The three returned to the entrance of the first tomb. Beneath the opening, only an empty sarcophagus remained, etched with incomprehensible patterns around its perimeter.

“That Liang the Blind is truly a devil of an innovator; even in death, he clings fiercely to his precious things, even managing to hire a Persian to help inscribe the incantations,” muttered the Cripple Huang.

This immediately brought to Zhou Huan’s mind the Persian chant Scarface had just sung. He turned to Cripple Huang and asked, “You recognize these characters?”

“Recognize them? Hardly. But when I worked with Liang the Blind back then, I encountered a Persian merchant who carried things like this. He claimed it was the most potent spectral talisman from Persia, usually used on the deceased. I paid a bit of attention back then, which is why I recall it now. Looking at this, the remaining tombs probably all have such inscriptions. What rotten luck.” Cripple Huang was visibly agitated.

Dragon Translator squatted beside the coffin, staring intently at the script inside. After a long moment, he mumbled, “The holiest of funerals, when the blood moon hangs high, the True Lord shall descend upon man—be it devil, or ghost, or god.”

Zhou Huan was startled. This ‘Ghost Translator’ actually understood Persian?

“Dragon Translator, you—you can make out these words?” Zhou Huan inquired.

“Of course I can. I used this script when I helped the devils do business with the Arabs; I even studied it for a while.” Dragon Translator looked rather smug, pleased that his learning had finally proven useful.

Cripple Huang glared at Dragon Translator. “This fellow is actually gloating. The more I look at you, the less I like you. Serving the Japanese dogs—I should have dealt with you earlier. Damn it all!” With that, Cripple Huang raised his hand, ready to strike Dragon Translator.

Zhou Huan quickly pulled Cripple Huang back, casually taking his throwing knife. “At your age, why can’t you tell right from wrong? He took care of all those Japanese devils just now; without him, our efforts would have been useless. At least he can read Persian script. What, are you jealous?” Zhou Huan smirked derisively.

Old Cripple Huang pondered for a good while, letting out no sound, and could only follow quietly behind Zhou Huan, watching Dragon Translator study the characters.

“All who break into and plunder tombs shall undoubtedly die!” Upon reading this, Dragon Translator was filled with dread, cold sweat pouring down him incessantly. If he hadn’t witnessed Scarface’s state just moments ago, he wouldn’t have reacted so strongly; he had seen it with his own eyes, and it must have planted some fear in his mind. He felt dazed, unsure of what to do next.

“Look at you, kid. Didn’t we come here to secure some future glory? Why are you getting all skittish?” Cripple Huang was, after all, an old hand at this game, sly as ever. Seeing Dragon Translator’s current state, how could he not understand what was happening?

Zhou Huan inserted himself into the conversation naturally. “Remember this: whatever happens next, if you want to run, then run. If you don’t want to run, then stay put. I, Zhou Huan, will not stop you. I came here simply to see these tombs; I have other business to attend to. So, feel free to do as you wish.”

Zhou Huan’s words were ambiguous, leaving Old Cripple Huang and Dragon Translator utterly confused. Yet, they grasped one thing: Zhou Huan’s intention wasn't the simple plunder of treasure. Following this, Old Cripple Huang walked ahead, approaching the second tomb, zeroing in on one burial site and starting to dig right away.

Dragon Translator grabbed him, but first, he turned to look at the moon overhead—bright, frosty white. Only then did he slowly release his grip. “It’s fine. The Persian script mentioned something about a blood moon; if it were still a blood moon, you might end up just like Scarface.”

“Ha! Don’t joke. I’m not as foolish as he was. I need to see clearly before I start digging. Besides, there are rules in our trade, you know. The deceased must be respected above all. I won't touch their actual bodies or skeletons; there shouldn't be any trouble then.” As he spoke, Old Cripple Huang offered what seemed to be the first genuinely heartfelt, kind smile Zhou Huan had seen from him.

Immediately after, Old Cripple Huang began pounding away with his chisel at the hardened earth. As the soil was scraped away, a tall stone coffin was revealed. Cripple Huang chuckled, “This Liang family really had methods; every single grave uses a stone coffin. Looks like I brought the right chisel today.”

“Master Huang, be careful. Take it slow,” Zhou Huan advised.

Dragon Translator squatted beside Cripple Huang. As the old man chiseled, Dragon Translator examined the script carved on the stone coffin. After reading, he felt his heart settle, and a significant ease washed over his face.

Cripple Huang finally noticed a hint of a smile on Dragon Translator’s face and said, “What does it say now? You’re finally smiling.”

“It says that anyone who robs the tombs is an enemy to the Liang family. They hope you will set aside old grievances, and in return, they are willing to give you access to all the burials here, provided you protect the complete bodies of their family members. The Liang clan will be eternally grateful.” Dragon Translator grew increasingly relaxed. “It seems your profession’s code of conduct is quite upright; the deceased is actively asking you to maintain that code.”

“Naturally. My code of conduct as Cripple Huang is acceptable, or I’d have been strangled by evil spirits long ago.” As Cripple Huang and Dragon Translator were chatting, a soft rumble sounded, and a puff of dust slowly rose. The lid of the stone coffin had been pried open by Old Cripple Huang.

“Come help me,” Cripple Huang handed his chisel to Dragon Translator, then pulled out a sledgehammer. With the hammer’s head wedged against the lid, Dragon Translator used the iron chisel to pry. With a coordinated push from both men, the heavy stone lid slowly slid open. There was no odor inside the coffin, no strange noises or unnatural phenomena.

Cripple Huang was delighted this time. “See, Old Huang’s touch always gets the job done. This massive coffin is only fit for us to deal with.” Saying this, Cripple Huang leaned his head into the stone coffin, his eyes wide as he stared. The interior was pitch black, completely empty. It seemed there was a passage beneath the coffin, with grooved slots left on either side for footholds.

“Strange, why would they build an empty coffin like this?” Cripple Huang muttered.

Zhou Huan heard this and moved closer to look. “Isn’t that the trough below? It clearly means there’s a way down. Could this be an underground mausoleum?”

“An underground mausoleum? I’ve been robbing tombs for decades, Old Cripple Huang has only heard tales, but never plundered one underground. If it’s underground, those are usually tombs for nobles or royalty. That means they must be riddled with traps. I dare not try.” Old Cripple Huang backed down. He was an experienced tomb robber, but an underground one frightened him because of the potential mechanisms that could end his life in an instant. It seemed his longevity in the business was due to his extreme self-preservation.

Dragon Translator glanced around. His two eyes, which had finally relaxed, immediately tensed up again. “Why is robbing this tomb so much trouble? They say grave robbing is just stealing from the dead, so why would there be a palace down here? This…”

Old Cripple Huang looked at Zhou Huan, speaking very politely. “Master Zhou, you have superior skills; how about you go down first to scout the path?”

“Hahaha! You truly are a stingy ghost, afraid to die and asking me to go first. I’m not going down either. Entering a place like this is just asking for death. How would I know where the traps are?” Zhou Huan’s logic was sound, which instead troubled Old Cripple Huang. He was the one who most desired the treasures here, perhaps even hoping to achieve something more, despite his advanced age.

Zhou Huan began stripping off his outer garments, leaving only a short shirt on his upper body. He then tied together the sleeves of his shirt. Turning back, he shouted, “You two, take off your clothes! Your belts, your pants—strip them all!”

“What? Take off our clothes?” Cripple Huang and Dragon Translator were utterly baffled, turning back. “Master Zhou, what trick are you planning? It’s so cold for you to ask us to undress.”

“If you don’t want to die, take your clothes off and then find me two stones. Deal with those two things first, and we’ll find others later.” Zhou Huan finished speaking, then removed his own belt and trousers. The three men stood before the stone coffin, wearing only their inner shirts, with the bright moon behind them and the night wind chilling them to the bone.