Corpse Retriever

Li Zhuiyuan handed the Yellow River Spade to Runsheng for safekeeping. This item would have to wait until they left this place to be examined.

The four of them turned their eyes once more to the staircase above.

The water was rising fast. They had no choice but to continue upward.

Li Zhuiyuan reminded them, “Everyone, stay sharp. Be careful.”

Tan Wenbin responded immediately, “I will. I’ll keep pinching my thigh every so often.”

They climbed again.

This time, they didn’t go far before a new platform appeared. It was no longer that house-like structure—they now faced a massive carved serpent head, its mouth wide open, as if ready to devour all who entered.

Xue Liangliang said, “Seems the people of Yongguo worshipped serpents.”

Inside the serpent’s mouth, the space opened into a broad chamber. There was no snake-body ladder this time, only rows of stone pillars. When the flashlights swept over them, the place resembled an underground palace.

But there was nothing lavish about it—it felt raw, primitive, and sparsely furnished, lending it a desolate atmosphere.As they moved further, their footsteps began to echo. Even after becoming aware of it and treading softly, the echoes only grew louder.

Eventually, the sound was no longer just echoes—they had all stopped walking, yet the noise persisted and even intensified.

Finally, a green glow emerged ahead.

Li Zhuiyuan shone his flashlight forward. The green light quickly vanished, revealing a tiger in mid-pounce.

Startled, they all stepped back. Runsheng, standing at the front, lowered his stance as he retreated, fists clenched, ready to fight the tiger.

But soon, they realized the tiger was dead. It stood atop a stone pedestal. Though it looked lifelike after all these years, it was clearly just a specimen.

The green light reappeared, filling the tiger’s eyes. It looked as if the beast had come back to life.

However, now that they knew it was a specimen, they instinctively assumed something was inside the stuffed tiger, not that it was truly alive again.

Li Zhuiyuan guessed this was due to some device. Flashlights, far more efficient than torches, had dulled the intended scare tactics of these arrangements.

As the flashlight moved around, they saw many similar pedestals nearby, each displaying a variety of fierce beasts. Some of these species no longer inhabited this region.

The most striking figures, however, were two people—a man and a woman—clearly distinguishable by appearance. Clad in leather armor and bronze serpent masks, they stood among the beasts like monarchs commanding their pack.

Their arms were raised in grasping gestures, yet they held nothing now.

The flashlight beam dipped beneath the pedestal. There were decayed remains below—like the terracotta warriors, whatever they once held had long since rotted away.

The woman had her right arm raised high, likely once bearing a weapon. A bronze spearhead lay near her feet, suggesting she had wielded a long spear. Her left palm faced upward, as if holding a token of some kind—not a weapon, but something symbolic.

Yet there were no traces of it left—had it completely decayed, or had someone taken it?

So far, there was no sign that anyone had ever been here before.

The eyes of the man and woman began to glow green. Under the flashlight’s beam, the glow visibly receded. Once the beam shifted away, the green returned.

A few glowing points even drifted outside the group, but after floating around for a while, they dissipated—probably fireflies.

These creatures had nested within the beast and human specimens, lighting up when disturbed to create an intimidating effect.

Now that they understood what was happening, it was no longer frightening—it was like touring a museum.

They pressed onward, and the echoing noise seemed to gain confidence, building up again.

After they passed through the stone beast gallery, and before the flashlight could illuminate the far side, a great mass of green surged upward—an enormous pile of bones appeared before them.

Within it resided countless fireflies. The echoes they’d heard were their collective stirring—now fully awake, wings fluttering, the bone pile looked as if it were ablaze with eerie ghost-fire.

The outer layer of the pile was made of horses, cows, sheep, pigs, dogs, and chickens. Inside were tigers, deer, bears, apes, and birds.

These matched the categories of the Six Domestic Animals and the Five Wild Birds.

Bones were scattered around, but most remained in clearly identifiable structures.

At the very center, supporting the height of the pile, were human remains.

Human skeletons, stacked like toy blocks—this one lifting that one, that one bearing another—all climbing upward, forming the main structure of the bone mound.

Xue Liangliang stood agape, eyes filled with awe. With his professional background, he saw in it a blend of mechanical and aesthetic beauty.

Among them, perhaps only Tan Wenbin could feel the deep cruelty and sorrow of it all.

Human sacrifice—or creating so-called works of art with human lives as their medium—always evoked a profound sense of grief.

Tan Wenbin glanced around. Runsheng’s face remained expressionless. Xiaoyuan and Liangliang seemed more captivated than disturbed. He could only mutter to himself, “It’s all in the past, it’s all in the past.”

When he finished, he gave his thigh a forceful pinch—so hard that tears welled up from the pain.

Xue Liangliang noticed and patted his shoulder gently. “Let it go,” he said. “It’s all past ignorance.”

The fireflies, aside from their glow, showed no signs of aggression. In fact, their presence helped illuminate the entire area.

Beyond the “Bone Fire Heap,” a staircase ascended for more than ten levels.

At the top of the stairs stood a massive bed, draped in gold-threaded curtains that shimmered in the light and also created a strong visual barrier.

From the design alone, even without seeing inside, one could easily imagine a woman sitting there.

Most importantly, behind the bed was a slightly open door.

This was the only part of the underground palace that looked like it might lead upward—a crucial route back to the surface.

The four of them circled around the Bone Fire Heap and reached the foot of the stairs.

Then, three of them froze.

Xue Liangliang curiously asked, “Why is there a spade here? Has someone been here before?”

Tan Wenbin said, “Looks like our Yellow River Spade.”

Runsheng bent down to pick it up. “It is ours. Same model.”

There was a cracking sound—Runsheng tried to assemble it, but the spade broke apart. It had rusted through.

Tan Wenbin said, “So, one of our predecessors came here?”

Xue Liangliang asked, “Corpse Retrievers do tomb raiding too?”

He quickly corrected himself. “No, wait—this place isn’t a tomb. There’s a bed, but no coffin.”

Then he amended again, “Maybe your predecessors came here to deal with that giant creature—to protect the people.”

Li Zhuiyuan said, “Liangliang, no need to be nervous. We ended up here by accident. But if I had known about this place beforehand, I would have come too—just with better preparation.

“Besides, there’s a group called Water Monkeys. They specialize in robbing water burials. I don’t consider them peers, but they practice the same techniques as we do.”

As he spoke, Li Zhuiyuan took the broken Yellow River Spade from Runsheng and examined it. It was definitely from their line of work—not a Luoyang Spade.

That meant one of their predecessors had indeed come here. From the rusted break, you could tell it had been a high-quality, professional tool—matching the specifications in Wei Zhengdao’s books.

So, their predecessor was a professional too.

But had they come just to get rich?

They climbed the stairs. Aside from the Yellow River Spade, they found nothing else.

At the top, level with the massive bed, they saw square grooves surrounding it, filled with a white-green liquid.

A strange smell—initially undetectable—hit them only once they reached this height.

It was a scent too familiar. Even without Runsheng’s input, Tan Wenbin blurted out, “Corpse water.”

Runsheng added, “Thick and pure.”

Li Zhuiyuan cautioned, “We’ll move along the side. Don’t disturb anything.”

The side passage was narrow—just wide enough for one person at a time. They edged along carefully.

Even Tan Wenbin, tempted as he was by the bed’s golden drapes, didn’t dare reach for them. Greed had no place here—especially not in a place like this, and of this magnitude.

Without incident, they made it past the bed and the surrounding corpse-water pool, and reached the door beyond.

The door was just above. Going up should lead them to a way out.

The four turned back to look at the bed again. From this angle, it looked more like a boat floating at the center of a pool.

Tan Wenbin sighed, “What a waste—all that gold.”

Xue Liangliang lightly tapped his arm. “What, tempted?”

Tan Wenbin admitted bluntly, “Yeah.”

Xue Liangliang reminded him, “We can’t take anything from here.”

Tan Wenbin muttered, “Yeah…”

Next Chapter >>>