I stood on the ridge, discerning the pulse of the mountains and valleys, marking the probable locations of ancient tombs with notes, detailing their distance and bearing. Then, I turned to look at Fatty and Da Jinya on the other side.

The two of them were circling the Fish Bone Temple, searching for a grave robber's tunnel. I put my fingers to my mouth and let out a sharp whistle toward Fatty and Da Jinya.

Hearing the sound, the pair looked up and shrugged, signaling they hadn't found the entrance to the tunnel yet. They immediately bent back to their search, turning the Fish Bone Temple inside out, time and again.

Ascending is easy; descending is hard. I glanced back toward the path I had climbed; it was too steep, making a return by the same route difficult. I scanned the surroundings and spotted a section of the slope to my left where wind and rain erosion had caused a large chunk of earth to collapse. Descending from there would be easier.

So, I walked along the ridge to the left for a stretch, treading carefully on the crumbling clumps of earth to make my way down. Even this slope was treacherous underfoot, slippery with every step. I saw a slightly flatter patch nearby where I could gain purchase and jumped across.

To my surprise, just two steps after landing, the ground suddenly gave way beneath me, and my lower body plunged instantly into the hole. I thought, This is bad; I’ve stepped onto a crust.

Villagers nearby had warned that this place, the Coiling Snake Slope, was riddled with these trap-holes. I had assumed the periphery would be safe, but I had been careless. By now, my waist was completely swallowed by the earth pit. I knew instantly that struggling was out of the question. The geological structure here was much like quicksand in the desert—the difference being less sand and more fine soil. The harder I fought to climb out, the faster I would sink. In such a predicament, one could only wait for rescue; alone, one could only wait for death.

After sinking significantly deeper into the earth crust, I consciously kept my body still, not even daring to take a deep breath, terrified that the slightest movement would cause me to sink further. If it went past my chest, the situation would become catastrophic.

I used my hands gently to brace myself, ensuring my weight was distributed evenly. After waiting a dozen seconds and sensing I was no longer dropping, I freed one hand, took the whistle from my neck, and brought it to my lips, ready to summon Fatty for help.

But blowing the whistle required bracing my chest and abdomen. I was balanced in a delicate equilibrium; any movement could cause this slope to collapse at any second, burying me alive. Of course, it wasn't guaranteed burial; perhaps there was a large karst cave below. Even worse, being stuck halfway—with no sky above and no ground below—would lead to suffocation, a truly agonizing way to go.

The thought flashed through my mind, but I decided to blow the whistle anyway. If I waited until Fatty and the others remembered me, it would be too late. I hoped they would hear and rush to my aid quickly, or else Old Hu would truly be called home this time. I had weathered many storms, but I deeply preferred not to die stuck in this paltry embankment.

I blew the whistle. My chest and abdomen moved slightly, and my body gave a sickening lurch, sinking another section, just enough to compress my chest. Breathing became increasingly difficult. Typically, if someone is buried alive, they don't need to be covered to the top; the earth past the chest is enough to cut off the breath.

That was precisely my condition now. My hands were outside, and though I was desperately short of air, I dared not struggle. This moment was a test of endurance. I tried to keep calm; I absolutely could not attempt to push out with my arms just because my chest felt tight to the point of asphyxiation—that would only hasten my death.

For me now, one second stretched longer than a year. Damn it, why aren't those fat devils coming? If they hadn't heard the whistle, I was done for.

Just as I held my breath, lost in turbulent thoughts, I saw Fatty and Da Jinya strolling casually up from below, chatting and laughing.

The moment they saw my predicament, they were startled, breaking into a run toward me. Fatty fumbled to untie the ropes and chains he carried as he ran. He still had his bamboo basket, and the two large white geese inside squawked loudly, terrified by Fatty’s sudden acceleration.

Fearing more crusts nearby, Fatty and Da Jinya stopped about ten paces away, not daring to approach closer. They tossed the rope over. I finally grasped the straw of salvation and wrapped the rope twice around my hands.

With a combined effort, they yanked me free from the earth crust. As I was pulled out, my legs completely crushed the entire section of the crust, exposing a large hole on the slope from which debris continuously fell inward.

I gasped for air, unscrewed my canteen, gulped down a few mouthfuls, and poured the rest over my head, wiping my face with my wet hand. I looked back at the collapsed hole behind me. I couldn't even count how many times I had skirted the jaws of hell this time. The lingering fear was intense; I dared not dwell on it.

Fatty lit a cigarette for me to calm my nerves. Still shaken, I took two drags, coughing violently from the smoke. This experience was different from the others. Before, life and death happened in an instant, leaving no time for fear. This time, Death had approached slowly, step by excruciating step. Nothing in the world can torment the nerves like that.

Perhaps two of my seven spirits and six of my po had fled; it took a full twenty minutes for those two spirits and six po to slowly return.

Seeing my ashen face, Da Jinya and Fatty remained silent. After a long while, when my eyes stopped looking so vacant, they asked how I was.

I nodded, telling Fatty to bring the white liquor. A few swigs of the alcohol finally helped me fully recover.

The three of us went to look at the hole I had broken. Da Jinya asked, "Could this be a grave robber's tunnel?"

I said, "No. A grave robber's tunnel wouldn't have such crumbly edges. This is the result of erosion from an underground karst cave. The mountain’s exterior is just an empty shell now, thick in some places, thin in others. It seems the scale of the caves beneath Dragon Ridge is quite vast."

I recounted what I had seen from the ridge: there must be a massive tomb in the mountains over there, roughly one kilometer in a straight line from the Fish Bone Temple.

If there was a tunnel dug from the Fish Bone Temple leading to that ancient tomb, this distance and bearing would make perfect sense. Digging a kilometer-long tunnel wouldn't be difficult for an expert; it would just take more time.

Fatty asked, "What kind of idiot is this? Since they could pinpoint the exact location of the tomb, why dig a tunnel from so far away?"

I told Fatty, "The predecessor who built the Fish Bone Temple had far superior topographical sense than you. He naturally had his reasons. I suspect it’s because they intended to enter the underground palace from below."

Da Jinya mused, "Oh? Entering from below? Could it be because the tomb's surroundings were built too solidly, leaving no other approach, so they had to ascend from beneath? I hear that technique is called 'Top Palace' breaching."

I replied, "That’s likely the case. During the Tang Dynasty, they built mausoleums in the mountains, and with the prosperity of the High Tang era, the nation's wealth was unrivaled. The tombs must have been built extremely securely, with the underground palaces constructed of massive stone blocks reinforced with cast iron strips, making it very hard to breach the walls. However, no matter how ironclad an ancient tomb is, it's not a seamlessly sealed egg. Every mausoleum has a void, which, from a Feng Shui perspective, is necessary to trap wind and accumulate qi. If the tomb lacked this void, even the best geomantic spot would be useless."

Fatty asked, "So, leaving a back door?"

I corrected him, "No. Form stops, but qi gathers. To maintain the form and momentum of the auspicious Feng Shui site, the tomb’s structure cannot be completely sealed; it requires qi to gather and harmonize. Generally, the tomb's passage or rear hall is where this harmonization occurs. That area cannot be sealed too tightly, as it would be detrimental to the occupant."

There is another theory: large mausoleums were like palaces. When finally sealed, to keep the secrets of the inner sanctum, the last group of craftsmen were often sealed inside to die. Experienced craftsmen, during construction, would always secure an escape route for themselves, secretly building a secret passage, which was often located beneath the main underground palace.

However, these escape routes secretly built by the craftsmen had no basis in Feng Shui; they were built for maximum concealment, significantly impacting the tomb's layout, yet they could never be entirely prevented.

Therefore, when faced with these heavily fortified tombs, the grave robbers, after assessing the situation, would opt to start from below.

After a brief discussion, the three of us decided it was worth the effort to venture into the Dragon Ridge tomb. Its location was highly specific; the mountain formation had long since changed its original appearance. Anyone who could discover this tomb must be a master among the grave robbers, someone who would adhere to tradition: 'Take nothing but two items.' For a tomb this large, even if he took one or two treasures, or even a hundred, if we could just find two items among the remainder, our haul would be significant.

We decided to proceed via the tunnel from the Fish Bone Temple, as it was less trouble. First, the Fish Bone Temple tunnel was only a few decades old, so it wouldn't have changed drastically; even if there were collapses, we could easily dig a short detour. Second, Dragon Ridge had those man-trapping crusts, making travel within the ridge inherently dangerous—I had just experienced it firsthand and nearly suffocated. We should avoid danger if possible.

With the plan set, we headed back to the Fish Bone Temple. Fatty and Da Jinya had been searching for a long time without finding any tunnel. The temple wasn't built against a mountain or near water, nor did it possess any notable layout; determining the tunnel's location from the exterior was extremely difficult. This tunnel was crucial for us, as all my deductions relied on the premise that the Fish Bone Temple tunnel was dug by a grave robber.

Suddenly, an idea struck me. I called out to Fatty and Da Jinya, "Let's check the old altar where the Dragon King's clay statue used to stand. If there is a tunnel, it's highly likely it's hidden beneath the altar."