Chapter 154

Compared to that, the number and radiance of the "Longevity Candles," which had become eerily extreme, were nothing; after all, they lacked the chilling sound of fingernails scraping metal inside the bronze coffin, and that scratching noise in the oppressive underground space was especially jarring and piercing.

I hurriedly said to Pangzi: "Although the function of that bronze mirror is unclear, it is very likely used to suppress the ancient corpse in the bronze coffin. Hurry and give it to me—I'll reinstall it first and test whether it still works."

Pangzi handed the bronze mirror to me; I took it and told Pangzi and Shirley Yang to ignore the newly lit "Longevity Candles" for now, to go stand by the three candles immediately. After I installed the bronze mirror, I immediately lit the "Life Lamp" again.

I thought: "This time I'll cheat first—the funerary objects this time are too important not to take. Anyway, the rule 'no grave-robbing when the rooster crows and the lamp goes out' we've broken before. Our forefather in heaven will surely understand our plight. Damn it, who made our skills a bit rusty and our luck bad?"

We split into two groups; I went alone, rushing to the bronze coffin, holding the "Wolf Eye" flashlight. After a quick glance, I saw a circular depression on the side of the bronze coffin—likely where the bronze mirror was meant to be set—but Pangzi had pried out a large chunk with his entrenching tool. The sound from inside the coffin unsettled me greatly, so I dared not delay. I hurriedly placed the mirror face inward and pressed it in.

Who would have thought that the moment I let go, the bronze mirror fell straight to the ground? Due to the chip, the originally shallow depression could no longer hold the heavy mirror. I hurriedly picked it up, reinserted it into the bronze coffin, and pressed it firmly with my hand—but this couldn't last; I couldn't keep holding it forever.

Strangely enough, once the bronze mirror was set into the bronze coffin, the scratching metal sound inside immediately ceased. As I had guessed, the mirror was likely a "corpse-suppressing" magical artifact. Different schools have different methods; I only know how the "Grave-Seeking Colonels" deal with zombies. As for the Daoist and other sects' methods, I know nothing—but it doesn't matter, as long as no corpse transformation occurs, thank heaven.

In a pinch, I called Shirley Yang to relight the three candles, then rummaged through my pack, remembering I had tape, but couldn't find it no matter what. Fortunately, I had a small pack of American chewing gum. I thought: no tape, but this will do. I shoved it all into my mouth, chewed wildly, then stuck it onto the gap where the mirror met the coffin, hammered it twice with my hand, then let go. Though not as secure as the original, it would suffice for now.

Shirley Yang and Pangzi's candles were also all lit. I went over to join them and said: "Just now the candles went out as soon as they were said to—no flicker, just gone. This shows the ancient corpse in the tomb is no ordinary threat. Even before dark, we saw black pigs crossing the river outside and rain lords invading—ominous signs. This indicates the corpse energy here shoots to the heavens, and it's certainly not an ordinary corpse monster."

Pangzi said: "Isn't that just the zongzi in the bronze coffin? Since it's already suppressed by the bronze mirror, it should be fine."

I shook my head: "Not necessarily. We don't know what's in this bronze coffin yet—can't conclude before seeing. Besides, don't forget: aside from when you pried it loose, this bronze mirror has never been touched. The omens were already abnormal before, so I suspect… there might be something else hidden in this tomb. In short, stop making trouble for nothing. After we find the Hunchen Pearl, you can mess around however you like—no one will stop you."

Pangzi said dismissively: "How am I the one causing trouble? All the dirty and tiring work on this journey, I've volunteered for. The people's eyes are sharp—I've always been an old yellow ox, willing to endure hardship. If you keep slandering me like this, Commander Hu, I'll glare defiantly at a thousand accusers and bow willingly to be an ox for the children."

I couldn't help laughing: "My Commander Yang, for the sake of the Party and the state, can't you just calm down for a while? I never noticed before how good you are at beautifying yourself—but a child's ox doesn't have this much meat, does it? You're just a fat cow. For now, stop glaring at me. Our priority is to check out what's going on with those three newly appeared Longevity Candles. Damn it, in this palm-sized tomb chamber, just how many corpses are there?"

I said, leading Pangzi and Shirley Yang through the three demonic coffins, arriving before the row of "Longevity Candles." Here, three bronze pillars were embedded in the tomb wall, but there were no "black-scaled merfolk" lamps here. The material of these three "Longevity Candles" was far more terrifying than that of the six ferocious-looking mermaid lamps.

These were made from eleven- or twelve-year-old plump boys, modeled after "Guide Children." Their posture mirrored that of the merfolk—also kneeling in worship, heads bowed, eyes closed, expressions serene. The wicks were set in their navels, extending a long length. The "Guide Children's" bellies were fused with the bronze pillars behind them. Previously, the bronze pillars and the human skin inside might have been full of grease, able to seep out drop by drop through the navel.

But this grease may have long since dried up a thousand years ago. The wicks had already extinguished shortly after the underground palace was sealed. Now, as air gradually seeped into the tomb's depths, the residual grease on the three "Guide Child" lamps, after lying dormant for two thousand years, reignited. However, it won't last—once the remaining fuel is gone, they should go out forever.

Shirley Yang sighed: "India's Gandhi once pointed out the seven sins that destroy humanity—two of them being politics without morality and science without humanity. These children have thus become sacrifices to the ancient emperors' immortal spring dreams..."

I told Shirley Yang: "Burial of boy and girl companions was common before the Ming Dynasty, rare after Hongwu. I've seen it several times—shows that as the dream of immortality draws nearer to modern times, people increasingly see it as illusory and hopeless."

Pangzi held up the "Wolf Eye" flashlight, examining the three "Guide Children" back and forth. After a while, he turned to me and said: "Commander Hu, look—this child is still holding a plaque in his hand. What do these characters mean?"

I crouched down to check the spot Pangzi mentioned. Sure enough, each "Guide Child," made as hard as tinplate, held a copper plaque in hand, inscribed with four ancient characters. I don't recognize them, nor does he—so I asked Shirley Yang to decipher them.

Shirley Yang half-knelt on the ground, raised her flashlight, looked, and said: "These four characters are 'Guide Immortals, Summon Saints.'"

I nodded: "This I dare assert—it matches the legend exactly. These three burning human Longevity Candles, i. e., the Guide Children, are torchbearers guiding the immortals to enlightenment, likely emissaries of that sort. The Old Thief Prince Consort really thought this through thoroughly. But after all, it's still a form of 'Longevity Candle.' Could this tomb really hold nine corpses? However I calculate, I can't reach that number."

Shirley Yang stood up, walked a few steps to the side, turned to me and said: "Not just nine. There's another Longevity Candle here… but it's too large to light anymore."

Pangzi and I walked over to Shirley Yang. Sure enough, we saw another Longevity Candle, pure black copper, ten times the size of the merfolk version, shaped like a bull's head—vigorous and ancient. Due to the wick being too heavy, it had fallen to the ground. Regarding the system where the number of Longevity Candles equals the number of tomb occupants, I am absolutely certain it's a 1:1 ratio. So why are there ten Longevity Candles in this underground palace? Even if those three "Guide Children" don't count, that still leaves seven.

Could there be other important figures' corpses here? Besides the queen, the remaining high officials should be buried in the accompanying tombs at a distance. Whose are these ten skeletons? This just baffles me completely.

Shirley Yang also said she couldn't understand. Only Pangzi said: "What's there to fuss about? Probably he just had many wives—let's not dwell on it. Hurry up, open the coffin and get rich—grave-robbing for profit is the real priority. As for how many corpses there are, just open the coffin and count—then it'll be clear as day."

I said to Pangzi: "It's rare to see you act reasonably. Looks like in this long, tough, complex struggle, you've finally begun to mature. If we were home, we'd celebrate this with a bowl of pulled noodles."

We originally planned to open the most valuable cellar coffin first, but after a bit of calculation, we thought: since all three coffins must be opened anyway, we might as well start with the most fearsome bronze coffin—launch a siege, crack this hardest bone first, then the rest will be easy. Even if there really are zombies, as long as we prepare beforehand, we can ensure safety. If the illustrious "Grave-Seeking Colonels" were scared off by a corpse that hasn't even transformed yet, word would get out and we'd be laughed at. That bronze hanging coffin is no less than one meter above the ground, the coffin body nearly two meters tall—a truly massive object. Bound with chains wrapped many times, reinforced with nine great locks, suspended by sixteen large copper rings from the tomb's upper layer. Above it may be a load-bearing copper beam connecting...

Shirley Yang said to me: "The bronze coffin is suspended in midair, hard to access. We need a way to lower it to the ground."

I raised my flashlight upward. The "Grave-Seeking Colonels'" "corpse-wrapping net" and "corpse-binding rope" cannot be deployed in midair, so I'll have to go up first, remove those copper rings, and let it drop. Though this might crack the coffin, I can't think of a better way for now.

So I used the Flying Tiger Claw to climb up. On this huge bronze coffin, I could no longer stand straight with head raised—lifting my head made my helmet hit the tomb ceiling. I had to bend slightly, and even a little movement made the coffin sway, the copper rings emitting dull metallic sounds. But the rings and chains were very solid, not easily broken. I braced downward with force several times, trying to see if my weight could snap the rings.

Who would have thought that the moment I stepped on it, I heard a sharp, brittle sound of breaking metal from above, and the cracking sound gradually expanded. I thought: oh no—it's been hanging too long; the fatigue at the stress points has reached total exhaustion. Though the chains aren't broken, the copper beam above is likely to snap first. I hurriedly told Shirley Yang and Pangzi below to dodge, lest they be hit, and I immediately flipped and rolled down from midair.

The bronze coffin, weighing over two thousand catties, couldn't hold up much longer. One copper ring first detached from the beam, the other support points naturally couldn't hold, and it came crashing down—naturally deafening, earth-shaking, mountain-moving. Yet I never expected the bronze coffin to smash a large hole in the tomb floor, and as it came down, a few sounds of rotting wood collapsing followed. The bronze coffin rested on the ground only briefly before sinking into the hole it had punched.

We three hurried over to look at the ground. Beneath the broken tomb bricks were rows of black square timbers, each as thick as a human body, packed tightly together. But where severely eroded by sewage, they had rotted to a serious degree. These timbers weren't originally black—they became so from sewage corrosion. The bronze coffin smashed through these rotten timbers and fell into the depths below.

I immediately tossed down a cold smoke bomb. Suddenly, my vision brightened—below was a small chamber built of square timbers, very low and narrow. Besides the fallen bronze coffin, nearby was a very special coffin emitting a faint glow, utterly unlike worldly objects. Beneath the tomb floor tiles where we stood, and where they met the square timbers below, a thick layer of lime had been laid, now turned into white sludge. The environment below was damp and humid, the stench of wet decay rising straight up.

Though I wore a mask, I still felt slightly suffocated. I covered my nose and said to Pangzi and Shirley Yang: "So the Old Thief Prince Consort was hiding in this brick tomb facade—it's a kind of wooden coffin (or wrapped) tomb. I never expected it to be exposed by the smash of the heavy bronze coffin; otherwise, it would've been hard to find. Someone said it was a coincidence, but I think it's fate. His Hunchen Pearl will surely be ours within this very moment."

Pangzi picked up a bronze mirror from the ground and said to me: "Commander Hu, this mirror of yours isn't stuck securely..."

I was startled at first, thinking: oh no, I forgot about the mirror again—big trouble. I picked it up and saw it wasn't damaged—just needs to be put back. But when I lowered my head to look into the wooden coffin tomb again, I couldn't help groaning: the chains binding the coffin had been snapped, nine of the heavy locks had fallen off, the coffin lid… had also flown open. In the dim light, it seemed as if several unimaginably long "fingernails" were probing out from the crack. Speaking of which, it's a lucky misstep—the bones in this yin palace have indeed increased by one more.