Hours later, their footsteps dripped through several more chambers, each tomb a sleeping wave of stone tied to royalty, with a few noble burials like stray shells.

“Elder Sister~ don’t you want these vases and treasures, all glittering like little moons on cold rock?” Qianyue’s eyes swept the countless grave goods like a net through starlight.

“Huh? This junk… why would I lug this driftwood of gold?” Tangxue glanced at the coins, her interest flat as stale oil, a thread of disgust like sour wind.

After mountains of gold in the undersea palace, these little hills felt like sand piles, and the thought of grave goods crawled like damp moss under her skin.

“I’ve got more than enough money,” she said, voice cool as a spring, “taking more’s useless,” and she looked at Qianyue like a clear blade under cloud.

“If you want them, I’ll pack some,” she added, her tone a soft ripple, “I remember you needed coin,” like a note pinned to the breeze.

Qianyue shook her head fast, the motion like a skittish sparrow beating away a leaf-shadow.

“Elder Sister, I don’t want the coins, I just want to stay with you,” she blurted, her cheeks blooming like peach petals at dawn.

“…?”

“N-no!” Qianyue waved hard, panic fluttering like a trapped moth, “You said you’d take me out of here—like cutting a kite free—so the money’s useless now.”

“Is that so…” Tangxue’s suspicion ebbed like a wave slipping from rock, and Qianyue exhaled like setting down a stone.

“Then let’s leave,” Tangxue said, her lip curling like a blade’s edge, “this place feels unlucky, like mildew clinging to old incense.”

“Mm… Qianyue doesn’t like it either,” she whispered, voice thin as mist over a pond.

They followed their path back like a river retracing its bends, their shadows sliding along the wall like eels in a lantern-glow.

From so many murals, Tangxue finally sketched the Vampires in her mind, like birds black as night crossing from another sky.

The Vampires weren’t native to this plane, but migrants through the void like seeds on winter wind, their royal line here a grafted branch.

Even as a branch, their power stood like a dark mountain, higher than many races that rooted in this world like stubborn pines.

They had no land when they arrived, so they lived where the Blood Elves allotted them space, like tents beneath red-leafed trees.

Within the Blood Clan, they healed and swelled like a crimson tide, until their numbers sat just beneath the Blood Elves like the moon under the sun.

Most humanoid Blood Clan now were their mixed descendants, while pure Vampires and pure Blood Elves had melted away like snow in spring.

Tangxue remembered Qianyue once said she wasn’t pure, the thought pricking like a thorn under silk, and she wondered what that truly meant.

She glanced over; Qianyue looked back with eyes bright as spring water, as if asking what cloud drifted across Tangxue’s brow.

Tangxue rolled her eyes like flicking a leaf off her sleeve, and she pressed on, her steps steady as drumbeats.

The murals said that back then the Blood Clan was weak as a new sprout, while the Blood Elves were strong like old oaks.

Because they required blood to live, the other elves pushed them away like cold rain, leaving them to the edges like frost on reeds.

So the Blood Elves formed the Blood Clan, a red-roofed refuge in a storm, sheltering any mutated lives who needed blood to endure.

They made it a home, a hearth in the wind, and that was the founding pulse of the Blood Clan and the Duskmoon Empire.

Mutants remained few like scattered stars, and before the Vampires joined, the Blood Clan was mostly Blood Elves, a grove of scarlet leaves.

Tens of thousands of years passed like rivers under ice, and now the Blood Clan stood strong as iron, though its mood felt like ash.

“Go a bit lower, and we’re almost at the bottom, Elder Sister~” Qianyue chimed, her voice curling like a shell’s spiral.

“I know,” Tangxue said, her caution sharp as frost, “let’s hurry, Qianyue… are you sure this road’s right? I don’t want another bone-pit.”

“Absolutely!” Qianyue’s face flushed like dawn on cloud, “Last time was an accident—like a déjà vu tug—I didn’t know it was bones.”

“Alright, alright, next chamber,” Tangxue yawned like a cat in drizzle, “I want to finish all the murals,” and a veil of mist washed her clean like dawn rain.

It wasn’t as dangerous as she’d feared; true tombs prefer honest stone over gaudy thorns, and poison was absent, like incense paths kept pure for rites.

That pit of bones was likely grave robbers, their rags like molted bark, resembling the royal-district thugs she’d seen like stray dogs in smoke.

Some Vampire probably gathered those corpses and dumped them together like firewood thrown into a cold pit, out of sight under stone.

There might be other people down here, strangers like lanterns behind paper, and running into them would be awkward as two boats in a narrow canal.

A headache tapped her brow like a knuckle on jade, and Tangxue rubbed her temple, sour at the thought of killing a tomb guard.

Better not, she thought, like keeping a knife sheathed, but if they poked her, she’d freeze them for a few days like fish in a winter pond.

The next chambers grew ever more ornate, carvings like frost lace, and the coffins more delicate, pale as petals stacked in ice.

Tangxue never opened a coffin, her hands still as a cat beside porcelain, preferring to read murals and scan for anything familiar.

Soon they reached the spiral mausoleum’s lowest level, the depth heavy as the seafloor, with several tombs like dark pearls in silt.

These were likely the Vampire Kings through the ages, a line of crowns like night stars, and Tangxue wondered where the divine sword slept.

“Qianyue, what’s wrong?” Tangxue caught the odd angle of Qianyue’s smile, like a crease in silk, “Did you remember something?”

Qianyue shook her head and lifted a calm smile like a paper screen hiding a lamp. “It’s nothing, Elder Sister, let’s hurry.”

Tangxue’s doubt pricked like a needle, but she let it pass like wind through bamboo, and kept going.

They entered the first chamber, finer than those above, the air cool as a sealed spring and bright as polished bone.

A clear crystal coffin rested in the center like a frozen river, and within lay a delicate-faced woman, her white hair braided like snow rope.

Her hands were crossed neatly like sleeping swallows, her expression peaceful as moonlight on water, yet a hollow gaped in her chest like a winter hole.

It marked a Vampire whose Blood Reservoir had been destroyed, a candle snuffed at the wick, leaving only the cold shell.

Tangxue looked away and moved to the mural, her shadow sliding like ink, her voice low as dusk. “Qianyue, what do the notes say?”

Qianyue studied the tiny script, her lashes falling like moth wings. “It says the woman is Noi, second daughter of the last Vampire King.”

“She violated the law, felt guilty, and stabbed herself dozens of times to die—pfft,” Qianyue snorted, laughter shaking like blossoms in a spring gust.

“Qianyue. What are you laughing at?” Tangxue frowned, the line sharp as a drawn blade, her gaze cool as shade.

“Come on, Elder Sister, that suicide story’s too fake,” Qianyue said, words skipping like stones, “someone clearly killed her, and dressed it up.”

“Qianyue, did you forget you’re not even ten?” Tangxue tilted her head, her tone a cool leaf over water.

“…”

“Forget it,” Tangxue sighed, palm to brow like a tired moon, “keep reading—I’m curious about the small script on the other mural, and watch yourself.”

“Ehehe~” Qianyue stuck out her tongue like a pink petal, embarrassment rippling like rings in a pond.

“The other note’s basically a rant,” she said, voice tart as vinegar, “it calls the royals disgusting, like rot under lacquer.”

“Her brother killed her, then called it suicide,” Qianyue added, lip curling like a thorn, “his fake crying made me want to gag.”

Tangxue couldn’t tell if it was the scribe talking or Qianyue’s own spine of ice, the feeling bare as wind without leaves.