"Mother? How did you figure that out?"

Ma Hehua stared wide-eyed, her face full of confusion.

She scratched her head, her eyes darting around frantically, wondering to herself: How come I haven't noticed anything amiss in this place where corpses are raised?

Ma Linghua, with sharp eyes, snorted coldly and pointed to the ancient and gloomy altar not far away.

"Didn't you see the eerie, deathly aura beneath that altar?"

Her voice carried a hint of exasperation, "Honestly, have you forgotten everything I taught you?"

Chen Zhiqing stood to the side, his eyes as dark as a bottomless pool, a hint of cunning flashing in them.

"A place for raising corpses?" he murmured softly, as if asking a question, or as if talking to himself.

He slightly raised his head, his gaze fixed on the so-called corpse-raising ground.

A thin layer of mist surrounded the altar. This mist was not ordinary water vapor; it exuded a cold aura and meandered across the ground in wisps, like cold snakes.

Within the mist, a faint, eerie blue light flickered, as if the yin energy was surging restlessly.

Death energy is like a demon lurking in the shadows; though its form is unseen, it can send an indescribable chill down one's spine.

Chen Zhiqing thought of the rotten smell emanating from his body and a thought suddenly occurred to him: this corpse ground might actually be of some use.

He slowly took a few steps forward, each step feeling like he was stepping on ice, making a slight "crunching" sound, as if something beneath the ground was groaning in pain.

His figure appeared even more mysterious and dangerous under the shroud of yin energy and death.

Ma Hehua also frowned, carefully examining the strangeness beneath the altar.

The five people stood on the altar, the atmosphere oppressive and mysterious.

Lieutenant Chen's gaze was drawn to a long pillar, towering majestically as if bearing countless ancient and weighty secrets.

On that pillar, a flag fluttered gently in the breeze, depicting a terrifying monster—a human-headed snake.

Ma Lihua also looked over, and with just one glance, she was startled.

This image was so similar to the Nuwa people among the gods; that familiar yet unfamiliar appearance struck her like a lightning bolt, plunging her deepest memories of the gods.

She frowned slightly, her eyes flashing with doubt and wariness, her mind constantly pondering the connection between the two—was it a coincidence, or was there a deeper meaning?

Chen Zhiqing's gaze seemed to be glued to the painting.

Those around him might only feel disgust or curiosity towards the painting, but he knew the great secret hidden within it.

The monster in the painting was so strange and terrifying to others, but in his eyes, it was the holy maiden of their Jiuli tribe who had successfully transformed.

His eyes were fixed on the scene, filled with barely suppressed excitement and complex emotions.

The image of the saintess seemed to come alive on the banner; her head had a delicate and aloof face, and her closed eyes seemed to exude endless mysterious power.

Her hair cascaded down like a black waterfall, each strand seemingly exuding an ancient aura.

The snake's body meanders and coils, its scales shimmering with a cold, eerie luster, as if inlaid with the most precious gemstones.

The curves of the snake's body are full of a wild yet sacred beauty, as if they contain the power of the earth and the mystery of life.

In the tradition of the Jiuli people, the transformation of a holy maiden is a thrilling and dramatic process.

She must endure countless hardships and trials, gradually shedding her mortal body from that of an ordinary member of her tribe, and merging with the power and mystery of the serpent.

This process was filled with bloodshed and sacrifice, countless rituals and prayers, all for her transformation.

When she finally appeared in the form of a human head and a snake's body, she became the hope and faith of the Jiuli tribe.

She possesses the power to manipulate nature, can communicate with the gods, and bring blessings or punishments upon her people.

Chen Zhiqing recalled the ancient songs and legends of the holy maidens in his clan.

Now, seeing the image of the saintess on this banner, he felt as if he had traveled through time and space, witnessing the earth-shattering scene of the saintess's transformation, surrounded by the reverent gazes and fervent shouts of her people. The saintess slowly revealed a new form in the light, a symbol of the Jiuli tribe's march towards glory.

But at the same time, he also knew that the appearance of this figure here must be hiding a huge conspiracy.

"This is the altar of the Jiuli tribe."

Ma Linghua's voice rang out above the silent altar like a thunderclap, causing Chen Zhiqing's eyes to narrow instantly.

A cold killing intent flashed in his eyes as he secretly pondered whether to just kill this old woman and be done with it.

His hand unconsciously reached for the gun at his waist, his fingers gently stroking the handle, as if he would draw the gun without hesitation at the slightest thought.

His gaze shifted to Ma Lihua beside him, where he saw her with her brows slightly furrowed, deep in thought.

That focused expression gradually calmed the murderous intent in Chen Zhiqing's heart.

He took a deep breath, trying to suppress the impulse within him.

What is the Jiuli tribe?

Ma Lihua's voice broke the brief silence. She looked up, her eyes filled with curiosity and doubt.

While cautiously scanning her surroundings, Ma Linghua slowly began to speak: "This is an ancient legend. Our ancestor once encountered an ascetic monk, who was covered in dust but exuded a mysterious aura. He told this story, and our ancestor found it quite strange, so he included it in the Ma family's ancestral records."

Her voice was a little hoarse, as if she were telling a story of a distant and unreal dream.

The wind on the altar seemed colder, blowing a few strands of Ma Linghua's black hair.

She shrank her neck slightly, her eyes never ceasing to observe her surroundings.

This altar of the Jiuli tribe is filled with unknown dangers; something terrible might happen at any moment.

She continued, "The Jiuli tribe is full of mysterious power in legends. It was only through the combined efforts of Emperor Yan and Emperor Huang that their leader, Chiyou, was defeated. The customs and beliefs of the Jiuli tribe are very different from ours, but the specific details have become blurred over the years."

With each word Ma Linghua spoke, Chen Zhiqing's face darkened. When he left the tribe, Xiao You was in his prime, and his body was never found after his death.

Chen Zhiqing listened quietly, outwardly calm, but inwardly his mind was filled with a myriad of thoughts.

When he returned to this world, he also looked for Xiao You's body, but he couldn't find her soul either. Where did she go?