Every stone, every wall, every pillar of the tomb was intact, without the faintest hint of cracks or erosion. Yet despite its pristine condition, it exuded a sense of age so overwhelming that even those with weaker spiritual senses felt it immediately.

It was as if countless centuries had been condensed into the stones themselves, pressing into the minds of those who dared to look at it.

The tomb was built in the style of a grand Chinese mausoleum, spreading across a complex that stretched nearly ten kilometers in diameter. It was so wide that some disciples climbed into tall trees or even flew on their spirit weapons to take a better look.

From their vantage point, they could see walls rising high, thick and imposing, made of dark grey stone that reflected no light. These walls formed a perfect square around the central structure, and each side stretched for kilometers, enclosing the tomb like a fortress.

At the four corners stood towers shaped like watchtowers, yet they did not feel defensive. Instead, they emanated a sense of silent vigilance, as though keeping watch not against intruders, but against something inside from leaving.

The main entrance was a massive stone gate facing east. Its doors were shut tight, towering over thirty meters tall, engraved with carvings of celestial beasts and ancient runes that none of the disciples recognized.

The beasts depicted were not ordinary creatures but forms that blurred the line between real and mythical, their bodies twisting in ways that made the eyes ache if one stared too long.

Above the gate, an inscription was carved in archaic script, but the years had worn its meaning into obscurity. It was the only part of the tomb that seemed to have weathered away. Even the elders squinted, trying to decipher its strokes, but none spoke its name aloud.

Inside the walls, structures spread out like a palace complex.

Low-lying halls stretched outward in orderly lines, each roof tiled in dark stone that shone faintly as if infused with spiritual energy. Courtyards dotted the interior, their open spaces strangely devoid of vegetation, as though the land itself rejected growth within the tomb's domain. Pathways paved with massive stone slabs connected the various buildings, all leading to the central mausoleum.

The central mausoleum itself rose like a mountain at the heart of the plain. Its roof arched upward in layered tiers, each level adorned with stone carvings of dragons, phoenixes, and other beasts that seemed almost alive.

From afar, the structure looked like a grand imperial palace, yet the oppressive aura it exuded made it clear this was no palace of life, but of death. Its presence dominated the plain, drawing the eyes of every disciple, crushing their courage and forcing them to confront the reality that they were standing before something built for someone far beyond their imagination.

Even the elders grew solemn. Some pressed their hands behind their backs, others narrowed their eyes, but all of them were silent. The weight of the tomb was enough to make even Nascent Soul cultivators cautious.

Han Yu felt a chill crawl down his spine. His heart skipped a beat, and for a moment he felt as though unseen eyes were gazing back at him from within the tomb's walls. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, and turned slightly to his companions.

"Fatty Kui, Wu Shuan," he said quietly, "do either of you feel that?"

The two men glanced at him, puzzled. Fatty Kui frowned and shook his head.

"Feel what? All I feel is my stomach growling. Don't tell me you're starting to get sick already," Fatty Kui muttered, rubbing his belly.

Wu Shuan gave a short nod of agreement, clearly not sensing anything unusual.

Han Yu blinked.

Was it only him?

He could not tell if it was an illusion born from his paranoia or something only he could perceive. Shaking his head, he forced a small smile and muttered, "It must be my imagination."

But deep inside, he could not shake the icy sensation running down his back, nor the faint whisper at the edge of his mind telling him that this tomb was more than just an ancient structure.

It was alive.

The disciples could not tear their eyes away from the sprawling mausoleum complex, its vastness and grandeur stretching out before them like a city of the dead.

Even those who had imagined it countless times in their minds were struck silent, unable to reconcile the rumors with the reality before them. The plain itself, barren and flat, only served to heighten the sense of awe, as if the heavens had cleared away the marshland just to make room for this ancient monument.

The elders let them take it in for a time before calling everyone together. Their expressions were solemn, their gazes heavy with meaning. When the murmurs finally died down, one of the elders spoke with a calm yet commanding tone, ensuring that every disciple heard him clearly.

"This tomb you see before you is unlike any other. What lies in the center is the true mausoleum, the resting place of the one who was buried here. That place remains sealed, its gates closed to this day. We are not here to enter it directly. Rather, we are here to prepare and to explore the outer sections of the complex, which have only recently become accessible."

The disciples exchanged startled glances.

Many of them had assumed that the reason they had been brought all this way was because the tomb was already open. For some, it was a bitter disappointment. For others, it was a relief. The thought of entering a tomb of this magnitude so suddenly had weighed heavily on their hearts.

An elder from the Alchemy Peak stepped forward to continue the explanation. "The truth is that this tomb has been sealed for countless ages. Until recently, even the outermost sections could not be breached.

They were wrapped in a defensive barrier of such strength that even cultivators at the Dao Treading realm could not leave a single mark upon it. All we could do was wait. Only when the seals weakened on their own did the outer layers finally open to us."