Rise of The Abandoned Husband

Chapter 617 - 617 - The Shattered Talisman and the Dark Tomb

The Great Hall loomed before us, its cavernous space filled with eerie silence after our frantic escape. My breathing came in ragged gasps, each intake sending sharp pain through my broken ribs. The headless guardian's footsteps had faded into silence behind us, but I knew better than to assume we were safe.

"Are you sure we lost it?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder at the darkened corridor.

The Man with the Mustache bent forward, hands on his knees, catching his breath. "Those ancient guardians are persistent but not particularly clever. The branching passages should confuse it temporarily."

I surveyed the hall, my eyes immediately drawn to the array of ceremonial skulls displayed on stone pedestals throughout the chamber. They gleamed with an unnatural luster in the dim light cast by our spirit stones.

"These are what you were talking about?" I approached the nearest skull, examining its polished surface. "You really think they're from Mighty Realm cultivators?"

"Only one way to find out." The Man with the Mustache straightened up, his enthusiasm returning. He hurried to another pedestal, inspecting a particularly large skull adorned with faded runes. "If these belonged to high-ranking members of the Immortal Bane Sect, they could contain tremendous power."

I reached out hesitantly, my fingers hovering above the smooth bone. "And you believe we can forge weapons from them?"

"Weapons, talismans, cultivation aids—the possibilities are endless!"

My hand closed around the skull, lifting it carefully from its resting place. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, as if responding to my touch, hairline cracks spread across its surface like a spiderweb.

"No, no, no!" I watched in horror as the skull crumbled between my fingers, disintegrating into dust that sifted through my hands. "What happened?"

The Man with the Mustache was experiencing the same phenomenon with the skull he'd selected. It collapsed into powder, leaving nothing of value behind.

"Time," he sighed, disappointment evident in his voice. "Even the mightiest cultivators' remains eventually decay without proper preservation methods. These have been exposed to the tomb's energies for too long."

I moved to another pedestal, hoping for better results. This skull was smaller but seemed more intact, with strange markings carved into the bone. The moment my fingers made contact, however, it too began to crumble.

"Damn it!" I stepped back, frustration mounting. "Are they all like this?"

We tested several more skulls throughout the hall, but the outcome remained the same—immediate deterioration upon contact.

"This is pointless," I finally said, wiping dust from my hands. "Whatever power they once held is long gone."

The Man with the Mustache nodded, but his expression remained thoughtful rather than defeated. "Perhaps. But I didn't come here solely for the sect's treasures anyway."

"What?" I turned to face him fully. "Then why risk your life in this place?"

He stroked his mustache, a sly smile forming beneath it. "There are rumors, very old ones, about something far more valuable than any sect artifact. Something left behind by the woman who destroyed this place."

"The woman?" I recalled our earlier conversation. "The one who single-handedly wiped out the entire Immortal Bane Sect?"

"Precisely." His voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "According to legends, she was unlike any cultivator ever seen—her power beyond measure, her origins unknown. Some say she wasn't human at all."

A cold realization dawned on me. "You think she left something behind. Something worth more than all these treasures combined."

"Not just something." His eyes gleamed with excitement. "A mask, perhaps. One of immense power."

My heart skipped a beat. "A mask? Like the one Clara has?"

The Man with the Mustache's head snapped up, his eyes widening. "What did you say? The girl has a mask?"

I hesitated, suddenly wary of revealing too much. "It's... something she found. In a place called the Huge Pit in Eldoria."

"Describe it," he demanded, his usual caution replaced by intense focus.

"Dark, ancient-looking. When she puts it on, strange things happen. Power seems to flow from it." I studied his reaction carefully. "Why? Do you think it's connected to this place?"

He began pacing, tugging at his mustache in agitation. "It's possible. The legends say the woman wore a mask that concealed her true identity. If your little friend has somehow acquired it..."

"Then she could be in danger," I finished, worry creeping into my voice.

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"Or she could be dangerous," he countered. "Such artifacts aren't playthings. They change their bearers, especially ones with... compatible natures."

I remembered Clara's unique constitution—a pure dark energy body. The implications chilled me.

The Man with the Mustache reached into his pouch, extracting what looked like a small bronze plate inscribed with intricate patterns. "We need to find out if there's any connection. This Divine Plate can detect hidden chambers and concealed paths."

He held the plate flat on his palm, muttering incantations under his breath. The inscriptions began to glow with a soft blue light, pulsing gently.

"What exactly are you looking for?" I asked.

"If the woman who destroyed this sect left anything behind, it wouldn't be in plain sight. She would have created a hidden sanctuary, a place where ordinary looters couldn't stumble upon her legacy."

The plate's pulsing intensified as he moved toward the far end of the hall. The blue glow shifted to purple, then deep crimson as he approached an unremarkable section of wall.

"Here," he said, excitement evident in his voice. "There's a concealed entrance."

I joined him, examining the seemingly solid stone wall. "I don't see anything."

"That's the point." He ran his fingers along the surface, pressing specific spots in a complex pattern. "Ancient concealment techniques are masterful. They fool not just the eyes, but spiritual perception as well."

After several attempts, a grinding noise emanated from within the wall. Stone shifted against stone as a narrow passageway revealed itself, darkness yawning beyond.

"After you," I said dryly.

He chuckled nervously. "Age before beauty? I think not. You're the one with the combat abilities."

Sighing, I summoned a small orb of golden light to my palm and stepped into the passage. The air immediately felt different—heavier, colder. Each breath condensed into visible vapor before my face.

"This isn't natural," I muttered, advancing cautiously. "The temperature is dropping rapidly."

The Man with the Mustache followed close behind, his Divine Plate still glowing crimson in his hand. "It's not temperature exactly. It's energy density. Extremely concentrated dark energy."

The passage descended sharply, taking us deeper beneath the already subterranean complex. The walls changed from worked stone to natural rock, suggesting this tunnel predated the sect's construction.

"How old is this place?" I asked, my voice hushed in the oppressive atmosphere.

"Older than the sect, certainly. Perhaps older than recorded history in this region."

After what felt like an eternity of descent, the passage opened into a small antechamber. I halted in shock at what I saw.

"Ice?" I touched one of the crystalline formations protruding from the wall. "Underground, in this climate?"

"Not ice." The Man with the Mustache's voice trembled slightly. "Solidified dark energy. I've only read about this phenomenon."

The walls were lined with black crystalline structures, resembling icicles but completely opaque. They pulsed with faint inner light, as if alive.

"I've seen something like this before," I said slowly, memories surfacing. "In the Huge Pit in Eldoria. Where Clara found the mask."

The Man with the Mustache's face paled visibly. "Then it's true. This is her tomb."

"Whose tomb?"

"The woman who destroyed the Immortal Bane Sect." He backed away from the crystal formations. "We shouldn't be here. This is far more dangerous than I anticipated."

I moved forward instead, drawn by an inexplicable pull. "If there's a connection to Clara's mask, I need to know. She could be in danger without realizing it."

The antechamber led to another doorway, this one carved with symbols I couldn't decipher. Beyond it lay darkness so complete it seemed to devour my golden light.

"Wait," the Man with the Mustache grabbed my arm. "Don't you feel it? The pressure? The hostility? This place doesn't want us here."

He was right. The air felt charged with malevolence, like countless invisible eyes watching our every move. My instincts screamed danger, yet I couldn't turn back.

"We've come this far," I said, steeling myself. "And I need answers."

"At least let me prepare some protections." He rummaged through his pack, extracting various talismans and small artifacts. "These are defensive treasures from Western Buddhism. They should offer some protection against malevolent energies."

He handed me a small jade pendant, keeping several items for himself including what looked like a miniature golden alms bowl.

"What exactly are we facing here?" I asked, slipping the pendant around my neck.

"I don't know specifically. But if this truly is the resting place of a being powerful enough to destroy an entire sect of Mighty Realm cultivators single-handedly..." He shuddered. "Let's just say our chances of walking out unaided are slim."

The dark crystals around us seemed to pulse more intensely, as if responding to our conversation. A faint whisper echoed through the chamber, too distorted to make out words but distinctly female in tone.

"Did you hear that?" I whispered.

The Man with the Mustache nodded, his face ashen. "We should leave. Now. Forget the treasure, forget the mask—some secrets are better left buried."

"You were eager enough before," I reminded him. "What changed?"

"That was before I felt... this." He gestured around us. "This energy signature is identical to accounts of the catastrophe that befell the Immortal Bane Sect. The survivors described a darkness that consumed everything it touched, wielded by a masked woman whose very presence twisted reality."

Another whisper drifted through the chamber, closer this time. The crystalline formations vibrated softly in response.

Fear gripped me, but not enough to overcome my determination. "All the more reason to learn what we can. If Clara is somehow connected to this power, ignoring it won't make the danger go away."

The Man with the Mustache looked at me like I was insane. "You don't understand. This isn't just any powerful cultivator we're dealing with. The legends say she wasn't even human—some kind of ancient entity that merely wore human form."

"You said you had protection," I nodded toward the religious artifacts he clutched. "Let's use them and proceed carefully."

He hesitated, then placed the golden alms bowl atop his head like a makeshift helmet. Under different circumstances, I might have laughed at the ridiculous sight, but the oppressive atmosphere suppressed any humor.

"This sacred vessel repels negative energies," he explained seriously. "If we encounter any hostile forces, it should—"

A sharp crack interrupted him as the golden bowl suddenly split in two, both halves falling from his head to shatter completely upon hitting the ground.

The Man with the Mustache stared in horror at the broken artifact. "That's... that's impossible. This was blessed by the Western Buddhist Grandmaster himself!"

The whispers around us grew louder, more insistent. The dark crystals pulsed with increasing intensity, their black light illuminating the chamber in an unnatural glow.

"I think," I said slowly, backing toward the entrance, "we may have overstayed our welcome."