Chapter 1: Seven Stars: Blood Corpse

50 years ago, at Biaozi Ridge in Changsha. Four tomb raiders were squatting on a mound, all silent, staring intently at the Luoyang shovel on the ground.

The shovel still carried soil freshly brought from underground; strange enough, the cupful of soil was constantly oozing a bright red liquid, as if it had just been dipped in blood.

"This is big trouble," Old Smokehead tapped his pipe on the ground. "There's a blood corpse down there. If we're not careful, all our little gains might be left down there."

"Are we going down or not? Say the word, don't beat around the bush!" the one-eyed young man said. "You say you're old and can't move well, so don't go down. My brother and I will go down. Whatever it is, we'll give it a burst."

Old Smokehead wasn't angry but smiled instead, saying to a big-bearded man next to him: "Your second son is wild and reckless. Who knows when he'll get himself killed? You need to teach him more. Our trade isn't about having a Mauser pistol that can scare off ghosts."

The big-bearded man glared at the young man: "You little brat, how dare you speak to the old master like that? When Old Master was digging, you were still in your mother's belly."

"How did I say it wrong? The ancestors said that blood corpse is a good thing. There must be plenty of treasures below. If we don't go down, we'll miss out on a big pot of soup."

"Fuck, you dare talk back!" The big-bearded man raised his hand to hit, but Old Smokehead blocked him with his pipe.

"You, as a father, are really something. All you know is hitting, not looking at where we are. When you were a kid, weren't you the same? This is like 'if the upper beam is crooked, the lower beam is askew'."

The one-eyed young man saw his father being scolded and lowered his head to snicker. Old Smokehead coughed and gave the one-eyed youth a knock on the head: "What are you laughing at? Encountering a blood corpse can be big or small. Last time, your second grandpa dug this up in Luoyang, and now he's still crazy. You little brat, you don't even have hair on your lips, but you do things so recklessly. Do you have too many heads?"

"So is it gonna be a yes or no?" The one-eyed youth scratched his head impatiently.

Old Smokehead took a few puffs, looked at the sky, seemed to have made up his mind, and said to the big-bearded man: "Alright, we'll do it. I'll go down first, you follow behind me. Second son, you bring a rat tail rope and cover the rear. Third son, don't go down. With four people, if we want to retreat, we won't have time. You hold the rat tail rope, and when we shout from inside, you pull it out."

The youngest boy protested: "I won't agree! You're biased. I'll tell my mother!"

Old Smokehead laughed heartily: "Look at that, Third son is throwing a tantrum. Don't make a fuss. In a bit, I'll get you a gold knife."

"I don't need you to get it for me. I'll get it myself."

The one-eyed second brother got angry and grabbed the third brother's ear: "You bastard, are you looking for trouble? Don't make me lose my temper!"

The youngest boy had been beaten often in the past, and seeing his second brother truly angry, he was too scared to speak, looking to his father for help. But his father had already gone to pack the tools. His second brother gloated: "Why are you so unlovable? This time the old man won't help you. If you yell again, I'll twist your balls!"

Third brother was startled, quickly covered his crotch and ran away.

Then they heard the big-bearded man shout: "You second brat, what are you blabbering about? Grab the tools!" As he spoke, he started spinning a cyclone shovel.

Half an hour later, the tomb tunnel had been dug so deep the bottom couldn't be seen. Except for the second brother occasionally coming up for air, even sounds from the tunnel were unclear. Third brother grew impatient and shouted into the tunnel: "Grandpa, have you dug through yet?"

After several seconds, a muffled voice came from inside: "Don't... know... You... stay up there... hold the... rope tight!" It was his second brother's voice. Then they heard Old Smokehead cough: "Lower your voice... Listen! Something's moving!"

Then there was dead silence. Third brother knew something had gone wrong below, and was too scared to speak. Suddenly, he heard a hair-raising sound from the tunnel, "gurgle gurgle," like frogs croaking in a field.

Then his second brother shouted from below: "Third, pull!"

He didn't dare delay. He stomped hard and grabbed the rat tail rope to pull it out. After just a few pulls, the rope suddenly tightened. Something below seemed to have bitten it, and there was a counterforce pulling the rope back into the tunnel. Third brother had never imagined such a thing; he was almost pulled into the hole. In a flash of inspiration, he quickly tied the tail around his waist, then leaned his whole body backward until his back was almost at a 30-degree angle to the ground. This was a trick he used when arm-wrestling with other boys in the village. In this way, all his weight was on the rope. Even if it were a mule, he could hold his own.

Sure enough, this put him in a deadlock with whatever was in the tunnel. Both sides were straining but neither could budge an inch. After a stalemate of over ten seconds, he heard a Mauser shot from inside, then his father's shout: "Third son, run!!!!!!" Then he felt the rope go slack, and the rat tail rope shot out of the tunnel with a whoosh, as if something was attached to it! At that moment, Third brother didn't care anymore. He grabbed the rope, turned around, and ran!

He ran for over two li without stopping before he dared to stop. He pulled out the rat tail rope from his bosom and looked—he screamed in terror. The rope had nothing tied to it except a single bloody severed hand. And he recognized that hand—it was clearly his second brother's. It seemed his second brother was either dead or crippled.

Although the third brother was often bullied by his second brother, the bond between brothers was deep. Thinking that something terrible might have really happened, his mind heated up and he wanted to risk everything to save his second brother and father. Just as he turned around, he suddenly saw a blood-red thing crouching in the reeds behind him, staring straight at him.

This third brother was no pushover. He had followed his father through many adventures and seen plenty of strange things. He knew that underground, anything could happen. The most important thing was not to panic but to adapt. Whatever black fiend or hundred fiends, a burst of bullets would blow them apart, leaving nothing to fear.

He composed himself, didn't retreat, but instead moved step by step toward the thing, with the Mauser already gripped in his hand. If the blood-red thing made any move, he would give it a head-on storm of bullets.

The blood-red thing crouched in the grass without moving. Third brother got within three steps and looked carefully—immediately his scalp went numb and his stomach churned. It was clearly a human! He bit his lower lip, drew the long saber from his waist, and wanted to poke the thing to see what it was. Before he could bend down, the monster suddenly arched its body and lunged at him. Third brother saw a flash of red light, and it was too late to dodge. In a flash, he slipped his feet, fell backward, and at the same time fired a full burst from the Mauser into the thing's chest at close range. The thing was hit, blood splattering everywhere, stumbling back several steps and falling into the grass.

Meanwhile, Third brother rolled with the momentum and jumped up, then turned and aimed at the thing's head and pulled the trigger. A click—it had jammed! This old Mauser was dug out by his great-uncle from a warlord's tomb years ago. It hadn't been used much, but in recent years he had been traveling with his father and had no time to maintain it. He seldom had a chance to fire, and once the barrel heated up, it jammed. Truly, when you're unlucky, even drinking cold water gets stuck in your teeth.

Third brother saw the blood-red thing writhing and getting up. He cursed inwardly, all his previous reckless courage gone. He swung his arm and threw the gun at it, not caring if it hit, then turned and ran. This time he didn't even dare look back. He spotted a large tree ahead and dashed toward it, thinking: at least it probably can't climb trees. He'd hide up there first.

Thinking this, he suddenly tripped and fell flat on his face, crashing into a tree stump, his nose and mouth filling with blood.

This fall was really bad. Third brother felt dizzy and nauseous. He gritted his teeth and tried to stand, but his entire arm had no strength. Then he heard wind behind him. He turned his head and saw the monster within a few steps—the King of Hell was calling his name! Third brother was a clear-headed person; seeing his death approaching, he felt no fear, only a bitter smile. He simply lay down on the ground to wait for death. In an instant, the monster pounced on his back and stamped down hard. Third brother felt a sweetness in his throat; his bile was squeezed out. At the same time, an intense itch came from his back, and his vision immediately blurred.

He realized he might be poisoned, and

He blinked hard and looked closely; it turned out to be a silk handkerchief. Third Brother thought, the thing his second brother risked his life to steal must be no ordinary item. He didn't know what had become of them now, but he had to keep it safe. If he really died, and they found his body, they could find it on him. That way, his second brother's hand wouldn't have been broken in vain, and he wouldn't have died for nothing. Thinking this, he struggled to pry the silk handkerchief out of the severed hand and stuffed it into his sleeve.

At this time, his ears started ringing, his eyes felt like they were covered with a layer of gauze, and his hands and feet began to grow cold. Based on his past experience, his crotch was probably full of urine and feces now.

"People who die from corpse poison look very ugly. I hope that Second Girl from the neighboring village doesn't see me," he mumbled deliriously, his mind starting to slip from his control. At that moment, he began to faintly hear the strange, cackling sound he had heard in the grave tunnel.

Third Brother felt a slight wrongness — how was this sound different from what he heard in the grave tunnel just now? Unfortunately, at this point he was completely unable to think. He reflexively tried to look up and only saw a huge, strange face leaning down to look at him. Two eyes without pupils were completely lifeless.