…

The celestine mausoleum was well hidden in the snow.

The door of the Nangong Mausoleum opened from the inside, and the slightly overweight middle-aged man strode in. Torches lit up many paintings upon the celestine walls.

Ancient ink made these paintings come alive.

They were paintings of battles, quite literally the art of war, outlined by ancient ink in three main colors: green, blue and red. They weren't statues but exuded a similar archaic, ancient sophistication.

The middle-aged man didn't pay much attention to the paintings. Instead, he paced quickly forward along the hallway of the mausoleum and entered an expansive stone hall.

The Nangong Mausoleum was beneath the five-kilometer-mausoleum.

Yet, the hall seemed oddly towering: it was at least thirty meters in height and uncomfortably spacious.

"Master!" said voices in unison.

The slightly overweight middle-aged man acknowledged with a slight nod while looking at a giant doorway, in the center of the hall, constructed