Chen Xiazi, who had previously led tomb raiding parties without a single failure, was always supremely confident in his skills of "observation, listening, inquiry, and diagnosis." But as the saying goes, even the best swimmer can drown; it is always the skilled ones who meet their end in the water. By using the "listening" technique, he had discerned underground spaces as vast as cities. He fully expected that once they breached the tomb passage and the inner door, and neutralized the poisonous fluids blocking the entrance to the main vault, they could strike directly at the heart of the treasure. Yet, he had grown complacent, and this time, they had truly entered a "dead end" from which there was no return.

There was no time to determine if the city's traps had been triggered by the sappers prying open the coffins. The thousand-pound portcullis, severing their retreat, slammed down with a deafening crash. A sound like rushing water erupted from the mechanisms on the surrounding tower structures of the barbican, and the tension on the bowstrings lining the pitch-black city walls instantly grew taut. This sudden commotion rapidly frayed the nerves of the assembled bandits.

Chen Xiazi knew this signaled the activation of the tomb’s hidden crossbows, meaning a volley of ten thousand arrows would soon follow. His ability to command the realm's thieves proved his mettle; in the face of this peril, he instead calmed himself. He understood that if the men scattered in panic, death was certain for all. Their only hope lay in holding their ground, seeking a flaw in the defense, and perhaps carving out a chance for survival. Chen Xiazi had no time for detailed discussion with Old Man Luo; he immediately whistled sharply, rallying the bandits to stabilize their formation and raise their rattan shields and straw mats for defense.

The bandits shouted in unison, erecting their rattan shields around the perimeter of their formation, while those inside held their rattan shields and straw mats high overhead for cover. Fire poisons and smoke traps were common in ancient tombs, so the Xie Ling equipment—both ladders and shields—had been soaked in medicinal oils, rendering them resistant to both water and fire. They immediately tightened their formation, creating an impenetrable enclosure.

Old Man Luo led several sappers away from the main formation. Seeing the bandits raise their rattan shields, forming a defensive perimeter as solid as an iron barrel, and hearing the dense, layered whirring of the mechanisms atop the ramparts, they too realized the gravity of the situation. They fled back toward the center of the formation as fast as their legs could carry them. Chen Xiazi also directed the bandits to close ranks around them. At almost the same moment, the indiscriminate arrows from the four surrounding walls began to rain down.

The arrow shower was like a swarm of locusts. A few slower sappers were struck down instantly on the ground. Old Man Luo, a man who had crawled out of piles of the dead, saw the tide turning against him and wormed his way through any gap available, using several of his subordinates as human shields. He finally managed to struggle back to the rear shield wall of the Xie Ling bandits, emerging completely unscathed.

Chen Xiazi remained protected in the center of the formation, hearing the rain of arrows from all sides striking the rattan shields and clattering to the ground. Although the arrowheads and bolts were ancient, the force behind them remained astonishing. He inwardly cursed, then reasoned that while the arrow barrage was fierce, the shields protected them on all sides, creating a defense so tight not even water could penetrate. If they could just hold out for a moment, the mechanisms on the ramparts would eventually exhaust their supply. If it hadn't been for the sheer numbers and superior equipment of the Xie Ling bandits, they might not have escaped this fate.

Just as this flicker of hopeful thought crossed his mind, he felt a searing heat. It turned out some arrows were tipped with phosphorus, igniting upon contact with the air. Furthermore, many of the accumulated white bones within the city contained hidden stores of lamp oil and fish grease, which were instantly ignited, causing the flames to surge like a city being consumed by conflagration. Trapped in the inferno, the bandits' formation wavered violently. Chen Xiazi hastily ordered the men on the outside to continue blocking the stray arrows, while those inside extended the Centipede Scaling Ladders, pushing aside the surrounding bones to thrust the wall of fire back. In this brief moment of chaos, gaps appeared in the shield formation, and several bandits were immediately struck and wounded. The arrowheads were barbed, making it impossible to pull them out once embedded in flesh, and their screams of agony sounded like pigs being slaughtered.

Although the Xie Ling bandits managed to push the nearby skeletal remains away, the ground beneath their feet also caught fire. It turned out that oil bricks were buried underground. However, much of the oil in these bricks had already evaporated, and the fire did not burn intensely. Even so, the heat was enough to scorch the soles of their feet black. Chen Xiazi roared, "The Yuan men are so vicious, they truly intend to wipe us out!" Watching the flames intensify, the heat making even breathing arduous—it felt as if ash was about to erupt from their throats—he knew that if anyone in the group lost their nerve and broke ranks, the formation would collapse. Every single bandit trapped in that barbican would perish; those who weren't burned alive would be riddled with arrows. The difference between life and death now hinged on whether they could hold fast for just a short while. Chen Xiazi dared not delay and quickly shouted, "Brothers, follow my command: Secure the tower and deploy the Qingzi!"

The bandits, driven to desperation by the intense heat, were like ants on a hot griddle, on the verge of complete disorder. Just then, they heard their leader order the erection of bamboo ladders. Fortunately, the leaderless masses had a head to follow. They hastily propped several Centipede Scaling Ladders against each other, constructing a makeshift bamboo tower directly above the largest stone sarcophagus where the flames were weakest. The formation tightened, each man holding his rattan shield aloft against the barrage, climbing the ladder to gain a slight distance from the scorching ground. The panicked crowd gradually stabilized, but this maneuvering cost them several more lives.

By this point, the arrow rain was concentrated entirely on the area where the sarcophagi were arranged, relentlessly targeting the spot where the fire was weakest. Fortunately, the crossbow mechanisms had fixed angles, and once the pattern was discerned, they could largely defend against it. However, the bamboo tower formed by the Centipede Scaling Ladders was surrounded by a sea of fire, making the bandits seem like castaways on an island engulfed by flame. Chen Xiazi, using the firelight, took the opportunity to glance up at the enemy tower. It was better he hadn't looked; upon seeing it, his face drained of color.

The battlements were lined with mounted crossbows, behind which stood countless wooden figures. These figures were the size of normal men, constructed very simply. Their armor and robes had long since rotted away. Their stake-like heads, painted with crude facial features, stared forward with closed mouths, maintaining a solemn expression. They stood in two lines, ceaselessly repeating the motions of loading arrows, drawing the bows, and firing. Within the tower, a channel fed by a cistern of mercury powered the mechanisms. Once the mercury began to flow, it would cycle endlessly until the arrows were exhausted or the apparatus failed.

The strange scent Chen Xiazi had detected earlier in the enemy tower was precisely due to the mercury cistern hidden within. However, before he could analyze it further, the traps had already been sprung. In the art of alchemy and immortal cultivation practiced by the ancient Yellow Masters, lead and mercury were indispensable. The recurring reason why emperors seeking eternal life chose Mount Ping as their refining site was that Chen Prefecture produced the finest cinnabar, from which the highest grade of mercury could be extracted. Xiangxi was rich in mercury, but since the area was inhabited by diverse, unruly tribes, popular uprisings had always been a concern. The Daoist Emperor feared that once the elixirs of immortality were made, they would be seized by the common rebels, so he secretly stationed elite troops to guard the site, eventually constructing a fortified pass within the mountain's belly over the years.

The Song Dynasty prioritized civil over military matters, and the military commanders were all ineffectual theorists who lacked practical military insight, focusing only on fulfilling imperial mandates without considering whether this pass held any real military value. Furthermore, Emperor Huizong believed himself to be an incarnation of the Barefoot Immortal and was obsessed with esoteric arts and strange techniques. He favored a Daoist named Duobao, who claimed mastery over the art of mechanisms and hydraulics. This Duobao invented numerous mechanical devices, mimicking Zhuge Liang’s Wooden Oxen and Flowing Horses, which the Emperor then implemented in the army.

Moreover, Yuan dynasty nobles deeply dreaded tomb robbers, leading to an irreconcilable enmity between the tomb owner and the grave robber—a brutal contest between the dead and the living, a true duel in every sense, as neither party would fare well if they fell into the other's hands. If the Xie Ling faction seized the tomb owner's body, they would surely gouge out teeth for elixirs, scrape jade from orifices, peel skin for rings, and disembowel for pearls—a torture more severe than cremation itself. Likewise, the defensive mechanisms set up by the tomb owner were cunning and cruel. Considering the traps involving igniting fires, quicksand burials, crushing stones, and corrosive fluids, there was never any mercy shown. During that era, false tombs and decoy graves were prevalent, leading to many tales of shifted burial sites, which were actually just deceptive mounds meticulously crafted to mimic reality, designed to mislead thieves. The coffins and burial artifacts were made without regard to cost; once breached, it was assumed the tomb owner had already ascended to immortality, and no one pursued the location of the true burial chamber.

The tomb passage beneath the earth-gate of Mount Ping led directly into this trap-like barbican. If tomb robbers managed to dig to this point using oxen and horses—a feat impossible for a small force—this city gate, meant to guard the immortal palace, was transformed into a false tomb, severing the passage to the real vault. The original mechanisms were repurposed, becoming a ghostly army guarding the tomb, determined to annihilate every last thief daring to raid the grave—a sinister false tomb trap.

Chen Xiazi, however, had no true powers of prognostication, and his past experiences were entirely useless within the tomb complex of Mount Ping, which had been converted from a Daoist palace. No matter how hard he racked his brain, he could never have conceived of this. A sudden realization sent icy chills down to his bones. Though the mechanical crossbows were inanimate objects, they could still move. When one crossbow ran out of tension, wooden figures would step up to load and fire the next. He had no idea how many arrows were stored atop the ramparts, or when the firing would cease. The flames were spreading within the city, and staying on the bamboo tower for too long meant the scorching air alone would become unbearable.

These barrages of flaming arrows, in a genuine siege battle, might not have had any practical effect. But the Xie Ling bandits were here to rob graves, not to storm fortifications. Coupled with their total lack of prior expectation, they immediately lost the initiative and were put at a disadvantage, over a hundred men trapped, struggling desperately on the bamboo tower.

At this point, Old Man Luo regained his composure. He was naturally a fierce and ruthless brute, but seeing the angry wooden figures lining all four sides of the city wall, and having no knowledge of how complex clockwork functioned, he truly believed they were the tomb-guarding specter soldiers attacking them. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Yet, the bandit's nature asserted itself; even if they were in the palace of Yama himself, he would fight like a cornered beast. He ordered his men to open fire on the ramparts, while he himself drew both his pistols, firing left and right. Gunshots roared, and bullets zipped through the air.

The wood of the figures on the ramparts was incredibly dense, the construction simple, and the timber impervious to age and difficult to damage. Even being struck by bullets had little effect on their movements. Furthermore, the scene was chaotic, and amidst the hail of bullets, Old Man Luo and his men couldn't accurately tell if they were hitting anything. But his eyes turned red, and in an instant, he emptied both revolvers. He gritted his teeth and began reloading, but his movements were slightly too exaggerated. A well-aimed arrow from the rampart knocked his military cap from his head. Startled, he quickly ducked and shielded his head, cursing the ancestors of the spectral soldiers and ghost armies.

Chen Xiazi restrained Old Man Luo, telling him not to act rashly. He glanced up at the enemy tower and a plan formed in his mind: only by destroying the mercury mechanism within that tower could he stop the arrow barrage and find a chance to escape. But how difficult was it to climb onto the ramparts amidst a chaotic hail of arrows? Even if they could dodge the increasingly dense volleys, the entire city inside was engulfed in soaring flames—who could possibly fly across that sea of fire?

Chen Xiazi looked down at the Centipede Scaling Ladder beneath his feet and began to calculate. Mustering a surge of reckless bravery, just as he was about to risk his life, he was suddenly seized by the mute Kunlun Moler. It turned out this Kunlun Moler was not deaf and dumb; he could not speak, but his hearing was intact. Having followed Chen Xiazi for many years, he understood his leader's intention simply by observing his expression. He immediately made a hand signal, offering to brave the fire and water for Chen Xiazi, to climb onto the ramparts and destroy the enemy tower that was fed by mercury. He patted his chest, widened his eyes, stuck out his tongue, and made a gesture of slitting his throat—his meaning was clear: this mute's life belonged to the Raider Chief; what was there to fear in death?

Chen Xiazi knew that Kunlun Moler was a wild man from the mountains, possessing agility far beyond that of ordinary men. If he went, there might be a chance of success. He could use the bamboo ladder to vault across the sea of fire, and once beneath the city wall, he would be in a blind spot beyond the reach of the crossbows. The ground beneath them was already scorching unbearable, so there was no time to delay. Chen Xiazi nodded at the mute and ordered him to sacrifice himself to scale the tower.

But before the mute Kunlun Moler could move, a sound of violent string-drawing echoed from the high ground all around them. While the sounds of the wooden figures drawing and setting their crossbows had been frequent, none were as intense as this. The bandits clinging to the bamboo tower shuddered with dread, wondering what new horror was unfolding.

Suddenly, a massive string-snapping sound boomed, followed by a sharp whistling rush of air. Everyone looked up and froze in terror. An arrow as thick as a man's arm, fast as a meteor and powerful as a thunderbolt, carried by a gust of golden wind, shot out from a giant crossbow mounted on the rampart, plunging directly toward the bamboo tower where the bandits were clustered.

Among the bandits, those with some knowledge recognized it as a Shenbi Chuangzi crossbow used in ancient warfare formations, capable of piercing rammed-earth walls. But the thieves, trapped in the fire and arrow storm, had no way to dodge. Moreover, the Chuangzi crossbow struck with immense power and was moving too quickly; even seeing it wasn't enough time to evade. The colossal bolt reached them in the blink of an eye. The first bandit struck head-on, upon seeing such momentum, couldn't even cry out in alarm. He could only brace himself and try to block it with his rattan shield.

The rattan shields could defend against the usual volley of standard crossbow bolts, but against a giant Chuangzi crossbow designed for city assault, it was like a mantis trying to stop a chariot. The three-edged armor-piercing arrowhead shattered the rattan shield, driving the unfortunate bandit clean through. Its momentum unbroken, it then pierced the two sappers behind him, sending flesh and blood fragments scattering as they were pinned to the ground like a string of nails. A bloody gash was torn through the bamboo tower. Stray arrows flew into the gap, striking one man after another who then tumbled off the ladder into the fire. The mute Kunlun Moler was also struck several times.

The survivors were paralyzed with horror. The blood spattered from the pierced corpses covered Old Man Luo’s face. Before the bandits could plug the breach torn by the powerful crossbow, several more strings snapped on the ramparts, and several Chuangzi crossbows fired in succession, shooting fiercely from different directions. Hot human blood was still dripping down Old Man Luo's face. He wiped it away just as a flash of cold steel appeared before his eyes. Before he could see clearly, the heavy bolt whistled through the air and arrived right in front of him.