My autopsy scalpel was still stained with formalin when I opened my eyes and found myself the descendant of a tomb guardian.
A bronze mirror reflected the ashen face of a corpse king. The stench of Luoyang's mass grave filled my nostrils. The Xuanjia Society was feeding corpse blood to its Gu, the baleful aura of an ancient tomb from the Wu Zhou era seeped through the cracks between the bricks, and the Tomb Guardian's Diary in my arms read: “Medicine can dissect corpses, and it can also dispel evil.”
As a top medical student trained in Western medicine, I used my knowledge of anatomy to identify the patterns of corpse Gu and pharmacology to break the poison that ate into bone. Yet I still fell into the hands of a young woman in blue. A single note from her bamboo flute could tame a hundred Gu, and powder made from silverleaf grass could dispel baleful energy. The medicinal juice on her fingertips mingled with the glow of my talismans, forming the only way to kill the corpse king.
“The paths of medicine and talismans were always meant to share life and death.” When she handed me a pill to ward off the miasma, the veil of her hat stirred gently. But as soon as I turned around, I ran into a fake Wu Zhou minister summoning corpses with a cauldron. The leader of the Xuanjia Society watched from the shadows with a cold smile, and even an ally's blade pressed against my lower back.
When baleful energy eats into my bones, should I shield myself with talisman light or use my scalpel to break through? Why does the truth behind my transmigration, reflected in the bronze mirror, seem to echo the silverleaf grass pendant on her flute?
When the corpse king's coffin lid burst open, I finally realized: the nights of Chang'an were never about the divide between the living and the dead. Human hearts were more poisonous than Gu, and loyalty ran deeper than any talisman seal.
