In the palace of absolute silence, how could the laughter of a woman be heard? The three beams of "Wolf's Eye" light in our hands instantly pinned onto that corner, and the cold laughter immediately ceased, leaving only an empty corner of the palace wall, with nothing there.

The three of us were deeply shocked into silence; even Shirley Yang had beads of sweat on her forehead. After a moment, she finally asked, "What was that sound just now?"

I simply shook my head, saying nothing. Unfavorable circumstances rarely bring favorable outcomes. In this ghost palace meant for ancestor worship, what good thing could possibly be here? Thinking this, I reached out and flipped the clasp on the satchel containing the black donkey hooves, glutinous rice, and other items.

At this point, Fatty was also starting to look nervous. That blind fortune-teller we found in Shibeidian, Shaanxi, used to constantly brag to us about his heroic deeds in tomb raiding. Although we never took much of what the blind man said seriously, there were a few specific phrases we remembered perfectly clearly. According to the blind man, these were words revered as golden rules by grave robbers of the past: "Faqiu seal, Mojin talisman—protect the living, not the ghost's lantern; Sealed coffin, bronze outer shell—the faint of heart should not approach; Vertical burial pit, box grave—Banshan and Xieling steer clear; Red-clad fiend, smiling corpse—a ghost’s laugh is worse than a ghost’s cry."

Later, I asked Shirley Yang, and it turned out these weren't phrases the blind man made up himself; they were indeed old sayings passed down. They spoke of things more terrifying than regular zombies. The last part mentioned that encountering a corpse dressed entirely in bright red, without any other colors in its funerary attire, or seeing a corpse with a smile on its face while tomb raiding, were both signs of extreme misfortune. If one's life force wasn't strong enough, they might never see daylight again. Ghost cries are common in many places; some mistake a wolf's howl for a ghost cry, which isn't too bad. The worst is hearing the chilling laughter of a malevolent spirit in a graveyard; only a true malevolent spirit laughs.

Although this "Celestial Palace" was the surface structure of an ancient tomb, it was absolutely, one hundred percent, part of the tomb complex. Yet, deep within this pitch-black palace, all we had were those chilling sensations that made the hair stand up on one's arms just by touching them. When the flashlight beam hit the corner, there was nothing. How could we not be afraid?

However, we had prepared ourselves beforehand. In ancient times, the Mojin Xiaowei called encountering these ominous things in tombs "meeting a Black Star." "Black Star" is also known as the "Ghost Star" in physiognomy. Once an ordinary person encounters a "Black Star," the Samadhi true fire on their shoulders is instantly extinguished, like walking a tightrope above a bottomless abyss—their life is hard to save.

Yet, the three of us wore genuine "Mojin Talismans" and several consecrated artifacts. Even if a malevolent spirit appeared, we could contend with it for several rounds. So, we steadied ourselves, temporarily ignoring the black bronze cauldron, and each holding our tools, advanced in three directions to surround the corner where the laughter had originated.

The hall was filled with steles, ring upon ring. If we were playing hide-and-seek here, it would be perfect, but seeing anything more than ten meters away was obscured. From our original position, we could only see limited angles through the gaps between the steles and the mural walls. As we gradually drew nearer, all we saw in our line of sight, besides the empty corner and the stone slabs on the floor, was nothing else. The palace fell back into a dead silence. If it weren't for that cold chill still lingering in our ears, we might have thought we misheard.

Shirley Yang asked me, "Old Hu, don't you always boast about how many tombs you've raided? In terms of practical experience against malevolent spirits in tombs, I'm not as seasoned as you. What do you think we should do now?"

I was at my wit's end too. I thought this American girl was trying to put me on the spot, so I told Shirley Yang, "In situations where we didn't know how to proceed before, we always relied on the local populace. We turn uncontrollable factors into manageable ones. The creativity of the masses is infinite; they will definitely think of a way."

Fatty was confused and also asked me, "Commander Hu, we're the only three living people out here in this desolate wilderness. Where are we supposed to find the masses?"

I said to Fatty, "Who do you think you are? Isn't your political identity that of the masses? I'm assigning you the task of searching the rear chambers of this Celestial Palace. Do whatever it takes to find the source of that chill. Whether it’s a malevolent spirit or just some wild cat stirring up trouble, it’s up to you to deal with it. I will proceed to investigate the mystery of that bronze cauldron, and have Chief of Staff Yang provide coordination in the center. Don't let either side lag. This might be a tactic by the enemy to lure the tiger away from the mountain, trying to distract our attention from the cauldron."

Fatty wasn't foolish at all and quickly said, "How about we switch? I'll use my strength to move that cauldron lid. Old Hu, you know me—I only have muscle, but when it comes to things you can't see or touch, I've always lacked creativity..."

Fatty was being overly deferential, but I ignored him and turned back toward the bronze cauldron lid. Just as I turned around, I heard another round of bone-chilling, eerie laughter erupt from the corner behind me. The sound was so sudden that the three of us flinched back a step in alarm. I leaned back against a stele, quickly flicked on the tactical spotlight on my helmet, held my MII in one hand, and kept the other ready to draw the exorcism tools from the satchel.

The cold, sinister laughter vanished in an instant. There was nothing in the corner. This was the final hall, there couldn't be any hidden rooms or secret passages tucked away here. Mustering my courage, I walked over and stomped my boot on the stone slabs on the floor; there was no sign of movement whatsoever. Damn it, this is driving me crazy! Is the spirit of the King of Xian's wife haunting this rear hall? What on earth does she want?

Shirley Yang and Fatty stood behind me, equally shaken. Hearing the laughter twice for certain, we knew we hadn't misheard. Although the hall was large, it only had one exit, not avenues branching everywhere. After all, this was the Ming Tower's capstone, not a real palace. In simple terms, it was just a facade. From the outside, it appeared layered and sprawling like a myriad of doors and windows, but the internal structure was simple—merely a place for offerings.

In such a confined space, where was the chill coming from? The fact that we couldn't see it made us more uneasy. It was better when we were fighting the giant python or the piranhas; although our lives hung by a thread, at least we got a proper fight. This current calm only bred anxiety and the constant thought: "How can there be a malevolent spirit in a place of celestial energy? But perhaps only in areas where the yin and yang flux like this can such spirits dwell." I couldn't figure this out at all.

I simply stepped on Fatty's shoulders and climbed onto the stele closest to the corner, hoping to get a better look from above. Just as I got on top of the stele, before I could even look down, I noticed a red light flickering above me. I immediately looked up and shone my tactical spotlight. There, suspended silently and swaying above the hall's vaulted ceiling, was a woman in a long robe with wide sleeves, dressed in red. The ceiling was dark and lightless, so I could only see her lower body; the rest was hidden in the shadow. I couldn't tell if she was hanging by her neck or by some other means. Her position was almost directly above and slightly to my right. This hall was grand, certainly not an ordinary structure, but we had only focused on the floor of the corner and never thought to look at the roof.

My sudden sight almost made my heart seize with terror. If my legs hadn't gripped the top of the stele firmly, I would have tumbled headfirst off it. I quickly flattened myself on the stele's surface, clutching it tightly with both hands. Fortunately, I’d seen my share of big tombs in my life, and my psychological fortitude was relatively stable. If Fatty had been in my place, he’d have probably jumped down in fright.

Fatty and Shirley Yang, looking up at my movements above them, naturally also saw the red-clad woman high up. However, her position was lower than mine, and the image was even blurrier. Even so, their faces paled, and they began urging me to climb down from the stele quickly, fearing I might be pulled up by the malevolent spirit, which would be a disaster.

After steadying myself, I didn't jump down immediately. Instead, I looked up towards the ceiling. The instant I did, another wave of cold sweat broke out. Inside that large red robe... there were no feet. The clothing was empty, clinging tightly to the corner of the high ceiling, looking exactly like just an empty garment suspended in mid-air. Where had the corpse gone?

The style of the vivid red woman's clothing was vastly different from the ancient Chinese attire I knew; it didn't resemble Hanfu. It was probably a special burial shroud worn by a woman from the Dian Kingdom at the time of her death—this blood-red garment hung perfectly still, and the eerie laughter had stopped coming.

I briefly explained the situation to Fatty and Shirley Yang below the stele. Shirley Yang wanted a clearer look, so she climbed up onto the stele and sat in front of me to examine the menacing garment hanging in the air. "This clothing is very strange, and the craftsmanship is complex," she said. "It looks like something worn by the Shan Po or Gui Po among minority groups, or perhaps a great shaman among the Yi people... It's a shaman's robe."

I asked Shirley Yang, "So you're saying it's not a cursed garment worn by a corpse? Did the laughter come from inside this robe?"

Shirley Yang replied, "It's hard to say for sure. Look closer. It's too dark up there. Use the Wolf's Eye to test it."

Since the helmet spotlight was mainly for illuminating the immediate area, it couldn't reach far. The upper part of the suspended garment was completely obscured. Although the top might also be empty, confirming it would put my mind at ease. If this garment was causing trouble, we could just burn it.

I took out the longer-range "Wolf's Eye" flashlight and flipped the switch at the base. A beam of orange-yellow light immediately shot upwards. Only then did I get a clear view of the upper half of the crimson robe.

It wasn't empty. There was something in the high, raised collar. The moment I saw it, I cried out, "It's a human head!" However, perhaps the female corpse did have an upper body, but the rest of her parts were hidden within the red robes. The clothing was voluminous, making it impossible to tell if the inside was full or collapsed; only the head and face at the shoulders were clearly visible.

As if sensing we were shining the "Wolf's Eye" flashlight on her face, the head of the female corpse subtly tilted, turning towards us. Her face was heavily made up, and from her mouth came a sharp, piercing cold laugh: "Giggle, giggle, giggle..."