The mention of the curse gave Zhou Huan a very plausible explanation: the female corpse must have been cursed at the time of burial. Furthermore, if what the Cripple had said was true, the burial ground at that time belonged to the Liang family mausoleum, which would reasonably explain the stele that Long Sheng had just washed clean. But what exactly was this Liang family, and what was their *? Thinking this over, Zhou Huan felt he had a better grasp of the situation, and the car’s speed gradually increased.

Zhou Huan’s car first stopped in front of a mosque. He got out, went straight to the reception room, found someone, made a donation, received a Quran and a summary of the Quran, and turned to leave. Just as he stepped outside, he felt as if someone was sitting in his car.

“Who’s there?” Zhou Huan couldn’t help but ask casually.

No one answered from inside the car. Instead, the person sitting inside adjusted the white cloth wrapped around their head and then beckoned to Zhou Huan.

Zhou Huan cautiously approached the front of his car. As he opened the door, he found that the person who had appeared to be a devout Muslim had suddenly taken the driver’s seat.

“Hello, how did you get into my car?” As Zhou Huan approached this person, he sensed an extremely heavy Yin energy emanating from them—a type of negative energy quite unlike any he had encountered before.

Zhou Huan was a master at funerary rites, a patriarch, a reincarnated sage. Even he felt this oppressive Yin aura, let alone anyone else. This made Zhou Huan feel immensely pressured. He then addressed the person in the car in his own manner: “Why… why did you get into my car?”

The person in the car simply stared at Zhou Huan. Suddenly, their expression became exceedingly amicable, a smile blooming across their face.

Zhou Huan felt that communication was currently impossible. Turning slightly, Zhou Huan tried addressing the figure again: “Are you trying to ask for my help?”

The person in the car nodded.

“Please, tell me what you need help with. It’s inconvenient for you to be out in broad daylight. Perhaps you could find a place to stay hidden for a while, or come back tonight and figure out a way to explain what you need so I can understand,” Zhou Huan suggested patiently.

The person nodded again, then used a hand to draw something on the windshield. They extended their hand in a gesture of invitation, and slowly, their body began to dissipate. As the sunlight shifted across Zhou Huan’s field of vision, the figure gradually dissolved into light and vanished.

“What was that?” Zhou Huan felt a jolt of confusion. What had that spirit written on the window? He stared, but couldn’t make out anything specific. He then breathed a puff of warm air onto the glass, and a clear text materialized—it was in Persian. On impulse, Zhou Huan pulled out paper and a pen, carefully sketching the writing style from the window onto the paper.

“Master Zhou! Master Zhou!” someone called out to Zhou Huan from the sidewalk directly across from the mosque.

At that moment, Zhou Huan smiled. It was a case of the person you think of appearing right away. Just as he was puzzling over those few characters, Long Sheng appeared before him.

“Long Sheng, you’ve come at the perfect time! What, did you decide to pick up a copy of the Quran yourself?” Zhou Huan asked with a smile.

Long Sheng was being unusually polite: “Master Zhou, I was worried you’d be busy, so I thought I’d come get the things I needed myself.” As soon as he finished speaking, Zhou Huan handed Long Sheng the Quran and the summary he had just obtained, then passed him the sheet of paper with the copied script.

“Long Sheng, take a good look at this. Tell me what language this is and translate it. Then go back and study what’s on that ceiling carefully. We need to figure out this whole situation as quickly as possible,” Zhou Huan urged, sounding genuinely anxious.

Long Sheng grinned, showing his teeth: “Why the rush, Master Zhou? Aren’t we just trying to handle this area properly? Let the people who deal with documents handle the rest.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple. I feel like something is going to happen very soon. First, tell me what those characters I drew mean?” Zhou Huan pressed him actively.

Long Sheng pushed up his glasses, lowered his head, and closely examined the script on the paper: “It says, ‘Greetings. Help me find my belongings tonight.’ ” Long Sheng paused there. Zhou Huan was still staring at the script, waiting for him to continue, but Long Sheng added, “That’s all. That’s all it says.”

“Oh, that’s it. Very well, no problem then. Here are the books you wanted; take a good look at them. I’ll look for you in a couple of days—or maybe even tomorrow,” Zhou Huan said, then drove away.

Long Sheng held the two books in his hands—one the original Arabic text of the Quran, the other a translation in Arabic script. Looking at them, Long Sheng shook his head. “Honestly. Even on break, I have to go back and look at this junk. It’s a headache.”

Zhou Huan drove back to Fushou Hall. When he arrived, his three apprentices were already waiting at the entrance. He gestured, and Shi Bingyuan, Tianxiong, and Hong Kun all got into the car. After grabbing their gear, Zhou Huan secretly drove the car toward the excavation site once more.

They hadn't driven far when Zhou Huan saw the same spirit who had written on the windshield sitting right in front of his car. Zhou Huan wanted to keep it there, but the figure sat squarely on the hood, completely ignoring Zhou Huan.

“Apprentices, did you see it? The spirit on the hood?” Zhou Huan asked his three students.

The three seemed to have conferred beforehand, all shaking their heads together: “Master, what’s wrong? We didn’t see anything at all.”

“Master, have you not recovered fully yet?” Among those at Fushou Hall, Hong Kun was the most talkative after Dongzi; his intentions were good, but his words were often superfluous.

“Enough nonsense. I don’t blame you if you can’t see it. This fellow truly has some skill, and he’s the spirit of a different ethnic group—one we haven’t encountered before.” After speaking, Zhou Huan stopped the car. As the vehicle slowly pulled over to the side of the road, the figure on the hood raised a hand and pointed in the direction of the excavation site, then smiled before turning back around.

Zhou Huan drove, leading his three apprentices, speeding directly toward the site.

As soon as the car stopped at the excavation site, the Islamic spirit hopped down from the hood, turned back, gave Zhou Huan a deep bow, and then slowly walked toward the site.

“Apprentices, get your tools ready. Lock the car and wait for me at the entrance to the tomb chamber,” Zhou Huan commanded, abandoning the vehicle and following the spirit forward.

After walking for an unknown length of time, the spirit finally stopped and gave Zhou Huan another deep bow. It pointed toward a pile of dirt and debris on the ground, then drew a circle in the air—a circle shimmering with five-colored brilliance.

Zhou Huan couldn't understand the reason for this, but he sensed that the spot indicated must hold something important. The three apprentices, who had run to catch up, arrived with their tools prepared.

“Master, what is it? What do we need to do?” Tianxiong was slightly breathless, carrying Zhou Huan’s heavy bag.

Zhou Huan casually pulled the folding shovel from his bag and began digging where the spirit had pointed. Seeing their Master already at work, the apprentices knew they couldn't slack off. They each took out their own tools and started digging.

Zhou Huan was momentarily stunned by the sight. Where had these apprentices suddenly procured tools, and such fine ones for grave robbing?

“When did you all get your tools out? Were you specifically preparing for today?” Zhou Huan asked. The apprentices all chuckled.

“Master, we knew when you left this morning that we’d be coming to the tomb chamber tonight, so we made sure to equip ourselves. We’ve got our full set of military-grade trenching tools,” Hong Kun explained.

Zhou Huan gave a faint smile and continued digging with renewed effort. After less than half an hour of frantic digging, Zhou Huan felt his shovel strike something hard, causing a jolt. Soon, a pointed object emerged, seemingly made of stone. He immediately dropped the shovel and cleared the dirt around it, realizing it looked like another stele. This stone wasn't large, perhaps a square slab about the size of a thirty-inch television.

“Hurry up and dig! Let’s see what kind of stone this is; there seem to be some patterns on it,” Shi Bingyuan said, helping Zhou Huan clear the soil around the stone. Together, they lifted the stone out, shining the flashlight on it. Sure enough, they saw some exquisitely beautiful patterns carved into the surface.