Chapter 1

Fifty years ago, in Changsha Biaozi Ridge.

Four tomb raiders were crouching on a small hill, all of them silent, staring intently at a Luoyang shovel on the ground.

The shovel head was covered with old soil freshly dug up from underground. Strangely, this clump of soil was continuously seeping a bright red liquid, as if it had just been dipped in blood.

"This is going to be a big trouble," Old Smoker tapped his pipe on the ground and continued, "There's a blood corpse down there. If we're not careful, we might all end up down there."

"Are we going down or not? Speak clearly, don't beat around the bush!" The one-eyed young man said, "You old man, since your legs aren't good, you stay here. My brother and I will go down. Whatever it is, we'll give it a good shot."

Old Smoker didn't get angry but laughed, and said to a bearded man beside him, "Your second son is quite bold, but who knows when he'll get into trouble. You need to educate him more. This business isn't just about having a gun."

The bearded man glared at the young man, "You brat, how dare you talk to the old man like that? When the old man was digging, you were still in your mother's womb eating shit."

"I didn't say anything wrong. As the old saying goes, the blood corpse is a good thing. There must be treasures down there. If we don't go down, we'll all be in trouble."

"You still dare to talk back!" The bearded man raised his hand to strike, but Old Smoker blocked it with his pipe.

"You can't hit him. You were the same when you were young. This is called the top beam being crooked, the bottom beam follows!"

The one-eyed young man, seeing his father scolded, lowered his head and chuckled. Old Smoker coughed and hit the one-eyed young man on the head with his pipe, "What are you laughing at? Encountering a blood corpse is a serious matter. Last time, your second uncle dug one up in Luoyang and now he's still crazy. I'll go down first, you follow me, and the second son, you bring a mole rat to guard the rear. The third son, you stay here. If all four of us go down, we won't be able to retreat. You just hold the mole rat's tail, and when we call, you pull it out."

The youngest boy, who was the third son, was不服气 (unhappy): "I won't agree, you're favoring him. I'll tell my mother!"

Old Smoker laughed, "Look, look, the third son is still timid. Don't make a fuss, I'll let you touch a golden knife later."

"I don't want you to touch it, I can do it myself."

The one-eyed second son got angry, grabbed the third son's ear, and said, "You little brat, are you looking for trouble? Do you want to make me angry?"

The youngest boy, who had been beaten many times before, was scared and didn't dare to speak, looking at his father for help, but his father had already gone to prepare the tools. The second son was now triumphant, "Why are you so unlikable? This time, the old man won't help you. If you make a fuss, I'll twist your neck!"

Old Smoker patted the second son's shoulder and shouted, "Boys, get ready!" and started to swing the Luoyang shovel.

Half an hour later, the tunnel was so deep that it couldn't be seen. Except for the second son who occasionally came up for air, no sound could be heard from the tunnel. The third son, getting impatient, shouted into the tunnel, "Grandpa, have you dug through?"

After a few seconds, a muffled voice came from inside, "I... don't know. Stay... on the surface, hold the... rope tight!"

It was the second son's voice, followed by Old Smoker's cough, "Be quiet... listen! There's movement!"

Then there was a deathly silence.

The third son knew something must have happened, and he was scared to speak. Suddenly, he heard a bone-chilling croak, like a frog's call, coming from the tunnel.

Then his second brother shouted from below, "Third son, pull!"

He didn't dare to hesitate, and with a kick, he grabbed the mole rat's tail and started to pull. After a few pulls, something seemed to bite the rope, pulling it back into the tunnel. The third son, who had never expected this, almost fell into the tunnel. In a flash, he tied the tail to his waist and fell backward, his back almost forming a 30-degree angle with the ground. This was a trick he used in tug-of-war with other boys in the village, using his body weight to hold the rope. Even a mule couldn't pull him.

Sure enough, this worked, and he was in a stalemate with whatever was in the tunnel. Both sides were struggling, but neither could move. After about ten seconds, he heard a gunshot from the tunnel, followed by his father's shout, "Third son, run!!!"

He felt the rope loosen, and the mole rat shot out of the tunnel, something hanging from it. The third son, knowing something was wrong, caught the mole rat and ran without looking back.

He ran for about two miles before stopping, and when he checked the mole rat, he screamed. The mole rat was holding a bloody severed hand. He recognized the hand and started to cry. This hand was clearly his second brother's. It seemed his second brother was either dead or crippled.

Determined to save his second brother and father, he turned back, but saw a blood-red creature squatting behind him, staring at him.

The third son wasn't a coward. He had seen many strange things with his father, knowing that anything could happen underground. The most important thing was to stay calm and adapt. No matter how dangerous a ghost was, it couldn't be stronger than a living person. This creature, no matter how terrifying, had to follow the laws of physics. A burst of bullets would do the trick.

With this in mind, he backed away, pulling out a gun from his waist. He was ready to fire a burst, but the creature suddenly stood up. The third son, upon closer inspection, felt his scalp tingle and his stomach churn. It was a man with his skin peeled off, covered in blood, as if he had squeezed out of his own skin. Yet, this man was still moving, a true miracle. Could this be the true form of a blood corpse?

The blood corpse lunged forward, and the third son met its gaze. The bloody face was inches from his nose, and a foul smell hit him. He fell backward, firing a burst of bullets at close range. The bullets went through the creature, splattering blood, and it staggered back. The third son, feeling a surge of hope, aimed at the creature's head and pulled the trigger. But the gun jammed!

This gun was dug up from a warlord's tomb by his second grandfather and hadn't been used much. Unfortunately, it hadn't been maintained in recent years, and he rarely fired it. Who would have thought it would jam at this critical moment? The third son, undeterred, swung the gun with all his might and threw it. Without waiting to see if it hit, he turned and ran. This time, he didn't dare to look back, heading straight for a large tree, thinking the creature wouldn't be able to climb it. Suddenly, he tripped and fell face-first into a tree stump, his nose and mouth bleeding.

He slapped the ground in frustration, cursing his bad luck.

Hearing the wind behind him, he knew death was coming. He steeled himself, deciding to die if he must, and lay on the ground. To his surprise, the blood corpse stepped over him, leaving a bloody footprint on his back. The creature was incredibly heavy, and the third son felt bile rise to his throat. The spot on his back where he was stepped on started to itch, and his vision blurred. He realized he might be poisoned, and the poison was very strong. In a daze, he saw something in his second brother's hand.

He blinked and looked closely. It was an ancient silk fragment. He thought, if his second brother risked his life to bring this out, it must be important. He didn't know what had happened to them, but he had to keep this safe. If he died, they could find it on his body, and his second brother's hand wouldn't have been in vain. He crawled over, pried open his second brother's hand, and took the silk fragment, tucking it into his sleeve.

His ears started to ring, his vision blurred, and his limbs grew cold. From experience, he knew he was about to defecate and urinate, a common fate for those poisoned by a corpse. He hoped no one from the neighboring village would see him like this.

As his mind started to drift, he heard the croaking sound from the tunnel again.

The third son felt something was wrong. He hadn't heard the creature make a sound during their struggle. Was the creature he saw not a blood corpse? What was it then? Unfortunately, he was too weak to think clearly. He lifted his head reflexively and saw a huge, grotesque face leaning over him, with empty, lifeless eyes.