Though the underground palace was empty, the guard duty remained quite stringent. Without a pass, even if the guards recognized Yu Feibai, they still barred his way; he couldn't just barge in.

"Let them through."

Just then, Professor Wen approached, signaling the guards to stand down, and then led the group into the subterranean structure.

At this very moment, Wang Guan and the others, having traversed the tunnel and passed the mechanism gate, formally arrived inside the hypogeum. At a glance, they saw that electric lights had been set up, illuminating what had been a dim environment.

Of course, most importantly, under the lamplight, everyone realized that Professor Wen and Elder Hou had not lied: the place was indeed barren, devoid of any sarcophagus, let alone the expected mounds of gold and silver treasures. Although they knew the underground palace was supposed to be vast, only upon entering could they truly grasp its immense scale. Just how wide it was was hard to say, but it was certainly far larger than many modern real estate developments.

Moreover, the palace was compartmentalized; each section was equivalent to a room, much like the residences on the surface, divided into multiple courtyards and entrances—truly worthy of a mausoleum belonging to a prince or marquis. Actually, this was nothing; one only needed to visit an imperial tomb to understand true grandeur, for those were structures genuinely intended to be palaces built beneath the earth.

The most famous example was undoubtedly the Mausoleum of the First Qin Emperor, which had been under excavation for decades and remained incomplete even now. And the location of the main burial chamber itself was still unknown; yet, the subsidiary tombs alone were enough to shock the world.

This underground palace was not so exaggerated, which is why Elder Hou had initially judged it to be the tomb of a prince or marquis. However, it now seemed that this estimation needed revision.

"It must be a tomb that was never officially inaugurated."

Professor Wen mused, "As you can see, even though the palace was built, or at least the basic structure was completed, there is no coffin. Perhaps for some reason, the tomb was ultimately abandoned."

Upon reflection, Professor Wen's deduction held merit.

One had to remember that ancient times differed from the modern era, where death was often viewed as a final resting place. Although emperors, generals, and common folk alike pursued immortality throughout history, they were accustomed to preparing for their posthumous affairs during their lifetimes.

The emperors were an obvious case. From the moment they ascended the throne, they began overseeing the construction of their mausoleums. The location of the tomb, its required specifications, and even the necessary burial items were all decided by the emperor himself.

Ordinary citizens naturally did not enjoy such privileges. But once they reached an older age, they would also make early preparations. They would select a burial plot, have a coffin made, sew burial garments, and simply wait for the day they closed their eyes.

This was the norm dictated by societal customs, and no one thought anything was wrong with it. Conversely, if someone passed away and their descendants had to hastily prepare these things, it would cause astonishment.

However, precisely because everything was prepared in advance, it often led to redundant provisions.

After all, there were extravagant tycoons even in ancient times. Perhaps one had initially fancied a prime piece of geomantically favorable land and ordered the construction of an underground palace. But one day, after listening to the treacherous advice of a feng shui master, they felt the area lacked good shan shui (mountain and water features), or perhaps they suddenly discovered another, better auspicious location, causing them to change their minds. Naturally, the original underground palace would be abandoned.

Such situations were not uncommon; indeed, they were frequent.

Otherwise, how could one explain the desolate cry: "A thousand miles without a rooster's crow, bare bones exposed in the wilderness; while vermilion gates reek with wine and meat, the frozen dead litter the road"? Humble families certainly could not afford such extravagance; only the great magnates had the right to be wasteful.

"Abandoned?"

At this point, Yu Feibai frowned, "Mount Mang is a geomantically blessed location, isn't it? Building an underground palace here wouldn't be easy. Why would they abandon it in good order?"

"Mount Mang is indeed auspicious, but not entirely so," Professor Wen chuckled. "According to feng shui theory, just being a blessed location isn't enough; one must also consider where the jie xue (the nodal point of energy) of the dragon vein lies. In the search for the dragon and the point of burial, having the dragon vein and its vital energy is useless without the right spot to inter the deceased; sometimes it can even turn good fortune into disaster, a matter not to be taken lightly."

"So you mean this place is inauspicious?" Wang Guan asked deferentially.

"Something like that," Professor Wen smiled. "Explaining this location through feng shui, it is an inauspicious site of the 'Black Tortoise Rejecting the Corpse.' The Black Tortoise generally refers to the north, but in feng shui, it signifies the protective mountain behind the tomb."

"A truly auspicious burial site requires the backing mountain to be stable—this is not only a psychological consideration but, more importantly, if the backing mountain is unstable, it is highly prone to collapse."

At this opportune moment, Professor Wen continued his explanation: "Why was this underground palace buried? Because the mountain behind it, after being scoured by heavy rain, directly formed a mudslide that completely covered the palace. Consider that: for such an event to occur, what else could it be but an inauspicious site?"

"Brilliant, truly brilliant."

In an instant, Yu Feibai exclaimed in admiration, "Professor Wen, with your understanding of feng shui, when you retire, you can still contribute your leftover wisdom; you could switch careers and become a Feng Shui Master."

"Nonsense," Professor Wen retorted, scolding him with a laugh. "This is hindsight; I'm only deducing it's an inauspicious spot based on what is already known. If you asked me to assess feng shui beforehand, I would surely mislead people."

While speaking, everyone slowly approached the wall bearing the mural. Several archaeology staff members were already closely studying the painting, and upon seeing Professor Wen arrive with his party, they respectfully moved aside.

"Speaking of which, this mural is also somewhat peculiar," Professor Wen frowned at this point. "Generally, tomb murals either depict the life of the tomb owner or express their aspirations for the afterlife."

"Through many years of archaeological discoveries, most murals in the tombs of princes and generals focus on depicting the official life of the deceased, hoping to carry the courtly life—surrounded by officials and commanding immediate response—into the netherworld. Otherwise, they depict the Azure Dragon and White Tiger, celestial maps, cranes, floral medallions, auspicious clouds, and divine radiance."

Professor Wen gestured. "However, this mural depicts warfare, which is somewhat strange. Therefore, we suspect the tomb owner might have been a great general..."

"A battle scene!"

The group looked closely and saw that Professor Wen was correct. Across the entire wall, although the colors had faded somewhat due to the passage of many years, the general outlines of the depiction were still discernible.

At a glance, everyone saw an army, densely packed with swords and bows, surrounding a city beneath. The ranks seemed to stretch for hundreds of thousands, enveloping the city completely.

This scene somewhat evoked the image of being submerged in the vast ocean of a people's war. After all, besides the military forces, the mural also showed many common people singing and dancing, welcoming the arrival of the army, depicting a scene of 'offering food and drink to welcome the king's troops' (dān shí hú jiāng, yǐ yíng wáng shī).

"What battle scene is this depicting?" After examining it for a moment, Yu Feibai frowned in deep thought. "It looks very familiar, but I can't quite place it."

"Judging by the style, it looks like a Tang Dynasty painting," Wang Guan pondered at this time. "The figures in the painting are somewhat plump, and the lines of the garments are flowing, retaining the remnant style of the wide sleeves of the Wei and Jin dynasties, while also showing traces of the round-collared, narrow-sleeved Hu attire. The fusion of the two represents Tang Dynasty clothing."

"Of course, the most crucial evidence lies in the weaponry," Wang Guan pointed out. "Look at these few generals; they are wearing Mingguang armor, their weapons drawn, perfectly straight, but the tips are inwardly folded rather than outwardly curved. This is clearly the peerless Tang Sabre..."

"Yes, these are Tang cavalry attacking and conquering territory," Yu Feibai readily agreed. "But against which power are they fighting? Could it be the An Lushan Rebellion scenario?"

Clearly, the mural depicted a siege, but after the Tang Dynasty pacified the realm, there was generally little internal military conflict except for palace coups; most fighting was directed externally. However, after the An Lushan Rebellion, the country gradually devolved into regional military governors (Jiedushi) vying for power, leaving the Tang Dynasty unstable and ultimately leading to its inevitable demise.

At this point, Tang Qinghua speculated, "Perhaps this is the underground palace built by a certain Jiedushi."

"Unlikely," Yu Feibai shook his head. "In the late Tang period, Jiedushi were like absolute monarchs within their own territories; they wouldn't be foolish enough to build a mausoleum here in Luoyang. Moreover, most Jiedushi harbored disloyal intentions, hoping to usurp the Tang throne. Why would they depict a mural glorifying the Tang army?"

"That is true," Tang Qinghua nodded slightly. Since they couldn't figure it out, they decided to stop guessing and wait for the full answer to be deciphered.

"Regardless, this should be the tomb of a military official," Yu Feibai asserted. "If it were the tomb of a prince, noble, or civil official, they wouldn't have commissioned a war painting."

"That's stating the obvious," Wang Guan shook his head. "The mural scene is too sparse; there's nothing to glean from it."

"Exactly. A person's tomb usually has murals on the front, back, left, and right walls, sometimes even the ceiling. Here, only one wall has paintings—how economical," Yu Feibai complained. "Since it's an underground palace built as a tomb, if it was going to be used, it should have been completed. If not, why rush the construction? This halfway state is truly annoying."

"Complaining to us is useless; if you have the nerve, go bother the tomb owner," Wang Guan quipped, leaving Yu Feibai speechless. How could the living trouble the dead, unless the living had also died...

"Joking aside," Elder Hou said with a faint smile at this moment, "Actually, based on our research, the scene on the mural may not necessarily be a real battle."

"What do you mean?"

Everyone was taken aback, finding this difficult to comprehend.

"Just like how some tomb murals depict immortal realms or astronomical patterns, representing things that aren't real, this mural before us might also be a figurative metaphor," Professor Wen explained. "Its purpose is merely to publicize the tomb owner's martial prowess; it doesn't necessarily represent actual military achievements."

"Hmm, that's possible," Yu Feibai considered for a moment and immediately nodded. "It's like when an emperor goes hunting; he doesn't necessarily have to strike the killing blow himself—delivering the final strike is enough to publicize his prowess in hunting."

"It's essentially that principle," Elder Hou agreed. "As you said, the scene is too limited, and there isn't much material to study, which certainly leaves one feeling unsatisfied..."