Chapter 60:
The Jiang King’s Tomb (Part 3):
“Brother, You’ve Finally Come to See Me…”
Life on Kunnan Mountain wasn’t as unbearable as he had imagined. While tents were scarce, their accommodation was surprisingly comfortable. The three of them were given a room in the Daoist temple, three beds side by side, the only inconvenience being Jiang Wan’s presence, but the quiet solitude was a welcome change.
The white snake remained coiled around his wrist, a living mosquito repellent.
Zuo He, being Grandmaster Yongjian’s youngest and most favored disciple, received preferential treatment from his senior brothers, gifts of cooling mats, candles, and even clean towels. He accepted them gratefully, then passed them on to Chen Henian.
Chen Henian, not one for politeness, accepted the offerings, enjoying a refreshing bath in the temple’s bathhouse. They didn’t have to work.
Grandmaster Yongjian even arranged for their meals to be delivered to their room, sparing Chen Henian the awkwardness of eating with the other disciples. The temple cook prepared three dishes and a soup, a welcome luxury, and in his free time, he would light incense at the altar of the God of Wealth.
The younger disciples of the three sects had cleared the mountain of any lingering spirits or demons, preparing for the descent into the tomb on August 15th, the chosen date based on the behavior of jiangshi, the time of day when yin and yang transitioned, the daylight weakening them, the night their time of power, when they would emerge from their tombs, their strength renewed by the moonlight.
The ancients weren’t fools. If this truly was Jiang Wuwen’s tomb, there might be human sacrifices buried with him, a jiangshi army waiting to be unleashed. And the tomb itself might be filled with traps, poisonous gases, hidden blades, all sorts of dangers, a place where one could easily lose their life.
Grandmaster Yongjian’s plan was for the three sect leaders, each leading ten disciples, to enter the tomb through different entrances, converging at the main chamber.
It was evening. They had finished their dinner, a few candles illuminating the room, their light flickering on the pale walls and Chen Henian’s hair.
He planned to tie his hair back in the morning. It had grown longer, and with Zhou Xianzhi gone, he could trim it, keeping it just past his shoulders.
The door opened without a sound, startling them.
Grandmaster Yongjian entered, a smile on his face. “Not asleep yet? Then I’ve come at the right time.”
Zuo He, who had been drawing talismans, stood up. “Master, is something the matter?”
“Can’t I visit without a reason?” Yongjian retorted.
“Of course you can,” Zuo He wiped the cinnabar from his fingers. “But you talk too much, it’s annoying.”
“What are you annoyed about?” Yongjian said. “I’m not here to see you. Go back to bed.”
Not here for Zuo He, then it must be him. Chen Henian looked up, prepared for the inevitable questions.
Yongjian sat down on a wooden stool. “Henian, it’s still early, let’s chat.” His voice was friendly. “Tell me, how old were you when you met your master?”
A harmless question. “Six,” Chen Henian replied.
“So young…” Yongjian murmured, shaking his head, his expression troubled. “Children at that age are clingy and difficult. He actually managed to raise you, and you’re still alive and well, quite a feat.”
“Did you have enough to eat?” he asked, turning to Chen Henian. “Did he treat you well?”
“My master is still alive and well,” Chen Henian replied.
“That’s good.” Yongjian’s questions continued. “Tell me, is your master here? I don’t believe he would let you come alone, not when I could easily detain you. Is he hiding somewhere?”
Chen Henian smiled faintly. “My master is a bold man, a gambler, he’s not afraid of anything.”
“I don’t believe it,” Yongjian frowned. “Didn’t he tell you anything?”
Chen Henian shook his head.
Yongjian sighed, trying a different approach. “Don’t worry, I don’t mean you any harm. I just want to see him. Tell me where he is.”
Chen Henian shook his head again.
Yongjian, persistent, stared at him, trying to read his expression, his eyes searching.
“Master, please don’t ask,” Zuo He said. “Even if he knows, he has his reasons for not telling you.”
“They must have suffered a great deal, they don’t trust easily. Don’t force him, Master. If Uncle-Master wanted to see you, he would have come himself.”
“Am I a stranger?” Yongjian slammed his hand on the table, his beard bristling. “Do I need you to tell me that? Two months down the mountain, and your eloquence hasn’t improved at all!”
“Forget it,” he sighed. “I’ve said too much.”
“But I know your master, he cares about you.” Yongjian told Chen Henian that Zhou Xianzhi had discovered the tomb first, finder’s keepers being the rule in their world.
But he had sold the information to Hu Busun, using her as an intermediary to contact the Southern sect, with one condition: no rogue cultivators, only the orthodox sects and the Tianyin sect.
Yongjian hadn’t understood his motives until he saw Chen Henian.
Zhou Xianzhi had been paving the way for his disciple. He trusted Hu Busun, who owed him a favor. The orthodox sects wouldn’t openly target a Tai Yin body, and with Yongjian himself present, Chen Henian would be safe.
But Zhou Xianzhi had vanished after making these arrangements. Yongjian chuckled. “That scoundrel, he knew I wouldn’t refuse him, that I would even protect you.”
Chen Henian’s expression remained neutral. Yongjian, realizing they weren’t close, stood up, pointing at each of them. “Enough talk, get some rest. But remember, once we’re inside the tomb, you listen to me, you stay within my sight, understand?”
Chen Henian nodded. The three of them would join the Southern Daoists, the first group to enter the tomb, following Yongjian at noon.
An imperial tomb, four gates, three life gates, one death gate.
They had already identified the death gate, using explosives to open the three life gates. The Southern Daoists would enter through the eastern gate. Chen Henian arrived to find a pile of rubble at the entrance, halfway up the mountain, the surrounding grass neatly trimmed, the air filled with the scent of damp earth.
“The greatest danger in a tomb is triggering traps, getting separated and forced to fight alone,” Zuo He said. “I discussed it with Master, he agreed this is a good plan.”
“So this is how we’re going in?” Chen Henian tugged at the thick rope tied around his waist, connecting him to Zuo He and Jiang Wan, a secure knot, the rope sturdy but uncomfortable, like tethered grasshoppers. He was glad they were entering last, spared the others’ amusement.
“Let’s go,” Zuo He said, entering the tomb, the sudden tug on the rope almost sending Chen Henian sprawling.
He glared at Zuo He, who couldn’t see him, the three of them, bound together, following the others.
Zuo He led the way, a candle in his hand, its flickering light casting shadows on the walls.
Yongjian, responsible for leading the way and protecting his disciples, couldn’t focus on them, leaving them to follow, reaping the benefits of the others’ efforts. Chen Henian had never robbed a tomb before. They walked through the narrow passage, the dirt floor turning to smooth stone after about fifty meters.
The tunnel opened into a large chamber, its arched ceiling supported by stone pillars, wide enough for five people to walk abreast, moss growing on the damp walls, the tomb, hidden within the mountain for a thousand years, merging with the earth.
They resembled tomb raiders, but no tomb raider would be so reckless. The Southern Daoists, like cautious sweepers, carefully checked each stone tile on the floor.
Chen Henian heard a click, a stone tile sinking, then the whirring of arrows, a trap triggered. He couldn’t see clearly, the Southern Daoists, shoulder to shoulder, deflecting the arrows with their swords, the ancient projectiles brittle and harmless, their poison long gone, their threat minimal against trained warriors.
He saw only broken arrowheads on the floor as they passed. The traps were few, not what he expected from an imperial tomb.
The group stopped before a large stone door. If this wasn’t the main chamber, if the Northern and Tianyin sects had reached it first, he would be very displeased. He wanted to be the first to open the coffin, to see its contents before anyone else.
“Don’t get distracted, stay alert,” Zuo He’s voice came from ahead. The tomb door couldn’t be forced open, they had to find the mechanism. He tried to move forward, but the rope held him back. He turned to see Chen Henian standing still.
“You’re walking too fast,” Chen Henian said.
Zuo He stopped, waiting for him.
“Can we hurry up?” Jiang Wan urged. “This place is creepy.”
“Indeed,” Chen Henian said. “The yin energy is strong, there might actually be a jiangshi here.”
As he spoke, the red string on his finger pulsed, its color deepening. He quickly hid his hand, then felt a cold sensation on his back.
The ghost wanted to speak. He put his hand in his pocket, allowing the tendril to coil around his finger.
“Be careful,” the ghost’s voice echoed in his mind, a low, rumbling sound.
Chen Henian felt a sense of unease, not from the warning, but from the ghost’s tone, its anger palpable.
It was warning him, it must have sensed something. I’ll be careful, he replied silently, then took a step forward, and the ground beneath his feet vanished.
He fell, the support disappearing, as if he had stepped into thin air, a strange scent rising from the darkness below, like a corpse, but not quite.
Jiang Wan, caught off guard, was pulled down with him, the rope tightening, their screams swallowed by the darkness, their combined weight pulling Zuo He down with them.
Zuo He, having walked ahead, hadn’t been looking back. The trap, sprung without warning, had caught him off guard. He dropped the candle, reaching for the stone floor, but his fingers slipped, grasping only dust and dirt.
They fell together, a single gasp echoing through the tomb as the stone tile slid back into place.
The main tomb door, its mechanism finally disarmed, opened slowly, revealing an empty chamber. The disciples turned, finding only a dropped candle, the three of them gone.
Chen Henian felt like he was falling off a cliff, the drop at least fifty meters, his legs twitching involuntarily. The ghost cushioned his fall, its form a soft, yielding barrier, preventing him from being crushed. He bounced slightly, then rolled on the ground as the ghost caught Jiang Wan and Zuo He with its tendrils, lowering them gently before severing the rope.
They landed, coughing, the air thick with the smell of decay, rotting wood and stale apples, a damp, musty odor, like walking on a decomposing body. He wondered if they would suffocate.
He sat up, brushing the dust off his clothes, then looked around.
“Damn it,” Jiang Wan rubbed her stomach. “I thought my waist was going to snap! A thousand-year-old trap, still working perfectly! No warning at all!”
Zuo He, catching his breath, said, “At least we’re still together. And this place… it’s huge.”
They looked up, the darkness above like a starless night, the walls rising around them like the inside of a pyramid, tiers of stone steps leading upwards, a vast, open space.
They examined the walls, a smooth, bronze-like surface, covered in inscriptions, too faded and worn to decipher, bronze statues standing guard, but no coffin.
The darkness made it difficult to see, to find a hidden door, or anything to light their way.
“Do you recognize this place? Or anything here?” Chen Henian asked the ghost silently.
The ghost didn’t reply, its silence unsettling.
Jiang Wan and Zuo He examined the objects around them, their tomb-raiding skills lacking, Jiang Wan unable to summon her Black Wraith, the yin energy too strong, even for a ghost.
“Stop,” Chen Henian said suddenly, his voice low. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” they both asked, stopping their search.
Chen Henian turned, his footsteps slow and deliberate. “Music,” he said.
“Someone’s playing the qin, an ancient qin.”
The sound was faint, distant, like a gentle breeze across a lake, soft and soothing, yet clear, the strings plucked with a steady hand, a skilled musician.
Jiang Wan and Zuo He looked at each other, shaking their heads. “We don’t hear anything. Are you alright? Some tombs have hallucinogenic properties.”
“I’ve never raided a tomb before, but I’m not a fool. I know the difference between reality and illusion,” Chen Henian retorted.
“Follow me.” He was certain the music was real. He followed the sound, his footsteps echoing through the chamber, until he reached a wall, his hand finding a recessed area, a hidden door.
“I’ll find the mechanism,” Zuo He said, surprised.
“No need,” Chen Henian said. “Who would be playing music in a tomb? It seems… the tomb owner is awake, and it knows we’re here. I’m guessing it’ll open the door for us.”
As he spoke, dust fell from the wall, and the stone door slid open, revealing a long passage.
The tendril coiled around his finger, the ghost’s voice in his mind, low and serious. “Don’t go. Dangerous.”
Only a millennial jiangshi could elicit such a warning from the ghost. “Is there a way to contact Grandmaster Yongjian?” Chen Henian asked.
Zuo He shook his head.
“Then we have no choice. It’s inviting us in, we can’t just stand here. We have to see for ourselves,” Chen Henian said.
The tendril tightened around his arm, its urgency fueling his curiosity. The jiangshi must be connected to the Jiang royal family. He entered the passage, his footsteps echoing, the hidden mechanisms activating, doors opening before him, the music growing louder, until they reached a vast chamber, the largest yet, its perimeter lined with towering walls, their surfaces carved with intricate patterns.
The last door opened before them.
Torches flared to life, illuminating the chamber, revealing a pair of eyes in the darkness, blood-red and glowing, vertical pupils like a predator’s, a chilling sight.
Zuo He drew his sword, the threat palpable, Chen Henian sensing the ghost within him stirring.
The music stopped. A tall, shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, its form draped in a long robe, blending into the shadows.
“Brother,” it said, its voice deep and resonant, like grinding stones, a mixture of longing and rage.
“You’ve finally come to see me.”
