Chapter 54: The Living Person in the Coffin

The thieves’ tunnel was wedged tightly between a perilously narrow mountain path and a sheer cliff face. Its entrance was so small that Lu Xin had to squeeze his body tight just to barely fit inside.

The passage sloped steadily downward—not precipitous, but unfathomably deep. Judging by the speed and time of descent, Lu Xin estimated there must be forty to fifty meters from the entrance to the burial chamber. That meant the entire ancient tomb had been hollowed out from the heart of the mountain itself, likely centered right in its core.

The people from the Yi River Pavilion were nowhere to be seen. Only after Lu Xin reached the burial chamber did he realize he hadn’t brought any kind of lighting—not even a flint firestick. The darkness was absolute; he couldn’t see his own outstretched hand. Feeling his way along the rocky walls, he moved forward blindly.

“This is nothing like those tomb-raiding movies—there’s not a hint of light, not even a firefly!”

Lu Xin had no idea where the stone corridor would lead, but in such total darkness, any ordinary person would feel a rising sense of dread. After about ten minutes, a faint glow finally appeared ahead. He instantly slowed, crouched down, and crept carefully toward the light.

When he reached the corner, Lu Xin did not reveal himself. Instead, he hid in the shadows and stole a glance inside. Before him lay a rectangular burial chamber, roughly fifty or sixty square meters, its walls chiseled with austere precision. At the far end stood a black coffin, its material unknown. The men of Yi River Pavilion stood encircling it, and the only illumination came from a talisman floating above their heads.

Other than that, there was not a single burial item in sight. No imagined treasures of gold or silver, no legendary weapons or relics. Aside from its secret location within the mountain, the tomb was no different from that of any commoner.

Lu Xin wasn’t the only one to think so. Even the men from Yi River Pavilion had lost their earlier excitement.

“Big Brother, could this be another decoy tomb? Qin Xiao was Guan Lu’s personal disciple, trusted by Emperor Wen of Wei, and ennobled as a duke. How could such a shabby place, without even a single grave good, possibly be his tomb?”

“Don’t worry, we can’t be mistaken. Qin Xiao had reached the Transcendent Realm before his death. A man of such skill would hardly care for gold or jewels. Do not underestimate this coffin. It’s forged from meteorite iron—not touched by water or fire, unbreakable. Even the Emperor failed to claim it for himself. If we can open the lid, all will become clear.”

“Alright, we’ll follow your lead, Brother Cao. But this coffin is seamless, its lid fused to the base by some unknown force. To open it, we’ll need all six of us to join forces and cast the Hexagram of Spirits. Brothers, let us begin!”

At this, the “senior brother” formed intricate hand seals. The talisman above their heads instantly ceased burning and turned blood-red, glowing in the air like a stone wreathed in crimson. The other five began their incantations as well. In a moment, strange chants filled the tomb, echoing off the stone.

After half a minute, the talismans above their heads merged, slowly transforming into a swirling bagua. Phantom images flickered across its surface, shifting and shimmering, emitting a cacophony like the whispering of ghosts and gods. Suddenly, all six closed their eyes and began to chant in unison:

“The rat and ox unite, the tiger and boar combine, the hare and hound together, dragon and rooster entwined, serpent and monkey joined… Heavens above, earth below, let the six realms open—reveal!”

With a thunderous shout, the blood-red hexagram blazed with blinding light, all of it focused on the coffin’s lid. At once, the black coffin trembled violently, ringing with metallic clangor.

With a deafening boom, the lid flew open. The six men staggered back, their melded spiritual power vanishing in an instant. Cao Fu was the first to recover, rushing forward to peer inside. But in the next moment, his face contorted in terror and he collapsed onto the ground.

“Cao, what’s wrong?” one called out.

“B-brother… inside, inside… there’s a living man!”

Cao Fu was clearly petrified, his whole body shaking as he pointed at the coffin. Always calm and composed, now he could barely form words. Lu Xin’s jaw dropped—Cao Fu’s reaction was utterly at odds with his earlier demeanor. What could he have seen to frighten him so deeply?

The senior brother furrowed his brow and inched cautiously toward the coffin. He stole a glance inside, and his face turned ashen, drawing in a sharp, icy breath.

“Impossible! The lid was sealed tight. Not even an ant could survive, let alone a man. But… he’s breathing.”

He too was shaken to his core. The others pressed themselves against the walls, exchanging anxious looks. Though all were spiritualists, they were now gripped by fear. Hidden at the corner, Lu Xin’s curiosity was burning—he longed to see for himself.

The tomb fell into an oppressive silence. The men of Yi River Pavilion spoke only with their eyes. After several minutes, seeing that nothing stirred within the coffin, Cao Fu drew a deep breath and looked again.

“Brother, did you see what he was holding?” he asked.

“It looked like an inkstone—yellow jade, almost translucent.”

“Then that must be the Scribe’s Jade Inkstone. No matter who this is, or why he lies here, now that we’ve found the treasure, there’s no turning back empty-handed.”

“Agreed, let me handle it.”

Emboldened by Cao Fu’s words, Liu Shan strode forward. With the senior brother’s nod, he advanced boldly. The man within the coffin remained motionless. Liu Shan snorted, then stepped up to peer inside. There indeed lay a living man, face ruddy, dressed in a pale green robe, appearing about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. His long hair flowed loosely, scholarly and refined. Both hands rested on his abdomen, supporting a yellow jade inkstone; his breathing was calm, as if he had just fallen asleep.

There was nothing else in the coffin.

“Hmph, we fear no ghosts—why fear the living? Senior brother, this man’s origins are unknown, and he’s playing tricks. I say we kill him first.”

“Don’t act rashly. Something is off—we need to find out what’s going on. Cao, you’re the only one who knew the exact location of Qin Xiao’s tomb. How did this man get inside? And how did he end up in the coffin?”

“What are you implying, brother? Are you accusing me of playing tricks?”

Cao Fu’s anger flared as he stepped from the shadows, his face thunderous. The senior brother’s eyes flickered with unease and he softened his tone.

“Don’t misunderstand me, brother. I’m not accusing you, but the information on Qin Xiao’s tomb came from another source. I suspect someone is manipulating events behind the scenes. Remember your heritage—you’re the last direct descendant of Chancellor Cao.”

“I see. Rest assured, the information is secure. Besides, the tomb passage showed no signs of disturbance. This man seems to have sprung from the earth itself. Hmph, I want to see exactly who he is!”

Now recovered, and emboldened by Liu Shan’s presence, Cao Fu circled the coffin, staring intently at the man’s face.

The others crowded around as Liu Shan reached for the inkstone. The senior brother and Cao Fu had no time to intervene. As Liu Shan’s fingers neared the inkstone, a sudden burst of green light exploded from the man’s body, hurling Liu Shan away. He let out a blood-curdling scream; both his hands had been severed at the wrists, blood streaming from the stumps.

“Something’s wrong—there’s spiritual power protecting him. Everyone, fall back!”

“Hmph! Fall back now? Together we’ll burn him to ashes!”

Cao Fu didn’t spare Liu Shan a glance; his eyes were locked on the inkstone, his face twisted with greed. The others, roused by his shout, steeled themselves. In unison, five talismans were hurled into the coffin.

In an instant, flames engulfed the coffin. Even Lu Xin, hiding in the distance, felt the searing heat. Spiritualists kindled their talismans with Daoist fire—these were no ordinary flames. At such temperatures, not even flesh and blood could survive; even modern steel would melt in moments.

The fire raged for two full minutes before dying down. As the Yi River Pavilion men prepared to advance, a yawn echoed from the coffin. The man in pale green sat up, covering his mouth.

“Which tomb robbers dare disturb my slumber? This is no way to behave.”

He seemed to have been sleeping for ages, and now, even as he sat up, he kept yawning and stretching, not bothering to open his eyes. The inkstone he had held was now nowhere in sight.

Cao Fu’s eyes flashed coldly—he gestured to the others not to panic.

“Hmph! I should be asking you! This is the sacred resting place of my ancestor. Who are you to sleep here?”

“Oh? Ancestral tomb, is it? Let me divine a little... Hmm? You actually carry his bloodline. How interesting. To think I’d meet a descendant of Chancellor Cao today—most amusing, ha ha ha ha ha.”

The man pinched his fingers as if making calculations. Though his eyes stayed shut, a smile played about his lips. Cao Fu’s face fell. He was about to retort when the man’s tone turned instantly frigid, as if the temperature in the tomb plummeted at his words.

“However! The owner of this tomb is Qin Xiao, and he is no blood of the Cao clan. Little one, for the Chancellor’s sake, I’ll let you go today. Leave—I am tired and wish to sleep a while longer.”

As his voice chilled, the very air of the chamber seemed to freeze. Realizing the man had seen through his identity with a single glance, Cao Fu’s eyes widened, and even the talisman in his hand began to tremble.

“Who... what are you, really?”