The nights in Chang'an City were always shrouded in a hazy mist. The streets were brightly lit, yet an unmistakable chill lingered in the air.
Shen Yihan stood atop the city wall, gazing into the distance at the mountains, rivers, and streams. A gentle breeze stirred her sleeves. Alongside the resolve in her eyes was a hint of worry she could not conceal.
The letter in Shen Yihan’s hand suddenly began to glow faintly. Her heart raced. The ancient map inside seemed to foretell some unspeakable secret.
She knew this night would not pass peacefully.
“Miss, what are you thinking about?” Lu Qing came up behind her and asked softly. Lu Qing was Shen Yihan’s friend and partner. They had grown up together, and their bond ran deep.
“Tell me, was Li Bai’s death really just an accident?” Shen Yihan turned around, her voice low and grave.
Lu Qing froze, then grew somber. “Li Bai’s death remains an unsolved mystery to this day. Every clue we investigate is like a light in the fog, unable to illuminate the road ahead.”
Shen Yihan nodded and took out a bundle of old manuscripts. She unfolded it and handed it to Lu Qing. The pages had yellowed with age, covered from top to bottom in ancient writing.
“What is this?” Lu Qing asked curiously.
“These are ancient records we found in the Pavilion of Heavenly Secrets. They mention the legend of the ‘Power of the Netherworld,’” Shen Yihan explained. “They say this power can control life and death. It has always been shrouded in mystery.”
