Chapter Twenty-Three: The Engineering Section: The Origins of Tomb Raiders

Old Seven didn't specify exactly how they would leave; he only said everything had to wait until the end of the month. After tidying up the bowls and chopsticks, he walked out of the house.

"Why must we wait until the end of the month to leave? I've been out here for so long, my old man at home must be worried sick. Old Zhang, I think we should call the police..." Cheng Che stood up in agitation.

A flicker passed through Zhang Qinglin's eyes. "If we all leave, what about Yueyue? Here's what we'll do: when the time comes, you take Da Zhuang and follow Old Seven out first. I'll stay behind and wait for news about Yueyue."

Cheng Che glanced at Da Zhuang, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. "No... If we go, we go together."

…

That afternoon, they didn't go to the mine. Cheng Che went out for a while and, upon returning, said that Wu Ye, Miss Su, and the man had all come back from the mine and had stationed people to guard the dormitory area.

Around six or seven o'clock, Old Seven summoned them to dinner. The meal was served in a large, open shed. By the time they arrived, it was nearly full. Old Seven spotted an empty table, walked over, and then took Cheng Che to the food area to get their meals.

Zhang Qinglin's gaze swept across the workers in the big shed—most he'd seen at the mine. As he glanced toward the western corner, something caught his attention: a face that seemed particularly familiar. The man was eating, occasionally looking around.

Who was this man? Zhang Qinglin searched his memory, his eyes locked onto the man's left arm, which bore a unique tattoo partly hidden by his sleeve.

He would never forget that distinctive tattoo; its image was still clear in his mind. How had they suddenly appeared here? Were they looking for him? Or had he never escaped their grasp over the past twenty years?

Zhang Qinglin watched as the man finished eating, set down his chopsticks, swept a sharp gaze over the crowd, then got up and walked toward them.

Zhang Qinglin lowered his head, avoiding eye contact. At that moment, Old Seven and his group returned, standing right in front of him. Only when the man left the shed and disappeared from sight did Zhang Qinglin lift his head.

After dinner, darkness gradually fell, and everyone returned to their rooms.

Late at night, Zhang Qinglin quietly sat up, holding the key Da Zhuang had secretly given him. Using the light from outside the window, he examined it: an old, finely preserved hollow metal key. How could such a key remain intact under the harsh conditions of the mine?

What could this mean? Was it deliberately buried in the cave not long ago?

He studied the hollow pattern on the key's handle under the light—it looked familiar.

His eyes lit up. Yes! In the photos in Da Zhuang's room, and in that leather notebook.

He immediately fetched the notebook, sitting by the window and flipping through it…

On the sixth page, Zhang Qinglin found a description of the object with this shape.

The notebook read: "When the lamp shines, strange peaks emerge, a Pixiu statue, worm-scented jade, a Kirin eight-faced mirror, born from Pi Kun Mountain, along with a symmetrically carved bronze box, locked. Later, someone in the team hid the key, intending to keep the box for himself, so the box was hidden..."

There was also a drawing of a key identical to the one in his hand. Could this be the key to the bronze box?

Zhang Qinglin turned two more pages and found a passage about tomb raiding. Curious, he continued reading.

It said: "In the 15th century BCE, during the era from Western Han to Eastern Han, wars and disasters ravaged the land, the economy was shattered, and the people suffered terribly.

Some living in special geographical environments began to rely on the mountains and tombs for sustenance. Some went so far as to loot ancient graves, borrowing from the dead to buy food—the most notable were the major factions.

Back then, two famous factions stood out, each with its own characteristics and strict hierarchy, passed down through direct lineage: one was the Southern Faction, the other the Northern Faction. These two relied on each other, forming a deep bond, but eventually grew hostile.

The Northern Faction accused the Southern Faction of being wild and disrespectful to ancient culture, claiming every tomb they raided ended up destroyed. The Southern Faction called the Northern Faction too cautious, saying they talked big and acted like hypocrites, full of tricks. Their rivalry intensified, sometimes fighting to the death over a single tomb, with scenes more brutal than ancient battlefields.

Later, elders from both sides negotiated a fair agreement, dividing their territories: the Yangtze River set the boundary, with the south for the Southern Faction and the north for the Northern Faction. Apart from cooperation, they didn't interfere with each other.

After that, the two factions appeared harmonious on the surface but continued to compete behind the scenes. As more people entered the trade, these shady dealings became widespread.

In the martial world, the practice was called 'Gold Touching,' also known as 'Sand Sifting,' or 'Tomb Raiding.' There were many names and various factions.

For example, Sand Sifting Faction, Gold Touching Faction, Mountain Moving Faction, Southern Faction, Northern Faction, and so on. Some independent factions broke away from the major ones; Mountain Moving and Sand Sifting were such factions. The Gold Touching Faction was established in the early Eastern Han by a ruler to resolve military funding and feed his troops, known as the Gold Touching Captain.

It was formed by fearless soldiers and brave warriors from the army; their skills were extremely hard to master, and the standards were strict—only the best could qualify. Whenever raiding a major tomb, a candle was lit in the southwest corner. If the candle flame turned green, it meant the tomb's owner was testing the intruders; the loot should be returned, and they should leave, resealing the tomb.

If the candle flickered, it meant the owner was unwelcome; they should leave immediately. If it didn't change, they could take the treasure and leave before dawn, resealing the tomb. As laws became stricter, tomb raiding became more secretive. At the time, inscriptions decreed that those who looted tombs or destroyed ancient texts faced five to ten years in prison, and repeat offenders were beheaded and displayed.

Factions went underground, secretly engaging in tomb raiding and selling treasures. This gave rise to a new era, which the elders later called the Gold Touching Era, spanning several centuries.

The Sand Sifting Faction was also known as the Gold Touching Sect, different from the Gold Touching Faction, which had its own unique history. The Southern Faction called tomb raiding 'Tomb Raiding,' the Northern Faction called it 'Hole Walking,' and the Gold Touching Sect called it 'Gold Touching.' We Gold Touchers have our own code.

The Southern Faction's was 'Treasure Seeking Order,' the Northern Faction's 'Dragon Seeking Chant,' and the Gold Touching Sect's 'Dragon Seeking Formula.' Different names, different divisions of labor, and different natures."

Zhang Qinglin closed the notebook, quietly pondering. The account of tomb raiding origins was indeed detailed; it seemed the notebook's owner must have been a tomb raider.

Still, it was strange—how did Da Zhuang know where to find this key?

His gaze suddenly shifted toward the door, gripping the key tightly, his expression tense.

Outside, light footsteps sounded, and a shadow flickered stealthily. At that moment, Old Seven rolled over, the bed creaking softly. The shadow paused, then gradually moved away.

Once the shadow disappeared, he packed the notebook and key into his backpack and returned it to its usual place.

Glancing at Old Seven, who slept on his side, Zhang Qinglin turned to the window. A full moon hung high in the night sky.

The man he saw today—the one with the tattoo on his arm—bore the mark of an organization: a phoenix.

Back when Uncle Jiang took him to Shanxi, men with that tattoo always followed them.

He had once been kidnapped by these men, locked in a dark room for three days and nights, interrogated about his father's whereabouts and whether they'd been in contact.

Zhang Qinglin remembered that on the night he escaped, this same man had chased him, and he had struck him with a brick.

Seeing that man again today, it seemed he was searching for someone. If he was here for Zhang Qinglin, this place had become far too dangerous.

Zhang Qinglin's peripheral vision swept over the two sleeping on the other bed. That night, he listened to the wind outside, unable to sleep soundly.

…

"Old Zhang, how can you still be sleeping? Get up, something happened!" Amidst his drowsiness, he heard the commotion outside the window and Cheng Che's anxious, frightened voice.

Zhang Qinglin snapped awake, taking a moment to recover. His insomnia last night had led to strange dreams.

"What happened?" Zhang Qinglin sat up, rubbing his aching temples.

Seeing Cheng Che's terror-stricken face, Zhang Qinglin guessed something serious had happened. Following Cheng Che outside, he saw a crowd gathered beside the latrine in the yard. Da Zhuang stood at the back, trembling.

The crowd murmured, "Who could be so cruel? Kai Zi was always honest—who would have it out for him?"

"Who was in the same room with him last night…"

At that moment, Old Seven led Wu Ye and the man in the suit through the main gate. As the crowd parted, a large pool of blood became visible, and on it lay the corpse of a man. His carotid artery had been slit deep and long, and a sharp knife was embedded between his chest. His wide-open, bloodshot eyes stared in shock and agony, unwilling to close in death.

"Damn, who the hell did this…" Wu Ye stepped forward, shocked, cursing loudly.

Wu Ye stood beside Kai Zi's corpse, his eyes sweeping the crowd.

"This needs to be dealt with, Wu Ye…" The suited man took out a checked handkerchief, covering his nose, bent down to look, and spoke in a low voice.

Wu Ye moved closer, his face softening slightly. "Boss Ma, this is a murder case—things are getting complicated. The police are already on their way."

"Boss Ma, you'd better go back inside—don't let this spoil your day," Wu Ye straightened up and called loudly, "The police will be here soon. Leave two men to watch the scene, everyone else go to the shed and wait to be questioned."

Wu Ye summoned Old Seven to escort Boss Ma, then signaled to Xiaomi. Xiaomi nodded and turned away.

Besides the dining shed, the yard had another large shed, one side unfinished, likely still under construction.

Zhang Qinglin and his companions were herded into the shed, sitting against the mud wall. The whole shed buzzed with speculation. Zhang Qinglin noticed a man sitting ahead to his right.

Though the man faced away, his tattooed arm was visible. He sat upright and motionless, as if meditating.

"Old Zhang, we need to find a chance to escape. Someone's been killed—honest folk aren't safe here. We can't stay," Cheng Che whispered, gripping Da Zhuang's left hand, his face pale.

"Shh, let's wait for Old Seven first…"

A crowd had gathered at the shed's open side, and many people clustered at the entrance to watch the scene—the police had arrived.

He saw two or three uniformed officers standing beside Wu Ye. Wu Ye grinned, taking two boxes of cigarettes from his pocket and handing them over.

The police loaded Kai Zi's body into a car outside.

After accepting the cigarettes, one officer exchanged a few words with Wu Ye, who nodded and bowed. Eventually, two young officers stayed to take statements and escorted a few suspects away.

This dragged on all day. By evening, Wu Ye had seen off the two officers.

Standing in front of the shed, Zhang Qinglin gazed at the gate of the yard. The sky was gray, the sunset's red glow fading. Old Seven had left with Boss Ma that morning and still hadn't returned.

Could something have happened?

As Zhang Qinglin turned back, he saw someone still standing in the now-empty black shed, their eyes shining with a sharp, piercing light, watching him.

He could feel the gaze like a flying dagger, accompanied by a wicked smile.

"Cheng Che, Old Seven hasn't come back—he must be in trouble. In a moment, help me distract those two. I'll go check the yard. And keep an eye on Da Zhuang. If anything happens, I'll throw a brick into the yard. Then you run—don't worry about me…"

Zhang Qinglin whispered to Cheng Che.

"You sure? Maybe I should go, and you watch Da Zhuang."

"You can't go. Watch for my clothes—if I put them on inside out, it means I'm ready. You find an excuse to head to the gate…"

Worry clouded Cheng Che's face. Although Zhang Qinglin was steadier than he was, in situations like this, survival was paramount. "If danger arises, don't worry about us—just escape…"

"Enough talk. Let's go eat." Zhang Qinglin helped the trembling Da Zhuang toward the dining shed.

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