Chapter Forty: Turning the Scheme Against Itself

Zhang Qinglin never expected them to be on Gourd Mountain. This place was sparsely populated, with few villages nearby; due to poor prospects for farming, many people had moved away, leaving the area desolate. Years ago, there were plans to mine here, but geological surveys proved unfavorable, so the project was shelved. Hidden in these mountains was an ancient tomb. From Boss Ma and Old Wu’s conversation, Zhang Qinglin gathered that Da Zhuang had broken away from their group; now, they were trapped here with growing discord.

In front of the stone gate where Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che stood lay a vast chamber, opposite a burial passage. Under the faint glow of candles, Old Seven clutched his bandaged shoulder and slowly rose, scanning the surroundings before saying, “Uncle, I’m fine. This wound is nothing. But Da Zhuang stole our map—without it, the path ahead will be tough. The routes behind are sealed off. Let’s find the main burial chamber first, then decide what to do.”

“It’s all Da Zhuang’s fault, that rascal. He tricked us, nephew. Don’t worry, I won’t let him off,” Old Wu replied. Old Wu was quick-tempered and loud, but shrewd as well. Facing the current situation, he wouldn’t rush ahead to play the hero; if valuable relics were found, he might see them but not live to claim them.

“Uncle, let’s go,” Old Seven picked up his backpack from the ground.

“Wait!” Mosaic barked, halting Old Seven. He glanced at Old Wu, then shifted his gaze to their right rear—toward the stone gate where Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che were hidden.

“Hm…” Old Wu signaled to his two men.

Seeing Old Wu’s men approach with clenched fists, Zhang Qinglin stepped out. Cheng Che, caught off guard, exclaimed, “Hey, Old Zhang! What are you doing?”

“Boss Ma, we meet again…” Zhang Qinglin strode forward, fixing Mosaic with a calm gaze.

Cheng Che stared at Old Wu’s men, just two steps away, and whispered anxiously to Zhang Qinglin, “Old Zhang, are you crazy? Why reveal yourself?”

Zhang Qinglin took another step forward. “I didn’t expect Boss Ma to make his fortune this way. My brother and I were brought here by you; at least let us see the world.”

Mosaic frowned and glanced at Old Wu.

Cheng Che stepped up and pointed at Old Seven, shouting angrily, “Old Seven, you bastard! We trusted you, treated you like a brother, and you teamed up with that old man to harm us—and stole our things…”

Old Seven turned, a cold smile on his face. “Brother, would you really treat me as one? You only wanted my help to escape from there. My uncle saw through it long ago, so he sent me to assist you. Never thought you actually had ties to the Wu family! Uncle, with these two here, Wu Cheng’an will surely show himself!” he whispered to Mosaic.

“Old Seven, don’t start with that. Wu family, Wu Sixth Master—we don’t know them!” Cheng Che retorted.

Zhang Qinglin kept his eyes on the pair of pipe stems protruding from Old Seven’s backpack, wondering if the notebook was there too. Regaining focus, he leaned close to Cheng Che and murmured, “Cheng Che, I saw the pipes in Old Seven’s bag. Soon, try to grab his backpack. If you can’t get it, play along for now—get the bag first, then figure out how to leave…”

Mosaic watched Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che whispering together, feeling anger bubble up but suppressing it as his eyes darted. “You two rookies, cut the chit-chat. No matter what happened before, we all want the same thing—big money.”

“If we’re all after relics, let’s go together!” Old Wu commanded.

With that, Old Wu signaled his men, who moved to either side.

Zhang Qinglin walked ahead, Cheng Che following. Mosaic patted Old Seven, and the group headed down the burial passage.

They entered the corridor slowly. At the rear, Old Wu’s two men suddenly clutched their hair and choked their throats, making guttural sounds as their eyes rolled back.

Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che quickly moved away. Old Wu and Mosaic rushed over, shining their flashlights.

Both men’s skin had turned a blackish purple; blood in their temples pulsed as if ready to burst. Their bodies convulsed until they stiffened and collapsed. In the flashlight’s beam, a pair of green-glowing eyes pressed against one man’s lips, and a claw stretched out from his mouth. As the creature squeezed its whole body out, everyone present was horrified and thrown into chaos.

Four or five of these creatures crawled over the bodies. They were about the size of a fist, with four long, thin legs and a tiny torso, but those eerie green eyes made anyone who saw them shiver.

These strange insects, whatever mutation had spawned them, killed a person in mere minutes.

Seeing the poisonous bugs crawling toward them, Zhang Qinglin moved to Old Seven’s side, grabbed him, and, calling to Cheng Che, ran deeper into the tomb.

Old Seven, seized by Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che, ignored Mosaic and the others. Halfway through, Zhang Qinglin snatched Old Seven’s backpack.

Despite his injured shoulder, Old Seven was strong, clinging tightly to the bag strap. “I knew you were plotting something…”

Cheng Che kicked him fiercely. “Behave!”

Zhang Qinglin pulled the pipe stems from the backpack, dumped out its contents, but found no notebook. He grabbed the pipe stems and demanded, “Why did you capture Da Zhuang? He’s a fool, and you still wouldn’t spare him!”

“What fool? You’ve all been tricked by him—played like fools,” Old Seven leaned against the tomb wall.

Mosaic and the others’ chaotic footsteps drew nearer. Zhang Qinglin grabbed the flashlight and Old Seven’s backpack. “Let’s go!”

Cheng Che, still angry, kicked Old Seven again and hurried after them.

When Zhang Qinglin turned into the passage, he stopped abruptly and stepped back. Cheng Che bumped into him. “Old Zhang, why did you stop?”

Looking ahead, a gun was pressed to Zhang Qinglin’s forehead.

The man holding the gun was tall and burly, with a long, fierce scar on his left cheek, making him intimidating.

Neither Zhang Qinglin nor Cheng Che dared move. The man stepped forward, forcing them to retreat. Judging by his gear, he wasn’t with Boss Ma’s crew.

Emerging from the burial passage, this man gave them pause. Behind them, Mosaic and the others were approaching in disarray.

Zhang Qinglin frowned and said, “There are poisonous bugs behind us—soon they’ll reach here! If we don’t leave now, it’ll be too late!”

The man shifted aside, and another person stepped up. This one adjusted his collar, lifted his head, and said, “Hmph, so afraid of death, yet you dare enter a tomb? I wonder how Sister Xiao ever chose you two cowardly souls for this job…”

“Sister Xiao?” Zhang Qinglin eyed the newcomer, whose balanced build and baby-faced features radiated an air of pride and effeminacy.

“What cowardly? If you’re with Sister Xiao, show some respect—why threaten us with a gun?” Cheng Che protested.

“Enough. Since Sister Xiao sent me to assist you—let’s work together,” the man arched his brow and nodded to the tall companion, who withdrew the gun from Zhang Qinglin’s forehead.

He continued, “You’re first-timers in a tomb, clueless, so you’ll have to follow my lead. Dada, let’s go…”

With that, the man glanced at Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che, then turned and walked away. The tall companion holstered his gun and followed quickly.

The tall man was a Mongolian named Balok Lingda. It was said that this man had saved his life, so Balok followed him with utter loyalty.

He was strong, dependable, skilled in wilderness survival—traits that earned him a place in the group.

The man’s name was Li Qingpeng. He had served Sister Xiao for over a decade, weathered many storms. Despite his effeminate manner, his skills were formidable; in a blink, he was already at the front of the tomb passage.

Zhang Qinglin and the others followed.

Li Qingpeng faced the stone gate, which differed from the others. He shone his flashlight back and forth over it, examining it closely. After a moment, he aimed the beam at the center of the gate, where a flame totem was carved. He said to Balok Lingda, “Looks like this is the front hall. Dada, bring the tools!”

Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che moved closer. Balok handed Li Qingpeng a slender iron rod. Li Qingpeng walked to the stone gate, squatted, and inserted the rod beneath the gate, shifting it from left to right and back again several times. There was a click, and Li Qingpeng set down the rod and stepped back.

The stone gate slowly rose. Zhang Qinglin watched Li Qingpeng stride inside, and the group hurried to follow.

Once inside, the gate dropped shut. Li Qingpeng swept the room with his gaze and barked, “Dada, light the lamps!”

Balok Lingda lit a candle, then ignited the oil lamps in the burial chamber, flooding the space with light.

The murals here were more vivid: dragons and phoenixes soaring on the right, fierce tigers on the left. It was all very strange. Zhang Qinglin approached Li Qingpeng and asked, “Why are we here? Sister Xiao told us to find the Shang Tang Eight Steeds painting, but it’s already destroyed.”

“Right, shouldn’t we be looking for the exit?” Cheng Che chimed in.

Li Qingpeng looked at Zhang Qinglin. “You said it yourself—the painting was destroyed. Since you took Sister Xiao’s money, you owe her the job.”

“What job? We weren’t told to steal relics. Nearly lost our lives in this dump!” Cheng Che grumbled.

Li Qingpeng turned back to study the murals. “Who told you to come down here? Listen: since you’re here, behave. Don’t touch any of the wall paintings.”

“Old Zhang, does Xin Yue know we’re here? I wonder how she’s doing outside, and Wan Qing…” Cheng Che mused.

Li Qingpeng approached, patted Cheng Che’s shoulder, and said, “Don’t worry. Your friends are safe. Miss Wan Qing is already taken care of. Once we find what we need, we’ll meet up with them.”

“What exactly are we looking for?” Zhang Qinglin asked.

Li Qingpeng pulled a laminated sheet from his pocket and handed it over. “This.”

“What’s this? A box? A mirror?”

On the laminated sheet was a bronze box, roundish with swirling cloud patterns, resembling the bronze box Zhang Qinglin had seen in the notebook, though the patterns differed. The lock on the sheet’s box also had an intricate hollow design.

He felt his pants pocket for the hollow key—it was still there. That meant, if they found this bronze box, the key could open it.

But thinking it over, it seemed impossible—the key was given to him by Da Zhuang, and the bronze box in the notebook had already been stolen.

He stared at the sheet. Beside the box were the words: Retrieve item.

What did that mean?

“We’re here to find this bronze box, and also a book,” Li Qingpeng said, taking back the laminated sheet.