"Ah!" Just then, Wang Feifei let out a sharp scream, staggering back several steps until she collapsed onto the ground. Her face was deathly pale as she pointed a trembling finger at the coffin lid, whispering, "Hand... hand..."

"Hmm?" Young Master Liu turned, quite surprised. Although his attention had been on the ceiling just moments ago, he hadn't heard a thing stirring in the coffin. Why was this girl reacting so intensely?

"Feifei, what is it?"

"Hand... hand..." Wang Feifei's chest heaved as she gasped for breath, her cheeks burning crimson.

"Hand?" Young Master Liu frowned. "What hand?"

"Right under the coffin lid. I just... I just saw it when you lifted it—a hand suddenly stretched out from inside the outer coffin, resting right on the underside of the lid," Wang Feifei stammered out.

Following the direction of her gaze, Young Master Liu scanned the area warily several times, but found nothing.

"Debiao, did you see anything just now?" Young Master Liu decided to ask Fan Debiao. Although the fatty was a bit odd, he was occasionally quite observant.

"Nope!" Fan Debiao blinked.

Over there, Uncle Diao had already severed the nylon ropes and pushed the outer lid to one side. Although it was still covering the box, a slight push along the grooves would open it completely when the time came.

"What happened?" Uncle Diao walked over, dusting ash off his hands, his expression shifting between dark and bright. He had heard Wang Feifei's shriek clearly; it was vivid in his memory.

Young Master Liu withdrew the hand he had instinctively placed around Wang Feifei’s waist, equally perplexed. "She seems terrified, said she saw a hand reach out, and then it retracted on its own."

"From inside the coffin?" Uncle Diao’s eyes sharpened.

"More or less," Young Master Liu nodded.

"That shouldn't be possible. This is only the outer coffin; there's an inner one still sealed inside," Uncle Diao murmured thoughtfully.

"Maybe you misread it, Feifei?" Young Master Liu patted Shen Feifei’s hand gently to comfort her.

"No... I really saw it. It was a hand, so white, so very white, but then it vanished instantly," Wang Feifei recounted, still shaken.

"That’s peculiar," Uncle Diao stroked his beard.

"Holy smokes, could this be another 'Zongzi' like the one back at Mount Pusa—and maybe even a Zongzi King?" Fan Debiao suddenly recalled something.

"Get out of here with your Zongzi talk. If you want Zongzi, wait for the Dragon Boat Festival. Stop saying such unlucky things," Young Master Liu snapped at him.

"Stop arguing. Better to be cautious. Young Master, Clay Figure Zhang, Fan Debiao, you three come with me to see what mystery this coffin holds. Zhong Kui, you stay here with the others, keep your guard up, and have your gear ready," Uncle Diao commanded calmly.

"Yes, Elder!" Zhong Kui saluted with a clenched fist and immediately moved aside, directing his men. Many of them were armed with firearms, or at the very least, carried a Luoyang shovel or a Meijian blade. A few others in the group pulled out lassos, preparing to ensnare any Zongzi that might appear, figuring that in this cramped space packed with so many people, hesitation would surely lead to casualties.

Gently pushing the outer lid, Young Master Liu and Fan Debiao slowly backed away. He turned back to see Uncle Diao standing rigidly beside the sarcophagus, his gaze locked inside the inner cavity, unmoving. Clay Figure Zhang stood there with his customary stone-faced solemnity, one hand always held behind his back, concealing whatever he held. Yet, in the profound silence of the tomb chamber, Young Master Liu distinctly noticed Fan Debiao’s breathing growing ragged. He stood up, peered into the cavity, and instantly froze, stunned. The scene inside the sarcophagus was enough to stupefy anyone. Yes, water—the entire inner coffin was filled with liquid.

Of course, this was not the murky water that might accumulate over centuries from groundwater seepage in a damp burial site. This was a pale, translucent ** of a light violet hue. At first glance, it looked incredibly smooth and silken, almost like a newly released brand of bath gel. Touching it would surely bring a sticky sensation. However, the surprise was only the beginning, because the occupant of this coffin was currently submerged in this **. With the slightest disturbance, the body gently rose and fell, emitting wisps of fragrance. This scent was not as light as jasmine; rather, it was like the innate, subtle perfume of a woman, instantly washing away all fatigue upon inhalation. Beyond the aroma, what shocked Young Master Liu even more was the corpse itself. It was not mummified in a manner that would revolt the senses. The body was clad only in an eight trigram Taoist robe made of a material that seemed neither silk nor gauze, thin as a cicada's wing. Through the sheer fabric, one could vaguely glimpse skin so delicate it seemed ready to burst, and the outline of certain private contours. Though the corpse wore a silver-white mask over its head, its graceful figure and snow-white skin clearly indicated the occupant was indeed a woman—a woman of unparalleled, breathtaking beauty, estimated to be no older than thirty. Seeing the body preserved so perfectly, Young Master Liu was struck by a bizarre illusion: this woman did not appear deceased, but rather like a Sleeping Beauty, awaiting the kiss of her prince to awaken her. Naturally, he was certain he wasn't that prince, and it was even less likely to be the corpulent Fan Debiao.

Fan Debiao, half-supporting the heavy lid, nervously scanned the surroundings, afraid a Zongzi might suddenly appear and devour him whole. Seeing Young Master Liu standing motionless and stunned, he widened his eyes. "Young Master, are you paralyzed?"

"Young Master, did the Zongzi scare you into idiocy?"

"Damn it, is he actually stunned? Uncle Diao, your nephew’s gone crazy."

Young Master Liu ignored Fan Debiao until the third repetition of his question, then slowly shook his head, letting out a sigh of profound emotion: "I never imagined... I never imagined such a perfectly formed woman could exist in this world."

"Holy smokes, so he wasn't stunned, he's gone horny?!" Fan Debiao’s curiosity spiked. He unceremoniously dropped the coffin lid onto Clay Figure Zhang, flipped around, and craned his neck for a better look.

This was followed instantly by a loud gasp, his posture nearly causing him to tumble headfirst into the coffin.

"This... this is damned eerie! Is this even a corpse?" Fan Debiao paused for a long moment before sticking out his tongue in disbelief, still struggling to process what he was seeing.

"It's not the owner of the tomb that’s eerie; it’s the person who buried her who was too much," Uncle Diao, who had been observing coolly, finally spoke, his voice even.

"This mausoleum must be at least several hundred, maybe a thousand years old. That span of time, with its humidity, temperature fluctuations, and natural decay, should have reduced even a perfectly preserved body to dust. Yet, this corpse is entirely intact, and she’s been soaking in water! Surely her skin shouldn't resist decay?" Clay Figure Zhang’s voice pitched up several octaves from its usual low tone. Though his face remained a mask of age spots, his internal reaction was clearly one of utter shock, repeated again and again!

Uncle Diao nodded, concurring with Clay Figure Zhang’s assessment. He took a few steps back, hands clasped behind him, clearly deep in thought. "This water is problematic."

"That’s what I thought too," Clay Figure Zhang said. He stepped around Fan Debiao and closely examined the underside of the outer lid again, then cried out suddenly, "I see now!"

Both Uncle Diao and Young Master Liu brightened. "What? Did you find something?"

"You look for yourself!" Clay Figure Zhang forcefully pushed the outer lid, tilting its reverse side into view. What met their eyes was a series of strangely arranged characters—hastily connected scribbles interspersed with specialized pictograms representing stars, the Big Dipper, mountains, and rivers.

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