Corpse Retriever

For someone who’s probably been soaking in here for over a hundred years to still be able to gesture with their eyes and silently mouth words to you—it was staggering.

At that moment, what he did was even more shocking than the woman sitting on the bed.

It wasn’t just Li Zhuiyuan. Everyone kept glancing back and forth between the main door and the large bed, so they all saw the man’s silent direction.

But Runsheng always listened to Li Zhuiyuan, and Tan Wenbin only contributed when it came to lightening the mood. He never spoke during moments of decision.

Only Xue Liangliang reached out, grabbed Li Zhuiyuan’s arm, and gently exerted the slightest pressure in the direction of the bed.

”Xiao Yuan, make the call.”

Xue Liangliang had quietly expressed his preference—he wanted to go toward the bed.

That was also Li Zhuiyuan’s choice.

Sometimes, all the layers of human scheming—deception, logic games—could be discarded. You just needed to grab hold of the key point:

Back then, these four Qing dynasty corpses must have faced the same situation. They likely did what seemed most rational: charged for the door. And they were turned from corpse retrievers into bed-bearers.In truth, the moment those four appeared as bed-bearers in their current state, Li Zhuiyuan had already made up his mind.

The only reason he hesitated was like someone taking a few extra breaths before a bungee jump.

”Through the bed!”

They all started sprinting.

This moment mirrored that giant snake-head gate they’d passed when first entering the tomb—voluntarily delivering themselves to its jaws.

In an instant, seven of the eight bed-bearers shifted their previously level gazes to the four charging figures.

The golden curtain began to rise, and the woman’s long hair slowly parted to either side.

Li Zhuiyuan saw her face. It was human—but every inch was covered in snake scales, and in her eyes flickered vertical pupils, like a serpent’s.

They reached the bed. The other three quickly ducked low to avoid hitting their heads. Only the boy was different.

As they rushed under the bed, Li Zhuiyuan caught a glimpse of something hanging from the Qing dynasty man’s waist—a jade pendant.

On impulse, the boy reached out and grabbed it.

There might be some identifying information on this pendant. Even though your silent warning didn’t influence my decision, I’ll honor the gesture.

If I can find your descendants or inheritors, I’ll repay them.

Li Zhuiyuan had already arranged for Xue Liangliang to send money to truck driver Zhu Yang’s family.

Li Sanjiang hadn’t taught the boy much in terms of corpse retrieval—most of his methods were wrong.

But one vital lesson he did pass on was the importance of integrity for a corpse retriever.

Only, the tug failed. Not only did it not come loose, it almost made Li Zhuiyuan stumble.

He let go immediately. No point risking a fall or getting dragged along by the bed just for a pendant.

They emerged from under the bed, kept running a bit farther, and reached the water pool.

The eight bed-bearers and the woman on the bed simply watched them. They didn’t attack. Whether they weren’t interested, or had something more pressing to do, wasn’t clear.

“Ding…”

The pendant, which Li Zhuiyuan hadn’t managed to pull free earlier, now dropped from the man’s waist on its own, rolling all the way to his feet.

He picked it up, blew on it, and saw five engraved characters: “Fengdu Yin Zhiwang.”

Fengdu—also called Fendu—is in present-day Fuling, Sichuan. Not far from where they were now, in Wanzhou.

Yin wasn’t a common surname. And if this person had been a legitimate corpse retriever, finding his descendants shouldn’t be too hard—if they existed.

Li Zhuiyuan pocketed the pendant and looked up. The eight carriers had already reached the door.

“Geh geh geh…”

The eerie laughter still poured from beyond the door. The woman’s face kept peeking out again and again.

The bedframe collided with the door, producing thunderous bangs.

Tan Wenbin was stunned. “Wait, is this how they ’ascend to paradise’? Just… smashing through it?”

Xue Liangliang replied, “What did you expect? You really believe in ascension?”

Tan Wenbin shook his head. “No, I just thought… it should be a little more elegant. Maybe romantic?”

“Creak…”

The once-ajar door was slowly being forced open by the bed’s solid legs.

At the same time, from the water behind them came a series of cracking sounds.

The four turned around.

The water in the pool—where the bed had been and the eight Dead Sinkers hidden—was dropping rapidly.

Xue Liangliang said, “There’s probably a mechanism down there, linked to the big door above. They open together.”

As the door continued to open, the water drained even faster, revealing a dark hollow at the bottom.

Tan Wenbin said, “Like someone pulled the bathtub plug.”

Li Zhuiyuan muttered, “Maybe… that’s the real exit?”

Tan Wenbin frowned. “But it goes downward…”

“Geh geh geh…”

“Geh geh geh…”

The laughter behind the door suddenly grew denser.

They looked back. The woman’s face was no longer alone—now there were two, then four, then eight… soon the entire doorway was filled, top to bottom, with laughing female faces.

Each wore the same chilling smile.

Tan Wenbin gulped. “That many?”

Li Zhuiyuan’s ears twitched. “More.”

As the door was finally forced open, those faces began to crawl out. Yes—crawl. Because behind each face was a body like a gecko, only their limbs were disproportionately short, and their skin was slick with mucus. They had essentially no limbs left. They wriggled forward on their bellies.

Like snakes—but not. Whether they’d evolved or degenerated, no one could say.

All the faces looked the same. Identical.

Li Zhuiyuan suspected this was the true face of the woman on the bed. She became a snake, and the snakes… became her.

They poured out.

At first they clung to the doorframe, then gushed out from above in a torrent—so dense it became a flood of blackness. Countless identical human faces pressed and mashed together, forming a grotesque tide of laughter.

“Holy shit!”

Tan Wenbin couldn’t help but curse.

Everyone else shared the sentiment. If they’d chosen the door earlier, wouldn’t they have walked right into this horror?

The very thought made their scalps tingle.

Most of the gecko-snakes crawled upward along the tomb walls. As the white-bone fire pits blazed to life, a swarm of Fireflies gathered above.

The creatures began devouring the Fireflies. It was their feast.

Suddenly, Li Zhuiyuan understood something.

This tomb held a strange cycle of life.

Each time the Fireflies multiplied beyond a certain threshold, the gecko-snakes inside the door would begin to call out—like hungry babies summoning their mother.

Then the serpent-faced woman on the bed would direct the Dead Sinkers to lift the bed, leave the pool, and ascend the stairs—to open the so-called gate to paradise.

It really was a paradise. Just not for outsiders going in—but for the things inside, coming out to dine.

Their arrival had likely triggered this early.

Maybe it was their flashlights. Or their noise. Anything human-made could have stirred the Fireflies too soon—alerting the gecko-snakes, who then began calling for dinner.

In a twisted way, it was also a security system.

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