Chapter 179: Strange Face

Third Uncle was stunned on the spot, his mind buzzing, the pores on his scalp standing on end. He shouted, let go, and the hidden door he had lifted fell back down with a bang, smashing right into the strange face's face.

Third Uncle didn't bother to see how the blow landed. He immediately recoiled a few steps out of reflex, distancing himself from the stone coffin. His heart was practically jumping out of his throat.

He thought to himself, what the hell is that! Could there actually be a zombie in this ancient tomb that has already had its yin qi vented? Impossible. Zombies are dead things; as soon as the tomb chamber is opened and the tomb's qi leaks out, the outside air flows in, and no matter how fierce a corpse is, it will inevitably collapse and begin to rot again in a short time. There's no way a corpse could have changed for decades—that's just too absurd.

Moreover, that strange face he caught a glimpse of was indescribable. Third Uncle had never seen such a terrifying face. It was definitely no ordinary zombie.

Could it be the legendary blood zombie? Third Uncle suddenly thought, but after mulling it over, he really had no idea.

The legends about blood corpses are most common in the Changsha area. Generally, they refer to ancient tombs dug up in red soil, regardless of the condition inside, and they are all called blood corpse tombs.

Red soil is also called blood soil. One shovel down and the mud comes up tinged with blood. No one can explain how this kind of ground phenomenon forms.

Even with all sorts of legends, many wealthy families still searched for this eerie ground pattern to ensure their descendants would prosper.

To avoid the baleful qi, before burial they would find a poor family with the same surname, formally adopt their child out, then take the child back into their own household to raise.

But the world is vast; treasure caves and baleful caves are equally rare, and blood soil is even rarer than ordinary dragon veins. Later on, many half-baked feng shui masters would call any red soil a blood soil site. As a result, wherever there was red soil, there was bound to be an ancient tomb, and those tombs always belonged to wealthy families with rich burial goods. Hence the legend of "blood corpse guarding treasure."

Because blood soil sites were half real and half fake, with the fakes being the majority, back then Grandfather's grandfather took the risk to dig on a whim, hoping for luck. He never imagined that one shovel would uncover the real thing.

A true blood corpse tomb is extremely dangerous. The fact that there is almost no written or oral record of blood corpses anywhere in the world shows how bad it is. Almost no one who has seen a blood corpse has escaped alive and whole. Grandfather was an exceptional case, and even his notes were unclear. He himself didn't know what a blood corpse really was, let alone how to counter it. If what was down there was truly a blood corpse, ignoring for a moment why it was still there, how to get out was already a huge problem.

The old men who had entered this tomb before must have carried black donkey hooves. Back then they each also carried a 24-shot Mauser pistol. With that kind of gear, not a single one of them made it out, which shows how dire the situation was. This time he was even worse off—all he had was a machete at his waist. Using a machete on a zombie is like whetting a blade; it's the stupidest move and completely useless.

In the second or so that Third Uncle retreated, his mind was racing like crazy, but he had no clue about blood corpses and couldn't think of any way out.

Just as he was terrified and didn't know what to do, a series of scraping sounds came from inside the coffin. Then he saw the stone slab covering the hidden chamber being pushed up by something.

Third Uncle saw it and thought, oh no, this thing is coming out!

At that moment he was a bit flustered too. He didn't know what came over him—his blood boiled, and a killing intent arose. He steeled himself, let out a loud shout, and actually jumped into the coffin. Stomping down hard, he landed on the raised stone slab. Looking down, he saw a dry, greenish-brown human hand reaching out from under the slab. Its nails were twice the length of its fingers, and the whole hand looked like rusted bronze, covered in green mold. Now that Uncle Three was pressing down, it was caught in the gap.

Seeing that hand, Third Uncle felt goosebumps all over his back. He stamped hard, trying to crush it, but the hand was as hard as steel. He stomped several times with no reaction at all.

Then a force from beneath the stone slab pushed upward violently. Third Uncle, already unsteady, nearly fell off. He quickly crouched, steadied himself, and grabbed both sides of the coffin with his hands.

It was a life-and-death struggle. If the thing below got out of the coffin, in this environment, Third Uncle knew he would die for sure—there was absolutely no hope of luck.

But human strength has its limits. After holding out for a while, Third Uncle's arms reached their limit; he couldn't muster any more strength. Yet the stone slab kept rising little by little. Then that strange face squeezed out from under the slab, expressionless, staring at Third Uncle.

Inside the coffin was pitch black, so it wasn't easy to see. The ghostly, shadowy face was also blurry. In the dead silence of the sealed chamber, the scene was unbelievably eerie.

Third Uncle's scalp went numb, and all the pores on his body seemed to shrink into his flesh. He thought, I'm doomed—what should I do? He looked down at his waist, searching for the explosives he carried, already entertaining the idea of mutual destruction.

Searching for a while, he didn't find the explosives, but he spotted the liquor flask tucked into his belt. Earth movers never skip three meals without liquor; they always carry strong spirits with them, partly to keep warm and partly to boost their courage.

Seeing the flask, a flash of inspiration struck Third Uncle. He thought of an idea.

All things in the world are born of water and destroyed by fire. He once heard a Daoist say that the most direct way to deal with a zombie, among a thousand methods, is not black donkey hooves or other last-resort measures. Normally, when opening a coffin, if you see signs of the corpse turning, first pour baijiu over it, then use two corpse-carriers to loop around its head and feet, pull the corpse out of the coffin, and set it on fire. No matter how fierce it is, it won't be able to fight back.

With that in mind, he shifted his weight, pulled the flask from his left waist, and smashed it right into the strange face's face. The bottle shattered, splashing liquor all over the monster's face. Then he pulled out a fire striker, struck it, and reached it toward the strange face. He thought to himself, sorry, brother, it's not that I want to burn you, but we belong to different worlds, so just go ahead and serve as a candle.

As the striker neared the strange face, the firelight revealed that eerie visage clearly.

At that moment, Third Uncle suddenly stopped his hand. He noticed something odd about that face.