Professor Sun remarked that the cave was far too damp; anything inside would surely have been destroyed. Although the Guanshan Taibao diviner Shigu’s eccentricities were well known, he was, after all, a highly accomplished scholar of esoteric arts in his time. How profound was the art of Guanshan Zhimi? How could he possibly have chosen such a dark and sodden location for a tomb? We were almost certainly in the wrong place again.

I sensed that something was amiss as well. Taking off my gas mask, I could hear the faint sound of running water deep within the rock strata, suggesting an underground river or lake system ahead. Without the genuine Guanshan Zhimi Fu as a reference, it was difficult to determine whether the cavern behind the “Silver Screen and Iron Wall” was truly the entrance to the Earth Immortal Village tomb.

After a moment’s thought, I resolved to venture deeper into the cave. Only by seeing it clearly firsthand could we make further judgments. I told the group, “We have a Mojin Xiaowei, experts from Honeycomb Mountain, and a specialist in ancient scripts among us. If there is no Earth Immortal Village tomb, so be it. But if this tomb truly exists, we will find it. Guessing wildly now is meaningless. Let’s follow the tunnel to the deepest part to survey the space. Everyone keep your eyes peeled along the way.”

Having spoken, I half-opened the “Diamond Umbrella” before me, raised the “Wolf’s Eye Flashlight,” and took the lead down the stone steps. The others followed closely behind. Everyone knew the path ahead was uncertain, so they proceeded with extreme caution, their pace agonizingly slow.

The cave was soaking wet, dripping everywhere. The terrain rose and fell irregularly, and the rudimentary stone steps, obviously hand-chiseled, were intermittent and often missing. Tunnels branched off the main passage frequently, but only one path followed the line of the stone steps.

As we went deeper, the phosphorescent materials in the rock strata increased. Clusters of flickering, ghastly firelight dazzled the eyes. Occasionally, a snake or rat native to the underground world darted past. Seeing this, my anxiety mounted. Waterlogging and ant infestations are both things truly avoided by the deceased, so in a truly auspicious site where feng shui is perfectly balanced, insects, ants, snakes, and rats would never appear.

Then it struck me: the final message left by Commander Feng only mentioned that the place where the Divine Brush drew the mountain was the entrance to the “Ancient Tomb of the Earth Immortals.” However, this “entrance” left to the descendants of the Feng family might not be the tomb gate itself, but rather unconventionally hidden in the outer perimeter of the main tomb complex. The entire mountain body of “Coffin Gorge” was riddled with natural caves and mines. Even if this tunnel did lead to the tomb, we still had no idea how many li we would have to traverse to reach it.

Just as I considered this, the sound of water ahead grew louder. After rounding a bend in the natural tunnel within the mountain, the cavern suddenly opened up into a vast space. The cave floor was covered in a large pool of subterranean water; the surface of the dark water reflected a faint sheen, and clusters of stalagmite-like rock columns emerged from the liquid. A lake deep underground blocked our path forward.

Though the far end of the lake was obscured, the sounds indicated that a waterfall or spring was feeding the underground river into the lake from the distant end. Looking at the near surface, smooth as glass, it appeared to be a stagnant pool, with the groundwater pouring in from above being drained by tunnels around the periphery of the pool.

The stone steps leading from the cave vanished into the water, and there was no path around the edge. To proceed, we would have to wade through. Fatty tossed a stone to gauge the depth, then rolled up his sleeves and trouser legs, preparing to enter the water.

Professor Sun, standing beside me, said, “We have to swim across? I… I can’t swim.”

I replied with feigned distress, “Ninth Master, you’re a landlubber? Why didn’t you say so sooner? Perhaps… you could discuss it with Wang Fatty. He’s got more meat on him, so his buoyancy will be greater. Maybe he can ferry you across.”

Fatty was certainly not keen on such a burdensome task, but as usual, he had to praise himself first: “Fatty is a brick in the Four Modernizations, moving wherever needed… Even Lei Feng carried the old lady across the river. What’s carrying Ninth Master for a swim?” Then he abruptly changed his tone: “But to speak frankly, my swimming skills have truly deteriorated lately. Ninth Master Sun, look how deep this underground lake is—you can’t touch the bottom. If we run into a water ghoul halfway across that grabs our ankles, don’t blame me for being disloyal. At that point, we’ll each have to look out for ourselves. So I must ask you now: are you planning to be soft-boiled or served as sliced noodles?”

Professor Sun bristled, “What are soft-boiled and sliced noodles? You plan to abandon me halfway across the river? This is just like killing the donkey after it’s done its grinding!”

Fatty countered, “Fatty is a straightforward, honest man. Telling you this ahead of time means I’m not doing anything underhanded. This lake is cold and deep, and who knows what dangers lie beneath the water. If you don’t want a water ghoul to drag you down as a replacement, I’ll stab you right in the heart for a quick end first, and then I’ll flee. That’s better than both of us dying in the water. Why don’t you understand the heartfelt concern I have for you?”

While Professor Sun hesitated nervously before the underground lake, Shirley Yang said to me, “We didn’t bring any air bladders. Swimming while heavily laden isn’t feasible. Besides, Yaomei’er can’t swim either. If we must cross this stretch of water, we’ll either have to leave her and Professor Sun behind, or… find some kind of conveyance to cross.”

I was acutely aware of the unknown conditions underwater and hadn’t intended to swim across immediately. I used the flashlight beam to search the vicinity. As the beam swept past, I noticed some faint, mottled markings on the rock face. Upon closer inspection, they seemed related to the legend of the “Black Sheep King’s Tomb.” The figure described in folklore as the “Black Sheep King” might, according to Professor Sun’s analysis, be the “King of Longchuan.” We tentatively referred to him as the “King of Wuling” based on the local legends. In the entire burial area of Coffin Gorge, vestiges of the ancient tomb of the King of Wuling were visible everywhere.

The rock paintings, largely faded, mostly depicted scenes of execution, illustrating various cruel tortures like “waist-cutting and dismemberment.” I thought, this is strange. Could this water-filled cave not lead to a tomb, but rather to an ancient “execution ground”?

Considering carefully, perhaps not. According to the descriptions of ancient burial practices in the Sixteen-Character Yin-Yang Feng Shui Secret Arts, in the ancient regions of Bashu and Wuchu (Sichuan and Hubei), there was a rare superimposed burial structure involving masters and subordinates. Burials were categorized as pei (attendant) or xun (sacrifice). Sacrificial victims were usually those of lower social standing, such as “slaves, artisans, or convicts.” They would be executed or buried alive along with sacrificial animals and spirit beasts when the tomb lord was interred.

In these superimposed master-subordinate tombs, the resting place of these sacrificial victims was known as the “Chaotic Burial Cave” (Luanzang Dong), often comprising eighteen mixed burial caves, hence the name “Eighteen Chaotic Burials.” The main structure of the ancient tomb was built along a central axis, utilizing the best terrestrial energy to construct the main sarcophagus chamber and nether-hall, while the “Eighteen Chaotic Burial Caves” for the sacrificial victims were buried underneath the tomb passage and chambers.

Feng Shui formations are endlessly variable, but superimposed tombs generally have an underground river running beneath them, echoing the I Ching’s phrase, “The dragon leaps in the abyss.” The spiritual energy of this “Dragon Tower Treasure Hall” ascended and coiled upwards from below. The Chaotic Burial Caves beneath the main tomb were considered inauspicious loci. Based on what we saw, the Guanshan Taibao had left a path through the Eighteen Chaotic Burials, and the only way to enter the tomb above was to cross the water via the underground river.

There were eighteen Chaotic Burial Caves in total. The area near the subterranean lake pool likely contained the remains of interred “convicts and captives.” I asked Professor Sun to examine the site and see if this was plausible.

Professor Sun, adhering to his personal habit of never drawing rash conclusions, conceded that my reasoning was sound. Such a system did exist in antiquity. Although no such tomb had ever been excavated, historical records provided ample documentation to serve as evidence. If we could find the remains of many sacrificial convicts, there would be no room for doubt.

We continued searching along the rocks by the water and discovered many cracks in the cave wall filled with scattered human bone fragments. Only teeth and skull pieces were still recognizable, along with chains and shackles linked together, used to bind the convicts in rows. The “Eighteen Chaotic Burials” were a place avoided by tomb robbers as they held no valuable grave goods. Perhaps the Guanshan Taibao hadn’t even bothered to disturb the remains of these convicts, leaving them only to be gnawed by insects and rats.

Roughly estimating the scale of the terrain, the dozens of rock fissures and crevices in the Chaotic Burial Caves contained the remains of at least a thousand skeletons. Dozens of crude pine coffins lay scattered among them, all bound with chains. A palpable sense of lingering resentment seemed to condense deep within those rock crevices, so potent that anyone approaching felt an immediate chill.

Although Yaomei’er was usually courageous, she was clearly unnerved by the terrifying sight and asked me if ghosts existed in the world.

Seeing the cave filled with the skeletal remains of the interred, I estimated we had truly reached the lowest level of the ancient tomb. I was calculating the precise structure of the main tomb when Yaomei’er suddenly posed this question.

Why do people new to grave robbing always ask this? I recalled that when we were in the South China Sea, Gu Cai had asked Uncle Ming the same question. However, I couldn't answer like Uncle Ming. I told Yaomei’er there was nothing to fear. Whether ghosts existed or not, I couldn’t prove anything to her now. Everything in this world is impermanent and subject to unpredictable changes. The extraordinary often happens in the most ordinary moments. Unless you see it with your own eyes, hearing it secondhand won’t make you believe it. If all injustice ceased to exist in the world, what would there be to fear, even if ghosts were everywhere?

As I spoke, a sudden wave of emotion washed over me, and I chuckled at myself: “We’re refusing the path to heaven and throwing ourselves headlong into hell’s open door. We’re living good lives, yet we cross mountains and rivers, racking our brains to enter this accursed place—the Earth Immortal Village tomb. Deep down, we still feel this kind of activity is incredibly stimulating. Have we become addicted to grave robbing?”

Fatty complained, “Old Hu, stop talking nonsense again! How many times have I told you not to dabble in revisionist tomb-robbing routes for the time being? If there are ghosts, there are ghosts—who cares? Besides, can you pursue a career without total dedication? How can you call it addiction? To say that would be truly unfair to the burning passion we have for the Mojin endeavor.” He shone his flashlight into the Chaotic Burial Cave and added, “Look, aren't there coffins here? The lids of coffins are thick and wide; they float on water. I think we can use them as assault boats…” Saying this, he jumped into the scattered bones to overturn those old, dilapidated pine coffins, hoping to dismantle some boards to build a raft, using materials found on site, which was far better than going back to the gorge to retrieve the hanging coffins.

The coffins near the skeletal remains of the convicts mostly held bodies of captives who were once nobles, but as sacrificial offerings, they received no special treatment. Those pine coffins were extremely simple and had been entangled with chains for so long that they crumbled upon contact; there were no intact planks usable for construction.

Fatty kicked apart several thin-shelled pine coffins and, when teasing others, he never stopped talking. He then provocatively asked Professor Sun what they would do if they couldn't find a suitable coffin for an “assault boat.”

Professor Sun didn't seem to notice the underlying sarcasm and replied casually, “Hmm… well… this superimposed sacrificial burial cave is a mixed interment area—coffins on top of bodies, and bodies buried under coffins. When I was working in Henan, I saw rectangular wooden stakes at the bottom layer of a sacrificial cave during an excavation.”

I watched coldly from the side, thinking that Ninth Master Sun had wagered the rest of his life on this venture into the tomb to find the celestial book. It was an all-or-nothing gamble. Yet, he turned a blind eye to Fatty’s actions. Most of the time previously, he had simply pretended not to see or hear anything. Now, he was even subtly suggesting that Fatty search deeper among the scattered remains in the Chaotic Burial Cave for well-preserved timber. I couldn't help but curse the man as a hypocrite. While I sympathized with his difficult life experiences, I couldn't help but think less of his character.

Fatty searched the ground for a while and found no wooden stakes, but he did find six or seven large, crimson coffins—red-lacquered and inlaid with gold—also wrapped in iron chains. The coffins were decorated with iridescent seashell inlays and depicted a deity with a steel beard and halberd, devouring half of a bloody demon as if it were a roast chicken, looking utterly gruesome and brutal. Based on the style of the lacquered coffins, they dated to around the Yuan or Ming dynasties. Everyone found this strange. Why would Ming Dynasty lacquered coffins be hidden beneath the chaotic burial cave of the Black Sheep King’s Tomb? What other strangeness was afoot? Had Feng Shigu of the Earth Immortal Village been buried here?

Professor Sun jumped down to inspect them and said the bottom of the Chaotic Burial Cave had been converted into a “Tomb Well”—a Ming custom. This “well” was different from the “well” in the Golden Well Jade Burial; it wasn't shaped like a well, but merely meant “to be buried directly without lowering into a coffin.” Since the Ming Dynasty continued the Yuan Dynasty's practice of live human sacrifice, the individuals buried in these “Tomb Wells” were certainly living sacrifices. “Zhong Kui Eating Demons” painted on these vermilion coffins were meant to ward off ghosts. We don't know who was sacrificed to the “Earth Immortal,” but most likely, they were suffocated alive inside the coffins.

I nodded and said, “The original site of this tomb was occupied by the Guanshan Taibao. Since Feng Shigu was skilled in numerology and arts, he must have followed ancient Feng Shui precepts, still nailing living people into coffins and burying them here, unwilling to allow even the slightest draft or moisture in the tomb area. These vermilion lacquered coffins are well-preserved; we can use them as vessels to cross the water.”

Coffins floating on water was traditionally associated with the Paichiao sect in Hunan, commonly known as “Carrying the Loud Sedan Chair.” I had heard similar legends from Blind Chen. Coffins wrapped in layers of vermilion lacquer were seamless and watertight, deliberately so to prevent ghosts from escaping, ensuring the living person inside suffocated to death. Naturally, a lingering resentment existed within the coffin, causing it to float instead of sink. However, this was folklore. In reality, the phenomenon of a “ghost-containing coffin crossing the yin river” was likely related to the dense accumulation of putrefactive energy within.

Dismantling the coffin planks now would be too time-consuming and strenuous. It would be better to use the method of the “Loud Sedan Chair”—using the coffins as “assault boats” to cross the water. The group had no better option, so they decided to follow the ancient method. Whether it would work was uncertain. These vermilion lacquered coffins were incredibly heavy; they were truly “dead heavy.” The blocked qi of the deceased who had not fully decayed was much heavier than that of a living person. But as they say, “a folk remedy cures a major ailment”; sometimes, folk methods are surprisingly effective even if you don't believe in them. When we dragged them into the water, the coffins stubbornly refused to sink.

Speaking of these folk and unorthodox remedies, many were handed down from various cults and sects of the old society. Those so-called “Taibaos” and “Mistresses” who played the charlatan used them to fool the common people, but some of them were genuinely effective, even divinely so. For instance, if sand got in your eye while you were blinded by wind, spitting saliva immediately cleared it up. Or hiccups: drinking seven consecutive mouthfuls of water would cure it—one sip more or less didn't work; only exactly seven.

These remedies from the “Taibaos” and “Mistresses” are often inexplicable by modern medicine, and perhaps they didn't understand the reasoning behind them either, attributing them instead to marvelous methods passed down by immortals to benefit the world. After the Liberation, the training manuals for barefoot doctors still included these remedies. In my life, I’ve seen countless bizarre “folk methods,” which is why I had confidence in crossing the water using the loud sedan chair method. I jumped onto one first to test the buoyancy. Although the coffin was not much wider than a dugout canoe, the underground lake water was calm, and paddling forward while riding it wouldn’t be difficult.

One lacquered coffin wasn’t enough for all five of us, so we dragged another one into the water. Shirley Yang and I rode in one, while the other three huddled atop the second. None of us had experience riding coffins across water; there was no basis for calling it expertise. It was sheer audacity born from the number of people we had. Otherwise, who would dare sit on a coffin containing an ancient corpse and a vengeful spirit to traverse the yin river alone? Even though I considered myself resolute and brave, I constantly had a subconscious illusion that something was moving inside the coffin beneath me. Occasionally, fish would leap out of the water near the lacquered coffin, making a soft swish, and ghostly fires drifted across the surface. It truly felt like entering the River Styx in the netherworld. In this eerie and unpredictable atmosphere, the surrounding darkness seemed fraught with hidden danger, and my heart leaped into my throat.

The group used their entrenching tools to paddle forward, following the sound of the water. The two lacquered coffins remained surprisingly stable for a while. Suddenly, about thirty meters away, patches of ghostly fire flickered violently. In the pale shadows, one could vaguely make out something resembling the dorsal fins of black fish. The surface of this underground lake also appeared black, but the thing itself had many bright spots, as if it had thousands of eyes. It was now floating on the surface, gradually approaching the “Floating Coffin Sedan Chair” being paddled by Fatty and the other two.

Fatty craned his neck, holding up his flashlight to see what was in the water. I tried to warn him to be careful, but before the words left my mouth, the mass suddenly leaped out of the water and shot into the air.