Chapter 34: Damp Shade

Before I could react, I stared at the pile of fish bones on the ground and whispered, "I am truly sorry, brother. I was so famished that I couldn't help myself and ate them all."

He stood up abruptly, his movement so swift that he knocked over a piece of burning firewood.

I quickly urged him, "No need for violence! Let's talk this out!"

He clenched his fists, glaring at me. "Do you have any idea how long I've been trapped down here? Damn it, do you know how hard it is for me to catch a single fish?"

I never expected that, as he spoke, he would crouch down and start to cry.

I took three steps forward, knelt beside him, and carefully patted his shoulder. "Brother, you said you've been trapped here for a long time? Where did you come from before? You didn't fall down from above, did you?" I gestured toward the cave ceiling as I spoke.

"Don't try to get familiar with me!"

"Don't think I don't know you're one of those Northern rats—don't try to pass yourself off as a pet cat!" His tone was direct and his voice boomed, a stark contrast to his earlier behavior of mimicking a fool.

I squinted and probed, "One river sees two landscapes, chopping wood on the mountain, burning fires below. May I ask, fellow traveler, how many tombs have you cracked?"

As soon as I finished, he froze, and then his expression shifted dramatically.

"Heh, look at you, kid. You're barely dry behind the ears, and you dare use grave-robbing cant with me? Fine, listen closely."

"A bag of earth for the Southwest, a spade to dig East and West. Partridge and Ridge-Shedding take the water path, light as a feather on the waves, a small earth-dragon in the dirt!"

Hearing this, I exhaled in relief. These were the secret codes of the grave-robbing trade. Though our factions differed, we shared the same profession.

Through our conversation, I gradually pieced things together.

This man was a grave robber from the Southern faction, specialized in navigating water-filled caves. His name was Chen Jiansheng. He had served as a mid-level laborer in his group. By his own account, he had been stuck in this underground river cave for six or seven months. Relying on his agility and swimming skills, he had survived by catching fish and rodents.

I asked him, "What about the others in your group?"

"Dead," he said nonchalantly.

"Dead? The whole group? How did they die?"

Suspecting the kind of internal betrayal often heard of in our trade, I became immediately vigilant. Sister Hong was still unconscious, and if he tried to harm me, we would both be doomed.

Seeing my defensive posture, the man mocked, "Look at you, cowering like a coward. You're a disgrace to the Northern faction. You don't need to know how they died; it wasn't me who killed them. By the way, kid, who is your leader? Give me a name."

After a moment's thought, I whispered, "Our leader's surname is Wang, Wang Xiansheng. Everyone calls him Chief Wang."

"Wang Xiansheng? Chief Wang?" He rubbed his temples. "I... I think I've heard that name a few times."

"Alright, I've identified myself. What was the name of the leader of your Southern group? Wait! Don't tell me yet, let me guess... Was it a man they called 'Pot-Bearer Chen'?"

The fire crackled incessantly. The underground river flowed calmly. He lowered his head and remained silent, and we both fell into a lull.

After about five or six minutes, he looked up at me. "You've seen old Chen's corpse?"

I nodded. "Yes, in a coffin. But the body had already begun to rot; there wasn't much left of it."

Hearing this, his eyes turned red. "Chief Chen, you held on for so long... I never expected that in the end, you would still..."

"My condolences," I offered perfunctorily.

"Oh, right, you mentioned you've been here for six or seven months? What happened? Couldn't you find a way out? That can't be right..."

"Ha... a way out?" He looked at me with a cold sneer. "You think I haven't tried? The space beneath this Western Zhou tomb was intentionally designed by the tomb owner, like his own private garden. Enough, kid. Let's go. Bring that woman. If you don't believe me, I'll take you to see, and once you get there, you'll understand."

So, I hoisted Sister Hong onto my back and followed the man deeper into the darkness.

There were things the man didn't answer directly, but as we walked, I had my own theories.

The scent of Phellodendron and Chen-nan incense could induce hallucinations. The reason we were fine was that we woke up quickly, thanks to the medicinal powder Third Brother had obtained from contacts in the underworld.

If that were the case, could it be that the Southern grave robbers had also suffered from hallucinations, and lacking the medicine, had turned on each other? Was his erratic behavior—sometimes acting foolish, sometimes normal—a lingering side effect?

Of course, these were just guesses. If the man wasn't willing to disclose the details, I couldn't be certain.

We followed the underground river for about an hour until the path split into a fork: one stream flowed East, the other West, with a solid wall of rock in the middle.

"Well? Now that we're here, do you see it?" he asked, turning back to face me.

I looked at the scene, frowning. "The Western Zhou tomb above has this same structure. Overall, it's shaped like a 'T', matching the flow of this underground river."

He clapped his hands, praising, "You've got some sharp eyes, kid. That's right. This tomb's feng shui layout, mirroring the earth above, was intentional. This is the 'Hidden Dragon Vein' beneath Moth Mountain. And because this cave has been dark and damp for thousands of years, it has become what geomancers call a 'Wet-Yin Ground'."

"I reckon the tomb owner wanted to use the nourishment of the Dragon Vein and the Wet-Yin Ground to live again..." He rambled to himself while leading the way.

The more I heard, the more terrified I became. My heart pounded, fearing that what he said might be true.

It is common knowledge that after death, hair and nails continue to grow, which has led to many myths about zombies. But 'Yin-Corpses' are entirely different from the hopping zombies of old Hong Kong films—they are far more sinister.

As far as I knew, 'Yin-Corpse', 'Wet-Yin Ground', and 'Undecaying Body' all referred to the same phenomenon, documented in the Tang and Song editions of the *Book of Burial*.

"An Yin-Corpse is either dry or wet. If dry, it nourishes for a long time until hair regrows; if the mouth opens by half an inch, it brings disaster to three generations of the clan; an inch brings disaster to six generations; three inches, and the descendants perish completely. If it is a wet-Yin manifestation, backed by a dark mountain, head toward a dark direction, feet upon dark earth, it is a great evil. If found, let no living man approach, and let no master interfere. Let descendants remember this well." That was the original text from the old *Book of Burial*.

"What? Are you scared, kid?" The man eyed me sideways.

"Not at all! Why would I be scared?" I looked him in the eye and said firmly, "It's just a dead body. It's all nonsense made up by the ancients. I'm not afraid!"

"Hmm, fine. You've got guts, kid," he said, continuing to lead the way without looking back.

In truth... there was one thing he didn't notice.

As I spoke, carrying Sister Hong on my back, my legs were trembling uncontrollably.