Li Si collapsed onto the ground with a thud.
Zhang San was standing farther away and hadn't seen what happened. He immediately began cursing.
"Damn it!" the man snarled. He grabbed Li Si by the collar. His breath was hot and ragged.
"What the hell did you see?"
Li Si's eyes were wide. Glassy. Full of panic. His lips trembled like a leaf in a storm.
"A… a corpse!"
"So what?" Zhang San spat. He rolled his eyes.
"A corpse in a coffin. Of course."
Li Si's voice broke into a thin whimper. Each word scraped out of his throat.
"A… a corpse… clawing out of the coffin…!"
He couldn't finish.
Minnow jerked in shock and whipped around.
There was no corpse.
The black lacquered coffin lay tightly sealed, its surface smooth and unbroken.
Wei, confused, turned as well.
Nothing.
The air was eerily still.
Wei touched the coffin lid.
Cold as ice.
He pushed. Hard.
Nothing.
He shoved again. Muscles screamed.
Still nothing.
The lid stayed sealed. Mocking him.
"See?" Zhang San stepped closer. His torch wavered.
The flame shuddered in the stale air.
Then—
Drip.
Zhang San froze.
In the stone chamber, the sound was sharp. Clear.
Drip.
Right behind him.
Zhang San's body went rigid.
No one moved.
Zhang San slowly lowered the torch.
Light slid across the ground.
Something glistened on the stone. Thin rivulets of liquid crept across the floor.
He followed them.
Down.
Across the rock.
To Li Si.
Li Si stood there, trembling.
His trouser leg was soaked.
Furious, Zhang San kicked him over.
"Boss, I swear I saw it… just now… it vanished in the blink of an eye—"
"Useless trash!"
Grabbing the old woodcutter by the collar with one hand—dragging him along like a shield—Zhang San crept toward the coffin, knife in the other hand.
The moment he saw the intricate carvings on the lid, his eyes lit up.
Only the rich decorated their coffins like this.
He strode forward, torch nearly pressed against the lid, and licked his lips greedily.
"Mine… mine… it's all damn mine!"
His voice trembled—not with fear, but excitement.
He shoved Wei and Minnow aside and kept talking, almost gloating.
"See that? That's fate! You two will never stumble on something this good in your whole lives!"
As he spoke, he tapped the coffin lid with the sheath of his knife—thump, thump—like beating a gong, brazen and loud.
"Well? Open it for me! I want to see if there's a golden Buddha inside, or a jade goddess!"
He stabbed his knife into the ground and gripped the edge of the coffin lid with both hands, ready to pry it open.
Before he could touch it—
The lid shifted.
Just slightly. So faint it was almost impossible to notice.
Zhang San froze.
He staggered back two steps and snatched up the torch.
His voice stayed defiant, but a tremor crept in.
"What? The thing inside scared of me too? Ha… ha… haha… Move then! Go on—move again and let me see!"
Minnow clutched Wei's sleeve with both hands, eyes squeezed shut, yet too frightened to run.
Watching Zhang San teeter on the edge of madness, Wei pulled Minnow back a few steps. When he glanced upward, he noticed constellations carved into the stone ceiling.
This was no ordinary grave. Whoever lay here had been either wealthy or powerful.
Zhang San tried prying the lid with his knife. Veins bulged across his neck, his face turning red with effort.
The lid didn't budge.
He cursed and turned to call Li Si.
And in that instant—
Li Si and the old woodcutter stood pressed together, their faces chalk white. Their trembling fingers pointed behind Zhang San. Their mouths hung open, but no sound came out.
Wei and Minnow had backed against the cold stone wall, staring tensely at Zhang San.
The fat on Zhang San's face quivered. His Adam's apple bobbed.
"You… what are you doing?"
His voice wavered, the last note drifting thinly—because he felt it.
Something behind his head.
The old woodcutter's voice came out hoarse and sharp, as if something were stuck in his throat.
"B-behind you!"
Zhang San turned stiffly.
"Clack. Clack. Clack."
In the silent stone chamber, the sound of his teeth knocking together was unmistakable.
The torch suddenly flickered.
Something inside the coffin had stirred.
At some point the lid had opened a narrow crack.
A shriveled, blackened hand rested on the edge.
Then—
The corpse slowly sat up.
A pungent stench spread through the chamber.
Zhang San's legs gave out. His trousers soaked instantly, warm liquid running down his pant legs, dripping onto the ground and pooling beneath him. He didn't even notice, staring ahead with bulging eyes.
Wei was stunned as well.
An old man had risen.
His skin was shriveled and dark, stretched tightly over bone. His eyes were wide open, the whites clouded, the pupils fixed on the people below. The corners of his mouth were pulled into a rigid grin, exposing his teeth.
The desiccated corpse swayed faintly in the firelight. Its shadow wavered too—almost as if its chest were breathing, as if it might open its eyes at any moment.
Wei raised the torch and narrowed his eyes.
Only then did he notice the corpse's hands and feet had been pinned to a wooden board with thick iron spikes. The nail heads were rusted, deeply embedded in the blackened wood.
He reached out and touched it.
Under his fingers was nothing but dry, cracked skin—like weathered tree bark, brittle enough to crumble.
Wei slowly withdrew his hand.
A mechanism.
Was this elaborate contraption really just meant to frighten intruders with a corpse?
Seeing how calm Wei remained, Zhang San felt a sudden sting of embarrassment. Everyone must have seen how badly he panicked earlier.
Straightening his back, he slashed the corpse apart with a few quick strokes of his blade, hacking it into pieces, then flipped aside the wooden board beneath it.
With forced bravado he snorted and bent to peer inside the coffin.
Only then did Li Si creep closer, still trembling, his smile oily and flattering.
"Boss is the boss. No one's got your guts."
The old woodcutter glanced at the still-damp puddle of urine by Li Si's feet, then at the matching stain beneath Zhang San. His lips twitched, but he said nothing.
Quietly, he edged a few steps closer to the doorway.