My heart gave a jolt; I hadn't expected the Earth Immortal, Feng Shigu, to be so sacrilegious as to fake a Temple of Guan Yu. Whose shrine was this, then? It was completely different from the solemnity we had just witnessed. The contrast between the sacred and the profane was vast—like a crow and a magpie sharing the same perch, making it impossible to determine good fortune from ill. This was likely no auspicious place.

A thought struck me, and I quickly grabbed the fat man, who was straining at the door: "Don't touch the main door! There's some vicious deity housed here, certainly not the Demon-Subduing True Lord. Be careful of tripwires concealed in the walls!"

The others halted their steps, sweeping their flashlights around the hall. We discovered that not only had the main image in the shrine transformed, but even Zhou Cang and Guan Ping, who usually stood as attendants to the Martial Saint, had morphed into grim-faced apparitions from the underworld, draped in crimson robes and sporting tall, coiled queues atop their heads—a truly terrifying sight.

We thought our eyes were deceiving us and rubbed them for a closer look. It turned out the previous clay statues had been shrouded in some kind of cloth casing, which had now been drawn up by thin ropes hidden behind the shrine, leaving them dangling high near the roof beams. Only then was the true form of the malevolent god within the temple fully revealed.

Moments before, our attention had been entirely drawn to the strange omens emerging from Coffin Mountain, and none of us had noticed the activity inside the temple hall. Indeed, we had checked the exterior of the building for mechanical traps before entering, but we never anticipated the Guan Yu Temple itself being a snare. Despite taking the utmost caution, we had still fallen into the trap of this bizarre temple that defied all normal logic.

The hall was deathly silent. No mechanisms were triggered for the moment, but the atmosphere felt profoundly wrong. A growing sense of unease urged me to escape quickly. Casting my gaze around with the tactical beam of my light, I saw that the chilling, heavy Green Dragon Crescent Blade still rested upon its pedestal. An idea sparked in my mind.

In old Chinese society, the reverence for the Martial and Literary Sages was a tradition stretching back centuries. If a Temple of Guan Yu was substantial, there was often a separate 'Blade Hall' located in a side wing, dedicated solely to that famous weapon. In smaller temples, either Zhou Cang would hold the blade, or it would be laid flat upon a golden cloud bracket.

Seeing how immensely heavy that Guan Gong blade appeared, I suspected the temple doors were trapped. Breaking out through the door, though effortless, might be a fatal mistake. Why not use this massive weapon, weighing dozens of jin, as a battering ram to smash through a wall? I immediately called the fat man over to help lift the blade.

As the group approached, we noticed a wooden plaque behind the ghastly, fiendish clay statue. It had a black background with gold characters, reading, "Temple of the Cannon God." Yao Mei'er seemed to recognize it and exclaimed that things were dire. This meant that not only the doors, windows, and walls, but even the glazed-tile roof and supporting beams must not be touched. The place was surely rigged with "blossoming-on-the-ground" firecrackers. If triggered, the entire temple would perish in a blaze, turning us all to dust.

The fat man, relying on brute force and eager to begin tomb robbing in Feng Shigu's old residence, began complaining about his rotten luck now that their initial foray had gone awry, likely forgetting to burn incense for his patron deity before leaving.

I shook my head helplessly. "It's not us being unlucky; it’s the landlord class being too cunning. But I've never heard of a 'Temple of the Cannon God' anywhere. Is this entire hall a massive powder keg? Is this a trap door designed so that we can enter but never leave?"

Shirley Yang also asked Yao Mei'er, "What is a Temple of the Cannon God, and how can you be sure there are 'blossoming-on-the-ground' firecrackers inside?"

It was only when Yao Mei'er explained that we understood the situation. The folk custom of worshipping the Cannon God originated in Wushan Qingxi. It began when rudimentary, handmade explosives were used to mine the salt veins. Accidents were frequent, often killing enslaved miners, so the local people secretly constructed these temples. They were initially dedicated to the gods of the mines, similar only to low-slung Earth God temples. All the saltpeter and gunpowder used for blasting mountains were stored in these temples, making them function essentially as primitive magazines.

This practice gradually spread. Beyond the miners, even the artillery corps in the military, and later the 'Red Barbarian Cannons' introduced from Portugal, began worshipping the Cannon God wherever gunpowder was involved. During the Ming Dynasty, as firearms developed, old superstitions persisted. The main Hongyi cannons used by the military were often granted general titles, such as "Shenwu," "Shenwei," or "Zhenwei" General. When these massive cannons aged or were damaged, they could not be recast or dismantled; instead, they were given proper burial mounds. All of this stemmed from the custom of worshipping the Cannon God.

Later, because Qing Taizu Nurhaci was injured by flame bombardment outside Ningyuan City and eventually died from his wounds, the Qing Dynasty completely banned the temples. All 'Cannon King' tombs and 'Cannon Lord' temples were destroyed. In its place of origin, some people continued to secretly worship the Cannon God, often constructing the temples underground in cave systems, details unknown to outsiders. The people of the Qingxi region, whose livelihood depended on mining with explosives, knew this history well. Because the worship was secret, Qing Dynasty Qingxi temples of the Cannon God often disguised themselves as other shrines, usually the Temple of the Medicine King or the Earth God Temple, but no one had ever dared use a Guan Yu Temple as a facade.

Furthermore, in the nearby Honeycomb Mountain, where mechanical traps were frequently manufactured, there were also many traditions related to worshipping the Cannon God due to the production of explosive devices like the 'Flying Divine Crow' and 'Fire Dragon Emerges from Water.' Legend held that the statue of the Cannon God varied in form, but it invariably held a Fulangji (a type of cannon), flanked by two child attendants in red robes and fire-resistant clothing.

Fulangji was the ancient name for Western cannons, a term adopted after Portuguese artillery was introduced to China during the Zhengde era of the Ming Dynasty, and it remained the primary ritual weapon of the Cannon God. Shirley Yang and I, though unfamiliar with the intricacies of the Cannon God, recognized the weapon from old military manuals we had seen in Beijing's Panjiayuan antiques market.

The firearms held by the clay statue were naturally replicas, but there was a subtle distinction. The Fulangji held by gods worshipped by ordinary folk were always painted red, symbolizing the 'red-robed, red-powder' intent. Another type, painted black, signified that the temple housed deadly firing mechanisms, usually 'Five Thunders Blossoming Cannons' or the 'Blossoming-on-the-Ground' type.

Because these explosive mechanisms were referred to as huoxiao (fire pins/triggers) in Honeycomb Mountain, painting the Fulangji held by the Cannon God black was a secret code used by the trap-makers there. Only the artisans who set the fuses and triggers understood this distinction; outsiders were never privy to it. Although Yao Mei'er had studied these arts, she lacked practical experience until she saw the black Fulangji and the ancient plaque behind the statue, at which point the memory suddenly returned.

This Temple of the Cannon God must be riddled with countless huoxiao charges and gunpowder. It was sheer luck that we hadn't recklessly tried to break the doors or walls earlier, or we would have triggered the fuses and been reduced to dust by now.

The numerous hidden explosive traps in the temple were likely concealed within the doors, walls, beams, and pillars. The hall’s openings were designed to close but not open. Any undue pressure on the walls would trigger the explosives. Although these were crude, centuries-old gunpowder charges, in the wind-gathering nexus of Coffin Mountain, they might still be viable today. If the huoxiao detonated, nothing made of flesh and blood could withstand it.

Fire powder, after all, was one of the Four Great Inventions of ancient China. By the time of the mid-dynasties, the application of gunpowder and firearms had become mature. While the destructive power of rudimentary explosives was less than modern weaponry, their lethality should not be underestimated. The 'Blossoming-on-the-Ground' cannon was akin to cluster munitions; as the name implied, after the charge exploded, the iron nails and fragments inside would scatter like celestial flowers, causing widespread casualties. The 'Five Thunders Blossoming Cannon' would explode sequentially. Hearing this, everyone felt helpless. If the door opened, the entire hall might blow sky-high. Yet, if we couldn't devise an escape, even with wings, we couldn't flee. Knowing we were surrounded by explosive charges only exacerbated the panic, leaving us as unsettled as crickets on hot ground, unable to stand still for a moment.

I tried to suppress my growing agitation and calmed myself. Every step we had taken seeking the ancient tomb of the Earth Immortal Village in Qingxi had deviated wildly from our initial projections. This was all thanks to Professor Sun's refusal to disclose the full truth, ultimately dragging us into this desperate situation. But blaming anyone now was pointless; the only meaningful course was to do everything possible to manage the present crisis.

Just as I was about to confer with Shirley Yang about the feasibility of risking a breach to disable the triggers, Old Master Sun, who had been standing nearby, suddenly exclaimed, "I nearly forgot! The Earth Immortal Village is entirely composed of Yin-Yang Houses!"

We were confused. "What are Yin-Yang Houses? Isn't the Earth Immortal Village an underground tomb, a Yin resting place?" Old Master Sun shook his head. "No, no. Too much has happened today; my mind is a mess, and I overlooked this detail. I remember my elder brother saying that every structure in the Earth Immortal Village was a Yin-Yang House." A Yang residence is a dwelling for the living, while a Yin residence is a grave for the deceased. The Earth Immortal Feng Shigu had an obsession with collecting treasures from ancient tombs, and an even stranger compulsion: he coveted not just the rare funerary objects, but also the coffins, ancient corpses, tomb bricks, and murals, treating them as his life's possessions.

When he built the Earth Immortal Village in Coffin Mountain, he replicated the ancient tombs stolen by the Mountain-Gazing Protectors exactly, with a Yang residence above and a Yin residence below. The lower floors of every building and courtyard were actual burial chambers, encompassing styles from the Three Dynasties down to the Yuan and Ming. All these subterranean chambers had their own entrances and connecting passageways, forming a veritable street of Yin-Yang houses. No one knew why he went to such lengths.

Beneath this Temple of the Cannon God, there must surely be a crypt-like burial chamber. Passageways below would connect to Feng Shigu's old residence. The question was whether there would be 'blossoming-on-the-ground' firecrackers underground as well. Logically, there shouldn't be, as Feng Shigu would never risk damaging a Yin residence lightly. However, the traps and mechanisms within the chambers were supposedly set according to ancient methods. If we used the underground passages, we would have to contend with the various mechanisms of successive dynasties' tombs.

Trust is paramount; since Professor Sun had sworn a solemn oath in the name of his ancestors, and given the corroboration of recent events, I had momentarily set aside my suspicions about him. Otherwise, making any move would be impossible. I immediately agreed: "That's a viable option; it's certainly better than being trapped here waiting for death. As the saying goes, 'Only heroes drive out tigers and leopards; no brave soul fears the bear.' What tomb chamber are tomb raiders afraid to enter?"

The Temple of the Cannon God seemed quiet, yet it was rife with peril. With no way forward or back, the group resolved to gamble everything and attempt an escape through the underground passage. However, the secrets passed down through Professor Sun’s family were not even something he could guarantee; whether a tomb chamber existed beneath the temple was still uncertain.

So, the five of us lined up and cautiously began prying up the floor tiles using our entrenching tools and fine steel Emei thorns. We discovered that the floor areas near the walls were laced with huoxiao—rows of hidden, densely packed triggers. The 'Five Thunders Blossoming Cannons' were not conventional landmines that could have their fuses disabled; we could only try to avoid them. The only clear area in the entire hall was a circle around the statue of the Cannon God, where no hidden huoxiao were laid.

Fearing we might trigger a mechanism, no one dared apply excessive force. We slowly moved the top layer of blue bricks, revealing a layer of tightly packed loess soil underneath. Our short entrenching tools made it difficult to leverage against the compacted earth, which we suspected was mixed with sticky rice and boys' urine, making the soil incredibly dense and tough. After only a few scoops, sweat beaded on our foreheads.

I had no choice but to ask the fat man to fetch the Guan Gong blade. Following the ancient grave-finding formula, the "Sever" character technique, left by the Mountain-Moving Daoists, I first doused the ground with some of the liquor we carried to loosen the compacted earth. Then, we inverted the blade and used the three-edged cast iron tip to stab viciously into the ground. The Guan Gong blade acted like a decades-of-weight iron shovel, proving perfectly suited for breaking up the hard earthen layer.

After shattering and digging through this layer of loess, we indeed found a foot-thick layer of greasy clay. Beneath the clay was another layer of wooden sleepers. Reaching this point confirmed the existence of a tomb chamber beneath the hall. The timber used was likely salvaged from genuine ancient tombs; the log-like beams were half-rotted, emitting a foul, musty stench. A few jabs with the Guan Gong blade caused the neatly arranged decayed wood to collapse inward, revealing a black pit from which gusts of cold, eerie wind whistled out.

The fat man cheered, "Looks like the militia managed to connect the village tunnels!" Before his voice faded, the clay statue in the Temple of the Cannon God shuddered violently. It turned out the sleepers underground had long been waterlogged in place and were severely rotted. The collapse of one supporting post dragged several nearby beams down with it. The broken and sunken beams were precisely located beneath the base of the Cannon God statue holding the Fulangji. The deity swayed, and the heavy statue crashed backward into the rear wall. The Cannon God’s head snapped off instantly, slamming onto the floor. A sharp kaka sound immediately echoed from the back wall.

A collective dread seized us; we knew the firing mechanism of a 'blossoming-on-the-ground' cannon had been activated. I quickly shoved Old Master Sun, who was frozen in place: "Go! What are you waiting for?"

At that moment, the sounds of springs and mechanisms activating echoed from the walls and beams. As I shouted, I ignored the condition of the tomb below, pushing and dragging Professor Sun down into the pit. The rest of the group followed immediately. The fat man found the Guan Gong blade heavy and solid, quite handy; while he couldn't swing it alone, it would be perfect for smashing open a coffin. Reluctant to abandon it, he hurriedly dragged the heavy blade along.

The space in the chamber, constructed from hundreds of stacked wooden sleepers, was extremely cramped; standing upright was impossible. A massive, ancient wooden coffin was also housed within. I was the last one to jump in, landing squarely on the lid of the outer coffin. Before the force of my landing had dissipated, dull, thunderous booms echoed from above, accompanied by a continuous rain of dirt and debris falling onto us.

Up in the Temple of the Cannon God, the 'blossoming-on-the-ground' charges were exploding one after another, sending sulfurous dust flying. The old, decaying wood in the chamber was impacted, fracturing and causing the entire structure of bricks and wood to collapse. I was thrown to the ground amidst a cloud of thick smoke and dust, feeling the tomb chamber on the verge of total collapse. There was no time to rise; I rolled blindly in the chaos, groping for the tomb door, bumping into companions whose identities I couldn't discern in the mayhem, desperately trying to push someone outward.

In my panic, I didn't look closely, but I saw what appeared to be a long passage paved with blue bricks outside the coffin chamber. I scrambled out, covered head-to-toe in brick fragments and dirt. I saw that everyone else was out too, except for the fat man, who had been struck on the head by a falling timber. Though he wore a climbing helmet, his face had been slashed open. He wasn't injured seriously, gruffly wiping at the cut, unsure if it was mud or blood. Before I could check on the others, the rear chamber was completely buried under fallen wood and earth; a moment's delay, and we would have been suffocated alive inside. Just as our terror began to subside, a cluster of faint, ghostly lights suddenly flickered on the far wall of the dark passage, casting our faces in a sickly green hue.