The young woman, known as Hong Guniang, was intimately familiar with the stage props of the opera troupe, and instantly determined that the figure in the corridor was absolutely not dressed as a general from the Yuan Dynasty, but rather like a Wuchang—a grim reaper—clad head-to-toe in black robes, boots, and hat. While the funerary garments used for burial were certainly not ordinary clothes, why would a noble buried in a tomb be wearing theatrical attire? To the people of the Republic of China era, the clothing worn by ancient people might all look like costumes for the stage, but who would bury a corpse in the tomb wearing the black robes of a Gousigui (a soul-snatching ghost)?

The band of thieves was stunned into silence by her words. Earlier, they had encountered a paper-cut woman in Ming Dynasty Shuitianfu clothing inside the Iron Pavilion; now, another figure appeared dressed in the black robes of a Gousigui. They hadn't even found the true burial chamber within the Dan Palace of Mount Ping, yet they had already run into so many strange and eerie occurrences, which inevitably bred a sense of creeping dread. What if the mountain mist truly concealed a Black Wuchang?

Grave robbing and tomb raiding rely entirely on audacity. The more uneasy the heart, the more one suspects unseen spirits are at work. This is why there has always been the saying: those who raid tombs don't believe in ghosts, and those who believe in ghosts don't raid tombs. The Xieling group had always believed the main threats within an ancient tomb came from traps and reanimated corpses (zha shi), rarely touching upon the taboo subjects of ghosts, gods, or spirits. But they had all just witnessed the black-robed Gousigui with their own eyes. In that era, the primary entertainment was listening to storytellers and watching opera. The more vulgar folk operas often included ghost plays, fox plays, or cat plays, all of which relied on exaggerating ghostly or monstrous plots to draw an audience. The black-robed, black-hatted Gousigui was a central character in these plays, and precisely because they were closer to everyday life, they were more easily believed.

Seeing the growing panic among his men, Chen Xiazi worried that his brothers would lose their edge, so he declared, "Those opera scripts are mostly fabricated nonsense. Eight or nine out of ten plays are completely made up—how can we take them as truth? Forget about a Wuchang ghost coming to claim souls; in this world today, even immortals can’t escape the flash and bang of foreign guns and cannons. Whatever is in this corridor, let’s fire a few volleys first." With that, he waved his hand, ordering his men to raise their rifles. The sound of bolts being pulled back was uniform—rounds chambered—and they were about to unleash a barrage into the corridor.

Pazhugu, standing nearby, saw the bandits preparing to fire. A thought flashed through his mind, and he quickly whispered to Chen Xiazi that they must not use guns. The disturbance among the birds and fowl indicated that the corpse in the black robes likely carried some potent poison, and they should not be careless just because they had superior weaponry. If the venom were to splatter, no one could enter this tunnel.

Chen Xiazi suddenly understood and quickly said, "Indeed, heroes see eye to eye! The bullets chambered are just for bolstering courage. We'll have the lads use the grappling hooks to pull it over." He immediately ordered a dozen men forward, who extended the Centipede Hanging Ladder, hooked it onto the figure in black robes, and began dragging it back.

The bandits obeyed, pulling and hauling until the cross-legged figure was dragged into the area enclosed by the iron walls. The rest of the group, rifles chambered and swords drawn, surrounded it as if facing a major enemy. When they pulled it closer, they saw it was indeed a bizarrely shaped zombie—an ancient corpse that had not decomposed.

This male corpse in black robes was tall and stout, sitting cross-legged with its hands held in a strange mudra. It was indeed wearing the costume of a Gousigui from the opera stage. The bamboo ladder’s tugging had already caused the decaying robes to rip into shreds, revealing skin that was white, as if steeped in water. Touching it with the bamboo ladder caused pus to ooze out. Its eyes, ears, nose, and mouth were packed with black powder, suggesting it might have died with blood seeping from its seven orifices. The attire offered no clue as to which dynasty or era it belonged to; the boots and robes were so decayed, it suggested the time since its death was considerable.

Seeing that it was merely a stiff, ancient corpse, the bandits finally relaxed, cursing, "Damn ghost, dressing up like this! You nearly scared the courage out of our grandfathers just now…"

Chen Xiazi felt the manner of the corpse's death was strange, so he led the bandits in a careful inspection. The ancient corpse was filled with potent toxins, but it didn't seem to be the centipede venom common to Mount Ping. The poison had saturated the entire body, suggesting the man had ingested it before death. Fearing contact with the poisonous pus, they used bamboo skewers to poke and prod the body, cleaning off and identifying the items the dead man carried one by one. They found only medicine bottles and jars, paper and wooden limbs of puppets, and a large leather sack filled with hard, pitch-black beans. The sight left everyone utterly bewildered, unable to fathom what these motley objects were.

Finally, one of the thieves used a bamboo skewer to fish out a gold plaque from the black robe at the corpse's waist. Characters were cast upon it. Both Chen Xiazi and Pazhugu were proficient in ancient scripts, and upon focusing their gaze, they clearly read the four vigorous, archaic characters: “” (Guanshan Taibao).

Seeing this object, a bolt of lightning suddenly illuminated the dark clouds in their minds. They instantly recalled a piece of history long buried: there had been other tomb robbers in this ancient tomb of Mount Ping; someone had gotten there first! They spoke in unison, "It turns out to be the Guanshan Taibao of the Great Ming!"

Chen Xiazi pondered for a moment, then hastily ordered men to drag the corpse into the brick kiln used for alchemy and cremate it. Only then did he turn to Pazhugu and ask, "The matter of the Guanshan is baffling. I always thought it was just unreliable legend and apocrypha, but it turns out the Guanshan Taibao truly exists. Brother, your travels span the world; have you heard any details about this group?"

Pazhugu knew little more about this matter than Chen Xiazi. Ancient lore held that among tomb robbers, only the Fàqiū, Mòjīn, Bānshān, and Xièlǐng had established styles and traditions—they were called the "Four Paths," though in reality, they were three factions, as the Fàqiū Heavenly Officer and the Mòjīn Commandant were essentially the same. After the Fàqiū Seal was destroyed, only the Mòjīn Commandant remained, along with the numerous Xièlǐng laborers and the resourceful Bānshān Taoists.

Besides these three factions, the rest were scattered bandits and local plunderers. The most noteworthy among them were those in the south who specialized in retrieving bodies or disturbing graves; the rest of the petty thieves were not worth mentioning. However, in the history of tomb raiding over the last few centuries, a supremely mysterious legend persisted. It was said that during the Ming Dynasty, there was a group of tomb raiders known as the Guanshan Taibao, adept at discerning mountains and revealing secrets, who secretly excavated many imperial mausoleums. Their methods and motivations were never known; even the gods couldn't guess their moves once they acted. The legend remained just that, and people of the current age knew nothing more about them, unable even to judge whether the Guanshan exploits mentioned in the stories were true.

Unexpectedly, here in the tunnel behind the (Open Room) of Mount Ping, they had encountered the corpse of a Guanshan Taibao. Judging by the strangeness of this person's attire and demeanor, and the items he carried, it was an unprecedented oddity. Chen Xiazi recalled a story among the itinerant thieves about a skill called "Bone-Shrinking Technique"—when a thief performed the ritual, they could squeeze through dog holes and mouse holes to enter tightly secured mansions, steal valuables inside, and then retreat the same way.

However, this dark art was time-limited; if delayed, the thief would die inside the house. Still, this was mere street talk. While the world genuinely knew of bone-shrinking techniques that allowed one to slip out of chains and shackles—it only involved dislocating bodily joints, not squeezing through tiny holes. But there was another technique, similar to corpse control, called Puppet Art, which controlled paper figures or dogs to slip through cracks in walls to steal. Its control mechanism wasn't soul possession of the paper but driving swarms of insects to do the thieving, the specifics of which even Chen Xiazi didn't fully grasp.

Looking at the paper cutout in the Iron Pavilion and the Guanshan Taibao dead outside the gate, it seemed they had used dark arts to steal the elixirs from the Iron Pavilion. To avoid being bitten by the mountain centipedes, this Guanshan tomb robber had injected himself with medicinal fluid to infiltrate the area. It appeared, however, that the layout of the Iron Pavilion Corpse Tree was beyond his expectations, and he spent too long, causing his technique to fail, leading to his death here.

Chen Xiazi deduced seven or eight parts of the truth based on his experience, but the tomb-raiding path of the Great Ming Guanshan Taibao was so bizarre and unorthodox that an outsider couldn't discern the details. The Xièlǐng group had exerted its utmost effort to excavate the ancient tomb of Mount Ping, costing fortunes and losing many men, only to run into a "second visit"—they were, in fact, several centuries behind the Guanshan Taibao.

However, seeing that the dark fellow died in the tunnel without any Ming artifacts or treasures, and with no one to collect the body, this suggested that although he had been first to enter and seek treasure in Mount Ping, he had no surviving accomplices. If there was a great treasury in the tomb, most of its contents were likely still intact.

With this thought, Chen Xiazi's mind settled somewhat. From ancient times till now, established tomb-raiding organizations had never held grudges or conflicts with one another; they maintained a state of mutual non-interference. If someone was a step behind and discovered upon entering a tomb that others had already passed through, they could only accept their bad luck. Therefore, the bandits didn't dwell on finding an ancient corpse wearing a Guanshan waist token. After all, he was a man dead for two dynasties. After cremating the body in the secret brick kiln room, they dismissed the matter.

After looting the treasures and strange artifacts under the old osmanthus tree, the bandits sent out several quick and nimble scouts to probe ahead into the tunnel, with the main body following closely behind Chen Xiazi and Pazhugu. This passage, built into the mountainside, wound and twisted, gradually ascending with the contours of the mountain. After a stretch, the stone path grew steeper, suddenly turning into stone steps. Climbing up led to a narrow cave. The cover of the secret passage exit had already been removed, and they emerged into a field of ruined beams and broken tiles—the remains of a palace.

Just as Chen Xiazi had predicted, this was the rear hall where they had first entered. The passage between the rear hall and the Wuliang Hall of the Dan Palace had been sealed shut with huge stones and molten lead by the Yuan people. This complex of halls had been put to the torch when Chen Xiazi and his group fled. The secret passage leading to the Dan Well was hidden within the rockery of the courtyard, extremely concealed. Unless one emerged from inside, it would be nearly impossible to find from the rear hall.

Reaching this point, Chen Xiazi couldn't help but feel a surge of anxiety. The centipedes hidden in the mountain had all been wiped out, yet they hadn't found a trace of the actual tomb chamber—everywhere they looked were illusory domains and false tombs. He couldn't help but curse the cunning of the Yuan people. Among all dynasties, Yuan tombs were the hardest to plunder because Yuan culture absorbed influences from all sides. Even among nobles and princes, their burial rites and customs varied widely. The layout and site selection of their mausoleums incorporated many customs from the Western Regions and the Northern Deserts, mixed with the subtleties of Central Plains Feng Shui and Dragon Veins. The "buried-upside-down" Xiazifun (casket tomb) was a product of this unique period. Consequently, most successful Yuan tomb raids were sheer accidents. Ancient Yuan tombs had always been a "blind spot" in the trade of grave robbing.

At this point, one of Chen Xiazi's men offered a suggestion: since they couldn't find the main treasury, why not try the "Urn Listening Technique" again? This technique involved digging a pit in the mountain, burying a large urn capable of holding a person, and then the robber would squat inside the urn, effectively being underground, using the large vessel to amplify their hearing to discern the direction of subterranean spaces.

Chen Xiazi shook his head; this was clearly the talk of a layman. The Urn Listening Technique could only detect the ground below the level where the urn was buried, mostly used in earthy layers. Mount Ping's terrain was slanted and on the verge of collapse, filled with hard rock and large stones, making it impossible to employ this method. Furthermore, when they first scouted Mount Ping, they had already used the "Listening" Principle to check the mountain. They could only discern that the mountain interior was filled with vast caves, one connected to the next. Precisely because there were too many cavities, the accuracy of underground echoes was compromised. Even though Chen Xiazi's hearing surpassed that of ordinary men, he couldn't clearly map the internal contours of the mountain, so he dismissed the suggestion.

Now, having searched the Wengcheng (Urn City), the Dan Palace, the Corpse-Concealing Well, the Iron Pavilion Open Room, and the Rear Hall without finding where the Yuan general was interred, they had to suspect that perhaps, in addition to not marking the site above ground, the tomb shaft itself had been backfilled with earth, leaving no empty space. If the tomb were truly compacted earth, it would be impossible to locate in the complex topography of Mount Ping. Since the Yuan people disregarded Feng Shui, perhaps even summoning the aid of Mòjīn Commandants would not help in using Fenjīn Dìngxuè (dividing gold to determine the spot) to strike directly at the heart.

However, Chen Xiazi understood that although they had obtained many rare and precious objects this time, failing to find the actual tomb meant failure. If he returned empty-handed after investing such a huge stake, he, as the leader of the thieves, would have no face left to contend with others in the world.

As he struggled with this dilemma, Pazhugu suddenly had an idea. While the methods for underground raiding were astonishingly effective, the sheer scale of the Dan Palace within Mount Ping had absorbed the entire spirit and energy of the bandits, causing them to overlook the mountain's topography. Mount Ping resembled a treasure vial worn by an immortal that had fallen to earth—the mountain body resembled an ancient vial, and its interior was hollow like the belly of a bottle. The Dan Palace and its halls were built within it. Therefore, everyone who came to raid the mountain focused their attention on the caves, completely neglecting the bottle neck—the mountain summit.

Ancient mausoleums were always built underground; even those whose coffins were hewn from mountains or chambers carved from stone had their burial chambers deep within the mountain belly. But how could the ancient tomb of Mount Ping be judged by common sense? Perhaps the tomb's location was the exact opposite of worldly ancient tombs; maybe it was built at the very peak of the mountain, while false tombs and illusory burial sites were scattered below to confuse the eye.

The summit of Mount Ping was incredibly treacherous. If the ancient tomb truly rested up there, the main force of the Xièlǐng bandits would have no room to maneuver. This strategy of doing the opposite held the potential to be completely unexpected. However, Pazhugu was sharp-witted and extremely experienced in tomb raiding. After circling the mountain twice, he guessed this possibility.

In terms of intellect and strategy, Chen Xiazi was not inferior to the Bānshān Taoist. But because he was leading the world's thieves, with immense ambitions and complicated human affairs, he lacked the clarity of mind and unimpeded insight that Pazhugu possessed when faced with a puzzle. Thus, he had never considered this point. Hearing Pazhugu’s words, he suddenly realized, saying, "You have truly spoken the words that awaken one from a dream!" The Yuan people built the tomb in the Dan Palace of Mount Ping with the clear intention of suppressing Dongyi—this was a form of "Aversion Magic" (Yansheng). Though it was rare to use a mausoleum for Aversion Magic, the technique that the master builders used for their Yangzhai (living residences) involved placing the object of aversion at the highest point of the structure. The ancient tomb of Mount Ping must be hidden on the mountaintop.