Chapter 4: Entering the Tomb

I fell asleep as soon as I got into the black-jacketed pickup truck. When I woke up, the vehicle was still moving, and outside the window, vast mountain ranges spread before my eyes.

The truck stopped after rounding a sharp bend. I gazed at the mountain hollow ahead, momentarily lost in thought.

Mountain hollows connect the ranges, and warm winds rise from the ground!

This was a unique terrain. The hollow itself was a sheltered spot, surrounded by mountains, so the air outside was cool while inside, airflow was sluggish. Not only did it shield from the wind, but it could even generate a warm breeze, known as the Warm Wind Pavilion—a prime site in feng shui, yet one meant for the dead.

A so-called feng shui treasure land is valued for both the living and the dead, yet there are subtle distinctions between the two. Take this Warm Wind Pavilion—no matter how much of a treasure it is, no living person would willingly reside in such a sunless place.

Staring at the scenery outside, anxiety began to stir within me. This was my first time scavenging for sand, and I had no idea what to expect.

But for a hundred thousand yuan, none of that mattered.

“We’re here, kid,” said the man in the black jacket. “This is the place.”

Ahead stood a military-green jeep. As we approached, two men climbed out.

One wore a black short-sleeved shirt, his muscular build faintly visible beneath. The other looked much thinner, his face grayish, demeanor somber.

“Brother Pang, you’re here,” the muscular man greeted.

Black Jacket nodded. “Yes. Let me introduce you. Kid, this is Ma Xu, and beside him is Zhao Zhiqiang.”

He turned to me. “This young man is Wang Xudong from the Wang family of Nanshan.”

Hearing this, Ma Xu and Zhao Zhiqiang were visibly startled, eyes wide with disbelief as they stared at me for a long moment before regaining their composure.

Despite his gloomy appearance, Zhao Zhiqiang’s tone was surprisingly friendly. “Brother Pang, how did you manage this?”

Black Jacket didn’t answer directly. “Enough talk. Let’s get to work. The kid’s new to this—first time scavenging for sand. Help him out when we go down.”

“No problem, Brother Pang.”

“Let’s move.”

I couldn’t get a word in, so I simply followed quietly as we walked into the mountain hollow.

After three or five minutes, Ma Xu stopped, crouched down, and cleared away a heap of weeds.

A pitch-black tunnel appeared before my eyes.

Ma Xu glanced back. “Kid, this tunnel is deep—watch your step.” With that, he gripped the earth beside the entrance and slipped inside.

I went last.

I’d expected the air inside the tunnel to be suffocating, but the reality was quite the opposite. Chilling winds blew from the depths, so cold it felt as though they pierced right through to the bone.

Enduring the biting chill, I bent low and followed behind them. The beam of our flashlights seemed swallowed by the darkness, and only the sound of our breathing filled the space. This oppressive atmosphere made my heart race.

A feng shui treasure site is said to bless descendants, but at its core, it’s a place of earth veins. Where earth veins converge, their energy—call it yang—gathers thickly. A tomb built here exists in a delicate balance of yin and yang; once breached, the balance breaks, often inviting unclean things.

I tried to reassure myself. The Warm Wind Pavilion, while good, was far from a true treasure location. If anything unclean did appear, it should be manageable.

A voice snapped me from my thoughts. “Careful, the corridor’s ahead.”

Soon we emerged from the tunnel, stepping onto solid blue brick.

I shone my flashlight down the corridor. Whether it was the material absorbing the light or my nerves, the beam seemed dimmer than before.

“What’s this?”

My flashlight swept across the wall, and suddenly a face appeared before me. I jumped back, startled.

Black Jacket patted my shoulder. “Relax, kid. It’s just a copper statue.”

I steadied myself and looked again—a bronze statue, taller than a person.

Ma Xu laughed, “Brother Hao, looks like we picked the right tomb. This owner was wealthy.”

Bronze was rare in the past, usually forged into weapons. For a tomb to have such a grand bronze statue spoke volumes about the owner’s status.

“Haha, if we take this bronze statue out, this trip will be worth it,” Zhao Zhiqiang joked.

“Damn it, Strong, could you quit laughing so creepily?”

“That wasn’t me.”

Zhao Zhiqiang’s reply made all four of us fall silent.

“Hehehehe, hehehe.” A chilling laugh echoed through the corridor.

Four beams swung toward the sound. A dark shadow flashed across the light, rushing straight at me.

Ma Xu quickly pulled me back and strode forward, snatching some yellow talisman papers from his pocket and flinging them at the shadow.

The talisman papers ignited with pale yellow flames as they touched the shadow. At that moment, I saw clearly what it was.

It was a little girl with her hair tied in a bun.

Her rosy cheeks contrasted with a grotesquely long tongue dragging on the ground. My hair stood on end; a cold shiver ran down my neck.

Damn…

I remembered stories my father told when we moved graves for others. In ancient times, people believed that absorbing the yang energy of living boys and girls after death could grant immortality.

So some high-ranking individuals would bury living children with them, trading their lives for eternal existence.

If my guess was right, this little girl was one such victim.

But how could such a case appear in the Warm Wind Pavilion? Normally, those people would be buried beneath dragon veins. There were far better spots among these mountains—why choose here?

I didn’t have time to ponder. The girl was approaching, clearly angered by Ma Xu’s talisman papers. Her sinister gaze swept over us. Her childish voice was laced with murderous intent.

“Stay and play with me,” she said, her long tongue rising and lashing at the four of us.

Without hesitation, I pulled a charm from my bag and flung it at her tongue.

“Evil-Breaking Talisman!” I shouted.

With a snap, the charm shattered and burst into flames.

The fire struck her tongue directly.

The girl shrieked, instinctively retracting her tongue, but the flames did not die out. Sparks landed on her body, igniting patches of fire. In moments, she was engulfed.

“Aah! Mmm…” Her wretched cries echoed down the corridor, growing fainter until they disappeared entirely, and she vanished into a wisp of smoke.

Staring at the fading smoke, I felt no relief—only greater tension. My brow furrowed.

The same question plagued me.

Ancient people were different from us; everything followed ritual and order. Burial practices were fixed—no one could make arbitrary decisions.

If this tomb had living children as sacrifices, its owner must have been extraordinary.

Such tombs were planned while the owner was still alive, and the site chosen would be the best feng shui location. Forget dragon veins—even among these mountains, there were many places better than the Warm Wind Pavilion. Why choose here?

Something was definitely wrong.