Volume One: The Journey of the Worthless, Fiery Demon-Slaying Chapter Thirty: The Secret Passage in the Tomb and the Eerie Jade Coffin

Ma Zhong and Wei Wudao were desperately digging in the field. This tomb was rather unusual, unlike any they had encountered before. It wasn’t buried particularly deep underground; the entry point was exactly where those two villagers had been struck dead by lightning. The pit had formed when the lightning caused the earth above to collapse.

When the village elders first saw the hole, they peered inside and could see the door to the burial chamber, which frightened them so much that they hurriedly called the young men to fill it in. Yet, the matter was soon gossiped about by the idle folk, and word quickly reached Wei Wudao, who was nearby divining ancient tomb sites.

Wasn’t this pure luck? The opportunity had come to them without effort. However, the tomb lay in the fields, and this plot was very close to the villagers’ homes. The village had dogs that barked; if discovered by the villagers, the authorities would be alerted. If dozens of villagers came with hoes, it would be a disaster, and they’d never be able to stay in the area again.

It wasn’t easy to make a move immediately. The silver was almost within reach, but they couldn’t get their hands on it, and they were anxious enough to almost consider drugging the villagers. But fortune smiled upon them: the two villagers killed by lightning couldn’t be buried—their coffins couldn’t be moved. Wei Wudao realized this was his chance, so he went to investigate and found nothing dangerous.

Returning, he discussed the matter with his companions and finally decided that he would pose as a Taoist priest to conduct the burial rites for the two coffins. He’d summon the villagers at night, scare them, and make sure they stayed indoors.

They only needed two hours to rob the tomb without anyone knowing.

This method was simple for them, and the villagers believed it wholeheartedly. Wei Wudao had often posed as a Taoist priest to scam people, and he was so convincing that even he believed his own stories. If he could fool himself, he was the master of all tricksters.

Scaring those naive villagers who knew nothing of magic and the world was an easy task—just some random nonsense and not one dared venture out. They swaggered into the village and went directly to the tomb.

As for what made this tomb special, there were quite a few things. First, the tomb door: generally, ancient tomb doors face west or north, avoiding the southeast where the sun rises, to prevent disturbing ancestors and inviting trouble. Most tomb doors faced northwest.

Yet, this tomb’s door faced due east. At first glance, it seemed no different from ordinary tomb doors, but when Wei Wudao and Ma Zhong entered the pit, they discovered it wasn’t made of stone at all.

Because of its age, the door was covered in dirt. Brushing it away revealed a solid cast iron door carved with crooked runes.

Wei Wudao had no time to study these runes; time was short. The double doors weren’t large—about half the size of a typical house door. They couldn’t open it; it was a solid piece of iron, and something from the inside was wedged against it.

Digging above the door revealed thick stone slabs. This was astonishing—it was like a palace built underground.

Wei Wudao and Ma Zhong were sweating anxiously, unable to make sense of it, but the sturdier the door, the more extraordinary the occupant must be—the burial goods...

With this thought, the two exchanged glances and renewed their efforts. If the top couldn’t be breached, they’d dig below. Soon, Ma Zhong opened a thief’s tunnel beneath the door, and sure enough, it was ordinary soil underneath.

A short time later, they broke into the tomb. They had no idea what to expect inside, but upon entering, Ma Zhong was stunned by what he saw.

They’d robbed many tombs, large and small, but never one so brightly lit.

Two rows of over a dozen oil lamps illuminated the tomb, brighter even than the lamps they had brought. Ma Zhong felt as if there were living people inside and quickly retreated in fright.

Wei Wudao was skeptical. He remembered ancient texts that described special wicks and lamp oil that could burn for hundreds of years. He had never taken it seriously, thinking it was nonsense.

The ingredients for those wicks and oils—dragon scale, phoenix feather, crimson shark oil, and something called “meridian change,” “blazing red”—were all unfamiliar, never seen or heard of. Moreover, many techniques and artifacts described in those texts had been lost or their methods unclear. Wei Wudao had tried to imitate the instructions but they never worked, so he assumed the perpetual lamps were just myth.

Now, hearing Ma Zhong’s description, he began to doubt his assumptions. He explained this to Ma Zhong, and together they decided there was probably no one inside—they’d better check first.

They widened the tunnel so Wang Kui and Tu Sanguang could join them for backup.

In the past, the tombs they robbed were cramped, often squeezed beside the coffin, prying it open for burial goods and retreating the same way. Ma Zhong was the one to dig thief tunnels—he was small and agile, and courageous, making him ideal for the job.

Once inside, they saw dozens of oil lamps. At first, they had to hunch over, but after a few steps down a staircase, they could stand upright.

Tu Sanguang led the way—he was the most skilled and could react quickly to danger. Wei Wudao followed, knowing some magic and taboos. Ma Zhong was third; since he didn’t have to dig the tunnel, his role was less important. Wang Kui brought up the rear, carrying their tools.

After a few steps, a sharp “crack” halted them, and they stood still, scanning their surroundings.

There were only two rows of oil lamps, nothing else. The crack came from under Tu Sanguang’s feet. Lifting his foot, he saw something resembling a bone, but it was too old to identify. Looking ahead, there were many similar fragments scattered on the ground.

Wei Wudao stared and said, “Could these be human bones?”

Ma Zhong shook his head. “There’s no skull. Probably not, but they do look like bones.”

Tu Sanguang stomped a few times and said, “Don’t these look like snake bones? Big snake bones.”

Wei Wudao nodded in agreement. “Yes, yes, they’re like snake bones. But this big? How huge would the snake have to be? Thankfully it’s dead. If not, we’d be finished.”

Ma Zhong cautioned from behind, “Let’s be careful. This place is uncanny; there might still be snakes. Wang Kui, give us each a knife—we might need them.”

Wang Kui grunted and rummaged through his large bundle, pulling out two big knives, a small iron shovel, and a small iron spade. Embarrassed, he said, “I only brought two knives, so we’ll have to make do.”

Tu Sanguang and Ma Zhong took the knives, Wei Wudao grabbed the shovel, and Wang Kui held the spade. With their gear distributed, the four ventured deeper into the tomb.

Outside, Chen San and Yang Chengzi crouched by the wall, watching Wang Kui and Tu Sanguang’s every move. Suddenly, they saw Wang Kui and Tu Sanguang jump in as well.

Chen San grew restless and turned to Yang Chengzi. “Hey, it looks like they’re all down there. Shouldn’t we do something? Just waiting isn’t much use. How about letting Sister Wan’er take a look?”

Yang Chengzi refused outright. “No way. That fake Taoist knows some magic—I can’t gauge his real abilities. Sending Wan’er would be too risky. Besides, if my guess is right, there’s something extraordinary in the tomb.”

“Something extraordinary?”

“Yes. Broad daylight, no lightning or thunder, yet two people struck dead. That lightning must be the tribulation thunder—meant for the monstrous thing below. The two villagers just happened to be nearby and were collateral damage.”

“Seriously? That’s such an unjust death.”

“That thing is underground; tribulation thunder can’t harm it. We have to wait for them to come out. Since they’re tomb robbers, their tunnel won’t be big enough for us to enter or exit easily. If we encounter that thing inside, we’d stand no chance. Besides, underground, most magical arts don’t work. Best not to go down.”

“I don’t want to go in either. Just hearing ‘tomb’ makes me nervous. But what do you mean, most magic doesn’t work underground?”

“When I studied yin-yang arts on the mountain, I read in the ancient texts that Taoist arts often fail in certain places—like forests and tombs. In forests, we must be cautious with thunder magic, since it will strike trees regardless; unless the trees are cleared first, thunder magic shouldn’t be used.”

“What about in tombs?”

“Large tombs are underground. Thunder and most incantations can’t be used. Whether you can summon celestial thunder is uncertain, but even if it falls, it won’t penetrate the earth to strike below. Those incantations that draw on the stars’ power can’t kill ghosts in a tomb either.”

Chen San stared at Yang Chengzi in surprise. “So, knowing there’s something big in the tomb, what do you plan to do?”

“That’s simple—wait for it to come out. There’s bait down there, after all. If the evil thing is released, we must destroy it.”

“We? Don’t count me in—I’ve had enough trouble finding someone.”

“Rest assured, if I die, you won’t escape. The village will be in dire straits.”

Chen San’s face twitched, lost for words. He continued to watch the field, noting the ghostly aura still occasionally seeping out, not much different from before.

Inside the tomb, the four crept forward cautiously. Though time was short—dawn was a little more than an hour away—this tomb was so strange and oppressive that none dared act rashly.

At first, things seemed normal, just lots of oil lamps. But soon they noticed many crooked runes carved into the stone walls on both sides of the chamber. Some, Wei Wudao recognized.

The most common were runes for passing on and for warding off evil. Many others he couldn’t read, and he couldn’t understand why passing-on and warding runes were carved together, covering the entire tomb passage.

Ahead, the corridor split in two, left and right. Wei Wudao took out his compass, which pointed left.

“There’s evil energy in the tomb, in the left passage. Let’s check the right first. Two corridors—could there be two coffins?”

The others nodded. Tu Sanguang gripped his knife and headed down the right corridor. It was only ten steps or so, but sloped downward, and the group followed closely, glancing back from time to time.

The right passage ended in a small compartment, about the size of a privy, just big enough for one person. Inside were a few clay jars, nothing else. The walls were stone, with no sign of traps or doors. The group was disappointed.

Wei Wudao was puzzled. “Is this a privy? What’s the point of building a passage just to reach it?”

“Nature calls, maybe. You don’t need to pee when building a tomb?” Ma Zhong joked, making them all laugh.

Wei Wudao wasn’t convinced. He carefully examined the area, and on the seventh step, he found the left wall was hollow. He tapped it lightly with the shovel, and a dull thumping echoed. The group perked up.

A tomb within a tomb—they’d heard of such things, but never encountered one. Now they had, and it promised a hefty reward.

Only someone of royal or noble rank could construct such a tomb within a tomb, and judging by the size of the passage, there would be plenty of burial goods.

They quickly discussed how to break through the wall. Time was short, so Tu Sanguang and Wang Kui used their spade and shovel to smash it open. The wall was only two bricks thick, and soon they had a large hole. Peering inside, they found a grand, magnificent burial chamber.

Hundreds of eternal lamps lit the chamber. Steps led upward, and rows of clay soldiers and chariots appeared, all in formation. Behind the troops was a jade coffin, yellowish-white.

Seeing the jade coffin, their eyes nearly popped.

Wei Wudao exclaimed excitedly, “Our luck has come! We’ll live the rest of our lives in comfort—quick, let’s see what burial goods there are.”

They eagerly smashed open the wall and entered, climbing the steps, feeling the majesty of an emperor’s presence.

Up close, the clay soldiers were nearly as tall as they were, with lifelike faces, each different.

Most importantly, the soldiers’ armor, though made of clay, was carved with soul-calming runes, and their weapons were not ordinary. The foremost soldier held a sword resembling the legendary Spirit Blade.

That sword belonged to General Fu Meng of Qin—a fierce warrior whose Spirit Blade dominated the battlefield. Though made of clay, the blade’s distinctive totem pattern was visible.

Other soldiers held spears and swords, all unlike common weapons.

Wang Kui, usually trailing behind, moved to the front and reached out to touch a clay soldier.

Wei Wudao quickly rebuked him, “Don’t touch! It looks like clay, but might not be a regular figure.”

As soon as he spoke, the group froze in fear.

“These soldiers are about as tall as we are, and that one holds what looks like the Spirit Blade. Each face is different. Maybe they were real people, sealed in clay by some art. Don’t touch—just step aside. We’ll open the coffin, grab the burial goods, and leave. Don’t touch anything else.”

Following Wei Wudao’s instructions, they carefully skirted the soldiers and approached the jade coffin. They looked from the coffin to Wei Wudao.

Wei Wudao examined the coffin closely. If circumstances allowed, he’d want to haul it out and sell it—forget the burial goods, the jade itself was priceless.

Take, for example, the grand jade coffin of Princess Lianyu’s funeral in the capital; its quality wasn’t as good as this one. It was said the emperor offered a reward of two hundred thousand taels of silver to find a jade block so large. Knowing it was for the emperor, no one dared ask a high price. Twelve craftsmen worked for two days and nights to carve it. If they could sell this one, it would be worth at least two hundred thousand taels—a fortune for several lifetimes.

Unfortunately, the coffin weighed a thousand pounds. Even with Tu Sanguang and Wang Kui’s strength, they couldn’t lift it, much less carry it out. Still, if the coffin was so valuable, the contents must be too.

“Wow, what a coffin—if I could lie in it when I die, that’d be a blessing from my ancestors,” Wang Kui chuckled.

“Shut up, you fool. Get on with it,” Ma Zhong scolded.

They took out their homemade rope hinges and hooked them to the four corners of the coffin lid. Two men pulled, and the lid slid halfway off.

Wei Wudao peered inside and saw no piles of gold or jewels—just a dried corpse in fine clothes, lying silently in the jade coffin.

The ancient corpse wore a phoenix crown, phoenix feather epaulettes, and robes resembling women’s garments, hands folded on the abdomen. Two gold bracelets, now dull and dark, adorned the wrists, with something pressed beneath the hands.

Ma Zhong, seeing the bracelets, said, “The gold has changed, turning purplish-black. That lead soldier wields a Qin Dynasty Spirit Blade, so this is a Qin tomb. But her phoenix crown and attire aren’t quite Qin, and for such a grand tomb palace, the burial goods seem few.”

Wei Wudao was puzzled as well. “Just these two bracelets—her coffin is worth more. Ma Zhong, take a closer look inside, see if there’s anything else of value.”