The grave robbers, after sacrificing a rooster and burning yellow paper, sealed their pact: the elixirs and pearls plundered from the ancient tomb would go to the Banshan Daoren (Mountain Movers), while all other funerary artifacts and treasures would be claimed by the Xieling Daozhong (Ridge-Unloading Bandits). Immediately, they lit lanterns, torches, and oil-soaked pine splinters, departing from the Lao Xiong Ling Yizhuang (Old Bear Ridge Temporary Morgue) and advancing into the mountains under the moonlight for their illicit enterprise.

The contingent heading into the tombs was led by the sappers. Among the engineering troops under Luo Laowai's command, quite a few had already lit incense sticks at "Chang Sheng Shan" (Everlasting Mountain). Lighting an incense stick signified joining the ranks of the Lu Lin (Greenwood society). These men, just like the rest of the Xieling robbers, tied cinnabar ribbons around their arms as a mark of affiliation.

The remaining sappers were much like common soldiers serving in ordinary warlord armies. They carried machine guns and explosives, along with tools for clearing mountains and digging earth—shovels, picks, and axes. In addition, each man carried an extra live chicken in a bamboo cage or basket. The sappers marched in loose, disorganized ranks amidst the chaotic clamor of clucking chickens.

Though their procession snaked crookedly along the mountain paths, every soldier looked invigorated. They paid no mind to the dangers they had encountered during the previous two tomb raids at Ping Shan (Bottle Mountain), for the vast majority of them pinned their hopes on striking it rich alongside Shopkeeper Chen and Marshal Luo. Once they breached the true underground palace, even if the soldiers didn't get the lion's share, the customary reward—ten silver dollars and a substantial block of Fu Shou Gao (Opium)—was guaranteed. While tomb raiding carried risks, in this era of rampant warlord conflict and societal chaos, running into a spectral hazard while digging graves seemed preferable to facing direct gunfire on the battlefield. At least in grave robbing, silver dollars materialized after sweat and toil; soldiers enlisted merely to earn a living, few out of a desire to fight.

Following the sapper detachment came the Xieling bandits directly commanded by Chen Xiazi (Blind Chen). Having lost over a hundred men during the previous two expeditions, they had hastily summoned a new contingent of sharp and capable robbers from Xiangyin. These men were overtly armed and covertly carrying sidearms—every one of them packed real weapons.

Zhegushao, the Banshan Daoren, along with Lao Yangren and Hua Ling, were mingled among the Xieling ranks. Zhegushao carried his own Nuqing chicken in a bamboo cage, secretly stowing a twenty-shot, mirror-barreled pistol. His junior martial brother, Lao Yangren, possessed too distinctive an appearance to pass unnoticed—clearly a Sè Mù Rén (person of Western descent) from the Western Regions. Though barely in his early twenties, his heavy, full beard grew densely, and his physique was imposing, making him look like a robust middle-aged man closer to forty. He was generous in spirit and reserved in speech; whatever his senior brother Zhegushao commanded, he obeyed without question.

Hua Ling's features resembled Zhegushao's, save for a slightly aquiline nose and deep-set eyes; otherwise, she was indistinguishable from Han Chinese. She carried her medicine basket with her. Now, only these three Banshan Daoren remained active in tomb raiding. This time entering Ping Shan, all three carried the heavy Fenshan Juezija (Mountain-Dividing Digging Claws)—a secret of the Banshan Daoren, never witnessed in use by outsiders, the true nature of which even the Xieling leader, Chen Xiazi, did not know.

The mountains of western Hunan comprised eight hundred strange peaks and three thousand clear waters, with every ten steps revealing a new panorama, the topography starkly different from the outside world. By the time the robbers reached Ping Shan, dawn had broken, revealing the surrounding peaks cloaked in verdant, lush forests. Yet, the valleys were shrouded in an oppressive, dark mist, seemingly infused with an ominous energy, rife with the kind of spectral horrors associated with entities like the Bai Laotaitai (Old White Madam). However, the massive troop presence had brought with it a heavy aura of killing intent that managed to thin out the malevolent fog somewhat.

Chen Xiazi asked Zhegushao to survey the situation at Ping Shan. The Banshan and Xieling factions lacked the Mojin Xiaowei's* (Gold-Touching Captains') arcane skills for observing mountain forms and reading subterranean (veins/lines of qi). But Chen Xiazi was adept at the "Listening" technique (Wen character), having already ascertained the general scale of the underground spaces. The barbican city, filled with mercury mechanisms, had been buried by mountain quicksand. There should still be a Underworld Palace Hall (Ming Cheng Da Dian), roughly situated in the middle of the mountain's belly.

Since the mountain was pure bluestone, identifying the true entrance to the tomb passage by observing vegetation or soil traces was difficult, and perhaps no external entrance existed at all. The real gateway was the mechanical city, sealed tight long ago when the Underworld Hall was closed, flooded with huge stones and molten copper. To access the ancient tomb for treasure, it seemed the only recourse was to descend from the sheer cliff at the summit, which led directly to the rear hall. However, the rear hall and the main palace hall were also mortared shut with stone slabs; without a large force, those colossal barriers could not be moved.

Chen Xiazi planned to lead men down through a mountain fissure, first releasing the large flock of live chickens to clear out the venomous insects hidden in the rear hall and crevasses, then using explosives to blast a passage directly into the Underworld Hall. Alternatively, relying primarily on explosives, they could select a weak point on the ridge, blast through the stone mountain, and excavate the underground palace. These were standard procedures for the Xieling strongmen; while feasible, they demanded significant expenditure of time, manpower, and material resources.

Zhegushao gazed at Ping Shan, pondering for a moment. The mountain was truly peculiar: its structure seemed skewed, on the verge of collapse, with massive fissures that looked perpetually on the verge of widening or closing. Its shape resembled a bottle—perhaps a sacred elixir bottle from Heaven had fallen to the mortal world, otherwise, how could such miraculous creation exist? After studying it for a while, an idea struck him: if entering from above was impossible, why not try entering from the base?

He observed the oblique angle formed where the tilted mass of Ping Shan met the ground. This space was choked with hanging vines and trickling water. The angle between the mountain and the earth narrowed as the overhanging stone wall sloped inward. Sunlight was entirely blocked by the mountain mist and clouds, rendering the base of the mountain as dark as night.

Although Zhegushao understood nothing of Feng Shui, he was keen-witted and possessed a knack for observing earth and soil. The massive crevice at the base, deprived of sunlight for centuries, was the shaded side. Yet, the dense tangle of vines indicated that the mountain's foundation was not entirely solid rock. Digging upward from this dead corner at the mountain's base would undoubtedly require less effort than digging downward from above.

The group conferred on the spot and decided that the Banshan and Xieling factions would split into two routes. Chen Xiazi and Luo Laowai would lead the sapper battalion to drill charges into the ridge, blasting rock to carve out a passage. Zhegushao, meanwhile, would take the Banshan Daoren and a detachment of Xieling robbers to search for an entrance at the mountain’s base. With ample manpower this time, proceeding on both fronts was advisable; whichever route succeeded, the treasures of the Ping Shan ancient tomb would be theirs.

All the captured live chickens were given to Chen Xiazi for deployment, their sheer number deemed sufficient to drive out the tomb’s venomous creatures. The incessant crowing echoed across the mountainside, causing the poisonous mist and miasma within Ping Shan’s fissures to retreat and vanish completely. Large and small centipedes, as if recognizing the arrival of their natural predators, burrowed deep into rock cracks and root systems, daring not to exhale any more toxic vapor. Chen Xiazi’s contingent immediately set to work sniffing out locations, digging holes, and preparing blast sites; their progress is omitted here for the moment. Focusing instead on the one remaining Nuqing chicken, Zhegushao carried it with him. Accompanying him were the other two Banshan Daoren, Hua Ling and Lao Yangren, along with Hong Guniang (Red Maiden) leading a dozen or so Xieling robbers for support. Once preparations were complete, they turned toward the rear of the mountain. The area at the base was not easily accessed; from the mountain pass to the bottom was nothing but treacherous, steep Sui Yan (Worrying Rocks); there was no established path. They had to traverse down from the perilous summit.

From top to bottom, although rudimentary paths existed, they were almost exclusively sheer, straight vertical cliffs and dangerous crags. Even a timid glance downward would cause one’s legs to tremble uncontrollably. Zhegushao and the other Banshan Daoren were individuals of high skill and courage. The men led by Hong Guniang were also experts from Chang Sheng Shan. They scaled down the precipices and perilous paths using the Wugong Guashan Ti (Centipede Hanging Mountain Ladder) with seemingly effortless grace.

Zhegushao observed the Centipede Hanging Mountain Ladder; though its construction was simple, it was a masterpiece of ingenious tomb-raiding equipment, tremendously useful. He couldn't help but admire this gear passed down through the Xieling ranks.

The group descended like apes, scrambling over vines and using the ladders, reaching the base swiftly. Looking up, the bottle-neck and opening of Ping Shan hung high above them, dense with green foliage. From a distance, the mountain seemed merely strange, majestic, and perilous; only upon reaching the base did they grasp the sheer immensity and solemnity of this bluestone giant. Millions of tons of massive rock were suspended diagonally in the air, seemingly for thousands upon thousands of years. If the mountain suddenly collapsed, those below would be instantly crushed to dust—a fate even immortals could not evade. Though the robbers were daring to the extreme, the terrifying precariousness of the mountain made their breathing grow ragged.

Stepping forward a few more paces, water droplets trickled down from the rock face, chilling them to the bone. They donned bamboo hats, donned straw raincoats, and proceeded by the light of their horse lanterns, frequently having to push aside obstructing vines, moving excruciatingly slowly. The rock ceiling above descended lower, and the pervasive, damp chill of the surroundings grew heavy, pressing down on the robbers.

After walking several hundred paces, they encountered a pool formed by years of accumulated mountain rainwater. Constant soaking had caused the ground to subside into a basin. The water was deep, its surface covered with duckweed, periodically rippled by dripping water, with numerous long vines trailing into the pool. Zhegushao saw that the mountain base was indeed a realm unto itself, further confirming his earlier hypothesis. However, this place was deep, sealed off, and the water was extensive. To proceed further, they would need to climb over the vines—a feat Zhegushao could manage, but perhaps not the others. Was swimming through this icy, bone-chilling water their only option? At this thought, his brow furrowed slightly.

Hong Guniang noticed his hesitation and ordered her men to link the Centipede Hanging Mountain Ladders into a net shape. Since the bamboo tubes were hollow, they offered great buoyancy and could serve perfectly as rafts for crossing the water.

Zhegushao nodded in agreement. He immediately stepped onto the raft constructed of the bamboo ladders, hoisting his horse lantern to illuminate the way, confirm their bearing, and then ordered everyone to pole forward. The three rafts headed directly toward the center of the pool.

Halfway across the water surface, Hong Guniang, positioned at the front of her raft, heard the sound of countless things writhing in the darkness. Though she had excellent eyesight, it did not compare to the supernatural night vision Chen Xiazi gained through his fortuitous encounter in the ancient tomb; she couldn't see clearly in such profound blackness.

Having witnessed the specialized venomous life nurtured within Ping Shan before, she sensed danger ahead. She quickly drew three throwing knives, focusing intently on the dark ahead. If anything emerged, she would first nail it a few times using the Yueliang Men (Moon Gate) technique.

Zhegushao had also detected movement, but his seasoned experience led him to analyze the sounds. As the rafts advanced, the noise ahead grew louder—like swarms of rats tearing at each other, a dense sound that made judging the quantity impossible. A thought flashed through his mind, and he yelled, "Get down!" and urgently pushed Hua Ling beside him to crouch low on the raft.

Hong Guniang and the others flinched at the shout and quickly dropped their bodies. At that moment, there was a tremendous, chaotic rush of sound. Countless bats exploded from the rocky wall ahead, forming a black tornado between the narrow rock face and the water, flying outward. Due to their sheer numbers and the panic of their exodus, many were jostled by their companions, falling into the water or slamming into the rock walls and vines, letting out miserable shrieks that echoed repeatedly in the mountain base.

One Xieling robber on a raft reacted slightly too slowly and was instantly engulfed by the swarm of bats. The bats, not intentionally malicious, bit instinctively for self-defense upon colliding with anything in their fright; their claws were also razor-sharp, capable of tearing away large patches of flesh with a single swipe. The man could neither ward them off nor struggle; in an instant, his flesh was stripped away, leaving a bloody, mangled skeleton that dropped into the water. His dying scream still resonated against the rock walls.

Zhegushao hadn't anticipated such a massive colony of bats hidden in the mountain base’s rock crevices. Driven by necessity, he forcefully slapped the chicken cage. The Nuqing rooster immediately let out a resounding cry that carried across the water surface. The crow of a male rooster is naturally a sign separating Yin and Yang in the cosmos, and bats, creatures of the night, are naturally repelled by it. Moreover, the Nuqing was no ordinary fowl. As expected, the great swarm of bats was startled, scattering and fleeing, no longer daring to pass over the rafts. In moments, they vanished completely.

Seeing a comrade lost so soon after entering the mountain instilled a sense of dread in the remaining robbers; they felt this initial setback boded ill. These men were accustomed to living by the edge of the blade, having witnessed death countless times, and losing a few men during a raid was not unusual. But the manner of their comrade's death was so gruesome it sent chills down their spines.

Fortunately, the large swarm of bats came and went quickly, and the pool at the mountain's base soon ended. Ping Shan burrowed into the earth here, the bottom littered with rubble, the narrowest point now impassable even standing upright without brushing against the cold rock ceiling overhead.

The group disembarked from the rafts following Zhegushao. Suddenly, they heard faint lapping and sucking sounds ahead, which they found strange. Lighting their lamps and examining the surroundings, they all involuntarily gasped.

Under the dim lamplight, they saw more than a dozen earthen mounds nestled near the mountain’s root, clustered one next to the other—graves. Most were sodden and muddy, leaving the coffins half-exposed. One conspicuous, pale-surfaced coffin had a large pool of foul, bloody fluid seeping from its lid, and a small civet cat was crouched upon the lid, greedily licking the pool of dark blood.