Chapter 55: A Little Red Lantern in an Outhouse

Upon first catching sight of the fan, I repeatedly comforted myself, telling myself I must have seen things.

Liao Xiaoqin was a monstrously formidable figure, and she had already been to this Western Zhou tomb—how could anything possibly happen to her?

It was not until I rushed over and picked up the blood-stained fan from the ground that I knew everything was real.

The dragon-seeking body is immersed in the Yellow Springs.
The acupoint-locating hand pushes open the Gate of Death.

Every ancient tomb is like a super-fierce beast with its bloody maw wide open.
Those who rob tombs dance all day long on the sharp fangs of these fierce beasts; no matter how alluring their steps or how breathtaking their dance, one day they will be ruthlessly devoured by them.

This is destiny.

In the secret mausoleum of the Marquess of Guo and Wu, both my elder brother and my sister-in-law had fallen here.

Will I be next?

My mind went completely blank; I had no idea what the people around me were doing.

"Brother..."

Seeing that my expression was wrong, Xiao Yao squatted down beside me, her pretty face filled with worry as she looked at me.

Fatty Dong glanced at the fan a few times and swallowed hard.

"Little Meng, stop your damn wild imagination! We haven't seen your sister-in-law's body yet. Taoist me believes she can't possibly be in trouble!"

This single sentence snapped me back to reality.

To see the living person or at least their corpse—it was still far too early to mourn!

I pulled myself out of the extreme emotional vortex, stood up, and surveyed the surrounding environment.

Jiang Sheng'er and the other two had already surrounded the main coffin chamber, leaving only the three of us standing by the fan.

The Mandarin Duck Binding rope was a full three meters long, which did not hinder either party's free movement.

The main burial chamber was about five hundred square meters in size. The vaulted ceiling had ruptured, the tomb walls had collapsed, rubble was piled everywhere, crossbow bolts were scattered about, and occasionally a skeleton could be illuminated.

It felt as though everyone was standing in the chaotic, half-demolished site of a construction project that had been suddenly suspended.

This was the lingering aftermath of that massive melee from two years ago.

It was hard to imagine how tragic and fierce the battle had been back then.

In addition to all this, the ground bore quite a few messy footprints and fresh bloodstains.

Without a doubt, these were all traces left behind during Liao Xiaoqin's fierce battle.

My temples throbbed like needles were piercing them. I raised my hand to unfold the fan, observing it meticulously, unwilling to miss a single inch.

Folding the fan back up, I glanced at the surrounding bloodstains and discovered that they extended all the way toward the main coffin.

Judging by the coagulation state of the blood, the struggle had taken place within the past day or two.

Following the bloodstains, I walked briskly to the side of the main coffin.

This was a quintuple-layered coffin.

It was a typical specification for a vassal lord of the Western Zhou dynasty.

The Western Zhou period placed extreme importance on burial rituals: the Son of Heaven was entitled to a nine-layered coffin, while vassal lords were allowed a five-layered one. Anything more violated the proprieties, and anything less showed disrespect.

The coffin was crafted with exterior stone and interior wood. The stone was ordinary dark bluestone, while the wood was cypress core.

Cypress core was actually the premier choice of coffin material in early burials because it possessed anti-rot, evil-warding, and moisture-proofing functions.

By the Western Han dynasty, many emperors utilized cypress cores to form the famous *huangchang ticong* burial structure (where *huangchang* refers to the pale yellow cypress cores, and *ticong* refers to timber ends stacked inward to form a closed chamber space), such as the King of Changsha and the Prince Huai of Zhongshan, all of whom fell into this category.

The four sides of the coffin platform sloped at about a fifteen-degree angle, implying that anyone ascending must pay a bow of reverence.

Inside the coffin, aside from a pile of shattered rocks, a tuft of long hair, and the bloodstains scattered all around, there were no skeletons, no clothing, and no burial objects whatsoever.

An empty coffin?!

I bent down to pick up that strand of long hair and brought it to the tip of my nose to sniff it.

I was certain it belonged to my sister-in-law.

She never used commercial shampoos when washing her hair; instead, she brewed her own gleditsia paste infused with rosemary, so her hair always exuded a unique floral and pine-like fragrance.

Jiang Sheng'er was rolling a pair of iron walnuts in his hands, his expression quite complex—seemingly relieved, yet at the same time heavy.

"Little Meng, please accept my condolences and restrain your grief. We just checked; there is a large bluestone slab at the bottom of the coffin, with half of it pushed open. There should be a large space underneath. If you want to find your sister-in-law's body, you'll probably have to go down."

The reason the old bastard was somewhat relieved was that, judging from the fan and the blood, Liao Xiaoqin had clearly perished, meaning he had lost one monstrously powerful rival. As for the lingering trace of heaviness, since even Liao Xiaoqin had met with disaster, he deeply felt the sheer terror of the secret mausoleum of the Marquess of Guo and Wu.

I had also seen the bluestone slab at the bottom of the coffin with its half-open section.

Since Jiang Sheng'er and the others had not found the Golden Silkworm Molt, they undoubtedly wanted to go down and investigate for themselves. However, they lacked the professional expertise and dared not act rashly, which was why they deliberately brought up finding Liao Xiaoqin's body, preparing to let me take the lead.

The scar-faced bodyguard had previously been slapped hard twice by me and had been holding a grudge ever since. Figuring he wanted to provoke me, he stood to the side and sneered sarcastically:

"The peerless prodigy of Ghost Eye Zither, who would have thought she'd meet her end right here..."

I pointed my finger at him.

"Shut your mouth!"

Hearing this, the scar-faced bodyguard wore an expression of retaliatory satisfaction, the corners of his mouth curling upward as he fell silent again.

Of course I had to go down.

Jiang Sheng'er had once mentioned that back then, when he led his men tailing them into the main burial chamber, he saw my brother, sister-in-law, and Old Man Bai Lao Kui open the coffin lid. A figure suddenly stood up from inside the coffin, clad in the breathtakingly stunning Golden Silkworm Molt.

He had led his men in a sudden charge to seize the treasure, but as a result, the burial chamber suddenly emitted rumbling noises, trap arrows and crossbows flew wildly in all directions, creating an earth-shattering sensation. Because the three factions did not understand the situation, they began slaughtering each other crazily.

My brother was hacked and slashed by Jiang Sheng'er and the others, suffering heavy injuries. Yet, driven by the desire to seize the treasure, he lunged frantically into the coffin. Following a miserable scream and a spray of blood filling the air, the tomb owner, the Golden Silkworm Molt, and my brother all vanished into thin air.

Because poisonous gases filled the burial chamber, the others had no choice but to retreat in terror.

Could my sister-in-law have vanished into thin air after a spray of blood, just like my brother?

Yet the trap mechanisms had already been triggered once, and two years had passed—they shouldn't still be active. Could there be something even more terrifying below?

No matter what, both my brother and sister-in-law had fallen in the secret mausoleum of the Marquess of Guo and Wu. Even if I had to turn this place upside down today, I had to find out the truth!

I said coldly to Jiang Sheng'er and the others, "We are going down now. If you're afraid of death, you can untie the Mandarin Duck Binding rope right now and cower outside waiting!"

Hearing this, Jiang Sheng'er and his companions exchanged glances.

Fatty Dong added:

"Make your damn minds up! Are you giving birth or what?!"

Jiang Sheng'er's eyes were icy.

"This old man said it long ago: once this move is played, regardless of whether it's right or wrong, there are no regrets for the piece laid down!"

"A-Zhi, A-Long, down into the tomb!"

As expected.

The old bastard would never give up; his intense yearning for the Golden Silkworm Molt and the tiger-skin armchair was enough to offset all fear.

I reached into the tool bag they had brought and took out a Luoyang shovel, screwing the handle sections together and extending it into a pole more than ten meters long, probing downward a few times to test.

It wasn't deep.

Barely over three meters and it had already hit the bottom.

I took out another flare, ignited it, and tossed it in. The flame immediately leaped up, burning very brightly.

Seeing that there were no oxygen issues below, I instructed everyone to put on gas masks, took the lead in climbing into the coffin, brushed aside a pile of rubble, pushed open the large bluestone slab, and jumped straight down.

They followed me down one after another.

It was an underground cellar-like space built of stone, quite humid, with plenty of moss growing in the stone crevices and some mud underfoot.

Sweeping the flashlight forward, I saw no anomalies.

More than twenty meters away, there was a stone door leading into the distance.

I cautiously took the lead, carefully observing the muddy ground, where there were neither footprints nor bloodstains.

Had Liao Xiaoqin not come down?

Could it be that she really had vanished into thin air inside the coffin?

Passing through that stone door, we arrived at another secret chamber. Despite wearing gas masks, everyone could still smell an intense odor.

I could be certain this was not the stench of corpses, but the stench of feces.

If we hadn't been wearing masks, we probably would have been fumigated into unconsciousness.

Fatty Dong coughed a few times.

"Damn it! Could we have arrived at the Marquess of Guo and Wu's outhouse? It stinks like hell!"

"Huh, there are actually all these little red lanterns lit in the outhouse? The dead ghost has quite a bit of romance in him..."

Halfway through his sentence, Fatty Dong instantly clamped his mouth shut, his expression one of extreme horror.

These were not little red lanterns at all, but pairs of crimson, resentful eyes, staring fixedly at our group of uninvited guests!