Corpse Retriever

“That thing Xiaoyuan took nearly got us killed. It’s got a grudge against us, so taking it away is the right thing to do.

Besides, when this place gets excavated by archaeologists in the future, if that thing’s still here, it could endanger them too. Better to remove the threat now.”

Tan Wenbin figured Xiaoyuan probably hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Liang-ge, you really know how to justify things.”

“I’m just stating facts.”

“Honestly, I didn’t plan to take the gold to get rich either. Look at all those sacrificial humans in the bone heap. This place may not be a tomb, but it’s still built on the people’s blood and sweat. I’m fine leaving the other artifacts, but if we took the gold, we wouldn’t use it for our own luxury. A small cut could fund Xiaoyuan-ge’s research, and the rest we’d donate to government projects or hope schools in Wanzhou. That way, what’s taken from the people can be returned to them. Better than letting it rot underground.”

Xue Liangliang laughed. “You’re accusing me, but you’re the real master of justification.”

“No way.”

“If you turn the gold into jewelry, it becomes an artifact too.”

“Damn it.”Li Zhuiyuan spoke up. “Let’s go. Once we’re out, we’ll report this—”

He didn’t finish.

From behind the half-open door ahead, a woman’s face suddenly peered out.

She appeared so abruptly, so eerily, without the slightest warning.

Especially now, just after they’d passed the large bed on the platform and had begun to let down their guard, thinking the danger was over.

This—this was the real “Woman Opening the Door.”

The sudden face startled all four of them, but Runsheng reacted instantly. Gripping the remaining half of the Yellow River Spade, he swung it straight at the woman’s head!

Whatever you are—demon or ghost—eat a spade first!

Smack!

The woman’s face vanished. Runsheng’s strike hit the edge of the door.

“Cluck-cluck-cluck…”

The woman’s face reappeared on the other side of the doorway, her lips opening and closing in silver-bell laughter.

In a sunny park that laugh might’ve been sweet, but here, it was nothing but spine-chilling.

Runsheng raised the spade and struck again.

Smack!

The face disappeared once more.

But the laughter kept growing, echoing outward until it filled the entire underground palace.

The fireflies, once glowing green, now shifted to a blood-red hue, bathing the palace in the color of a sea of blood.

Even the pale green pool surrounding the bed began to bubble, as if boiling.

And the golden curtains on the bed—though there was no wind—began to sway.

Now, no imagination was needed. Inside, clearly visible, sat a woman dressed in resplendent red robes.

Her hair was still black, unnaturally smooth and glossy, cascading down her back in a flowing wave.

As the curtains swayed, her arms began to twist unnaturally, and even her long hair started to move, sweeping slowly.

Soon, her arms straightened and rotated behind her, revealing her hands—previously hidden in front—now emerging at the back, facing the four of them.

The motion of her hair resembled the turn of her head.

Though her face was still obscured by her hair, the sensation was clear—she had twisted her head completely around.

She had been sitting facing the palace. Now, she faced the door.

Ahead, the woman at the door kept peeking out, laughing.

Behind them, the woman on the bed—thought to have been safely left behind—had awakened.

Now the four of them, caught between, could neither advance nor retreat.

But Li Zhuiyuan had figured out the layout. This wasn’t a tomb—it was a site of ritual.

Compared to later tomb murals that depicted “the woman opening the door,” those were but clumsy imitations.

This place was the real deal—personally built for herself, with a literal door, waiting for the “woman opening the door” to guide her into paradise.

It was the woman peeking from behind the door who had triggered all this.

But what was she exactly? Why wait until now—just as they were about to pass through the door?

If she’d done her job earlier and guided the soul on, the place would’ve been a harmless, empty ruin. The four of them were only passing through to escape danger.

“Xiaoyuan?”

Runsheng, gripping the broken spade, called out.

Xue Liangliang and Tan Wenbin crowded close to Li Zhuiyuan, instinctively shielding him.

But now, a decision had to be made.

Whirrrr!

From the bubbling pool below came the sound of heavy friction. The entire bed was rising.

From beneath the water, eight people emerged, hoisting the bed on their shoulders.

At each corner stood a man in leather armor, looking just like the male figure among the beasts they’d seen earlier.

These men had their eyes shut, but silvery liquid flowed from the corners of their eyes and mouths—not water like ordinary Dead Sinkers, but something more like mercury.

“Mercury-refined corpses…”

Wei Zhengdao’s Strange Records of the Jianghu had described this type of Dead Sinker—guardians placed at water burial sites to protect the tomb’s mistress.

Regular Corpse Retrievers would never encounter them. Only Water Monkeys studied how to handle such things.

The four leather-armored men had clearly been stationed here from the beginning, placed alongside the woman on the bed.

The other four wore tightly fitted robes and had long queues trailing behind their heads.

These four Qing-era men were most likely the predecessors who had left behind the Yellow River Spade.

Li Zhuiyuan identified them as fellow professionals rather than Water Monkeys because Water Monkeys always moved in groups—like Ding Dalin’s squad, where even twenty members counted as small. But here, it was just four men, and no other bodies were found.

The strong corpse-water odor from the pool likely had preservative effects. These men and their clothing showed no signs of rot or bloat—they were shockingly well-preserved.

The eight men stepped out of the pool and began climbing the stairs, moving in perfect unison. Each step carried crushing pressure.

“Cluck-cluck-cluck…”

The laughter behind the door continued.

“Xiaoyuan!”

Runsheng called again. It was time to choose.

Runsheng was already poised to charge into the doorway. Xue Liangliang and Tan Wenbin were ready to follow.

Given the choice between the eight corpse-bearers and the mysterious woman on the bed, most sane people would choose the door. After all, it was just a face, right?

But just then, Li Zhuiyuan noticed something.

Among the four Qing men carrying the bed, the one at the far right—though his body and limbs were rigid, still holding the bed aloft and walking—his eyes were moving.

They flicked left, returned, flicked left again. His mouth also opened and closed in silence, forming words:

“This way… this way… this way…”

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