Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Stone Chamber

(Today, Old Bei rarely went out hiking. Along the way, he absorbed the ethereal energy of the forest, practicing his breathing exercises for three hours, and felt utterly refreshed and content. Spring has arrived—everyone should get outside and move around more.)

——

The attendant moved at an incredible speed. I ran as fast as I could just to keep up with him. As we ran, I suddenly saw him leap to the right of the steps and disappear into the darkness. I was so focused on chasing him that I didn’t have time to think and immediately followed, stepping into the darkness beyond the stairs.

It was only while I was airborne that realization struck me. Damn, there’s nothing on either side of these steps—am I done for this time...? But just as panic seized me, my feet landed on something hard—a stone slab. Looking around, I found myself safely standing on solid ground, and before me stretched another stone-paved passageway, just like before.

The attendant stood ahead, grinning foolishly at me. Moments later, Fatty came bounding after us.

“Well, who would’ve thought there’d be another path beside these steps?” Fatty exclaimed, catching his balance.

I turned to look; the distance between the stairs and the burial passage beneath our feet was just over a meter. Looking around, I saw that the left side of the passage was pressed against the mountainside, while the right was a sheer cliff. The passage was three meters wide, impeccably constructed, and led straight into the darkness behind the attendant.

The attendant turned and continued forward, but now he hopped along rather than running wildly as before. Watching him, we both felt a little uneasy.

“Look at him, trying to act cute,” Fatty muttered, following suit.

After our frantic sprint, I was out of breath and could only trudge behind Fatty. After just a few minutes, a square stone door suddenly appeared ahead.

The attendant kept hopping inside, but Fatty hesitated.

“Why are you stopping?” I asked.

Fatty pointed to the left side of the stone door. “Look at this.”

I stepped forward and saw, to my shock, a bloody handprint right where Fatty was pointing. The blood was still tacky, clearly left not long ago—perhaps only a few hours.

“Could it be that Qin Feng and the others ran into trouble and hid inside?” I speculated.

Fatty frowned at the handprint. “If those guys were so badly hurt their hands were covered in blood, how come that fool isn’t injured at all? And more importantly, the position and direction of this handprint don’t match what you’re suggesting.”

“How so?” I asked.

Fatty held up his own hand. “See, it’s clearly a right hand. If I were wounded and trying to rush inside, my right handprint would naturally end up on the right side of the door, not the left. Also, the path we just took was spotless—no blood at all. So I think whoever left this wasn’t going in, but trying to get out.”

With that, Fatty turned and pressed his right hand to the left side of the stone door. It was immediately apparent: if his hand had been bloody, he would have left an identical print.

A thought struck me. “If there’s no blood on the way here, then by your logic, that person never managed to get out.”

Fatty pointed behind the bloody handprint. “Exactly. Most likely, just as he was about to escape, something dragged him back inside.” I moved closer and saw a long blood smear trailing from the handprint along the wall inside the burial passage, the direction of the fingers confirming Fatty’s theory.

Furthermore, the passage beyond the stone door was spattered with patches of blood, some even sprayed in ghastly bursts. The sight sent a chill down my spine.

If the blood belonged to Qin Feng’s group, and that attendant appeared unscathed before us, then something was definitely amiss. I began to suspect he might be one of the two who had accompanied Qin Feng, but when I turned to check, he had already vanished.

Fatty and I exchanged a glance. Neither of us called out for the attendant. Instead, we moved forward cautiously.

Inside, we discovered the passageway opened into a vast chamber—so large, in fact, that our footsteps echoed. I handed the torch to Fatty, then pulled a flashlight from my backpack, and together we began to examine our surroundings.

The stone chamber was clearly man-made, though it seemed to have partially collapsed—an entire section of the eastern wall was gone, exposing the underlying rock and soil, with piles of round stones at its base that, at a glance, could easily be mistaken for human skulls. The other walls were covered in bas-reliefs, all of bamboo, each stalk at least ten meters long. Because we couldn’t see the ceiling, it was impossible to estimate their true height.

I recalled the legend Peanut had told me, wondering if this could truly be the resting place of the immortal chieftain of the Yelang tribe.

“Hey, look—there’s a doorway!” Fatty suddenly exclaimed with excitement. Approaching, we found a row of stone cauldrons not far from the rubble.

“There was nothing along the way, but here, all of a sudden, there are burial vessels everywhere. Look—not just these cauldrons, but over there is what looks like a sacrificial altar. We must be close to the main tomb. Maybe Old Master Yuan is nearby.”

Fatty’s words made my heart race with anticipation, and I nearly called out for my father. Fatty stopped me. “Don’t be hasty. Let’s look around first. The attendant’s missing and those bloodstains—there could be real danger here.”

“So... what now?” I asked.

Fatty thought for a moment. “Didn’t Mouse say he and your father entered a side chamber with a bronze door? Let’s look for that. If we find a bronze door here, we’re in the right place.”

So we began searching along the walls. We came across many items—Fatty said they were sacrificial objects, though all made of stone. Had they been anything else, we would have struck it rich. I wasn’t interested in the loot. What struck me was how well-preserved everything was, as if, just as Fatty suggested, someone had been maintaining the place for years.

The chamber was far larger than we expected. After a long walk, we finally rounded the eastern wall. I noticed Fatty’s attention was more on the burial objects than on finding any doors. Occasionally, he’d pick up a bronze vessel, examine it, then set it aside—some, he said, wouldn’t fetch a price even outside, and some simply didn’t appeal to him.

Besides the collapse we’d first noticed, I found more signs of subsidence and damage, which seemed at odds with the pristine condition of the artifacts. Upon closer inspection, Fatty judged the cracks to be recent. I couldn’t say if he was right or wrong—he seemed more interested in treasure hunting than serious investigation, and I couldn’t be bothered to argue.

As we searched, Fatty and I suddenly turned at the same time toward a patch of darkness.

“Did you hear that?” Fatty asked.

I nodded, goosebumps prickling my arms. Somewhere in the center of the chamber, a faint “thud! thud!” echoed. The sound wasn’t loud, but in the vast silence, it was all too clear. The more I listened, the closer it seemed—perhaps just ahead, in the shadows.

Neither of us spoke. We crouched low, edging toward the sound. As we drew within ten meters, we saw him—the attendant, standing in the darkness. His face was turned toward us, still wearing that foolish grin, and he was bouncing in place, the noise we’d heard coming from his feet striking the ground.

Seeing it was him should have been a relief, but Fatty and I remained tense. Something about the scene was off—his movements were unnatural, almost uncanny.

Suddenly, I heard Fatty’s teeth chattering; he was clenching his jaw so tightly that a bead of cold sweat slid from his brow to his chin.