When the Shadow Guard returned, it was already the fourth night after the operation had begun.
When he entered the tent, Xiao Yuan was sitting before the desk. Xia Lanshi was seated in the chair to his left, a thick cloak draped over his knees, a hand warmer held in his hands.
Xia Lanshi had originally been preparing to retire for the night, but upon hearing that the Shadow Guard had returned, he put on his outer robe and got up.
He came quietly and merely sat down beside the desk without making a sound.
Chi Banyue stood by the tent entrance with her arms crossed, looking far too alert for someone approaching midnight.
The Shadow Guard knelt on one knee. His coarse cloth robe was stained with dirt and dead leaves, and the soles of his boots still bore the damp mud from beneath the ancient shrine.
He did not rush to speak. Instead, he first took out a bundle wrapped layer upon layer in oiled cloth and presented it with both hands.
Chi Banyue stepped forward to receive it and handed it to Xiao Yuan.
Xiao Yuan unfolded it.
It was a hand-drawn map of the underground structure. The strokes were extremely simple, yet several key points had been marked—the entrance, passageways, collapsed sections, and unexplored areas.
There was also one spot that had been circled. Beside it, in extremely small writing, were the words:
Third level, center of the pool, door.
Xiao Yuan stared at the circle without saying a word.
Xia Lanshi saw it as well.
He did not lean closer. He merely shifted his gaze slightly, his eyes settling on the circle, while his fingertips tightened faintly inside his sleeve for an instant.
Chi Banyue, meanwhile, walked directly to the desk and looked down for a moment. Her brows moved slightly, but she said nothing.
“Speak.” Xiao Yuan placed the map on the desk and motioned for the Shadow Guard to rise.
The Shadow Guard straightened and lowered his voice as much as possible, as though afraid there might be ears on the other side of the walls.
“The above-ground portion of that ancient shrine has indeed been completely abandoned. The roof has almost entirely collapsed, and the foundation stones are hidden beneath weeds. Nothing unusual can be seen. Following Your Highness’s orders, this subordinate dug approximately three chi down from the eastern side of the temple foundation and discovered a concealed opening sealed by stone slabs.”
He paused, as though considering how to describe what he had seen afterward.
“Beneath the opening was a flight of stone steps leading downward. The construction method does not belong to the current dynasty, nor does it resemble any remains from the previous dynasty. Judging from the degree of weathering on the bricks and stones and the thickness of the moss, it is at least several hundred years old.”
Xiao Yuan did not interrupt him.
Xia Lanshi also remained silent, quietly listening. His pale-red eyes appeared especially focused beneath the firelight.
Chi Banyue stood beside the Shadow Guard, occasionally nodding as though checking whether his description matched the information she had previously obtained.
“The subordinate led the men down along the stone steps. The first level was an empty chamber approximately ten zhang square. It was a natural cavern that had been expanded, with traces of niches along the walls, but all furnishings had already been removed. There were dragging marks on the floor, as though heavy objects had once been transported away. The structure of the second level was more complicated. The passage split into three routes. Two led to collapsed sections, while one continued downward.”
The Shadow Guard’s voice became noticeably softer when he reached the words “third level.”
“The entrance to the third level was blocked by a stone door. There was no lock on it, but the gap beneath the door had been sealed with mud. It took the subordinate nearly half a day to clear it. Behind the door was a vast natural underground cavern, approximately…”
He paused.
“…about half the size of a training ground. The air was extremely cold. The ground was level, as though someone had deliberately altered and smoothed it.”
He paused again, seemingly recalling the details of that space.
“In the center of the space was a pool. The water was not deep, approximately knee-high. The water was clear, and the bottom was paved with stone. At the very center of the pool stood a stone platform roughly three chi square, rising about one chi above the surface of the water. Standing on the stone platform was a door.”
Xiao Yuan finally raised his gaze from the map.
“A door?”
“Yes. A freestanding door. It had no wall supporting it and stood alone on the stone platform in the center of the pool.”
The Shadow Guard lowered his voice further, as though describing something that even he could not completely comprehend.
“The door itself was a deep vermilion red. A bronze ring was embedded in its center, engraved with intricate patterns that resembled clouds, yet also seemed like water.”
The tent fell silent for a moment.
Xiao Yuan’s gaze tightened slightly, and even his breathing unconsciously became lighter.
Xia Lanshi did not look toward Xiao Yuan. His gaze remained on the map, but he noticed the fingers resting on Xiao Yuan’s knee move slightly.
Chi Banyue narrowed her eyes faintly.
“The subordinate tried pushing the door. It would not move, as though it were locked from the other side. The subordinate also tried the bronze ring, but there was no response. That door was as silent as a stone, as though it were merely a decoration.”
Xiao Yuan remained silent for a moment before folding the map and placing it inside his robe.
“Who else knows besides you?”
The Shadow Guard replied, “The men this subordinate selected are all the most reliable. Orders to keep silent have already been issued to everyone.”
Xiao Yuan nodded.
“Withdraw.”
The Shadow Guard bowed and exited.
The tent fell quiet once more, leaving only the faint crackle of the charcoal fire from time to time.
Only after the tent flap had completely fallen did Chi Banyue speak.
“Your Highness, I already heard about that door when the Shadow Guards reported it. They did not leave out a single detail.”
Xiao Yuan glanced at her, understanding the implication behind her words: the Shadow Guards had not attempted to conceal any information. That was the correct course of action.
He spread the map open again and placed it on the desk so Xia Lanshi could see it clearly as well.
Xia Lanshi did not immediately lean closer. He simply studied it quietly for a moment, then reached out and turned the map slightly so that the lamplight illuminated it more clearly.
His finger hovered above the paper for an instant but did not touch the circled location.
“The line Young Master Xiao provided was real.”
Xia Lanshi spoke, his voice carrying a sharpness that was especially distinct in the night.
Xiao Yuan did not refute him.
“He knows the location of that ancient shrine, and he knows there is something beneath it. He led us there to see it.” Xia Lanshi raised his eyes. His pale-red irises reflected the lamplight. “The question is, how did he know?”
Xiao Yuan did not answer because he had no answer either.
When the Shadow Guards went to investigate, the passage beneath the ground had been sealed. When they reached the third underground level, the stone door had also been sealed.
He did not know how Xiao had learned of this.
Only Xiao himself knew.
Xiao Yuan’s fingertip lingered briefly at the edge of the map.
“That door,” he said. “Its appearance is identical to the one in the rear chamber of Guichen Studio, yet it has stood beneath Linbei City for at least several hundred years.”
Xiao had handed them this lead, like placing a lamp in the darkness and waiting for them to walk toward it themselves.
“Set this matter aside for now.” Xiao Yuan spoke, his fingertip tracing the edge of the map. “First decide how to deal with this underground space.”
“Your Highness,” Xia Lanshi said seriously, “this place absolutely cannot be allowed to let anyone else enter. It must be sealed off immediately.”
“Sealing it off directly will attract the attention of the Emperor’s and Crown Prince’s informants,” Xiao Yuan said.
“The ancient shrine has already been abandoned for many years. Why not make it disappear completely?” Xia Lanshi replied.
Xiao Yuan raised his eyes and looked at him.
“There must be something above ground to conceal it.”
“Yes.”
Xia Lanshi gave a slight nod. He picked up his brush and drew out a fresh sheet of paper. The tip of the brush hovered above the surface for a brief moment, as though he were organizing the structure of the building that had not yet been put to paper.
Then he began to draw, starting with the outermost outline—a square courtyard wall enclosing the entire ruins of the ancient temple.
“What does Your Highness think should be built above ground?” he asked, his brush continuing without pause.
Xiao Yuan looked at the sheet of paper gradually being filled with lines.
After a moment, he said:
“A Martyrs’ Shrine.”
Xia Lanshi’s brush paused slightly.
He said, “Over the years, most of those who died in battle at the northern outposts were buried where they fell, while a small number were transported back to their ancestral homes. Most of them have no final resting place.”
“So give them a place to belong,” Xiao Yuan said. “In the names of the soldiers who died defending the northern frontier. A main hall, side halls, a stele forest, an incense pavilion, and an altar. Let the common people enter to offer incense and pay their respects. Let the soldiers’ families know that their loved ones have a place where they will be remembered.”
Xia Lanshi looked at Xiao Yuan for a brief moment. It was a very short glance, but Xiao Yuan saw a trace of gentleness in his eyes.
He did not say anything such as “Your Highness is benevolent.” Instead, he lowered his head and wrote several words above the outermost outline:
Northern Frontier Martyrs’ Shrine.
“Very good,” Xia Lanshi said softly. “The Martyrs’ Shrine will not merely be used to conceal the door. It can also win the hearts of the people. Countless people have died defending the northern frontier over the years, and most did not even leave their names behind. If Your Highness erects memorial steles for them, the common people will remember, and the soldiers will remember as well.”
He quickly sketched the architectural arrangement on the paper—the main hall in the center, side halls on either side, a stele forest extending along both sides, an incense pavilion in front of the main hall, and the altar in the center.
The scale was neither too large nor too small, perfectly befitting the status of a “Frontier Martyrs’ Shrine.”
Chi Banyue stepped closer and looked down at the blueprint.
“With this arrangement, people coming and going will be perfectly normal. Commoners can enter the first courtyard to offer incense, pay respects, and sweep the graves. Anyone can come at any time, and no one will find anything strange about this place.”
“But the rear must be separated,” Xiao Yuan said.
Xia Lanshi nodded. The tip of his brush continued across the paper, drawing another wall behind the main hall and separating the rear half from the front halls.
Outside the wall, he wrote several words:
Garden of Resting Spirits.
Xiao Yuan studied it for a moment, his gaze settling on those four characters.
“The second wall will be called the ‘Resting Place of the Fallen Spirits.’ Naturally, people will assume that the rear is a burial ground and will not trespass. It will be planted thickly with pines and cypresses, with scattered tombstones and burial mounds. Even if someone climbs over the wall, all they will see is a cemetery.”
Xiao Yuan looked at the gradually taking shape blueprint, as though he were looking at a city about to rise from the ground.
Xia Lanshi moved his brush farther back and drew an independent courtyard behind the Garden of Resting Spirits. Its layout was small, consisting of only several plain rooms surrounding a square courtyard.
Beside the courtyard, he wrote three characters:
Shrine Keeper’s Quarters.
“The residence of the shrine keepers. On the surface, it can be said to be the station of the shrine guards. In name, they guard the shrine; in reality, they guard the door, and they will be stationed here permanently. The number of personnel should not be too large for now. Twenty-four men on the surface, divided into three shifts. Twelve hidden sentries will not live in the Shrine Keeper’s Quarters and will take turns patrolling the surrounding area.”
Xiao Yuan nodded.
“Let Pei Yi choose the shrine guards. Orphans, personal guards, and men absolutely loyal to us. They will not enter the northern frontier military ranks or be registered in the military records. They will answer only to this king.”
Xia Lanshi nodded and wrote the words “shrine guards” in the corner of the blueprint.
Chi Banyue interjected, “I will choose the twelve hidden sentries. People from the Shadow Guard are more suited to guarding something like this than ordinary shrine guards. Your Highness, I will personally select them.”
Xiao Yuan glanced at her.
“Approved.”
Xia Lanshi stopped writing. His fingertip lightly tapped the three words “Shrine Keeper’s Quarters,” as though confirming something.
He did not immediately continue drawing. Instead, he placed the brush beside the inkstone and remained silent for a moment.
“Your Highness, regarding the entrance, I believe we must consider farther ahead,” he said.
“Speak.”
Xia Lanshi picked up the brush again and drew a small independent building behind the Shrine Keeper’s Quarters.
The building was not large. A short corridor connected it to the main structure of the Shrine Keeper’s Quarters. Its location was secluded, almost invisible from outside.
“This is the ritual implements storehouse,” he said. “On the surface, it stores ritual vessels, incense, candles, wooden tablets, and supplies for the offering tables. In reality, it will serve as the primary passage in and out.”
Xiao Yuan’s gaze fell upon the small building.
“The floor of the ritual implements storehouse will contain a hidden door. Once opened, it will reveal a flight of stone steps leading downward to the underground passage. It will connect to the branch passage on the second level of the ancient shrine ruins, and from there continue downward directly to the door on the third level.”
He paused, then added:
“This passage must be wide enough for a person to push a cart through.”
Xiao Yuan’s gaze lingered on the passage for a moment, understanding his intention.
—This passage was not merely meant for people.
The map lay spread across the desk, the lamplight illuminating the circled locations.
Their gazes simultaneously fell upon the words “approximately ten zhang square.”
The tent fell silent for a moment, like the faint sound a chess piece was about to make when placed upon the board.
Xia Lanshi spoke, his voice carrying an extremely clear calmness.
“This underground space should not merely be sealed.”
Xiao Yuan raised his eyes.
“It can be put to use. The first-level empty chamber is approximately ten zhang square. Once that space is organized, it can store a large quantity of grain and weapons. Farther below, even if portions of the second and third levels have collapsed, they can still be repaired and put to use.”
Xia Lanshi nodded slightly.
“If the first level is organized as a warehouse, it can store at least two thousand shi of grain, or a corresponding quantity of weapons. The second level can be converted into a place to conceal troops. The third level should remain untouched for now. Once everything is organized, it will be sufficient to serve as a secret warehouse. If something happens in the northern frontier one day, it can also be used to shelter people.”
Xiao Yuan did not immediately respond.
He looked at the blueprint, as though confirming the direction of every line.
—A warehouse the imperial court could not find.
A secret stronghold.
After a moment, he said quietly, “The timing at which this underground space was discovered is just right.”
His words were calm, yet the air inside the tent became still for an instant.
Chi Banyue said nothing, but she understood what Xiao Yuan meant.
—The timing was too perfect. Perfect enough to make one’s hair stand on end.
They happened to need a secret stronghold and warehouse, and someone happened to hand them a lead that allowed them to find one.
Xia Lanshi lowered his eyes and said quietly, “There are no coincidences in this world, only arrangements. Your Highness, this is not because we were lucky. Someone wanted us to find this place.”
Xiao Yuan fell silent, as though weighing something.
After a moment, he said:
“If he intended to harm us, then when you were poisoned, he would not have crossed the door to save you. If he intended to help us, yet he hides things from us at every turn.” He paused. “He does not choose a side. He only gives us leads and lets us walk the path ourselves.”
Xia Lanshi nodded.
“Young Master Xiao may have difficulties he cannot speak of. Yet since he has given us a path, regardless of his intentions, if we do not repay him, it would instead make us appear indebted to him. It would be better to give him something in return. First, to repay the favor, and second…”
He paused.
“…to draw him a little closer.”
Xiao Yuan remained silent for a moment, his fingertip lightly tapping the desk.
“He saved someone important to you before, and he gave me this path as well. We cannot leave this debt unpaid.”
He raised his eyes toward Xia Lanshi.
“But he seems to lack nothing.”
Xia Lanshi did not immediately respond. He merely lowered his eyes to the blueprint on the desk, as though contemplating something.
After a moment, he said gently, “To Young Master Xiao, neither money nor power is necessary. Even if we gave him the Silver Wolf Token, I fear Young Master Xiao would not accept it.”
Xiao would not even accept gold. To him, the Silver Wolf Token might be nothing more than a piece of iron.
Chi Banyue’s brows rose slightly when she heard this.
“The Silver Wolf Token? Isn’t that specifically for Physician Su?”
Xiao Yuan possessed only a handful of Silver Wolf Tokens, and the only one he had truly given away had been to Su Muchen.
Xiao Yuan cast Chi Banyue a glance.
Chi Banyue immediately shifted her gaze toward the roof of the tent, pretending she had seen nothing.
“Xiao saved someone of mine, and he gave me a path,” Xiao Yuan said. “I cannot leave him indebted.”
Chi Banyue leaned against a tent pillar and suddenly spoke, her tone as casual as though she were discussing the weather.
“Then isn’t that simple? He doesn’t care about power and doesn’t lack money, so he must care about people, right? Chief Steward Xia can give him something.”
Xia Lanshi raised his eyes toward her.
Chi Banyue shrugged.
“Can’t you embroider? Last time I saw that plum-blossom handkerchief of yours. Your embroidery was pretty good. Why not give him that?”
Xia Lanshi: “…”
He was silent for a moment before saying, “Miss Banyue, that is a personal possession.”
“Personal possessions are even better.” Chi Banyue smiled. “If he accepts something you embroidered yourself, then he’ll remember you as a person. That will make it easier to win him over.”
The tent fell silent for a moment.
Xia Lanshi lowered his eyes, his fingertips resting against the white jade peace clasp around his wrist. He did not respond.
Xiao Yuan looked at him, as though weighing something, and after a moment said, “I will choose an appropriate gift for my part. As for yours, find a way to repay him yourself.”
Xia Lanshi raised his eyes.
“Your Highness?”
“You owe him as well.”
Xiao Yuan’s tone was calm, yet left no room for negotiation.
Xia Lanshi remained silent for a long time.
The tent quieted. Outside, the wind and snow whispered softly, accompanied by the faint sound of burning charcoal.
Chi Banyue leaned against the tent pillar and did not speak again, but a faint smile lingered at the corners of her lips.
Finally, Xia Lanshi said quietly:
“…This subject understands.”
Xiao Yuan merely gathered the blueprint from the desk, his movements crisp and decisive, as though the conversation just now had been nothing more than another matter of military administration that had already been settled.
Chi Banyue added from the side, “Chief Steward Xia, when you finish embroidering it, I can inspect it for you.”
Xia Lanshi glanced at her. His tone was gentle, yet carried an indescribable trace of helplessness.
“Miss Banyue, you are especially talkative today.”
Chi Banyue smiled sweetly.
“I am merely providing a solution.”
Xiao Yuan ignored their exchange and brought the discussion back to the original matter.
“The transportation of supplies cannot be noticed by anyone,” Xiao Yuan said.
“Transport them at night, or move them in and out under the name of repairing the shrine,” Xia Lanshi replied quickly, as though he had already considered the problem. “All records of entry and exit will be handled only by Your Highness and this subject.”
He raised his eyes. His pale-red irises appeared especially clear in the lamplight.
“If weapons and grain are transported underground in batches, with the Martyrs’ Shrine serving as cover above ground, we can secretly stockpile enough supplies to last more than five years without anyone knowing.”
Xiao Yuan remained silent for a while.
He knew the weight behind Xia Lanshi’s words. Those words were not a suggestion but a statement of something that had already been calculated.
From the moment they decided to establish themselves in the northern frontier, what they needed was not merely grain, medicine, and soldiers. They also needed a place that would not be discovered, a place where things could be hidden until the day they were needed.
Xia Lanshi’s gaze returned to the blueprint on the desk.
“The true value of this underground space does not lie merely in what it conceals. More importantly, it can hide something for Your Highness that can walk all the way to that path.”
Xiao Yuan looked at him.
He had not spoken that word, but they both knew where that path led.
Those words were like drawing several additional lines across a blueprint, then gathering those lines into the same circled underground space.
It was a road that was gradually being paved, silently extending toward a destination they had yet to reach.
“Normally, the ritual implements storehouse will remain locked. Only Your Highness, this subject, and Chi Banyue will possess keys,” Xia Lanshi continued. “Even if someone enters the Shrine Keeper’s Quarters, they will not suspect a small building piled with miscellaneous objects. If anyone asks, we will say it is a warehouse for storing seasonal offerings.”
He carefully completed the outline of the small building and marked several words beside it.
“Make two additional keys. I will keep them as spares,” Xiao Yuan said.
Then his gaze returned to the blueprint, his fingertip stopping briefly at the location of the ritual implements storehouse.
“This is the obvious entrance. What about the hidden entrance?”
He knew clearly that Xia Lanshi never designed anything without a way out.
“Two routes.” Xia Lanshi repeated it once, his tone as calm as though he were discussing something completely ordinary. “One for people to enter. One for people to survive.”
His fingertip lightly touched the words “ritual implements storehouse” on the blueprint.
“This is the obvious entrance.”
Then he pointed to an inconspicuous location within the Garden of Resting Spirits.
“Build an unnamed general’s grave here, using the tomb, stone stele, and pines and cypresses as cover. There will be empty space beneath it. This will be the hidden entrance. It will remain sealed under normal circumstances and only be used for retreat.”
He raised his head and looked at Xiao Yuan.
“The obvious and hidden entrances will each have independent passages. Under normal circumstances, they will not connect with each other. They will only converge in the core area underground.”
Outside, the wind and snow had yet to stop. Beneath the lamplight, the blueprint on the desk resembled a city compressed onto paper.
Xia Lanshi arranged the blueprints side by side. The passage from the ritual implements storehouse and the route from the general’s grave extended separately across the paper, like two lines running parallel through the darkness, never intersecting, until they finally converged in the same circled underground space.
He stopped writing, as though one stage of the planning had been completed.
But not entirely.
“The underground space is beneath the ancient shrine,” Xia Lanshi continued, his fingertip lightly tracing the paper as though measuring an invisible line. “Once the Martyrs’ Shrine is completed, there will be halls, a stele forest, walls, and shrine keepers above ground. Outsiders will not know there is anything beneath them. Even if someone in the imperial court becomes suspicious and sends people to investigate, all they will see is a shrine.”
Xiao Yuan was silent for a moment.
“If the Crown Prince’s people come to investigate, we must at least let them find something.”
The corners of Xia Lanshi’s lips curved slightly.
“So this subject will arrange an abandoned tunnel beneath the main hall of the Martyrs’ Shrine.”
Xiao Yuan lowered his head and looked.
On the sheet of paper was a simple passage leading to a room approximately one zhang square.
“The entrance to the tunnel will be beneath the offering table in the main hall, concealed by a stone slab. At the end of the passage will be an underground chamber. Inside, we will place some old ritual vessels, incense burners, and wooden tablets, making it look like a forgotten warehouse. If someone investigates and finds this place, they will think they have discovered the Martyrs’ Shrine’s secret.”
He paused.
“But what they find will merely be what this subject prepared for them to find.”
Xiao Yuan gave a quiet laugh.
The smile was brief.
“You have even prepared a false target for them.”
“It is this subject’s duty.”
Xia Lanshi lowered his eyes.
Chi Banyue raised her brows. She felt that the design was devious enough—very much in Xia Lanshi’s style.
And thus, the design of the Northern Frontier Martyrs’ Shrine—a secret underground stronghold—was complete.
Xiao Yuan looked at the blueprints, then glanced at Xia Lanshi’s calm profile.
This man was sitting beneath the lamplight, using a single brush to build a city over a door that had existed underground for several hundred years.
A city that everyone could see, built to conceal a door that no one could see.
Xiao Yuan gathered all the blueprints one by one. His movements were crisp and carried a firm sense of resolve.
“Tomorrow at the council meeting, I will propose the construction of the Northern Frontier Martyrs’ Shrine. The situation in Linbei City remains difficult, so there is no need to complete the entire scale at once. We will begin with the most important parts.”
Chi Banyue spoke.
“During construction, I will assign people to watch the area and prevent idle outsiders from approaching.”
Xia Lanshi said, “We can begin construction first and report it to the imperial court afterward. We will do so in the name of the Northern Frontier Commissioner and use resources raised locally by Linbei City to build it.”
Xiao Yuan nodded.
“Approved. Once the Martyrs’ Shrine is built, all soldiers who die defending the northern frontier in the future will be brought here.”
Xia Lanshi nodded.
Xiao Yuan lowered his head and looked at the blueprint. After remaining silent for a moment, he suddenly said:
“One day, everyone in the northern frontier will know this shrine.”
He would make everyone remember who had protected the northern frontier.
Outside, the wind and snow continued without pause.
Beneath the lamplight, the blueprint on the desk resembled a compressed city—from the frontier to the underground, from the stele forest to the bottom of the earth.
Xia Lanshi set down his brush and said quietly:
“When the pines and cypresses have grown, that place will become very quiet. From the outside, it will look like nothing more than an ordinary Martyrs’ Shrine.”
The corners of his lips curved into a faint smile.
“The dead are the best at keeping secrets.”
Chi Banyue let out a quiet laugh but said nothing.
She had seen many people use different methods to hide things, but using a shrine to conceal an underground door was probably a first.
The tent fell silent for a moment.
Xiao Yuan looked at him.
For some reason, he felt that those words were not merely referring to the Martyrs’ Shrine.
Xiao Yuan’s gaze stopped at the circled location.
The pool.
The stone platform.
The door.
A secret buried underground for several hundred years, like a door that had yet to be opened.
What exactly was behind it? He still did not know.
But one thing was already certain.
—From this day onward, the deepest secret of the northern frontier would no longer remain buried underground. It had fallen into his hands.
It was no longer ownerless.
And it would become the first true foundation that belonged to him.