Chapter 85: Shadows

Ghostface Zhang still wore an expression full of skepticism. If everything he had said before was true, then my claim of knowing nothing at all would indeed be hard to believe.

Scratching my head in exasperation, I truly had no idea how to explain myself; I was at my wit’s end, flustered and helpless. All I could muster was a stammering, “I’m really not lying. I truly know nothing—absolutely nothing.”

Ghostface Zhang pulled the cigarette from his mouth and flicked away the ash. “Forget it. Since you say you know nothing, continuing to interrogate you is pointless.” With that, he waved his hand, signaling for us to proceed into the tomb, and strode toward the entrance himself.

I exchanged a glance with the Black Cloak, then looked back at Mengya. She nodded and joined us.

“Was Ghostface Zhang telling the truth just now?” I asked in a hushed voice.

The Black Cloak and Mengya both nodded in unison. Mengya’s face was grave. “He wasn’t wrong. It’s all true. What’s really going on with you?”

I forced a bitter smile. “See? Even you don’t believe me.” Glancing at the Black Cloak, I saw a faint smirk at the corner of his mouth, as if he were relishing the drama—a bystander watching tigers fight from the mountain. Trying to lighten the mood, I quipped, “Alright, enough, let’s move on. Ghostface Zhang is almost out of sight!”

We followed Ghostface Zhang through the main gate, but just as we stepped past the stone threshold, the tomb door slammed shut behind us with a thunderous crash. Spinning around, I saw the massive door sealed tight, not a sliver of gap left.

“Damn, our way out is gone!” I cursed, glancing at Mengya. She was pale with fright, her nerves taut. The Black Cloak, however, seemed utterly unfazed, even chuckling quietly to himself.

“What are you laughing at? The exit’s blocked and you still find this funny?” Mengya’s voice trembled with anxiety.

The Black Cloak shook his head. “What’s there to fear? With so many people to keep me company in the afterlife, what’s to be scared of?”

I spat in annoyance. “Don’t speak so ominously. You make it sound as if we’re doomed for sure.”

“Hurry up and keep up. If you get lost and die in here, don’t think I’ll be responsible!”

In the midst of our bickering, Ghostface Zhang’s hoarse shout reached our ears. I hurried after him, only to be met with a glare. “You have time to joke around here? Can’t you see how dangerous this place is?”

I forced a few more awkward laughs, thinking to myself that I wasn’t a tomb raider—how was I supposed to know what dangers lurked here?

Lost in thought, I hadn’t taken more than ten steps when Ghostface Zhang suddenly flung out his arm, halting us. “Wait.”

Everyone was startled by his abruptness and immediately froze. At that moment, Kaleidoscope sidled up to Ghostface Zhang, stammering nervously, “Third… Third Brother, what’s going on?”

Ghostface Zhang didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on the distant darkness, his expression tense, though he still managed to fish out a cigarette, lighting it and clenching it between his lips.

The atmosphere plummeted to freezing; not a word was spoken, even breathing seemed to fade away. After some five minutes, Ghostface Zhang took a deep drag and lowered his voice. “Look—there, in the distance. Doesn’t it look like someone? They’re moving.”

A chill ran down my spine at his words. This was an ancient tomb, at least from the Yuan dynasty, nearly a thousand years old—how could there be anyone still alive? Could it be the so-called “Guardians of the Tomb”? But that seemed impossible; no one could survive in here for a thousand years, even if there were some underground stream for water. Food was an even greater impossibility—there was nothing edible to be found here. If it wasn’t a living person, was it one of those legendary “medicinal men” crafted in ancient times?

“Medicinal men”—what we now call “living dead”—were a special creation of certain ancient ethnic groups, first recorded by the famous pre-Qin herbalist Xu Fu. According to rare ancient texts and folklore, the process involved using toxins or psychoactive drugs to destroy the central nervous system and consciousness, then employing preservation techniques to halt the organs yet allow the body to function. These “medicinal men” had no will of their own and were typically used as guards, for their incredible strength and near indestructibility, though they could occasionally attack indiscriminately.

“Are you sure you saw right?” Kaleidoscope hesitated, seeking confirmation.

Ghostface Zhang shot him a stern look. “Do you think I’d joke about something like this, in a place like this?”

“Uh…” Kaleidoscope was at a loss, thinking for a moment. “Third Brother, maybe we should send someone up ahead to check.”

Ghostface Zhang nodded, taking another drag. “Then you go.”

I couldn’t help but smirk inwardly—this guy was sly as a fox, always passing the buck. If there was ever a case of payback, this was it.

The moment Ghostface Zhang spoke, Kaleidoscope nearly collapsed in fright, beads of cold sweat rolling down his cheeks. He glanced around in desperation, only to see everyone else take two steps back in unison. “Let them go!” He jabbed a finger at the remaining three crew members. “Let them do it.”

Ghostface Zhang cast a disdainful glance at Kaleidoscope, then turned to the surviving three. “Which one of you has the guts to go take a look? I, Ghostface Zhang, won’t let you suffer for nothing.”

Easy words, I thought to myself. If he, with all his bravado, wouldn’t venture forth, what did it matter what promises he made? It was clear the way ahead was fraught with peril.

The three men exchanged hesitant glances, but after a moment, one balding man stepped forward, thumping his chest as if steeling his nerves.

“Master Zhang! I’m Li Ironhead, one of Lord Sha’s men. I’ll be the one to test the waters for you. I’ve seen medicinal men and living corpses in tombs before—a few of them are no problem for me. If I don’t make it back, I hope you’ll look after my family.” His voice boomed through the chamber.

Ghostface Zhang paused, studying Li Ironhead. “No need for such dire talk before you’ve even gone. Just take a look and run back if anything happens.”

Li Ironhead grinned, rubbed his shiny head, took a deep breath, and was about to dart forward like a sprinter.

“Ironhead, wait!” Dragon King called out in a low voice, producing a climbing rope and approaching Ghostface Zhang. “Third Brother, if Ironhead gets grabbed by something, you can pull him back. Two hundred pounds is nothing for your strength.”

Ghostface Zhang, perhaps moved by Li Ironhead’s resolve, nodded without hesitation.

Dragon King tied the rope around Li Ironhead himself, a hint of sadness in his eyes as he looked at his old comrade. “Old Li, you’ve been with me for years. I hate to see you go. Be careful—if things go wrong, don’t force it. Just tug the rope and Master Zhang will get you out. Don’t try to be a hero.”

Li Ironhead chuckled and nodded, though he, too, seemed reluctant, sensing this would be a tough ordeal.

He wiped at his eyes, waved farewell, and stepped into the pitch-black abyss ahead. Everyone held their breath, fearing what might unfold.

“Ah!”

Barely two minutes passed before a blood-curdling scream from Li Ironhead echoed back to us. The rope jerked wildly, swinging like the erratic lines of a heart rate monitor.

“Third Brother, pull the rope!” Dragon King urged anxiously.

Ghostface Zhang nodded and heaved with all his might. The imported climbing rope, strong as steel, snapped taut with a resounding twang, the force easily four or five hundred pounds. Yet, Li Ironhead was not dragged back by that tremendous power.