Chapter 40.3: Thousand Songs

The tiny shrine with a single deity statue dedicated to the Bai Family Matron paled in comparison to the arched dome now revealed before them.

This structure seemed less like a temple and more like a tower. And if the top was this small, then just how massive was the entire thing?

Li Zhuiyuan wasn’t the only one stunned. Ding Dalin, the man in charge of the site, suddenly looked grim.

Ignoring his age, he clambered into the pit and started wiping mud away with a flashlight, scrutinizing the details.

Then he stiffened. Something had caught his eye. His body trembled slightly as he scanned the other Water Monkeys nearby and waved his hand.

Secretary Jin jumped down beside him. “What is it?”

“This is a temple-tomb. We can’t open it.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve dealt with temple-tombs before. Never once has it ended peacefully. Open one of these, and something wicked always follows.”

“But will there be valuable stuff inside?”

“I said, we can’t open it.”

“We’ve come this far. You think you can just call it off? We’ve sunk a lot into this—two of our brothers are gone, and we’re stuck under police watch at the hospital.”

“You all said it yourselves—listen to me. I’m the boss!”

Secretary Jin grabbed Ding Dalin by the throat. Her voice was cold.

“Old bastard. This tomb is getting opened no matter what. The cops are onto us—we have to finish the job and vanish. No money, no place to hide.”

“You… you’d die for money…”

“What use is life without money?”

She drew a dagger and ran it lightly across Ding Dalin’s face. “Last chance, old man.”

“I’ll open it… I’ll open it…”

“Good. Now what’s the procedure?”

Gasping, Ding Dalin clutched his neck. “Small temple-tombs are built to trap. Large ones are sealed to suppress whatever’s inside. You can’t finesse them—you have to brute force it. Start at a corner, open a crack, then use leverage.”

“But I’m telling you, think twice. Really.”

“If you’re scared, go hide somewhere. Just don’t get in the way.”

“No good deed ever changed fate…” Ding Dalin cast one last look at the pit before climbing out, then out of the fish pond to the surface.

He picked up his Bagua Compass, held it to his chest, and began chanting like he was praying.

“Xiaoyuan, that old guy’s not actually the boss?”

“He was, when he brought them profit. Now he’s not.”

Li Zhuiyuan saw it clearly. Ding Dalin recognized the tomb, but it didn’t matter—no one was listening to him now.

Hooks were fixed into place. A signal was given. Machines engaged.

The cables tightened—but the dome refused to budge. It only shifted slightly to one side.

The tower had tilted.

“Go down and pry!” Secretary Jin had now assumed command.

The Water Monkeys started hammering and prying, dripping sweat, time ticking away.

“Xiaoyuan, why haven’t they opened it yet?” Runsheng yawned, visibly drowsy.

Li Zhuiyuan was getting bored too. Roughly two hours had passed.

Some grew exhausted and left, replaced by fresh workers—probably from the watch posts.

“Crack…”

The sound snapped both Li Zhuiyuan and Runsheng to alertness—finally, some progress.

A gap had opened. The rest would follow.

With the creaking of winches, the cables suddenly yanked back—the dome lifted, revealing what lay within.

It was still unclear whether it was the top of the tower or the tomb’s corridor.

The Water Monkeys, experienced as they were, all backed away. None were dumb enough to rush in.

A long moment passed. Nothing stirred inside.

Secretary Jin tossed in several flares. They disappeared into the depths.

Someone brought a long pole, a rooster tied to the end, and lowered it in.

When they pulled it back up, the rooster was still alive.

“It’s safe down there.”

The pole was tossed aside.

Secretary Jin nodded. “Go scout.”

Two Water Monkeys tied ropes to themselves and entered the tomb.

“Xiaoyuan, what do we do? The Dead Sinker hasn’t appeared. What if they actually succeed?”

Li Zhuiyuan sighed. “Then we…”

Just then, he saw Ding Dalin approach the rooster still tied to the pole. He crouched and extended a hand.

The rooster suddenly broke free and pecked his palm viciously.

Li Zhuiyuan saw it clearly but couldn’t explain how it had happened.

Feathers and even skin remained on the pole—the rooster had practically leapt out of its own body.

After the bite, it clucked wildly in place, seemingly thrilled.

The sight was chilling. Even for someone who ate chicken often, this was the first time Li Zhuiyuan had seen one bleeding and walking.

Ding Dalin ignored his bleeding hand, shouting:

“It’s out! It’s out! It’s out!”

“Shut up, old bastard!” Secretary Jin barked.

The Water Monkeys waited by the fish pond’s opening, watching for signs from inside. They didn’t see the chicken.

Secretary Jin pointed. “Go check what’s up with the old guy.”

“Okay.”

Before the man could move, the ropes twitched—the signal from the two inside.

They were coming back.

Everyone exhaled in relief. It was safe inside. Soon, they'd go in and grab the loot.

“Pull them up.”

They slowly reeled in the ropes, the two men climbing steadily.

They emerged.

“There’s treasure inside! Tons of it!”

“So much stuff, too heavy for just us. And a chained black coffin—must be something valuable inside!”

Excitement lit every face. Helpers moved to untie the climbers.

But then—the two untied themselves.

Not with their hands. They climbed out of their clothes.

From their skulls down, they crawled out of their own skins.

“There’s treasure inside! Tons of it!”

“Get down there! Grab it all!”

Blood-soaked figures danced in joy, urging others to descend.

The grotesque sight stunned the Water Monkeys.

They had seen things—plenty—but never anything like this.

No mist, no poison, no sign of a Dead Sinker. Just this sudden horror.

“Tie them up!”

Secretary Jin ordered, then leapt away from the pit to find Ding Dalin.

“It’s gone wrong, boss!”

She found him huddled by a mound, hoarse, whispering:

“It’s out… it’s out…”

“I said it’s gone wrong!”

She kicked him.

“Rrrrip…”

A clean tear—his Taoist robe and human skin left behind. Hair still attached.

A blood-soaked man rolled out, flesh caked with dirt.

Yet still he muttered:

“It’s out… it’s out…”

Secretary Jin backed away in disbelief.

If Ding Dalin—who’d never entered—was like this, then the others…

She turned to the pit.

Figures, all skinless, were climbing out, running circles in the drained pond.

She touched her face.

Her skin split.

Like undressing, her flesh and clothes fell away.

The night wind cut like blades through exposed veins. She squatted and screamed.

All of this happened in under a minute.

Li Zhuiyuan and Runsheng stared, then turned to each other.

Runsheng thought of horror movies. Li Zhuiyuan ran scenarios in his head.

Nothing matched what was happening.

Little Oriole hadn’t appeared, but this scene was far more terrifying.

These were people—live, breathing humans—now peeled like shrimp.

None of the previous Dead Sinkers caused anything like this.

Secretary Jin stopped screaming. She stood, retrieved her flashlight, and signaled.

Lights from six high points blinked in reply, descending.

Li Zhuiyuan realized—she was calling for reinforcements.

Why?

Maybe—this thing wanted everyone who knew about this sealed away forever.

Was he still safe?

“Xiaoyuan, what happened to them? I didn’t see who…”

Down below, Secretary Jin lowered her arm and turned.

Li Zhuiyuan: “Run!”

Runsheng hesitated, then rushed to the roof hatch, but Li Zhuiyuan slapped his back:

“No time. Jump. There’s a woodpile out back.”

“Got it!”

Runsheng didn’t hesitate. He jumped.

The pile wasn’t tall. The drop was hard.

He scraped himself bloody, but didn’t make a sound, stood up, looked up.

Li Zhuiyuan jumped next.

Runsheng caught him, but the impact winded Li Zhuiyuan. His ribs screamed. His nose bled.

He stuffed paper into his nostrils to stop the flow.

Runsheng plucked splinters from his skin with tweezers.

They sat, panting.

Runsheng looked lost. Traumatized.

Li Zhuiyuan looked dazed. This was beyond him.

Even the Bai Family Matron’s chaos hadn’t been this bad.

Her tricks could be countered. This couldn’t.

Why would something like that be buried in Siyuan Village?

Just opening the tomb lid did all that.

Could Aunt Liu handle this?

Tan Wenbin had been asleep. Now, he saw two blood-soaked boys burst in, and paled.

Li Zhuiyuan stuffed more paper to stop the nosebleed. Rubbed his chest.

The pain was manageable.

Runsheng used tweezers on his splinters.

They sat across from each other, breathing hard.

Runsheng looked utterly shaken.

Li Zhuiyuan was dazed.

The last incident didn’t come close to this.

This time, he couldn’t even grasp what he was dealing with.

Tan Wenbin was still tied up, gagged. He writhed like a happy maggot to get their attention.

Finally, they looked at him—surprised.

He paused, then wriggled harder. Seriously? You forgot I was here?

Runsheng untied him. Tan Wenbin opened his mouth—then clamped it shut, bolted for the toilet.

“Xiaoyuan, my skin’s itchy. But I don’t dare scratch.”

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