The sun rose, warming their skin like a gentle heat. Each person picked up a branch, draped their clothes over it, and walked, carrying them aloft. After several miles, their clothes were finally dry. They quickly dressed again, realizing that wandering around stark naked was uncivilized, and getting caught by the militia would be disastrous.

At this point, the four of them had wandered so far that they had completely lost their sense of direction. Fortunately, Bai Er Laizi was a true geography buff who often roamed these mountains; he was certain he could guide them out of the valley.

Liu Dashao’s intuition proved correct. Bai Er Laizi’s ability to read the terrain was exceptional. In no time, he pinpointed their direction, and the group, leaning on each other, started walking outward.

Along the way, Zhang Enpu shook out his sleeves: “Our efforts were not in vain. With the tomb collapsing and the Qin King’s Bone-Revealing Mirror reduced to ruins, the trouble caused by the malevolent energy can finally be considered over. Dashao, what are your thoughts on this whole affair?”

Liu Dashao paused before replying, “I don’t think this matter is as simple as it appears. Too many things about history remain unclear, take this damned emperor, for instance! Why choose to be buried in such a remote, mountainous location? Was it to rely on this ancient treasure for resurrection? And was his death truly as simple as an illness? I suspect his brother, the one who later took the throne, cannot be entirely absolved of suspicion! What key clues were those murals trying to convey?”

“Sigh! Damn it all, there are too many things we can’t figure out. We only grasp scattered fragments.”

Zhang Enpu nodded. “What you say has merit, but the more complex things are, the more challenging they become. Haha, let’s keep moving!”

Zhang Enpu was genuinely delighted by the unexpected discovery of the Qin King’s Bone-Revealing Mirror. Even though they failed to acquire it, having witnessed such a treasure in his lifetime was reward enough for living. Meanwhile, Liu Dashao cursed silently in his heart: Challenge my foot! What does that malevolent energy have to do with me?

In the Northeast, people held strong beliefs in spirits and deities. Zhang Enpu’s presence provided the villagers with a strong sense of security, so they naturally took good care of him. After consulting his family, Old Man Liu generously invited Zhang Enpu to live with them. Zhang Enpu was perfectly content with this arrangement, and before long, he unofficially accepted Liu Dashao as a disciple.

Now, in Xiushan Village lived a prominent and wealthy family whose surname was Zhao, and his given name was Shan.

Zhao Shan was built like a bull—broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, with a broad, round face. Though his appearance suggested a certain boorishness, he possessed a naturally gentle disposition. The Zhao family had first struck it rich in the village through the rice trade, but as the heir, Zhao Shan never became arrogant or high-and-mighty from his wealth. He never forgot the elders and neighbors around him, nor was he petty and harsh like his father and grandfather.

Because of this, every year he used a small portion of his savings to do tangible good for the village—repairing bridges or paving roads, for instance. Northerners were naturally simple and upright, and precisely for this reason, the surrounding villagers were very fond of him. Even the village cadres, who styled themselves as revolutionary trendsetters, tended to turn a blind eye to his activities.

The ancients often said that good deeds surely bring good rewards. And a good-hearted person like Zhao Shan ought to be among those favored by heaven. But regrettably, the opposite was true. He had three precious sons: one was hopelessly dull-witted, another flighty and scattered, and the third thoroughly idle. These three louts spent their days either causing trouble or making mischief, engaging in every kind of reckless behavior imaginable, yet they utterly refused to do any honest work, seeming intent on squandering his entire fortune. This caused him endless worry, and he often stared up at the night sky, lamenting, “I, Zhao Shan, a man seven feet tall, who appreciates kindness, why has fate burdened me with these three useless whelps? Is this retribution for sins committed in a past life?”

The next day was Qingming Festival, and Zhao Shan intended to take this opportunity to visit the ancestral graves to pour out his grievances, hoping for the ancestors’ blessing to grant him one more intelligent son to inherit the family fortune.

He was just over fifty—an age neither particularly old nor definitively beyond hope. If his ancestors were willing to intervene, his reproductive capability should still be within a reliable range.

However, the immediate problem was that his wife had died of illness shortly after giving birth to the third “prodigal son” (though it was strange, as the wives of the Zhao men, spanning three generations back to his grandfather, had all died young). If he wanted a fourth child, he first had to resolve his status as a bachelor. Otherwise, even if the ancestors favored him, or if the Jade Emperor himself appointed the matchmaker reincarnated, his wish would likely remain unfulfilled. Yet, what seemed like the biggest hurdle to outsiders was hardly an obstacle in his eyes. Why? Because he possessed an advantage uncommon among ordinary men: he had money. He was confident that with this leverage, without stealing or violating his conscience, a young woman would willingly marry him.

The next day, Zhao Shan and Steward Zhang arrived at the Zhao ancestral burial ground. After offering incense, bowing, and burning paper money, Zhao Shan began to grumble to the ancestor buried deep below for over fifty years: “Old Grand-Siyer, our Zhao family is about to decline! With these three useless whelps, can you put in a word for your grandson in the Celestial Realm and secure a reincarnation of a Literary Star for the Zhao line? Once our family prospers again, I’ll burn you so much paper money in the afterlife that you won’t be able to lose a single hand of cards! Please, I beg you.”

“Master, rest assured, the young masters will grow more sensible. Look at the Old Grand-Siyer’s grave; it hasn't shrunk at all. On the contrary, it has grown significantly larger. I heard the elders say that when an ancient grave expands, it signifies the prosperity of the descendants,” Steward Zhang comforted him while helping Zhao Shan up, and both gazed toward the grave mound.

It was a prominent tomb. Despite enduring half a century of wind and rain, the grass on it was lush and thriving, retaining its original imposing grandeur. Given this presence alone, one would expect the tomb owner’s descendants to be wealthy and harmonious. But—Zhao Shan sighed, turning his gaze instead to the mountains surrounding the grave.

In the area of Xiushan Village, this location was known as the Four Sacred Ridges: Green Dragon to the left, White Tiger to the right, Vermilion Bird in front, and Black Tortoise behind. The Four Sacred Ridges were encircled by mountains on three sides, resembling the cupped arms of a saint seen from afar. From the front of the Four Sacred Ridges, one could gaze a thousand li into the distance, watching the mountains recede and become smaller.

Standing before the grave of the Zhao ancestor, a gentle breeze swept by, creating a sensation as if an emperor were receiving the homage of his countless subjects. Zhao Shan recalled what his grandfather had told his father on his deathbed: when the Old Grand-Siyer was alive, he had specifically invited a renowned Yin-Yang Master to secure a prime site for him—the very Four Sacred Ridges before them. According to the village elders, the Four Sacred Ridges were not always named this; they were once called Coffin Ridge, named so because there rested a stone coffin there, formed by the convergence of the earth's very essence.

This stone coffin looked exactly like a wooden one crafted by humans, yet since the beginning of legend, no one had ever excavated it, and no Feng Shui master before had ever pinpointed its exact location. However, the Yin-Yang Master hired by the father-in-law—who had the double-surname Sima—after staying in the area for two or three days, mysteriously told Zhao Shan’s father-in-law that he had found it. It was precisely beneath where they were currently standing.

But because no one had located the Coffin Ground for decades, the Yin-Yang Master’s claim of finding it raised suspicion. Zhao Gonggong (Grandfather Zhao) asked, “Are you certain?”

The Yin-Yang Master replied, “Of course, I am certain. The stone coffin is buried three chi deep in the mud at this very spot, and its color is brown.”

Old Master Zhao immediately showed doubt: “It’s underground. How can you know if it’s real unless we dig it up? What if you’re just a charlatan trying to swindle money? I won’t pay for nothing.”

The Yin-Yang Master said, “We operate on integrity; please trust me.”

Old Master Zhao was still unconvinced: “No, I must dig it up to see. What’s the big deal?”

So, Old Master Zhao seized a hoe and began digging into the earth without hesitation, determined to verify it himself.

“Stop! You cannot dig,” the Yin-Yang Master repeatedly tried to stop him. “Once a true Dragon Lair is disturbed, someone must be buried there immediately, otherwise the spiritual energy will escape and the site will be ruined. It is not easy for nature to create such a blessed spot; wouldn't it be a waste if we destroyed it?”

Old Master Zhao ignored him, saying, “I bet there’s nothing inside, and you’re just making up excuses to take my money!”