We were suspended from the tree trunk like the terracotta warriors in a cave, held by safety ropes. The morning light filtering through the jungle canopy dazzled our eyes. There, exposed within the split trunk, was a dark red object, rectangular in shape, with its top two corners rounded off.

Sunlight passing through the gaps in the leaves cast a faint purple aura upon it. What in the world was this? I struggled to hook my ice axe onto the trunk, climbing back up into the canopy, and then hauled Shirley Yang up as well. Fatty, already suffering from a fear of heights, was frozen stiff ten meters above the ground, not daring to make any sudden moves. I intended to lower him to the ground with the safety rope, but Fatty refused flatly, "Old Hu, pull me up into the tree instead. I have to get a good look at this thing. I bet it’s worth a fortune."

So, Shirley Yang and I used every ounce of our strength to pull the safety rope, helping Fatty climb back into the canopy. By now, it was dawn. Standing in the crown of the old banyan tree, over twenty meters high, looking down gave one the feeling of standing at the edge of an abyss, walking on thin ice.

This time we learned our lesson, scattering apart so as not to gather on the same branch, and surrounded the object revealed within the trunk. Fatty asked me, "Is this a coffin? Jade or crystal? Why is it this strange color? It looks a bit like those chunks of Cinnabar Stone we dealt with back in Panjiayuan."

I didn't answer Fatty. This turn of events was completely unexpected; I just stared intently. In the center of the old banyan, more than half of a transparent coffin, looking like a mix of jade and crystal, was exposed. It was lustrous and semi-translucent. The outermost, paper-thin layer was milky white, and it gradually deepened to red towards the interior, the color intensifying as if it were filled with fresh, crimson blood. Most of the exterior was entangled with fragments of bark shed from the tree and vines from various parasitic plants, obscuring a full view.

We had never encountered material like this before. Looking closer, we realized it was formed from a semi-transparent jade-like stone, wrapped inside a layer of crystalline inclusions, and further within, a mass of deep crimson ***. These *** looked exactly like fresh blood. Based on its external appearance alone, this was a rare jade coffin.

Seeing this strange jade coffin, Shirley Yang couldn't help but marvel, "This is clearly a casket for the deceased. Judging by the material, it's Tibetan Celestial Jade, not the Burmese jade found near Yunnan. But... how could such a massive jade coffin end up inside a tree? Wait... the area beyond Shelter Dragon Mountain is within the scope of the Xian King's Tomb. This coffin might be part of a subsidiary burial mound, but why would the coffin grow into the tree?"

Fatty chimed in, "You should ask Old Hu. Doesn't he always boast that there isn't a single tomb in all of China whose coffin he doesn't know? Let him explain."

I shook my head, "You're putting me on the spot. Since the Shang and Zhou dynasties, when people built tombs, there was always a mound marked by a tree planted in front of it, symbolizing prosperity for descendants. But I've never seen anyone place a coffin inside a tree trunk. That's completely improper."

Since the Shang and Zhou eras, China has adhered to Feng Shui theories. Burying the dead has always required being 'backed by Yang and embraced by Yin, leaning against mountains and near water.' How could hanging it in a tree possibly be acceptable? Moreover, this old tree is located in the jungle behind 'Shelter Dragon Mountain.' Although the mountaintop is shrouded in mist, obscuring the dragon vein’s course, from below, we could see this large mountain only has a single ridge and peak—it's a solitary dragon. The Seeking the Dragon chapter in the Sixteen-Character Yin-Yang Feng Shui Secret Arts clearly states: Dragons fear solitude, graves fear cold; four-sided lack of response is truly perilous. A solitary mountain and lonely dragon cannot be settled; settling there guarantees hardship and difficulty.

Although the terrain here slopes from east to high ground to west low ground, the its location is too isolated. Its outlook is one of decay, severance, falling wood, and illusion—it's a bottomless basin. Therefore, this area is absolutely unsuitable for establishing a mausoleum.

Furthermore, an old tree is considered the foremost of the Five Hazards to a Yin Abode. If the burial site is near an old tree, a solitary mountain, a broken stream, a barren ridge, or jumbled rocks—all possessing malevolent and flawed forms—no one should be buried there. An old tree snatches away the vital energy; a solitary mountain offers little protection, resulting in the spirit failing to merge or coalesce, causing an inevitable clash between Yin and Yang forms. A broken stream means the main vein suffers and the earth withers; once the water vein is severed, the vital energy is cut off. Jumbled rocks and barren, craggy ridges breed malevolent energy, often leading to misfortune from the earth's bad qi. A barren ridge signifies a place devoid of vitality.

However, these locations are not inherently places of disaster; perhaps building a temple or ancestral hall might be suitable to harmonize the landscape, but they are unsuitable for a Yin Abode or for burying the dead.

So, setting aside the idea of using a tree as a grave—which completely violates the principles of Feng Shui forms, ignoring qi veins, Bright Hall, Water Gate, Dragon, Grave, Sand, Water, and Direction—we've never seen such a place. But this transparent coffin is truly rare. What exactly is that *** inside? Could it truly be blood? And if so, whose blood?

I walked closer and touched the jade coffin. It was cold and smooth under my fingers—truly a rare and beautiful piece of jade. Even more remarkable was its flawless whole form, and its immense size; even the inner courts of the Imperial Palace would struggle to find such fine jade. The jade coffin lay horizontally within the trunk of the old banyan. Due to the compression from the tree's intertwined growth, coupled with the collapse of a supporting section of the trunk, the coffin, originally resting horizontally, had tilted slightly.

Where the lid slanted downwards toward the body of the coffin, there were several fine hairline cracks, perhaps caused by impact from the wreckage of the crashed C-type transport plane, or perhaps from long-term squeezing by the twisting, growing tree. The crimson *** filling the coffin slowly seeped out through these cracks, dripping onto the jade tomb *** below.

Only then did we realize what had happened. Because Fatty's initial weight on the tree was so great, the jade coffin inside tilted slightly, causing the dark red, blood-like *** within to seep out through the cracks and drip onto the lower ***. Since there were three or four cracks in the jade coffin, located at varying distances, and the tree trunk was originally sealed, the sound of dripping water varied in length and sounded muffled, mistakenly interpreted by us as a sequence of coded signals.

Once the level of the red *** inside the coffin dropped below the cracks, the signaling naturally stopped abruptly. When the tree trunk fractured a second time and the wreckage of the C-type plane on the canopy fell to the ground, the resulting jolt tilted the jade coffin slightly further. This caused more of the crimson *** inside to seep out rapidly. We had already assumed the sound was a signal—a case of seeing ghosts where there were none, being overly suspicious.

However, a chill ran down my spine immediately. Could it truly be such a coincidence? That drops could form a death code? If it was just chance, it was not an auspicious sign. I hoped nothing major would happen on this trip.

Just as I was lost in thought, Shirley Yang used his paratrooper knife to peel away the root systems from the jade coffin lid. He put on gloves and quickly brushed off the surface of the lid. Several exquisitely carved patterns immediately appeared on the top of the jade coffin—an entire layer carved with auspicious and spiritual rare birds and beasts like mandarin ducks, wild geese, rabbits, deer, and elephants. The four corners were adorned with various floral and vegetative motifs, carved in opposing pairs.

The sides of the jade coffin were entirely carved with patterns of lotus petals along the bottom, embellished with rhomboid honeysuckle reliefs. In the center of each side was a lifelike little parrot, each holding a Lingzhi mushroom in its beak.

After observing this, Shirley Yang looked up and said to me, "The reliefs on this jade coffin have peaceful and gentle forms. Although the carving style is slightly stiff, the craftsmanship is simple and direct, splendid yet profound. This form of artistic expression closely resembles the ancient style of the Qin and Han dynasties. This must be a subsidiary burial mound of the Xian King’s Tomb; there's no doubt about it."

Fatty, unable to wait, rubbed his hands together and said, "Who cares what king it is. Since we stumbled upon this jade coffin, it's our fortune. Let's pry it open and see if there are any burial objects inside. It's daylight now; we don't need to fear any corpse transformation."

I stopped Fatty, saying, "Don't be hasty. This jade coffin is definitely not ordinary; it wouldn't have grown into a tree for no reason. Besides, look at all this deep crimson *** inside, no different from fresh blood. Who can guarantee nothing will happen if we open it?"

Shirley Yang dipped the tip of his paratrooper knife into a bit of the dark red *** seeping from the jade coffin, then sniffed it near his nose. He told Fatty and me, "There's no smell of blood, but rather a strong herbal scent, like Chinese medicine. As for the jade coffin itself, there’s nothing overly special about it. The red *** inside is likely for preservation. The strangest part is the coffin being inside the tree..."

Fatty dismissed it, "What's so shocking about that? Maybe the tree seed grew below the tomb chamber. As the tree grew larger, it eventually broke through the rammed earth of the grave mound, pushing the coffin out. That's why the coffin is at the top of the tree. I’m telling you two, what kind of brains do you have? You can’t figure out such a small matter, yet you still have the nerve to travel so far to dig graves."

I shook my head, "Little Fatty's possibility is unlikely. It suddenly occurred to me that this jade coffin doesn't look like something made quickly. Perhaps it contains someone from the Daoist path. Those hermits and mystics believe they are outside the Five Elements and don't need to follow the conventional methods for choosing a Yin Abode. If they have the proper seals and locks from birth to delivery, their energy concentrates in the yuan [a vital core]. Maybe he did this intentionally—these two old parent-child trees serve as the outer casket for this jade coffin, and inside is a shaman or someone seeking immortality. That hole we found in the tree trunk earlier, I suspect it might be the Mingtang (Bright Hall) aperture of this wooden casket, a Golden Well absorbing the essence of heaven and earth. Legend says the Xian King's Tomb is a unique 'Water Dragon Swirl,' like a celestial immortal's dwelling. We haven't seen that yet. If it's truly as the legend claims, this subsidiary tomb should be one of the stellar positions surrounding the main grave. Therefore, we shouldn't judge solely by the formations around this old tree."

Shirley Yang found my reasoning more convincing: "The Xian King was obsessed with shamanism and the path to immortality, so most of his high officials were mystics. Following this logic, the occupant of this subsidiary tomb is an immortal's coffin. But we don't know if the master inside has already achieved immortality. If there truly are immortals in this world, this jade coffin should be empty now; the corpse should have undergone Xianjie (Immortal Dissolution)."

Fatty said, "Old Hu, hurry up and fetch the tools. I'll chop away the tree trunk blocking the other side, and we’ll see what’s inside this coffin. Whether it’s an immortal or a demon doesn't matter; the most important thing is valuable burial objects. Let's get an auspicious start. I never thought that old mummy, the Xian King, was any good. To use the blind man's words, this is ill-gotten wealth, and there's no reason not to take it."

Shirley Yang nodded too, "We might discover some secrets related to the Xian King's Tomb inside. That information and those clues could be of great help to us."

Seeing they were both eager to open the coffin, I climbed down the tree and brought up the 'Yin Probing Claw,' the 'Yin-Yang Mirror,' and some other tools used by Mojin Xiaowei (Grave Robbers of the Golden Tomb) for opening coffins. The rule of the Mojin is to start at dark and stop at cockcrow. Since it was already bright daylight, technically, 'burial objects' shouldn't be touched. However, it was permissible to open the coffin to investigate, which is where the 'Yin-Yang Mirror' came into play.

The 'Yin-Yang Mirror' is an ancient artifact dating back to the mid-Tang Dynasty. It's a heavily worn bronze mirror, not perfectly round, but cast in a triangular shape, symbolizing the Trinity of Heaven, Earth, and Man. The front is Yang, the back is Yin. The inscription on the back reads, "Raise the Coffin, Gain Wealth." When used, it is suspended by a red cord in mid-air, with the front facing the sun and the seal script on the back aimed at the coffin opening.

Legend has it that this Yin-Yang Mirror was specifically used to open coffins exposed outside the tomb mound. Tomb raiding flourished during the Tang Dynasty, with a poem describing the miserable scene of desolate grave sites after the raids: "Half a skull sticks out of the earth, white bones scattered all around." In that era, professional grave robbers were numerous, and their methods varied. The most popular method was not digging a secret tunnel into the underground palace, but rather using large shovels in broad daylight to smash open the mound, pulling the coffin out of the palace with ropes, opening it outside, stripping the deceased of all their finery, and then abandoning the bones in the wilderness. The Yin-Yang Mirror was an essential tool for grave robbers of that period, not exclusively a Mojin tradition.

This particular Yin-Yang Mirror was the relic of Elder Liaochen. Its specific use and function in the hands of the Mojin Xiaowei are now largely lost. We only know that in dire circumstances, if one must open a coffin during the day, the Yin-Yang Mirror can be used to reflect upon the coffin opening, to prevent unclean, foul Yin-Qi from extinguishing the Samadhi True Fire on the living person, which would lead to bad luck upon returning.

We were operating in daylight today, so we brought it out to try, regardless of its efficacy. However, after hanging up the Yin-Yang Mirror and preparing to use the Yin Probing Claw on the coffin nails, we discovered this jade coffin had no nails; it was a drawer-style mechanism. The jade slab that served as the lid had extremely tight slots on both sides.

We found the opening to the jade coffin, preparing to draw the jade lid out of the coffin body. Just as Fatty and I were about to move, we noticed that the sunlight streaming down from the sky now illuminated the crystal jade coffin, casting a tall, dark human shadow inside. This shadow was extremely dense and black, showing a head and two shoulders. Even against the dark red color formed by the crimson *** in the sunlight, this shadow remained remarkably distinct. Furthermore, the shadow below the shoulders seemed strange and unusually wide, as if there were many other objects inside the coffin, though their exact nature was hard to determine from the shape—perhaps artifacts accompanying the jade coffin.

I thought, since there is a body inside, it seems the deceased did not achieve immortality. Anyway, in broad daylight, I wasn't afraid of him turning into a jiangshi (hopping corpse). Unexpectedly, a large, heavy black cloud drifted from somewhere overhead, obscuring the sunlight. The light around us instantly dimmed. Loud thunderclaps occasionally rumbled from the sky. Drawn by the sudden noise, we all looked up. I cursed this cursed place, "Damn it, thunder without rain." I worried silently that lightning might strike this old tree, which would send us tumbling down with it. I thought we should find shelter somewhere until the storm passed before proceeding.

Suddenly, Shirley Yang called from the opposite side of the jade coffin, "Look over here, you two. There’s a dead man's hand pressed under the coffin. I think the signal might have come from here, not from the *** seeping out of the jade coffin."

I was just about to turn to look when I realized it had become too dark to see people clearly. None of us expected the weather to change so drastically and so quickly. In an instant, the sky turned as black as the bottom of a pot, with thunderclaps sounding one after another...