Reborn As Super Heiress

The van stopped at the foot of the mountain, and Oil Rat followed the group as they got off, arriving at a place where they stopped in front of a broken arm, in front of a giant rock.

There were already two people waiting in front of the giant rock. Seeing Oil Rat and his group, one young man nodded slightly at the tall, thin man and said, ”Mr. Python is here? Mr. Huang hasn’t arrived yet, we’ll have to wait a bit longer.”

Mr. Python said nothing, standing silently by the side, quietly waiting.

Oil Rat, having joined later, didn’t quite understand what riddles these people were playing, and couldn’t help but feel a bit puzzled. He quietly tugged at the sleeve of a chubby guy standing next to him and asked, ”Luo Fatso, who are the two people standing over there?”

That Luo Fatso seemed quite friendly with Oil Rat, and upon hearing the question, he lowered his voice and said:

”The one standing over there is Fujiwara Seiho, supposedly the organizer of this operation.”

Upon hearing this, Oil Rat frowned slightly, ”Fujiwara Seiho? Is he a Dongyang person?”

Luo Fatso nonchalantly retorted, ”So what if he’s from Dongyang, we’re tomb raiders. Even if we dig up something good, we still have to find a way to sell it. Selling abroad is not uncommon at all, are you being squeamish now?”

Hearing this, Oil Rat also realized his earlier thought was somewhat laughable. So what if he’s from Dongyang? All of them live on the edge, making money off the dead; are they really going to care about such things? If they had morals and a conscience, why would they be doing this line of work?

”Who is this Mr. Huang that the Dongyang guy mentioned just now?” Oil Rat continued to ask.

”You don’t know?” Luo Fatso gave Oil Rat a puzzled look and explained, ”I’ve heard there’s something strange below. Mr. Fujiwara has already sent a batch of people down before, but after they went in, no one came out. Mr. Fujiwara is afraid of running into something dirty, so he invited Mr. Python and Mr. Huang. I’ve heard Mr. Python is an expert tomb raider from the North, and Mr. Huang is a Feng Shui Master. Nothing can possess them, not even ghosts!”

Oil Rat scoffed at this, looking somewhat displeased, ”There’s no such thing as ghosts in this world. I think it’s just scaring oneself. These so-called Feng Shui Masters and Geomancers are all charlatans. This Fujiwara fellow from Dongyang is truly timid and superstitious, believing such fraudsters. They’re not afraid of Sadako, but fear our Huaxia zombies? Since he called us here and also invited these so-called Mr. Python and Mr. Huang, it’s clear he doesn’t trust us!”

Luo Fatso was startled by this remark and urgently pinched Oil Rat’s arm, gesturing for him to lower his voice.

Just as Oil Rat was about to say more, Fujiwara Seiho’s gaze swept over, his face wearing a smile but his eyes cold as ice. He toyed with a small knife in his hand and said slowly:

”Mr. Huang was the only survivor from the last batch that entered the hanging coffin. Without him, we can’t venture down recklessly. We must do as he instructs, and all actions must be in accordance with commands. This is our first cooperation; I hope everyone can cooperate. If successful, your rewards will be substantial.”

Luo Fatso chuckled, ”Mr. Fujiwara’s reputation is, of course, impeccable. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have received a 500,000 advance. Rest assured, we will surely cooperate actively with the two gentlemen’s work.”

”Mr. Fujiwara, do we know if Mr. Huang will come today? If he doesn’t, do we have to wait indefinitely? We’re paid by the day. If we don’t act today and do it tomorrow, aren’t you, Mr. Fujiwara, going to have to pay an extra day’s wages?”

Oil Rat couldn’t stand Luo Fatso’s obsequiousness; he was already extremely displeased with today’s mission, especially since he found Fujiwara Seiho’s fair-skinned face very annoying. If it weren’t for his interest in what was inside the tomb, he would have quit long ago.

”Rest assured, since I invited you here, I have my own plans. No need to worry about the money. Besides, the Fujiwara Family is wealthy enough to afford this little expense.”

Fujiwara Seiho’s eyes flashed coldly as he looked at Oil Rat and asked indifferently, ”You are You Laoshu, right? I’ve heard that your skills in digging tomb holes surpass those of underground rats? I hope your reputation is well-deserved.”

Oil Rat sensed a hint of disdain in Fujiwara Seiho’s words, causing his anger to rise at once: ”Mr. Fujiwara, rest assured, without the Diamond Drill, I wouldn’t dare take on this job. Since I’m here, I will naturally do my utmost to help. If I’m unable to do this, I won’t take a penny of your money!”

Fujiwara Seiho’s eyes remained cold, fixating on the faint green light reflecting off the small knife in his hand, with a barely detectable cold smile at the corner of his mouth.

Luo Fatso looked at the small knife in his hand, his small eyes blinking, casting a glance at Oil Rat, a hint of something flashed in his eyes. The group remained silent, the wilderness turning quiet, with only the calls of unidentified insects.

”He’s here!”

After waiting for an unknown period, the previously silent Mr. Python suddenly muttered two words in a hoarse voice, with a rare hint of excitement in his tone.

Oil Rat looked up and surveyed the surroundings, failing to spot anyone’s arrival, so he turned to Luo Fatso and asked, ”Where?”

Suddenly, he felt as if someone was breathing on the back of his neck. Although not afraid of ghosts, he noticed everyone’s eyes looking bizarrely at something behind him, as if a female ghost was sticking out her tongue, reaching out her hands to strangle his neck.

Oil Rat was instantly startled and jumped forward with force, nimbly dodging.

After jumping a few steps away, he turned around sharply, only to be shocked to find that, at some point, someone had quietly stood in the spot where he had just been.

In that instant, Oil Rat understood that this person was likely the Mr. Huang whom Fujiwara Seiho was waiting for.

”Mr. Huang, when did you stand behind me?”

Oil Rat initially wanted to express his anger, but seeing this person’s skills, he suspected he was not someone to be messed with. So, he restrained himself and asked a question that was neither biting nor itching.

The Mr. Huang in question had a pale face, seemingly not hearing Oil Rat’s question, remained silent.

He appeared to be around forty years old, his complexion as if he’d never seen sunlight in his life, dressed in an all-black outfit that wrapped him tightly, exactly like Mr. Python’s attire.

Oil Rat couldn’t help but mutter inwardly. At night, who could see what anyone’s face looked like? Mr. Huang and Mr. Python were truly strange, both dressed so tightly. Could it be that these two had some special hobby?