, silencing Ding Wugu.

She turned to Yan Chuan. “Young Master Yan, whether you did it on purpose or not, I don’t care. I only want to know—how do we enter the inner chamber?”

“The entrance is at the summit of these eight giant tombs, but there’s only one. Only someone with a feng shui master’s unique constitution can sense it,” Yan Chuan nodded.

“I’ll never trust you again! Never!” Ding Wugu spat angrily.

“I never asked you to trust me,” Yan Chuan replied with a laugh.

Ding Wugu’s face turned red with fury as he glared at Yan Chuan.

Master Wenruo gave a complex, bitter smile. He was certain now: Yan Chuan had indeed orchestrated Ding Wugu’s misfortune.