Extra: The Qinling Ruins - Chapter One: Arrival at the Qinling Mountains by Night

In the 15th century BC, spanning the era between the Western and Eastern Han Dynasties, the land was plagued by continuous warfare and relentless natural disasters. The economy was shattered, recovery was stagnant, and the common people suffered immensely, struggling merely to survive.

In certain rugged terrains, people began to rely on the mountains and, eventually, on the graves within them to stave off hunger. Some even resorted to raiding ancient tombs, effectively "borrowing" money from the dead to buy food. The most prominent practitioners belonged to two major factions, each with its own distinct character, rigid hierarchy, and closely guarded ancestral traditions. One was the Southern School, and the other was the Northern School. These two factions were once interdependent, sharing a deep, intertwined history. Over time, however, they grew hostile. The Northern School mocked the Southern School for being barbaric and disrespectful to ancient civilizations, claiming every tomb they touched was ruined. The Southern School countered that the Northerners were overly pedantic, criticizing them for performing the same illicit acts while maintaining an air of hypocritical moral superiority.

Eventually, their friction intensified. At times, they would clash violently over the rights to a single tomb, with scenes of conflict more brutal than ancient battlefields. Senior members of both sides eventually brokered a peace treaty, using the Yangtze River as a boundary: the south belonged to the Southern School, and the north to the Northern School. Beyond rare collaborations, the two remained strictly separated. For a while, there was an uneasy peace; they appeared cordial on the surface but continued to undermine each other in private—a rivalry that remained relatively harmless.

As more people entered the trade, this shameful business flourished. In the underworld, it was known as "Mo Jin" (Gold Touching), "Tao Sha" (Sand Sifting), or "Dao Dou" (Tomb Raiding). There were many names and an even greater variety of factions, such as the Sand Sifting School and the Gold Touching School. The Gold Touching School originated from an independent institution established by an Eastern Han monarch to fund his armies and feed his soldiers. These "Gold Touching Captains" were composed of soldiers who feared no death and elite warriors. Their craft was incredibly difficult to master, governed by rigid, unforgiving standards where no error was tolerated; only the finest soldiers could qualify.

Legend held that when opening a major tomb, one must light a candle in the southwest corner. If the flame turned green, it meant the tomb’s occupant was testing the intruder; one had to return the stolen goods, vacate the tomb, and reseal it. If the flame flickered erratically, it meant the occupant was unwelcome, and the intruder had to leave immediately. If the flame remained steady, one could take the goods and must exit before dawn.

As laws became stricter, the tomb-raiding trade grew more covert. Inscriptions decreed that raiding ancient tombs or destroying historical records could result in prison sentences ranging from five to ten years, with repeat offenders facing execution. Consequently, the factions went into hiding, continuing their trade in the shadows. Elders later spoke of this fifty-year period as the "Gold Touching Era," and those who engaged in it were called "Gold Seekers."

By the end of the Qing Dynasty, most people in the trade had diverse backgrounds or inherited the craft. Even as late as 1900, the twenty-sixth year of the Guangxu reign, these dark dealings continued underground. During the invasion of the Eight-Nation Alliance, many lost everything, but those who hadn't—the Gold Seekers—thrived. Many migrated to Changsha, which is where most of the "Nine Families" originated. They sold off their spoils before the crisis hit. Smaller groups, disregarding the law, trafficked precious artifacts under the guise of "export goods," often collaborating with foreign merchants to establish shell companies. These were technically legal entities on paper, but in reality, they were fronts for money laundering.

Because the legal system was weak at the time, they faced little scrutiny. A few large sects still maintained a code of "honor among thieves," refusing to sell to foreigners and dealing only with ambitious, successful individuals, which somewhat limited the flow of artifacts out of the country.

I closed the book and sank into deep thought. Unbeknownst to me, dusk had fallen. Outside the window, crows cried out in sorrow, and fallen leaves drifted down with a rustling sound. I did not notice when the autumn wind began to blow through the half-open window, chilling me to the bone. The cold gusts sent dust and paper scraps dancing through the air. Even the ancient Gold Touching manual on my desk was nearly dampened by the mist. The room felt lifeless, cold, and uncomfortable, and I remained standing by the desk, lost in a vague, unsettling sensation.

I had even forgotten to close the window as the rain began to seep onto the sill. A sudden gust of wind brought me to my senses, and I turned to shut it. In that instant, a familiar face caught my eye, startling me. In a dimly lit room, the sudden appearance of a living soul is enough to make one swear out of reflex. Had I not been a descendant of the Gold Touching lineage, I would have been scared half to death.

Calming down, I suppressed my irritation and took a closer look. Once I realized it was him, my anger turned to relief. We were old friends—we had raided tombs together and even shared a bed. To me, he was like a brother. His name was Old Zhang, a man of integrity who rarely offended anyone. His visit meant he likely needed my help. I told myself that, for the sake of our past, I would help if I could.

Just as I was about to call out to him, he was already at my side. Looking up, we were nearly face-to-face. He looked like a living man, but his face lacked its usual vitality, and his eyes were lifeless, as if he had suffered a great blow. I started to speak, but he hushed me. We sat down, and he began to recount his experiences and the hardships of the past few years. I nodded along, but inside, my emotions were a jumbled, bitter mess.

I remembered when we first started; Old Zhang always talked about pulling off one "big job." Later, he went missing. Some said he had died, others said he was in prison. As time passed, he was gradually forgotten. I myself hadn't known what had become of him. As I searched my memory for the reason behind his disappearance, a sudden realization struck me.

While I was lost in thought, Old Zhang flicked me on the forehead. It snapped me back to reality. "Hey! Right, Old Zhang, didn't you say you wanted to pull off a big job? Did you do it? You went to the Qin Mausoleum, didn't you? Why did you disappear?"

Old Zhang took a silent sip of tea and said, "If I hadn't been so young and reckless back then, I wouldn't have caused such a stir. Rumor has it even the police and the military were mobilized! I was caught because my partner was disloyal—he took the goods and ran, leaving me behind in the tomb. It took a great effort to get out. Later, I was set up; the one who reported me was that same partner. Fortunately, the laws weren't as strict then, or tomb raiding alone would have been a capital offense. After I got out of prison, I wanted to find honest work, but I heard you were looking for me, so I came."

Only then did I realize he had indeed been in prison. It was no wonder I couldn't find him. I suspected he hadn't come just to reminisce. When I asked his intentions, he said the tomb from back then hadn't been fully explored, and he wanted to go back. I asked, "Didn't you wash your hands of this? You're still thinking about that place?"

Old Zhang paused. "I don't have any other skills. Besides, I had a wish left unfulfilled. I want to see it through one last time, and then I'll be done forever." He produced an old map. It was so aged I couldn't tell its era. When I examined it, it seemed to be from either the Qin or Han dynasties. Unable to decide, I tentatively agreed.

After he left, I remained in deep thought, studying the map. It wasn't as simple as he claimed; Old Zhang definitely knew more than he let on, or perhaps he was hiding something. What could it be? I couldn't guess. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep, resting my head on the old manual my grandfather had left behind. Before I knew it, dawn had broken. Blinding sunlight streamed through the window, stinging my eyes.

I woke up with a sharp, piercing pain in my neck. After a long while, I recovered and recalled yesterday's events; it felt like a nightmare. Having learned to read ancient texts from my uncle, I had some expertise. Upon closer inspection of the map, I realized it was from the end of the Eastern Han Dynasty. Whose tomb it was, I couldn't say. It seemed only a visit would reveal the truth.

To avoid suspicion, I used the foreigner's telephone to call Old Zhang and relay the news. He replied that he would set off immediately and told me to meet him at our old spot. We prepared our gear, though some items were difficult to procure and required pre-ordering—most importantly, the guns. To keep a low profile, we dressed as casual travelers and slipped out into the night toward our destination.

At the first light of dawn, the world was deathly silent. To ease the tension, we chatted as we hiked. A couple of hours later, we reached the hillside, and Old Zhang pointed ahead. He took out a Luoyang shovel, walked a few paces, marked a square, and began "probing"—measuring the depth of the soil. I helped him, and we worked tirelessly until midday.

While eating, we counted the steel rods we had driven down—ten sections, each about a meter long. Seeing Old Zhang slow down, I asked why, and he pointed to the square, signaling we had arrived. We dug for ten minutes until we broke through the tomb roof. Lighting a flare, the structure of the tomb was revealed. Old Zhang patted my shoulder, and we descended.

The entrance was surprisingly neat, which eased my nerves. We walked down hand-carved steps to a stone altar. We were in the center of the main chamber. Continuing past the altar, we encountered a massive stone door. Flanking the door were two soul-guarding beasts carved from Yunnan marble. They were fierce, with gaping maws and bared fangs, poised like tigers ready to pounce, glaring ahead.

We reached the door to scout the terrain, but Old Zhang stopped me with a gesture. He approached the beasts, donned special gloves from his pack, and signaled for me to do the same. We found a circular mechanism on the stone steps beneath the beasts and pressed them simultaneously, then stepped back.