Chen Mazi's gang were all hardened tomb robbers, each bold and reckless. They paid no heed to spending the night in a funeral house at Yizhuang village, so once they'd made up their minds, they set off towards the mist-shrouded Laoheng Ling mountain trail with its ribbon-like path. The remote mortuary was found only after dusk had settled when they saw it appeared to be an abandoned temple of the Mountain God, though even in decay it maintained a decent scale - three courtyards arranged in sequence. Half the eaves of the main hall had collapsed, wild grasses carpeting the broken tiles. Under cold moonlight, flocks of bats wheeled through the air as the rusted wooden gate creaked ominously in the mountain wind.

Though courageous by nature, the gang couldn't suppress their unease at such a scene. Pressing on, Chen Mazi had already learned there'd been a corpse-warder - an ugly middle-aged woman who secluded herself due to her appearance. She had died two days prior and lay in the rear chamber now. The desolate mortuary stood empty of caretakers.

Though night had fallen, they couldn't rest immediately. Chen Mazi first examined possible exits before lighting a lantern and stepping into the main hall with his men. Seven or eight black lacquer coffins sat there like beds at a death house - who knew how many corpses these wooden caskets had cradled through years? Name plaques for each occupant stood before them, but the air was thick with foulness as cadavers preserved in arsenic lay stiffened within. The mountain's remoteness meant corpse-bearers arrived only every six months to retrieve the bodies.

Huama Guai, a by trade and superstitious among thieves, performed rituals upon entering - burning incense for the dead while murmuring, "We've missed our inn, seeking shelter here briefly..." His words were cut short as strange noises erupted from within the coffins. A sudden cold gust dimmed their lamps.

A chill wind swept through the mortuary, nearly extinguishing lanterns and candles as old coffin panels groaned like claws scraping wood. Goosebumps rose on exposed skin at the eerie sound.

Chen Mazi grasped his short dagger - he preferred blades to guns when tomb-robbing, carrying one with storied origins: "Xiaoshenfeng," a blade once used by emperors, its cold gleam legendary in sharpness. The flickering light revealed this place was indeed cursed, either haunted or concealing evil.

Chen signaled his men to form a fan formation and pry open the coffins to inspect their occupants. Luo Laowei drew both pistols while checking each casket. After much commotion, the noises ceased abruptly, leaving only mountain winds howling through ancient trees with ghostly sorrow.

These seasoned grave robbers were experts in "high art, bold heart," loath to show fear before peers. Making several rounds among dozens of coffins without anomaly, they set tripwires laced with cinnabar powder on the stiffened corpses - arsenic-preserved bodies couldn't bend enough to escape. Sealing the lids again, they closed the hall.

Back in the courtyard, stars and moon were hidden by rising clouds signaling imminent rain. "Wang" technique relied on reading soil and grass patterns - soon refreshed by rainfall would aid their efforts. Beyond the mountain lay Pingshan's ancient tombs, so they decided to stay at Yizhuang village. Their tools included killer weapons and anti-evil measuring instruments; what was this humble mortuary against them?

After surveying the derelict buildings with its stench of decay, only a small rear room near the exit seemed livable - once the warder's quarters, the sole space for the living in this death lodge. Luo Laowei, weary from walking all day, kicked open the door and stepped inside.

As he turned, an upright corpse stood behind another panel, wrapped completely in white cloth with only a wooden plaque visible above it. The life lamp burned low like a grain of yellow bean. Even hardened killer Luo Laowei hadn't expected this sight, cold sweat breaking out as his hand instinctively went to his revolver.

Chen quickly restrained him, inspecting the plaque's talisman - a familiar "Jingshi" talisman from Chenzhou school with inscriptions: "Six Jia on left, Six Ding on right; thunder and lightning in front, wind and clouds behind. Drive away ten thousand evils by clearing them." The talisman read as "Position of Old Madame He Shi's Corpse," clearly the warder who'd died recently. According to local customs, bodies needed to be made into zombies before burial.

Chen's men were all outcasts with their own tragic histories. They nodded in agreement - "Right you are, Chief. From ancient times, we shouldn't the poor."

Luo wanted to burn the corpse for peace of mind but gave up when seeing Chen's men's determination. Huama Guai hastily cleared a space while the others sat cross-legged on the floor sharing dry rations and burning liquor against the cold.

As thunder clapped violently outside, rain began pouring down in torrents. Chen drank while meditating over reconnaissance reports about Pingshan's tomb. "Stay alert tonight," he warned the group.

Chatting with wine, they discussed Old Madame He Shi's bizarre name - could her face resemble a rat? But wrapped in cloth, no one could tell. Luo had long coveted Hong Nv, who refused to marry after family tragedy but was indispensable for ancient tomb tricks and opening coffins. He gave up his interest though, especially as she was Chen's trusted subordinate.

When Huama Guai mentioned her appearance, Luo couldn't resist: "Let's see!" He yanked the cloth away. All gasped - pale gray skin with faint black aura, a face crowded with tiny rat-like features and prominent buckteeth. Only lacking fur but unmistakably a rodent visage.

Chen scolded their naivety for marveling at such an ugly corpse when veteran grave robbers should know better.

The most common tale about Old Madame He Shi was this: years ago, her husband "Old Wu" at Yizhuang made blood tofu - pork and bean curd mixed into blocks dried over fire pits. One day as he cooked, a woman sneaked in through the back window to steal his dish while knocking on the front door for distraction. Old Wu chased after her with an axe, chopping off her rat tail during the pursuit.

The woman wept, begging marriage since she couldn't revert to human form without it. Though initially furious at being tricked by a fox spirit, Old Wu accepted out of loneliness - he'd spent years as an outcast. After his death from mountain bear attack, she remained alone as a warder.

Villagers actually knew the real story: He Shi wasn't a rat spirit but a woman with grotesque features who fled to the mountains, giving rise to rumors that made her the local bogeyman for unruly children.

Chen explained this phenomenon to his men - some people just have tragic facial deformities.

Luo, now embarrassed by his earlier impulsive act of unveiling the corpse, tried changing subjects: "Huama, you're a's descendant. What killed He Shi?"

Huama examined her lips and features before grimacing: "Looks like cadaverous toxins... Could it be an undead corpse attacked her?"