Chapter Seventy-Three: Boundless Yin and Yang, the Azure Sky Tomb

"Er Niu, you pick a path and give it a try," Zifan turned to look at Er Niu.

"Me...?" Er Niu was stunned, pointing at himself, then rubbing his bald head.

After thinking for a moment, Er Niu recited, "Crossing the boundary of yin and yang, union brings life, separation brings death. To seek the dragon, see the coiling mountains; each coil is a barrier. Lian Zhen already contains the Greedy Wolf within."

The left side was brilliantly illuminated, clearly intentional, while the right was silent and still. "Let's pick the right… though to be honest, I can't read the mind of this tomb's master."

"Let's leave it to fate," Zifan said, taking the lead. Guo Jia, Er Niu, and the rest of the tomb raiders followed. They hadn't walked far when—

Click!

The crisp sound of a mechanism echoed. Everyone spun around to see the stone wall had, at some point, dropped down behind them, sealing off their retreat.

"Looks like there's no way back for us now…" Guo Jia said with a bitter smile.

Cautiously, the group crept forward. They found themselves in a straight corridor paved with white jade bricks, simple and unadorned. Ahead stood a wide jade door, and to either side, smaller doors of flawless white jade. The ground gleamed with a gentle luster. In the distance, mist seemed to veil indistinct palaces—phoenixes with outspread wings carved from sandalwood perched on eaves, their flight eternal; floating windows of blue tile and walls stacked with jade.

The magnificent tomb pavilion was surrounded by pools, covered in green, crystal-clear duckweed.

But blocking all this beauty was a round, fetid mud pit, emitting a stench so foul it shattered any hopeful illusion.

"How are we supposed to get across?"

"It seems the intention is for us to swim," Zifan bent to inspect the pool. The water was turbid, its depths invisible. He reached in, feeling around.

"There may be danger beneath the surface. Everyone, be careful going in."

"Damn it, whatever, let's go! Brothers, onward!" Er Niu launched himself into the water like a fat pig rolling in sand, plunging forward with all his might.

The others quickly stowed their clothes and edged into the mud pit. The water wasn't deep—just up to their chests as they waded forward. In this lightless blackness, the river was icy cold, its chill cutting to the bone.

Suddenly, a black hand shot up from the water, grabbing Zifan's ankle.

Glug, glug!

Zifan kicked hard at the black hand, frantically swimming toward the far bank. Yet it was as if he were bewitched; his arms and legs struggled against his will. All at once, he found himself clutching something at the waist—startled, he realized it was both chillingly cold and unnaturally smooth. His mind reeled, his face flushing red.

Then, whatever it was seemed to slide up beneath his chin, brushing against him as if hinting at something. Zifan lost all control; his thoughts grew ever more muddled.

Suddenly, Er Niu yanked Zifan up from the water. In that moment of panic, Zifan saw what he had been holding—and his scalp went numb, every hair standing on end.

Less than a hand’s breadth from his face was a gigantic, pale human visage. The skin, soaked for countless years, had swollen to a translucent hue. Most terrifying of all, the monstrous eyes had no whites—just black orbs filling the sockets, looking for all the world like a gouged, ferocious corpse.

Guo Jia had suffered a similar fate, his head thrown back, saved only by his companions dragging him up. Zifan shouted, “Watch out for black hands in the river! Get to the shore, quickly—glug, glug!”

Exhausted, everyone collapsed onto the ground.

"What the hell was that thing? I hacked at it but couldn't cut it at all."

"A Jinhua…”

“The legends say it resembles a woman’s skull, hideous to behold. Called the Jinhua, it’s formed when a woman, defiled and drowned, dies with a grudge that lingers in the corpse, gathering ghostly energy. All resentment is sealed in its bones—destroy the bones and it dissipates, but otherwise it haunts the waters, preying on the living. On moonless nights, it even comes ashore to seduce men, killing and dragging them beneath the water. They say its bones have a unique fragrance—bone incense—that induces sleep. Its eyes are jet-black with no whites, just like a corpse whose eyes have been gouged out. Only fire can suppress it.”

Zifan staggered to his feet with a gasp. “Looks like we chose the right path after all.”

“I was scared to death just now—almost didn’t make it,” Guo Jia said, his face ashen at the memory.

No sooner had he spoken than the ground trembled underfoot. Zifan turned to see a stone slab sink beneath Guo Jia’s foot as he stared at him in terror.

In a flash, a crossbow bolt whistled past Zifan’s ear.

“Get down! More traps!” he shouted.

A dozen more bolts shot out. Zifan hurriedly swung his pack in front of him. After several tense seconds, the hail of arrows finally ceased. The group cautiously crept forward, keeping low.

In the unknown darkness, a black shadow loomed—a massive, unnatural zongzi corpse, surely the Corpse King of a thousand years.

“Er Niu, if you can spar with it, that would be ideal.”

“Speak plainly!”

“That zongzi is terrifying—can you handle it for us, Er Niu?”

Whether a joke or a challenge, Er Niu squared his shoulders, pulled a long sword wrapped in cotton cloth from his pack, and replied, “Master, you go ahead. Let your brother Niu handle this Corpse King.”

As the zombie’s claws slashed down, Er Niu sneered, his figure blurring in a sudden rush of wind. Pebbles and leaves whirled into the air as a black shadow darted around.

Er Niu instinctively closed his eyes. The next moment, a bloodcurdling shriek erupted from the Corpse King.

Just as hope flashed in everyone’s eyes, a frigid aura shrouded the zombie, sending a chill through the group.

The zombie’s eyes bulged; it bellowed in rage, swiping at Er Niu with such force that he staggered back two steps.

But Er Niu was swift and precise—a flash of white light streaked by, followed by five sharp clangs. Five hidden daggers were split in two, embedding themselves deep into the tomb wall in a perfectly straight line.

Still, the difference in strength was clear. Er Niu attacked from range, pressing the Corpse King back with thrusts and slashes. As the fight intensified, the zombie lunged with a shoulder throw. Er Niu dodged just in time but the blade grazed his right arm.

Blood spurted instantly.

“Go!” Er Niu shouted, then vanished in a flash, the Corpse King in hot pursuit.

The two figures disappeared into the darkness. Zifan led the group onward, glancing back every few steps until exhaustion forced them to sit and rest.

They spoke little as they worked together to dismantle the white brick wall ahead, soon breaking through to the main burial chamber. The chamber was surrounded by white brick walls.

In each corner, there seemed to be something resembling a beehive. In the center of the floor was a massive lotus motif; four bronze lotuses stood around the coffin.

At the very center lay several coffins. Guo Jia said, “This must be the main tomb. Let’s spread out and see what we can find.”

He examined the arrangement of the coffins, frowning deeply. “These are the Seven-Star Mystery Coffins—I remember reading about them in an ancient book. Only one is genuine; the others are either trapped or cursed in bizarre ways. Open the wrong one and you’ll trigger deadly traps or magic. Be extremely careful.”

“Everyone, watch out for traps.”

“Come quick—there are some strange murals here!”

Hearing this, Zifan hurried over to examine the murals. They depicted the story of Xu Zhi, courtesy name Ruzhi, a renowned scholar from the Southlands, whose ancestors settled there at the end of the Warring States period, vowing never to serve in government but to live by farming and study…

Another mural recorded: “Xu Zhonggong, the twenty-sixth generation descendant of King Yan of Xu.”

Then, in 219 BC, Emperor Qin Shi Huang, on his second tour to Mount Tai for the Fengshan ceremony, traveled on to Bohai. At the seaside, he climbed Mount Zifu and saw visions of mountains and figures drifting in and out of the clouds—a spectacle that left him awestruck.

But the emperor did not know he was witnessing a mirage; believing it an immortal realm, he heard tales of three sacred mountains in the Bohai gulf—Penglai, Fangzhang, and Yingzhou.

On these three mountains were immortals said to possess the elixir of immortality, so he dispatched Xu Fu, leading thousands of boys and girls and provisions for three years, to seek the immortals across the sea—a great expense.

Xu Fu set sail with his party. In the 37th year of Qin Shi Huang’s reign (210 BC), as the emperor toured east to Langya, Xu Fu claimed that a giant sea monster blocked their passage and requested archers to deal with it. The emperor obliged, and a great fish was slain.

In the third mural, Xu Fu stands proud at the prow, with the children behind him, clearly on the emperor’s orders. He set out again, but never returned to Qin to report.

No one knows if Xu Fu ever found the elixir. His fate and the outcome of his quest remain a mystery—many tales, but nothing certain.

With these thoughts, Zifan moved to the bronze coffin, lighting an oil lamp at its head. The flame flickered, casting shadows.

Ancient bronze coffins were rarely sealed with nails but rather with beeswax or glutinous rice paste as adhesive.

Zifan took a short blade and began carefully scoring the seal, the scraping sound echoing through the silent tomb.

After a while, the beeswax was all removed, but Zifan did not rush to open the coffin. This was the most dangerous moment—no one knew if there was poisonous gas inside. Everyone gathered around, ready.

When all was set, Zifan took a black prybar and wedged it under the lid, levering it open.

Screech—

The bronze lid groaned as it slid back.

A sharp intake of breath—Zifan stared into the coffin.

Inside lay a woman’s corpse, dressed in black robes and a bronze mask, resting quietly.

A cascade of glossy hair floated around her, her delicate brows arched, eyes brimming with allure, nose straight and fine, cheeks flushed with a hint of red, lips bright as morning dew, her snow-white face translucent as jade, skin exquisite as creamy fat, her figure petite and graceful—so perfectly preserved that, were it not for the setting, one might think she merely slept.

On the inside of the coffin lid, bold blood-red characters were scrawled:

“Bound for eternity, love and fate exhausted through cycles, sighing for beauty and shadows—who is it for? Inky petals drifting, three thousand black strands, a solitary lamp—left for whom?”

“Enough. Let’s see what’s really here,” Zifan said, for all were bewildered.

Though the woman’s face was unaged, an eerie aura permeated the air, laced with a strange fragrance. Black soil seeped up in clusters of white maggots, writhing and trembling, yet unable to awaken the long-dead soul.

The corpse was especially strange—a forehead band bound her brow, her teeth painted a deep black. Half her face bore a mask engraved with a nine-tailed fox, hinting at a connection to the island nation of Wa.

“Er Niu is back… Er Niu is back!” A cry of joy shattered the tension.

“Master, that Corpse King was tough, but I bashed its guts out…”

“Those aren’t guts, that’s its central nervous system—haven’t you learned anything?” Zifan laughed, embracing Er Niu.

“Master, why are you laughing? I’m standing here safe and sound,” Er Niu chuckled.

“Er Niu, what happened to your arm?!” Zifan anxiously examined him.

“Master, don’t fuss—it’s nothing, just a scratch. Don’t get so worked up, and stop picking on me! Damn that Corpse King, though—imagine, me, Er Niu, tripping up in a ditch after all my glorious deeds!” Er Niu cursed, slinging his injured arm around Zifan’s shoulders.

Meanwhile, Guo Jia had found a secret compartment inside the coffin. He pulled out a treasure box, hooked two catches into the coffin seam, and with a click, the hidden mechanism sprung. The lid popped open, revealing only a small box within.

“Heavens…”

Before their eyes, the woman’s corpse began to wither at a visible pace, the face shining with a ghostly light. In the fading breath, her eyes turned to ash, her mouth slightly open, her hollow gaze locked on Zifan—straight and unbroken, those deep black holes bottomless…

Guo Jia retrieved the box, crafted from golden-threaded nanmu wood. Its sides were wound with filigree images of the Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Black Tortoise. Birds, beasts, mountains, and rivers were engraved on the flanks as well.