Li Zhuyuan did not attempt to wake Runsheng and the others.
From his recent experience, he understood that the four of them were not facing an ordinary miasma but rather a yin miasma.
The former could be likened to a regular haunted house at an amusement park that provides a visceral experience, while the latter was more sophisticated, clearly interactive and guiding.
Earlier in the “dream,” it was evident that someone was deliberately leading them forward.
The most obvious example was when Tan Wenbin expressed a desire for something, and it was promptly arranged for him.
The sole purpose was to keep individuals deliberately immersed in the dream, isolating them from the reality that was unfolding.
Under such circumstances, the divide between body and mind was stark.
Even one’s own perception might go unnoticed in this state, indicating that external physical stimulation could not reach the level of conscious awareness.
Furthermore, if he were to insist on shaking them awake, he might inadvertently push them into the water, which would hasten their demise.
They were still standing, yet the water was slowly rising, and he would be pronouncing a death sentence prematurely.
Casting a glance at Runsheng and the others, he next looked at the stone sculpture of the woman holding the door.
Her cold and mocking smile was starkly realistic and detailed.
Li Zhuyuan instinctively thought of swimming over to see if he could push the sculpture back to its original position or perhaps take off his clothing and cover the sculpture to interrupt its effect.
But as this thought arose in his mind, he immediately shook his head forcefully.
If he were an ordinary adventurer or survivor, such a course of action would be expected, but that line of thinking still belonged to the mindset of a traditional examinee.
He did not swim toward the sculpture but instead made his way to the stone steps and climbed upward to stand above the water.
Turning around, he sat down facing Runsheng and the others below, as well as the distant stone sculpture of the woman holding the door.
His gaze grew calm as various pieces of information raced through his mind.
He began to reassess everything, using principles of feng shui to reason through the scene before him.
The initial path he considered was blocked by the silhouette of the figure that had appeared and then vanished at the snake's tail.
The latter yielded no insights either, as there was no obvious change in the feng shui layout around him.
However, Li Zhuyuan did not feel discouraged by this.
Sometimes, failure is merely a form of trial and error.
When the most mainstream approach is thwarted, even the most absurd and unlikely detours can mean something genuine.
The figure in the dream might not hold as much importance, as its role served merely to imitate and guide.
The house that appeared at the top of the stairs, along with the stalactite inside, was already bizarre enough.
The snake sculpture even utilized two bodies in sequence, and perhaps there would be a third and fourth to follow.
Such fine and grand craftsmanship was indeed absurd to think of as merely a ladder; to occasionally use valuable artifacts to brew tea could be deemed "elegantly tasteful," but to persistently burn them would suggest a troubled mind.
There was a subjective guidance, yet it didn’t feel manmade.
After departing from this bewilderment, he began to find it somewhat amusing.
As for the stone sculpture, since all conclusions drawn from its basis in feng shui had proven ineffective, he boldly speculated that it was entirely useless.
He had previously examined the sculpture and marveled at the craftsmanship.
How could a mechanism so ingeniously constructed give rise to a body that did not exist? The answer lay in human imagination.
Thus, he realized he had not fully awakened; he was in the second layer of a dream, surrounded by layers of yin miasma.
Suddenly, Li Zhuyuan felt he could wake Runsheng and the others.
He splashed water from the rising surface onto their faces and called out, “Runsheng, Wenbin, Liangliang!”
Soon, their eyelids began to flutter, and one by one, they opened their eyes.
“Ah, were we just dreaming?”
“What happened to us?”
“Xiao Yuan, are you alright?”
Li Zhuyuan's lip twitched slightly, ignoring the three as he flipped over and knelt on the ladder.
Although the four of them were facing the stone steps, his prior awareness had been consumed by the woman at the stone sculpture.
In truth, the one who should have first sensed a problem was the stone steps, specifically the lowest tier.
The water had just begun to rise before they entered, barely reaching the soles of their shoes.
Li Zhuyuan descended the steps and submerged himself in the water, reaching the lowest tier.
He knocked on the step with his flashlight, then shone it down.
The once ordinary stone step remarkably exhibited a jade-like translucence.
Inside, there were flecks resembling filaments, but unlike the fixed inclusion found in ordinary jade, these filaments were moving—like a series of long parasitic worms or small white snakes.
Just then, one was seen boring from the edge of the stone step, having emerged halfway.
If he had not noticed it in advance and maintained his watchful gaze with the flashlight, he would not have detected when it fully emerged and integrated into the water.
It broke free completely, and as Li Zhuyuan reached out his hand at it, it bit him.
“Hiss…”
A sharp pain shot through him immediately; the sensation ran deep and intensified gradually.
“Ah…”
“Glub… glub…”
Li Zhuyuan awoke once more.
This time, he was in the water, and the surface level had reached just below his mouth, barely leaving his nostrils above.
One more inch upward, and his mouth and nose would be completely submerged, plunging him into true suffocation.
Upon waking, his mouth emitted a mournful cry, and he inadvertently gulped several mouthfuls of water.
Spinning in the water, he looked at Runsheng and the others; they still stood there, not yet awake.
They say an elder can brace against the sky when it collapses, but when the water rises, it is the shorter ones who drown first.
He glanced back and saw that the stone sculpture of the woman remained unchanged, with only the eroded half of its body facing him—where was that cold, mocking smile?
Li Zhuyuan knew that he had completely awoken; he had returned to reality.
Not caring to inspect further, he dived underwater, shining his flashlight down at his legs—the distinct pain radiated from there.
Rolling up his pant leg, he directed the flashlight, revealing a slender, white filament-like creature at the end, the front end resting on his skin, while the back swayed gently with the water.
The human body is an intricate machine.
Normally, physical activities like bone friction and muscle stretching hurt, yet the substances released by the brain numb this pain.
This is also why those who enjoy exercising find joy in running.
As for addicts, they often overindulge in pleasure, leading to an imbalance in the brain's substances, mistakenly believing they no longer require their body's pain relief.
Upon withdrawal, they experience specific withdrawal symptoms, akin to feeling ants crawling on their skin.
This "little snake" acted similarly; its bite was painful, yet it dulled your senses—although the pain was there, only when you truly recognized its existence could you rouse your dulled senses.
Indeed, sophisticated delicacies need only simple cooking methods; expert-level yin miasma… is akin to direct sorcery.
Li Zhuyuan reached out and grasped it, pulling it free.
It writhed and squirmed, and he simply yanked with both hands to snap it.
If he could, he would have wanted to keep it for future studies on shadow walking.
Yet there were no suitable research conditions available now.
He moved on to Runsheng, rolled up his pant leg, and revealed another fine white thread, pulling it out.
Next came Tan Wenbin.
“Splash!”
Runsheng woke up, screaming as he fell.
“Splash!”
Tan Wenbin also awoke, tumbling into the water.
But just as Li Zhuyuan began to roll up Xue Liangliang's pant leg, he discovered that the long white thread biting into Liangliang's leg was black!
Moreover, it appeared lifeless—if he didn't tug at it himself, it probably wouldn’t be alive for long.
This meant that Xue Liangliang could awaken through his own “resistance,” and quite soon.
But once Liangliang woke up, he might manage to save Runsheng and Tan Wenbin, but Li Zhuyuan would surely be drowned by then.
He reached out to pull.
Xue Liangliang winced, but the pain he felt was not as intense as that of Tan Wenbin or Runsheng.
Not only did he not fall over, but upon waking, he immediately reached out to help the submerged boys.
All four climbed the stairs, pulling themselves out of the water.
Li Zhuyuan recounted what had just transpired, and the three of them appeared shocked, their faces filled with fear.
Then, from their retelling, Li Zhuyuan unexpectedly discovered something: all four had experienced the same dream.
Clearly, they were all bitten by four tiny white snakes, and aside from that, there was no other connection, yet they shared the same nightmare.
As he looked back towards the first tier of steps, a newfound fire ignited in his eyes.
This was truly incredible—able to move in the water; if he could tame and master this, then in the future, jointly with Wei Zhengdao’s Black Book, controlling the drowned would surely become smoother.
After all, drowned souls were mostly active near water, and even when they came ashore, they would emerge from the water.
“Xiao Yuan, should I help you break the first step?” Runsheng offered, understanding the boy's intent.
Tan Wenbin, still shaken, asked, “What if we release more of those and they bite us again?”
Xue Liangliang conjectured, “If that were the case, then it wouldn't just be one biting us; there would be many at once. I think it might be because if a person has been bitten once, they develop resistance. A second bite would only lead to the opposite effect of waking us directly.”
Tan Wenbin sighed in relief, “So, it means this thing no longer affects us?”
Xue Liangliang replied, “If it bites again, we can treat it as a mosquito bite—if we notice it, we can just squash it.”
Tan Wenbin, curious, asked, “Liangliang, why did Xiao Yuan say that the one on you has turned black?”
“I don’t know,” Xue Liangliang was puzzled.
Tan Wenbin clicked his tongue and sighed, “As expected, who benefits from being a son-in-law?”
Li Zhuyuan shot a glance at Tan Wenbin, “Do you want that?”
“Ah?” Tan Wenbin blushed slightly, scratching his face, “Well, someone has to be willing to take me on; it depends on whether they fancy me or not.”
“You could ask the Zhou family if they need a son-in-law.”
“Zhou family?” Tan Wenbin perked up immediately, “Is that the underwater ancient town like the Bai family?”
“The class monitor Zhou Yunyu’s family.”
Tan Wenbin: “…”
Regarding Uncle Qin's matter, Li Zhuyuan did not delve deeper.
After all, Liu Yumei still had to continue living at the old patriarch's home.
That night, if not for Uncle Qin confronting the Bai family alone, Xue Liangliang wouldn’t have qualified as a prospective son-in-law.
Essentially, the Bai family did not wish to recruit a son-in-law.
They didn’t even want someone to "steal the wife"; rather, they sought a partner merely to bear children.
Moreover, their approach was even more extreme; it wasn’t just to take fathers and retain sons, but to take fathers and sons while only allowing daughters to remain.
In Bai family town, only the Bai matriarch existed—there were never any young masters or fathers recorded in local annals across centuries.
Where had that group gone?
Thus, although Tan Wenbin envied Xue Liangliang’s treatment, that privilege was irreplaceable; the standard treatment was truly “enjoyment follows destruction.”
At the same time, it also brought forth another point: after that Ding family banquet, Liu Yumei disclosed the relationship between the Qin and Liu clans, explaining why she still had the courage to disregard those people.
Li Zhuyuan believed that Grandma Liu had not lied to him; the truth she shared was authentic, though it might not have been the entire truth.
Succinctly, the Qin and Liu families might have diverged onto another path, and this could be inferred from Yu Shu’s attitude toward Grandma Liu.
This also aligned with the typical old matriarch’s style—basking in ostentation while neatly hiding modesty beneath it.
“Xiao Yuan?” Runsheng’s voice broke through Li Zhuyuan’s thoughts.
Li Zhuyuan bit his lip; since he felt an urge, he should take action.
“Runsheng, but we don’t have any tools at hand.”
“That can be arranged.”
Seeing Li Zhuyuan agree, Runsheng dove back into the water without hesitation.
In fact, Li Zhuyuan could swim too; the old patriarch’s house stood beside a small river.
For a while, he had refrained from venturing into other waters and was even averse to fishing; yet, near the old patriarch’s home felt relatively safe, and thus he had Rensheng teach him to swim.
He learned, but when in danger, he instinctively relied on Runsheng's superior swimming abilities to pull him along.
If Runsheng could learn Uncle Qin’s trick of generating fish gills from thin air, he would practically be a second Uncle Qin.
Li Zhuyuan and Xue Liangliang rose, shining the flashlight in Runsheng’s direction.
This did not seem for the sake of illuminating Runsheng; after all, he didn’t appear to need his eyesight underwater.
It was more like lighting their path for themselves.
Tan Wenbin initially didn't follow suit, then inadvertently looked down at the flashlight hanging around his neck.
It was then he realized that the flashlight had only been lost in the dream, while in reality, it was still there.
Despite his hesitation, he decided against using it, wanting to conserve its power for himself.
He felt a sense of crisis now.
Li Zhuyuan's role in the team went without saying; Runsheng, needless to mention, was also indispensable.
Even Xue Liangliang was particularly valuable, while he… well, aside from occasionally lifting the team’s spirits when they were down, he seemed of little use.
He didn’t even know the chemical formula for stalactites.
The fate of being an outsider in a team is to gradually be pushed out.
Even if, due to past relationships, they would continue to take him along, he wouldn’t be able to carry on.
He needed to devise ways to increase his usefulness: Should he manage the small supermarket left by Liangliang at school for extra cash for Xiao Yuan, or should he change his focus to applying to the police academy in Jinling?
With no suitable tools, Runsheng searched for a stone, then began to smash it against the first step underwater.
The effort was significantly hampered by the water’s resistance, yet Runsheng seemed innately aware of how to maneuver around it.
As he struck again, the first step actually cracked open, and fragments resembling jade began to float up.
Tan Wenbin swallowed hard, “Is this valuable?”
Li Zhuyuan replied, “It's jade, but just the most ordinary material—not valuable.”
“Oh.” Tan Wenbin nodded, dismissing the notion of collecting it but then looked upward toward the stairway, thinking about what valuable things he might find once they ascended.
Xiao Yuan and Liangliang appeared indifferent, so the sordid air of money was all on him.
In fact, it further validated that the most direct approach isn’t always the most effective, but at least it will yield some results.
Li Zhuyuan guessed that others had likely ventured here before.
Yet, many must have succumbed to the “yin miasma,” ultimately drowning or being swept away.
Even if some managed to dispel the miasma, they must have hurriedly left in fear.
Unlike the four of them, who, upon recognizing a trap, decided to carry it home; even bandits wouldn’t scrape the ground so thoroughly.
The staircase had been broken open, and numerous worms scattered out, but they seemed to sense who had developed resistance and ceased to approach the four— even Runsheng, who was right in their midst, was circumvented by them.
However, these worms should not remain here indefinitely.
With Xue Liangliang’s unique circumstances, it hastened their exodus.
Once removed from their special environment, they would inevitably perish; some things can’t stabilize their existence in the natural world relying solely on themselves.
Runsheng resurfaced, holding a jade seal in his hand.
“Xiao Yuan, catch.”
Li Zhuyuan extended his hand to receive it and pointed the flashlight.
There were inscriptions below, but instead of being four characters, it had only one character.
Li Zhuyuan: “Yong?”
Tan Wenbin turned to Xue Liangliang, “What does that mean, moderation?”
Xue Liangliang shrugged, “Do you believe I can’t even read this?”
Tan Wenbin clearly did not.
Xue Liangliang, exasperated, said, “Well, that depends on your family education. Xiao Yuan understands these things.”
Li Zhuyuan explained, “This is Wanzhou, also known as Wancheng. There are traces of ancient human activity from the Paleolithic era, along with many other remnants. Historically, the ‘Yong’ that links here connects to the Yong State during the Shang and Zhou dynasties; however, it was destroyed during the Spring and Autumn Period by the combined forces of the Qin, Chu, and Ba states.”
Tan Wenbin's eyes sparkled, “Is this a treasure from the Spring and Autumn Period?”
Li Zhuyuan shook his head, “I’m unsure. The craftsmanship appears… and the skirt style of the woman in the stone carving seems more reminiscent of after the Qin and Han dynasties.”
Xue Liangliang asked, “Xiao Yuan, can’t you determine this?”
Li Zhuyuan replied, “I can only recite. Knowing about antiques and ancient structures doesn’t suffice solely based on recitation.”
Xue Liangliang speculated, “Could it be someone later discovered some secrets of the Yong State and built this here?”
Tan Wenbin was puzzled, “Is that feasible?”
Xue Liangliang clarified, “This approach is quite usual; for instance, many current scenic spots are developed based on existing sites. In essence, isn’t it quite similar?”
Li Zhuyuan lightly shook the seal in his hand; jade puts great emphasis on transparency, and within this, it was exceptionally rich—almost like gel or liquid—with fine particles inside.
These appeared to be the larva of those little snakes.
Those snakes hatched from this seal, and typically remained in this state, only hatching when stimulated by a specific trigger.
So, would the hatched snakes return to lay eggs?
Would there be a fixed quantity with each spawn, or was there some special trigger mechanism?
At present, it seemed that once Runsheng had cracked the steps, the storage environment was ruined, meaning the eggs inside would no longer hatch.
“Runsheng,” he said.
“Hmm.” Li Zhuyuan handed the seal over to Runsheng for safekeeping; this object could only be studied once they left.
The four once again turned their gaze upward toward the stairway.
The water was rising ever more dramatically, and the group could only continue ascending.
Li Zhuyuan cautioned, “Everyone be extra alert—be careful.”
Tan Wenbin immediately responded, “Will do, I’ll squeeze my thigh from time to time.”
They continued to scale the steps.
This time, they hadn’t gone far before encountering a platform—not the same entrance room, but a massive snake's head sculpture, gaping wide, as if all who tread here were to be swallowed whole.
Xue Liangliang commented, “Looks like the people of the Yong State worshipped snakes.”
Upon entering the serpent’s mouth, they found a wide flat area devoid of serpent body steps, filled instead with stone pillars.
Shining their flashlight around, it resembled an underground palace.
But it wasn’t gilded and bright; instead, it appeared primitive and rough, with minimal artifacts, creating an expansive emptiness.
As they ventured further, the echo of their footsteps began to reverberate louder; despite their careful movements, the sound grew increasingly louder.
In the end, it was no longer simply an echo; the sound intensified even as they stopped, steadily escalating.
Eventually, a hint of green brightness appeared ahead.
Li Zhuyuan shone his flashlight ahead, only to see the green light quickly fade and reveal a tiger poised to pounce.
Everyone was startled and retreated, while Runsheng, standing in front, lowered his center of gravity, making a tight fist, prepared to fight the tiger.
However, they soon realized the tiger was lifeless, positioned atop a stone pedestal.
While it remained lifelike after all this time, it was fundamentally a taxidermy specimen.
Yet that fleeting green light reappeared, and the tiger's eyes flooded with green light, as if the beast had revived.
Despite recognizing the essence of the tiger as a specimen, all four merely instinctively thought there was something within the display, rather than believing the tiger had truly come to life.
Li Zhuyuan suspected this was due to equipment issues; the flashlight was significantly more efficient than torchlight, which greatly diminished the intended effects of the arrangements designed to scare off intruders.
As he shifted the flashlight, he discovered that many platforms nearby held various ferocious beasts.
Some species had long since died out from this region.
Most strikingly, there stood two figures—clearly identifiable as a man and a woman.
They donned leather armor, their faces concealed with bronze serpent-shaped masks, standing amidst the beasts as if they were the rulers commanding them.
However, both figures had their arms raised, yet were currently empty-handed.
Directing the flashlight down to the pedestal, they spotted several patches of decayed matter; what should have been grasped in their hands had rotted away.
It was the woman, her right arm lifted, likely once holding a weapon.
Coupled with the bronze spearheads fallen at her feet, it suggested she wielded a spear.
However, her left hand was palm-up, likely cradling something, not a weapon, but potentially some token.
Yet there were no corresponding traces on the pedestal—was it eternally decayed, or had it been taken away?
To this point, they still had not uncovered signs of anyone having visited here before.
The eyes of the man and woman also began to glow green, yet under the flashlight’s beam, they displayed a clear sense of retreat, essentially dimming when illuminated, only to brighten again once the light shifted away.
A few glowing specks drifted outside yet faded away after some time, likely akin to fireflies.
They inhabited the bodies of the beast and human specimens, lighting up when disturbed from the outside, to create a “deterrence” effect.
Knowing what it was, there was little to fear; they could merely perceive it as a museum visit.
The four continued onward, the echo seemingly reinvigorated, memorializing their steps anew.
As they crossed the stone stage of beasts, before the flashlight could reach out farther, a massive mound of green—the great pile of white bones—rose suddenly before them.
Within, who knows how many fireflies resided.
The echo was essentially them awakening, now fluttering their wings, as eerie ghost lights flared up from the white bone pile.
Among the bones, the outer layer had horses, cattle, sheep, pigs, dogs, and chickens; the middle held tigers, deer, bears, monkeys, and birds.
Representing the farm animals and wildlife.
Around there were scattered bones, yet many remained intact, otherwise, they wouldn’t have been so distinguishable.
Right in the center, stacking to form the height of the bone mound, stood human remains.
Strings of human skeletons were intertwined, holding one another up like a pyramid structure, as they climbed, supporting the height of this bone mound.
Xue Liangliang’s mouth hung open, his eyes filled with shock; from a professional standpoint, he perceived a beautiful fusion of utility and aesthetics.
Perhaps the only one deeply affected by the cruelty of this scene was Tan Wenbin.
Human sacrifices, or what could be termed as the artworks created with the lives of many, always sparked feelings of sadness for the living.
Merely looking around, Tan Wenbin examined left and right; Runsheng retained his usual expressionless demeanor, while Xiao Yuan and Liangliang displayed admiration.
He repeated quietly in his heart: it’s all past now; it’s all past now.
After his internal mantra, he reflexively pinched his thigh quite hard, causing tears to stream down his face from the pain.
Xue Liangliang noticed and patted Tan Wenbin’s shoulder, saying, “Look on the bright side; it’s all past ignorance.”
These fireflies merely glowed and showed no intent to attack.
Their emergence illuminated the area surrounding the "white bone fire mound."
Behind the white bones rose several tiers of steps.
At the top lay a tremendous bed, draped in golden thread, sparkling in the light while effectively obscuring the view inside.
Yet judging by the style of decorations, even without seeing inside, one could envision a woman seated there.
Most crucially, behind the grand bed was a slightly ajar door.
This was the only area in the cavern that appeared to lead upwards, also integral for the group’s exit back to the surface.
The four circled the white bone fire mound and arrived beneath the steps.
Immediately, the three froze.
Xue Liangliang curiously asked, “Why is there a shovel here? Has someone been here?”
Tan Wenbin replied, “Seems like our Yellow River shovel.”
Runsheng bent down to pick it up: “This is indeed our Yellow River shovel—a matching model.”
“Clatter, clatter…” Runsheng attempted to assemble it, only for it to snap in two—it had rusted.
Tan Wenbin said, “So, does this mean our predecessors were here?”
Xue Liangliang inquired, “Did grave robbers come to loot the tombs?”
Yet soon, Xue Liangliang corrected himself: “Oh, wait, this isn’t a tomb; there’s a bed but no coffin.”
Then, Xue Liangliang continued, “Maybe your predecessors came to deal with that big creature, aiming to eliminate a source of terror for the people.”
Li Zhuyuan remarked, “Liangliang, you needn’t be so tense. We only stumbled upon this place due to an accident; had we known of this location in advance, I would have wanted to come down, albeit with proper preparations. Moreover, there’s a group known as water monkeys—they’re specially trained in water burials. Although I don’t consider them peers, the methods they employ are quite similar to ours.”
As he spoke, Li Zhuyuan took the broken Yellow River shovel from Runsheng, inspecting it briefly before confirming it belonged to his line of work—not a Luoyang shovel.
This indicated they had indeed had predecessors in this field who ventured here, and the rusted condition of the shovel hinted at its professional use, just like the standard Yellow River shovel model described in Wei Zhengdao’s book.
Thus, those who had entered here had to have been professionals.
But were they truly here solely for profit?
They began to ascend the stairs, finding nothing apart from the initial Yellow River shovel.
Upon reaching the top and leveling with the grand bed, they discovered a circle of hollowed impressions around it, filled with a white-green liquid.
An indescribable odor that hadn’t registered at first began to waft to their noses once they reached this spot.
This scent was painfully familiar; even without Runsheng’s reminder, Tan Wenbin blurted out, “The stench of drowned bodies.”
Runsheng added, “It’s very potent and pure.”
Li Zhuyuan cautioned, “Let’s walk along the edge; don’t disturb or touch anything.”
The side passage was narrow, barely allowing one person to pass sideways as they moved cautiously.
Even though Tan Wenbin was envious of the gold drapery on the grand bed, he didn’t dare act on his urge; the consequences of tempting death in such a place were far too severe.
With no disturbances, the group managed to maneuver around the bed and the surrounding pool of water, reaching the back.
The large door was just ahead; moving upward should lead them to the exit.
The four unconsciously turned back, and from this angle, the bed appeared more like a small vessel resting in the center of the pool.
Tan Wenbin lamented, “What a shame; so much gold here.”
Xue Liangliang gently patted his arm, asking, “What’s the matter, have you been tempted?”
Tan Wenbin candidly replied, “Yes.”
Xue Liangliang cautioned, “We can’t take anything from here.”
Tan Wenbin: “Uh…”
“What Xiao Yuan took almost killed us, and it holds a grudge against us, so taking it is justified. Moreover, when this place undergoes archaeological excavation, leaving such items below may pose a threat to our archaeology brethren—we must remove them beforehand.”
Tan Wenbin felt that Xiao Yuan probably hadn’t considered everything involved.
“Liangliang, you’ve got a knack for making excuses.”
“I’m just being pragmatic.”
“Honestly, I never intended to use any of this gold for enrichment. Just think about the many sacrifices in that bone pile; while this isn’t a tomb, it’s still a collection of people’s lives and wealth. Other relics can be left aside, but if we could take the gold out, we won’t need it to improve our lives—maybe a small share to fund Xiao Yuan’s research and donate the rest to the Wanzhou government initiatives and hope elementary schools, putting it to use from the people, for the people. That’s far better than leaving it to sit underground collecting dust.”
Xue Liangliang chuckled, “Aren’t you the real one who knows how to make excuses?”
“Not at all.”
“Gold, made into jewelry, becomes a relic.”
“Damn.”
Li Zhuyuan spoke up, “Let’s go. After we get out, we’ll report this…”
Before he could finish, suddenly, a woman’s face emerged from one side of the slightly ajar door.
Her appearance was strangely abrupt, eerie, and without warning.
Especially after the group had just passed the grand bed and believed they were safe enough to drop their guard.
This was truly the visual of the woman holding the door.
The four were startled by her sudden appearance, but Runsheng’s reflex was to strike with half a Yellow River shovel at the door where the woman’s head emerged!
No matter who or what you are, take this first!
“Crack!”
The woman’s face vanished, yet Runsheng’s shovel merely struck the edge of the door.
“Giggling…”
The woman’s face appeared again from the other side of the door, her lips rhythmically closing and opening, emitting a tinkling laugh.
If this laughter were heard in an afternoon park, it might be sweet; but in this environment, it only sent shivers down one’s spine.
Runsheng raised the shovel to strike again.
“Crack!”
The woman's face disappeared once more.
But her laughter only grew louder, extending beyond this place, reverberating throughout the entire subterranean chamber.
The once-green fireflies began turning red, washing the chamber in a blood-like hue.
The white-green water surrounding the grand bed began to “bubble, bubble,” as if it were boiling.
Even the golden drapery on the bed began to sway without wind, revealing the figure of a woman dressed in splendid red sitting inside.
Her hair was strangely black and appeared smooth and shiny, cascading down her back.
As the drapery swayed, her arms began to move eerily, her hair splaying around as well.
In no time, her two arms straightened in front.
The two hands that had not previously been seen now revealed themselves, facing Li Zhuyuan and the others.
Her hair seemed to shift as though originating from the twisting of her head.
Though obscured by her hair, it felt as if she had turned her head around.
Originally, she had been seated facing the palace; now, she faced the door.
Beyond, there was the woman’s face peeking out, still laughing.
Meanwhile, the woman on the grand bed, who had been perceived as a safe hurdle, had also “awakened.”
This turn of events trapped the four in a predicament where retreat was impossible.
Nonetheless, Li Zhuyuan understood the configuration of this place; this cavern was not a tomb, but rather more akin to a sacrificial site.
In comparison, the woman-holding-door images typically painted on the walls of burial sites in later times could only be viewed as imitation.
Here, this could be seen as a genuine facility constructed for someone, complete to the point of having an actual door waiting for the “woman holding the door” to usher someone into the world beyond!
The woman’s head that poked out from behind the door had triggered all of this.
But what exactly was she? Why wait so long to reveal herself just as the four were nearing the door?
Had she brought forth a soul, this would ease her own troubles, leading to a bare, danger-free cavern.
After all, they merely intended to bypass here in search of safety.
“Xiao Yuan?”
Runsheng called out, gripping half the shovel, posing a question.
Xue Liangliang and Tan Wenbin crowded beside Li Zhuyuan, instinctively protecting the boy in the middle.
But now, they needed to lay down some ground rules.
“Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz!”
From beneath the pool, there came the sounds of heavy items being dragged.
The entire bed was being lifted.
From the depths of the pool emerged eight figures, all using their shoulders to hoist the bed aloft.
Those at the corners wore leather armor similar to the man seen among the beasts at the beginning of their journey into the cavern.
Emerging from the water, they kept their eyes closed, with fluid flowing from their corners and nostrils.
Unlike others that released water, this liquid was silvery, resembling mercury.
“Mercury for corpse refining…”
Records in Wei Zhengdao’s “Records of Strange and Unusual Tales” had noted such corpses, designated for water burials, dedicated to guarding their master.
Normal corpse retrieval teams would never encounter this kind of sacrifice, as they did not rob tombs; only the “water monkeys” specialized in dealing with such entities.
Among them, those in leather armor appeared to be the original guardians of this area along with the seated woman.
The other four donned traditional long robes of the Qing dynasty, each with long braids dangling down their backs.
These four Qing dynasty figures were likely the predecessors who left the Yellow River shovel behind.
Li Zhuyuan recognized them as predecessors and not water monkeys because water monkeys generally operated in groups; like last time with Ding Dalin and his crew, twenty members even counted as a small team.
Yet here, there were only four, with no other bodies remaining.
The previously pungent pool water likely bestowed a preserving effect; perhaps because these individuals and their garments had neither rotted nor bloated but remained astonishingly lifelike.
The eight bore the bed beyond the pool and upwards, each step in eerie unison, bringing forth palpable dread.
“Giggling, giggling…”
The laughter from the slightly ajar door continued.
“Xiao Yuan!”
Runsheng called out again; it was time to make a decision.
At this moment, Runsheng appeared poised to charge ahead into the door, while Xue Liangliang and Tan Wenbin were ready to do the same.
Faced with the eight lifting the bed and the mysterious woman atop, any normal person would instinctively choose to plunge through the door—after all, it was just that face!
But in that heartbeat, Li Zhuyuan caught sight of the edge of the rightmost figure lifting the bed; although their body remained rigid, still maintaining the lifting motion, their eyes were darting left and right, continuously communicating in silence, their mouth shaping the words:
“Go this way… go this way… go this way…”
(End of Chapter)