"Zhegu Shao" gazed at the female corpse within arm's reach. A fine, white down was slowly beginning to spread across her face. It was clear that once the candle in the southeast corner of the tomb chamber extinguished, the body would transform into a Bai Xiong (White Fiend). However, even if the reanimation occurred, his "Corpse-Binding Rope" was more than capable of restraining her.

Yet, according to the rules of the Mojin Xiaowei (Grave Robbers of the Jin Dynasty), once the candle was out, no burial artifacts—mingqi—could be taken from the chamber. "Zhegu Shao" had been a "Banshan Daoist" (Mountain-Moving Daoist) since he was fifteen. Twelve years of surviving relentless peril had exposed him to countless unimaginably complex scenarios. He could easily retreat now and escape unscathed. But turning back in the face of difficulty was simply not his way.

"Zhegu Shao's" intention was twofold: he must not allow the candle to go out, nor could he let the ancient corpse transform. Furthermore, the ceremonial burial attire (dayan zhi fu or shroud) worn by the female corpse had to be stripped off and taken back for Elder Chen, otherwise, his prowess would not be demonstrated.

"Zhegu Shao" glanced at the deep purple bead that had fallen from the corpse’s mouth, immediately recognizing it as a pill likely compounded from cinnabar and purple jade. This was a secret "Corpse-Fixing Elixir" (Dingshi Dan) from the Laoshan school of Taoism, designed specifically to prevent reanimation. Ancient Chinese nobility rarely opted for cremation. If there were signs of the deceased becoming restless after burial, they would summon a Taoist master to administer the elixir to stabilize the body before interring it in the earth. However, these matters were known only to the deceased's family and were never disclosed to outsiders.

The flame of the candle in the southeast corner flickered wildly, seemingly blown by a sudden gust of unseen, cold wind, threatening to extinguish within seconds. "Zhegu Shao" sat astride the female corpse. With his left hand, he stretched the Corpse-Binding Rope. Having been steeped in the Ruan Shi Xiang (Soft Corpse Incense) for so long, the tug on her neck caused the corpse’s head to instantly snap back, opening her mouth wide.

"Zhegu Shao" swiftly used his right hand to retrieve the falling Dingshi Dan from the coffin and forced it back into the corpse’s mouth. He then braced his foot against the corpse's abdomen, pulled the Corpse-Binding Rope again, forcing the corpse’s head sharply downward, closing her mouth. The Dingshi Dan was thus secured back in her mouth.

Immediately afterward, "Zhegu Shao" freed his right hand, drew the box-framed pistol from his waist, and fired a shot over his shoulder. With a sharp pa, it shattered a roof tile (wadang) in the chamber. This tomb was constructed with a brick and wood structure; to protect the wooden beams, cylindrical wadang were placed over them during construction. Hit by the bullet, a large piece broke off and clattered to the ground, landing precisely near the candle. A slight breeze caught it, causing the candle to flash brilliantly, yet miraculously, it did not go out. The angle of the shot was perfectly judged: the half-hollow cylindrical piece of wadang acted like a wind-guard sleeve, precisely shielding the candle from the southeast sides—the east side being the tomb passage entrance. This successfully blocked all incoming airflow. As long as the wadang wasn't knocked over, the candle would remain lit.

Because "Zhegu Shao" had to maintain tension on the Corpse-Binding Rope with his left hand and feared the candle might extinguish at any moment, he resorted to this desperate measure, relying on his extraordinary skill to shoot down the wadang for wind protection.

As long as the candle burned, the rules of the Mojin Xiaowei were not broken. Even if the corpse did reanimate, he would have to use every ounce of his strength to secure the burial attire from this Southern Song female corpse.

The sky was already growing late; he had to leave before the rooster crowed. The Mojin Xiaowei had countless taboos, one of the foremost being "No grave robbing at the sound of the cock’s crow." Regardless of motive—be it enacting heavenly justice or redistributing wealth to aid the needy—a tomb robber remains a tomb robber. Disturbing the earth is strictly an enterprise that cannot meet the light of day. If the rules were violated and one remained in the chamber after dawn, not even the Patriarch of the profession could offer protection.

Although Elder Chen had taught "Zhegu Shao" all the operational rules and techniques, and had given him a complete set of Mojin tools, he had withheld the most vital item: the Mojin Fu (Talisman of the Golden Seal). To attempt grave robbing with Mojin Xiaowei skills without wearing this talisman carried immense danger. Only by successfully looting an ancient tomb under such conditions would he earn the right to possess the Mojin Fu.

Entering the chamber via the excavated tunnel had already consumed significant time. Delay meant disaster; the sooner the burial robes were secured, the better. Estimating his dwindling time, "Zhegu Shao" adopted a posture resembling Kui Xing kicking the dipper—sitting astride the Southern Song female corpse’s legs—using his feet and the Corpse-Binding Rope across his chest to stabilize her in a sitting position within the coffin, while reaching out to unfasten her outermost layer of ceremonial attire.

Suddenly, "Zhegu Shao" felt an itch on his neck, as if something furry had settled on his shoulder. Despite his immense bravery, every hair on his body stood on end. He urgently maintained his posture—motionless body, unmoving shoulders—and twisted his head to see what was perched there.

He saw a large, vividly patterned wildcat that had silently slipped in through the excavation tunnel at some unknown moment. It was now resting on his shoulder, fixing him with its two large, fierce eyes.

"Zhegu Shao" cursed under his breath, calling it bad luck. Every discipline of grave robbing strictly forbade encountering animals like cats, foxes, or weasels inside a tomb, especially wildcats. Legend held that cats possessed a certain mysterious bio-electricity, and contact between a live cat and a corpse was the surest trigger for reanimation.

This uninvited wildcat showed no fear of the stranger. After locking eyes with "Zhegu Shao" from his shoulder, it lowered its head to peer into the coffin. It seemed intensely interested in the mingqi arranged beside the corpse—those gleaming golden objects appearing to it as irresistible playthings, ready to be pounced upon at any second.

"Zhegu Shao’s" heart leaped into his throat. He worried the cat would jump from his shoulder into the coffin. If it touched the female corpse, even with the Dingshi Dan in her mouth, it would certainly induce reanimation. If she turned into a Bai Xiong, though he didn't fear the creature itself, the resulting commotion might knock over the candle. Secondly, time was scarce; he might not have enough time to remove the attire for Elder Chen. The rule of "No robbing at cockcrow" was, like "No robbing when the lamp is out," an ironclad tenet that Mojin Xiaowei must obey.

While, with "Zhegu Shao's" skill, disregarding these rules to take the robes would be as easy as taking something from his own pocket, those in the trade valued honor and promises above life itself. A master like him cherished these conventions immensely. The reputation of grave robbing was already tarnished enough; losing the rules that sustained their existence would reduce them to common thieves.

It happened in less time than it took to think, these thoughts barely flashing through "Zhegu Shao's" mind, leaving no room for further deliberation. The striped wildcat could no longer resist the shiny allure of the artifacts. It crouched, preparing to leap from "Zhegu Shao's" shoulder.

"Zhegu Shao" wanted to reach out and grab the cat, but feared that moving his body might startle it, causing him to inadvertently disturb the Southern Song corpse. Seeing the cat about to spring into the coffin, inspiration struck him in the moment of panic, and he quickly blew a soft, sharp whistle.

The nickname "Zhegu Shao" derived from his mastery of vocal mimicry—he could imitate the sounds of various animals perfectly, achieving uncanny verisimilitude. To divert the wildcat’s attention, he pursed his lips and emitted two soft whistles, followed by several imitations of a cat’s meow: Miao~ miao~.

The wildcat, poised to leap into the coffin, was indeed drawn by the call of its own kind. Its ears twitched, and it searched on "Zhegu Shao’s" shoulder for the source of the sound. The cat must have found it strange—where was the other cat? Where was it hiding? The sound seemed to be right nearby.

Seeing the wildcat fall for the trick, "Zhegu Shao" began planning how to lure it away from the coffin. Just a moment’s distraction would allow him to strip the robes, and then the pesky cat could explore the coffin as it pleased. But how to lure it away temporarily?

To further distract the feline, "Zhegu Shao" then softly imitated two bird calls. The cat, perhaps hungry for days, felt its appetite immediately stirred by the sound of birds. It finally realized the chirping was coming from beneath the face covering of the person next to it. This person’s face was wrapped in black cloth, which must hide something strange—perhaps a small sparrow.

The wildcat, imagining a sparrow, grew ravenous, its eyes turning slightly blue. It raised a paw and began to scratch tentatively at the black cloth covering "Zhegu Shao's" mouth. "Zhegu Shao" secretly rejoiced, cursing inwardly: Damn stupid cat, the thickest-headed creature alive.

Taking advantage of the wildcat focusing all its attention on the black cloth covering his mouth, "Zhegu Shao" quietly reached into the coffin and grasped a funerary object—a bracelet woven entirely of pure gold thread. To avoid startling the cat, he kept his arm still, using only his thumb to flick the gold bracelet, sending it arcing toward the excavation tunnel behind him.

The gold bracelet traced a parabola through the air, landing near the mouth of the tunnel at the back of the chamber. The tomb had been deathly quiet, the kind of silence where a falling needle could be heard. The landing of the bracelet indeed caught the wildcat’s attention. "Zhegu Shao" stopped the vocal mimicry. The cat assumed the little sparrow had taken advantage of its distraction and flown to the rear. It cried out, "Meow meow!" and leaped into the tunnel, chasing the sound to hunt.

"Zhegu Shao" had been waiting for this exact opportunity. The moment the cat jumped off his shoulder, he pulled out his 20-round, semi-automatic German Luger pistol, intending to turn and shoot the large cat dead to prevent it from returning to cause trouble. However, when he turned to look, in addition to the initial patterned wildcat, seven or eight more large and small cats had already squeezed into the tomb chamber. One was alarmingly close to the wadang partially covering the candle—the slightest nudge would cause the tile to press down and extinguish the flame.

Cold sweat beaded on "Zhegu Shao’s" forehead. He had weathered countless fierce storms, yet he now faced this unprecedented, bizarre situation in this small tomb. Had his vocal performance earlier attracted the surrounding cats? Their acute hearing, picking up the sound of sparrows from the tunnel, had drawn them in, all hoping for a feast.

Dawn was imminent. What was he to do?