I was utterly numb, beyond mere exhaustion, so the gunfire was just background noise. What terrifying things hadn't we already witnessed? I barely glanced at Old Li, murmuring, "Oh."

Old Li immediately grew tense again. He deftly loaded his rifle and urged me to follow him up front to check things out. I thought to myself: we’re trying to avoid all sorts of bizarre monsters, yet here is Old Li, getting overly excited at the slightest anomaly, without a single thought for my feelings or asking for my opinion.

Still, reluctant as I was, I had to follow the sound of the gunfire—we couldn't afford to turn on each other; if we did, we’d all be finished.

The gunshots came from ahead, not as concentrated as before, sounding off intermittently, suggesting both sides had reached a stalemate, neither daring to make a rash move. Old Li and I said nothing, quickening our pace while trying to keep our footsteps quiet as we moved forward.

After walking for about ten minutes, we could clearly hear sounds of a fight. A wave of relief washed over me; judging by the shouts, it was the Japanese devils.

"Old Li, the Japs are fighting someone. Let's sit back and watch the tigers fight for now, and we'll go over later," I pulled Old Li back, whispering.

Old Li gave a noncommittal grunt and kept moving ahead. Helplessly, I had no choice but to follow. Just a few steps further, the scene before me left me completely unsure how to react. I had been numb, but seeing these things jolted my heart back to terrifying life: although still within an unnamed cavern, the space here suddenly opened up, vast and level. The ceiling and the floor were packed with dense wooden coffins—some chained to the ceiling, suspended in mid-air, others lined up neatly on the ground... stretching out of sight, countless numbers of them. On the coffins, one could clearly make out painted pavilions, landscapes, and figures.

Every coffin represented a person; how many dead bodies must be here! A chill ran down my spine. I looked at Old Li; he was frowning, seemingly deep in thought. A cold dread enveloped me, and I quickly moved to press close against him, mainly seeking psychological comfort. He carried a peach-wood sword; just in case... just in case, it might save our lives.

Ahead—beyond the countless coffins—another gunshot rang out. My instinct was to rush over and see what was happening; fighting living people was certainly better than facing an ocean of the dead. But Old Li, surprisingly, wasn't in a hurry this time. He walked to a coffin, squatted down, and began closely examining the coffin’s material and carvings, then he called me over.

"Technician Luo, come help me lift this lid," he said with remarkable nonchalance.

I blinked. "Lift the coffin lid?"

Old Li nodded, his expression serious. "There’s something fishy here. Come help me first, and I’ll explain slowly."

I knew there was something strange here. So many coffins—those on the ground were one thing, but those chained and suspended in mid-air were utterly bizarre. Still afraid, I shuffled slowly over to Old Li’s side.

Perhaps sensing my fear, Old Li said gently, "Don't be scared, it’s nothing... Technician Luo, don't lift it all the way off. Just open a gap on the side; I need to see what’s inside."

My palms were slick with cold sweat. What if a zombie suddenly leaped out of the coffin? Then we’d truly be finished. Despite thinking this, I didn't want Old Li to look down on me, so I braced myself and cautiously moved the lid slightly aside with Old Li. I closed my eyes, covering my ears in a futile attempt to bolster my courage.

After a soft scraping sound, Old Li suddenly let out an astonished "Yi?" "Why is it this kind of clothing?" I knew he was referring to the burial shroud worn by the person inside. Old Li was a man of vast experience; if he said it was strange, it must be extraordinary. However, I still didn't have the nerve to see exactly what was strange.

"What's wrong?" I asked Old Li, turning my face away from the coffin.

"This isn't a burial shroud," Old Li muttered to himself. "Ever-burning lamp... Fa Guan [offering jar]..."

I knew about ever-burning lamps and Fa Guan; many Han Chinese in certain regions placed these items during earth burials. But... Tibetans follow sky burial; they certainly wouldn't use such things. Thinking of this, a sudden shock hit me: could everyone in these coffins be Han Chinese?!

"Technician Luo, close the lid. Let's open a few more." Old Li’s complexion was somewhat unnatural—a distinctly agitated, flushed red. I agreed, and we moved aside a few more coffin lids, which he examined one by one. No matter how curious I was, I lacked the courage to look at the dead bodies inside. At best, I glanced sideways and saw that in front of every coffin on the ground sat an extinguished ever-burning lamp and a clay jar—the Fa Guan.

After lifting and checking the lids of seven or eight coffins in succession, Old Li asked me, "Technician Luo, what do you think?" I hadn't looked inside at all, so I truly had no idea and just shook my head.

Old Li sighed, his face filled with worry. "It’s all soldiers, you know. Like in the movies, the kind of uniforms that have the character 'Bing' [soldier] written on the front and back."

I nodded, not really understanding why Old Li mentioned this.

He continued, "They should be soldiers from the late Qing Dynasty. One coffin even had an original German Model 88 Mauser rifle..."

A Mauser rifle? If these were indeed people from the late Qing, possessing a Mauser rifle would imply extremely high status! Original Mauser rifles were not something every common soldier could own back then. Regular troops usually carried Hanyang-made rifles at best.

Just then, another gunshot echoed from up ahead.

Old Li ignored it, his brow furrowing even deeper. He asked me, "Technician Luo, are you familiar with late Qing history? Is there any record of at least a hundred soldiers suddenly vanishing in Tibet? I see at least a hundred coffins here..."

I wasn't completely ignorant of Qing history. The late Qing court had been reducing the number of garrisoned troops in Tibet. If a hundred Han soldiers disappeared suddenly, such a massive event surely wouldn't go unrecorded. But... quickly searching through all the relevant data in my mind, I couldn't find any related entries.

"Are you sure they are late Qing garrisoned soldiers?" I asked uncertainly.

Old Li nodded firmly. "Definitely. And several I looked at were young and strong... Their uniforms are all perfectly intact. If you don't believe me, go look again."

Of course, I didn't dare look again. According to Old Li, this meant there were at least a hundred late Qing soldiers here, complete with burial weapons in their coffins. This was far from ordinary strangeness.

Old Li was originally a Daoist disciple and was intimately familiar with regional funerary customs. The pavilions and figures painted on the coffins depicted scenes from the "Twenty-Four Filial Exemplars," and the presence of ever-burning lamps and Fa Guan were typical Northern burial items. This meant these people were all Northern Han Chinese. This realization made the situation even more convoluted: so many ordinary Northern soldiers, upon death, were buried in their military uniforms instead of the required black burial clothes, their coffins not sealed shut, and instead of being interred, they were hidden deep within the mountains of Tibet...

I looked at Old Li blankly, hoping he could offer a more reasonable explanation.

Old Li’s expression grew grave. He told me to stand aside and then proceeded to move the lids of every coffin himself, confirming that none had been nailed shut. Without giving a reason, he urgently told me to follow him to find the Japanese devils.

Finding the Japs was easy; it was where the gunshots were coming from up ahead. Old Li and I forced ourselves through the dense rows of coffins and moved forward. The sporadic gunfire grew closer until, finally, we saw the Japanese devils, and also Zhuoma Yangjin. However, there were several people between us and them—people dressed like the late Qing soldiers Old Li had described, though their uniforms were slightly more weathered. They were moving slowly, attempting to attack the group of Japanese soldiers. Seeing these figures approaching, the Japs frantically opened fire, seemingly short on ammunition. Once they pushed the figures back, they stopped shooting to conserve bullets. The two sides were evenly matched, locked in a stalemate.

When they saw us arrive, the faces of the Japanese devils changed drastically. Zhuoma Yangjin, however, remained composed, nodding to us in greeting. Ever since I saw the red mountaineering suit at the bottom of that deep pit, I had been worried she might have met with disaster. Seeing her safe and sound now evoked a strange mix of feelings in me: disappointment that she hadn't died, yet relief that she was alive after all.

That woman, Zhuoma Yangjin—no matter how many times my thoughts shifted in an instant—I had absolutely no reason to pretend I felt no unease in responding to her greeting with a nod and a smile. Her complicity in pushing me into the bloody spring water with the Japanese devils was something I couldn't simply forget. Therefore, I completely ignored her greeting and turned to Old Li, asking if these people in late Qing clothing were zombies.

Old Li mused for a moment. "Their attire matches those in the coffins, and I noticed several empty coffins near that area before. If I haven't guessed wrong, these people must have climbed out of those."

As Old Li spoke, a series of messy "za-za" sounds came from behind us. The group attacking the Japs had their backs to us. Upon hearing this sound, they all slowly turned around in unison, staring behind us. The moment I saw their faces, I was instantly horrified and pulled Old Li tight, stumbling back several steps. Their faces were so dried out that only withered, blackened skin remained, their teeth bared in a ghastly white display!

I couldn't afford to lose face in front of the Japs. No matter how terrified I was inside, I forced myself to look unconcerned, managing a strained smile for them, then quietly asked Old Li, "What do we do?"

Old Li remained silent, concentrating, listening intently to the "za-za" sound. As he listened, his face suddenly changed dramatically. "Technician Luo, this is bad!"

I quickly asked what was wrong. Old Li told me that the "za-za" sound was the sound of coffin lids moving. I listened carefully and indeed, it was similar to the sound we had made when moving the lids earlier. Could it be that nearly a hundred coffins were undergoing corpse transformation, all turning into these things—be they ghosts or zombies—that we saw before us? If that were true, needless to say, all of us living people would perish; not a single one would survive. Turning back, the cave entrance blown open by the Japs had already been blocked by Old Li and me, but even if it hadn't been, there were several undead zombies on the other side who couldn't be killed easily and could take our lives at any moment.