Chapter 67.4: The Bed or the Door

Li Zhuiyuan halted his steps and motioned for the team to stop as well. Then, he began to step backward, sweeping his flashlight behind the positions of the women depicted in the murals.

“Look—on the earlier murals, whether she’s being worshipped or directing the construction of the underground palace, there’s always this slimmer, darker figure standing behind her. But in the last mural, she’s ascending to the heavens—he’s gone.”

The figure was painted no differently from the background characters, just slightly darker and thinner. If it appeared in only one mural, it might have been the artist’s slip of hand. But since he was present in all but the last, it couldn’t be coincidence. It had to be deliberate.

Xue Liangliang said, “Yeah, it looks intentional. That person must’ve held a high status back then—or at the very least, meant a lot to her.”

“Also,” he continued, “I don’t know if it was like this in ancient times, but nowadays, in many projects, the person officially in charge is just a figurehead. The one handling all the actual work, the project lead in practice, is often a deputy.”

“The woman’s prominence in the murals is probably due to political correctness of that era. But the figure behind her—that’s likely the real force that helped her rise in Yong, build this underground palace, and attempt ascension.”

Li Zhuiyuan added, “But that guiding hand… didn’t get to meet the Great Serpent in bliss.”

After a pause, both he and Xue Liangliang said in unison, “She was deceived.”

Clearly, the altar—or Ascension Pool—up above wasn’t the blissful paradise she had envisioned.

Now, she seemed more like a parasitized tool—a key, opening and closing doors here, maintaining this cycle within the underground palace.

Tan Wenbin asked cautiously, “Um, sirs, I mean no offense. But… shouldn’t we be trying to get out of here? What’s the point of analyzing all this?”

Xue Liangliang replied, “If this place truly belongs to the woman, then we’re likely already safe. But if it doesn’t… then we’ve only just entered the real danger zone.”

Tan Wenbin’s mouth twitched at that.

Li Zhuiyuan turned his flashlight forward. “Let’s go. Stay sharp—we’re not out of danger yet.”

Not long after leaving the mural-covered ceiling, they came upon a staircase leading upward.

That was good news. For four people eager to escape, any upward path was worth trying.

As they walked, arched doorways appeared on both the left and right. They looked like side chambers typical of tombs. But when the flashlight shone inside, the rooms were completely empty.

“Looted by Water Monkeys?” Tan Wenbin guessed.

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head. “No. Water Monkeys don’t clean things out this thoroughly.”

After another sweep, he confirmed, “I think… after tricking that woman, they didn’t even bother placing anything down here.”

Further along, they encountered two more pairs of side chambers—also empty—further supporting Li Zhuiyuan’s theory.

Finally, up ahead stood a large arched gate.

In traditional tomb design, the main chamber usually followed the side rooms.

Kneeling on either side of the arch were a man and woman clad in leather armor. Their appearance resembled the two central figures among the hundred beasts in the upper mural.

Behind each of them, the wall featured a serpent head from which water continually flowed, dripping onto their bodies.

Runsheng sniffed. “Strong stench of water corpses.”

After being soaked for so long, it was no wonder the corpses reeked.

He twisted his neck, took a deep breath, and picked up his spade.

He was exhausted, drained. But this time, he had to step up.

Tan Wenbin and Xue Liangliang each gripped their flashlights, ready to charge in with Runsheng once the corpses awakened. This was the final hurdle—if they wanted to escape, they had to give it their all.

They were ready.

But the corpses showed no sign of waking. Maybe the four of them hadn’t gotten close enough to trigger the activation.

At that moment, Li Zhuiyuan raised his flashlight again and aimed it upward.

Two new murals appeared.

One showed a boat at sea. A lone figure stood aboard. The boat and person were tiny, crammed into a corner. The focus lay elsewhere—in the diagonal corner beneath the waves, there was a massive structure. It resembled an underwater palace, but when viewed as a whole, it had horns, whiskers, and a head—like a colossal beast. Above it floated the sun and moon.

The image reminded Li Zhuiyuan of something—what Zheng Haiyang’s mother had described back in the psychiatric hospital.

Could it be that the one who deceived the noblewoman of Yong had once sailed out to that mysterious place?

The second mural showed a man standing on a mountain, surrounded by peaks, with a woman kneeling at his feet.

Together, the two murals told a story: the man had visited that place in the East Sea, then returned to the ancient Yong kingdom in the southwest and took the woman as a follower.

If he had truly gone there… did he bring something back?

Or more chilling—was the one who returned really still himself?

A sudden unease prickled at the edge of Li Zhuiyuan’s senses.

After walking the shade so many times, he’d developed a heightened sensitivity—something between a gift and a curse. Left unchecked, it would eventually drive him mad.

Li Zhuiyuan grabbed Tan Wenbin with both hands and rested his forehead against the man’s back, eyes closed.

This time, he didn’t give a countdown.

If this went wrong, waking him up wouldn’t matter.

He entered the shade.

When Li Zhuiyuan opened his eyes, Runsheng and the others were gone.

In front of him, the kneeling man and woman still flanked the archway. But now, a third figure stood between them.

Draped in golden silk robes, wearing a serpent mask, the figure exuded a mysterious and commanding presence.

The two faced each other—one large, one small.

After a moment, the boy spoke.

“You’re not human. You’re a Dead Sinker.”

Of those known to have returned from that sunken place: Zheng Haiyang’s mother and Zhu Changyong—both had become Dead Sinkers.

Everyone else aboard had gone mad.

Zhu Changyong had ultimately leapt into the shredder clutching that turtle, his body bloated and rotting, one eye already burst.

This masked figure likely wore the mask to hide his own deterioration.

He’d seduced the noblewoman of Yong into building this tomb—not for her sake, but his own. He wanted to survive. He wanted to become human again.

But that clearly failed. Whether he even succeeded in the first part remained questionable.

He emanated no real pressure—unlike Wei Zhengdao’s “friend” buried under the peach tree. That one, though nearly dissipated, had overwhelmed him during the shade walk. The twenty flayed shrimp-headed corpses led by Ding Dalin and Secretary Jin were proof enough.

Li Zhuiyuan had once suspected that after that, no other Dead Sinker dared appear near his hometown. A tiger had claimed the mountain.

The only one to surface after that came from the sea.

You’re not that strong. I don’t need to fear you.

You’re just a pitiful thing, hiding down here after deceiving “her,” clinging to a life in the tomb she built.

“The exit should be in the main chamber behind you. When you designed this place, you must’ve dreamed of restoring yourself. I don’t believe you’d trap yourself in here.”

“Let us through. We’ll leave everything in the main chamber untouched.”

The masked man turned, walked to the kneeling corpse, and raised a bell in his hand.

He began to shake it.

From within the man’s corpse came a cracking sound—like an egg hatching. A snake’s head emerged from his mouth, swaying to the rhythm of the bell, before retreating back inside.

The corpse stirred, picked up a sword, and stood.

Clearly, the masked man had rejected the “non-aggression pact.”

And he had struck first.

In the real world, Runsheng and the others saw the corpse stand—and turn to face them.

Runsheng said, “Xiaoyuan is walking the shade. Protect him.”

Xue Liangliang responded, “Got it. Binbin, you guard Xiaoyuan. Runsheng and I will take the lead.”

“Understood.” Tan Wenbin glanced at the boy leaning against his back. It was supposed to be a routine check—but then he cried out in shock.

“Shit—his eyes are bleeding! A lot!”

Runsheng and Xue Liangliang didn’t turn. Their eyes stayed locked on the advancing corpse.

If they couldn’t get past this, Xiaoyuan going blind wouldn’t matter.

They’d all be dead.

“We’ve got this,” Runsheng said, trying to reassure them. “It’s not a mercury-refined corpse. We’ve got this.”

But Xue Liangliang could hear the strain in his voice. If he truly believed they could win, he’d have said, “We’ll kill it.”

And besides—there wasn’t just one corpse.

Odds were, the woman would rise next.

At the same time, from Li Zhuiyuan’s perspective, the masked man, not yet satisfied after awakening the male corpse, now walked toward the female corpse.

He raised the bell again—but before he could even shake it to hatch the snake egg, the female corpse opened her eyes.

The masked man froze.

The boy smiled.

In the underground palace, eight people once carried the coffin—four of them were mercury-refined corpses, incomparably loyal in life, and tortured to death. The other four were Dead Sinkers, senior peers in the same trade—the most troublesome kind. Even Yin Zhiwang’s spiritual manipulation had little hope of controlling them. One against seven? Pointless.

And that woman on the bed—she was nearly a corpse fiend, skilled in beguilement. With her present, there had been no opportunity to use Wei Zhengdao’s Black Book.

But now, everything had changed.

Two paths to happiness—he chose one, and I chose the other.

While conversing and confronting the masked man, Li Zhuiyuan had already synchronized with the female corpse. He had read her memories—and corrected them.

It wasn’t hard. He wasn’t weaving lies, just restoring the truth.

When she opened her eyes and saw the masked man here, she would know.

Because he had no right to appear in her master’s tomb.

“Your master was betrayed and horribly harmed by him. Her body was taken over by a serpent, and she suffered endlessly. Go—avenge her!”

In the real world, the female corpse woke, gripped the sword at her side, and stood up.

That sight sent a chill through Runsheng, Xue Liangliang, and Tan Wenbin.

But what happened next stunned them—she charged forward, drove her sword through the male corpse, then pinned him down and began tearing at him like mad.

Li Zhuiyuan opened his eyes. The bad news—his vision was awash in red. The good news—he wasn’t blind. Not yet.

“Quick, into the main chamber—find the exit!”

No matter which corpse emerged victorious, the survivor would still turn on the intruders.

Runsheng moved to carry Li Zhuiyuan, but Tan Wenbin beat him to it, scooping the boy onto his back.

Seeing that, Runsheng said nothing more and led the charge into the main chamber. Xue Liangliang and Tan Wenbin followed close behind. The four of them darted right between the battling corpses.

The main chamber was roughly hewn—barely decorated, more like a natural stone grotto. At its center sat a glittering golden chair, and on it rested the masked man, hands draped over the armrests.

Above him, the stone ceiling was honeycombed with hive-like holes. From them, black-red fluid constantly dripped—some onto the man, the rest pooling at his feet.

Runsheng sniffed. “It’s that thing’s blood.”

The blood of the gecko-serpents.

So, the masked man was part of the cycle too. The noblewoman of the upper tomb, dreaming of ascension and communion with the serpent god, was merely a pawn. Her endless cycles of death fed these gecko-serpents.

Behind the tomb gate was the nest. When food ran low, they turned on each other. Their blood was harvested, funneled through the holes, and fed to the masked man.

That’s how he’d delayed his decay.

Li Zhuiyuan had to admire the architectural design. If those ecosystem hobbyists ever learned of this place, they’d probably take a night train here just to study it.

As for the massive creature that had attacked the survey team up above—perhaps it was the reigning king of these serpents, the result of one of these cycles. In such an environment, that kind of beast shouldn’t exist—unless someone below had built this system, breeding one every few decades or centuries.

Li Zhuiyuan even suspected that when Yin Zhiwang’s team first found this place, it might have been to deal with that threat to the people.

To sail the seas in the Spring and Autumn period, return to the southwest, and manipulate an entire kingdom into serving him…

If such a man hadn’t become a Dead Sinker, hadn’t had to hide here—history might’ve remembered his name, even made him a legend.

Now, the masked man’s chest rose and fell. He gripped the armrests, as if trying to stand, but he was too weak. So weak that even as a Dead Sinker, he couldn’t rise.

No wonder he hadn’t acted directly earlier, but instead used shade-walking to summon his henchmen.

Seeing him still flailing, Runsheng swung his spade at the man’s chest.

Clang!

His chest caved in like paper.

Even Runsheng was startled. He’d never seen a Dead Sinker this fragile.

He didn’t hesitate—another blow, this time to the head.

Clang!

The mask flew off. His skull exploded like a bitter melon—not a watermelon—because his body was thin, desiccated, like a shriveled mummy.

A Dead Sinker who couldn’t even retain moisture—he had already burned out.

Now he was finally still.

“Over here! A carved stone staircase—we can climb up,” Xue Liangliang called from behind the throne. A circular platform led upward.

“Move!” Runsheng shouted.

Tan Wenbin still had Li Zhuiyuan on his back. But he paused—crouched by the headless corpse, rummaging through its clothes.

His hands trembled. He was terrified—rightfully so. Even a headless Dead Sinker in such a haunted place was enough to scare anyone senseless.

But Tan Wenbin pushed through.

Soon, he found a bell. “Xiaoyuan—you want this?”

“Yes.”

Li Zhuiyuan understood—Tan Wenbin was trying to find his place in the team. No matter the fear, no matter the revulsion—he was building his worth.

One last sweep—Tan Wenbin found a lump of black mush at the waistband. Looked like rotten straw.

“Shit—tell me this isn’t feces!”

Just as he was about to fling it away, Li Zhuiyuan’s eyes lit up. “Keep it, Zhuangzhuang!”

“Huh?”

He didn’t get it—but if Xiaoyuan said so, even if it was shit, he’d keep it close.

It wasn’t filth.

Li Zhuiyuan had seen what it really was—a decayed bamboo slip.

A bamboo slip the masked man had kept on him at all times—what secrets might it hold?

Secrets worth more than the bell. A thousand times more.

And even a rotted slip could be restored. Li Lan used to do exactly that.

“Binbin—move!”

“On it!”

Tan Wenbin climbed to the arc platform with Li Zhuiyuan on his back. The stairs were steep. Xue Liangliang went first, Tan Wenbin second, Runsheng supporting from below.

Everyone knew—freedom was just ahead. They pushed themselves to the limit.

As they climbed, the passage began to shake. Xue Liangliang saw something stir above—then the entire upward path began to tremble, like something was about to burst out.

“Climb! It’s coming!”

He shouted, surged upward. The others followed fast.

Moments later, the wall they’d passed earlier burst open. A massive serpentine form emerged—but it didn’t chase upward.

It dove downward.

Li Zhuiyuan, being carried, kept his gaze below. He counted the coils.

So long.

Then came the roaring.

The creature had entered the tomb—and brought collapse with it. The chain reaction mimicked a small earthquake. A storm of dust rose, engulfing all four.

Fortunately, the top wasn’t far now.

With a final burst of strength, they clawed their way out through a crack in the rock—just a plain crevice from the outside.

They collapsed on the ground, face-up, gasping for air, basking in sunlight and blue sky.

“We made it out… at last.”

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