Chapter 7: The Missing Chamber
807 Words
The atmosphere in the tomb shifted from greed to dread in a heartbeat.
"Recent," Han Batou said, kneeling by the bones. He poked a ribcage with his gloved finger. "Maybe a week old. Two at most."
"Who was he?" I asked, my voice echoing strangely in the damp chamber.
"A rival," Han Batou spat. "Or a fool. Doesn't matter. He's dead, and we're alive. Keep moving."
But the discovery put us on edge. We weren't alone in the dark anymore. The ghost of the dead man was watching us.
We pressed deeper. The main chamber was supposed to be directly ahead, behind a false wall. Iron raised his sledgehammer.
BOOM.
The wall crumbled. Dust billowed out, choking us. We waited for it to clear, coughing into our masks.
When the dust settled, we shone our lights forward.
And we stopped.
"Where is it?" Rat whispered.
The space beyond the wall was empty.
Not empty of treasure—empty of structure. It was just a rough, natural cave. There was no sarcophagus. No ritual vessels. No golden coffin. Just jagged rocks and dripping water.
"This... this is impossible," Han Batou muttered. He walked forward, scanning the walls frantically. "The Feng Shui is perfect. The location is precise. The main chamber should be right here."
"Maybe the loot is gone?" Iron suggested, though he sounded doubtful.
"No," Han Batou shook his head. "Look at the dust. It's undisturbed. Nobody has been here for centuries. Except that guy in the corner."
He stopped. He was staring at the floor.
"Look at the ground," he commanded.
I shone my light down. The mud was soft. And there, leading from the entrance to the back of the cave, were footprints.
But they didn't stop at the dead man's body.
They continued.
"Footprints," I said. "Going in."
"And coming out," Han Batou added, his voice grim. "Look."
He pointed to a second set of tracks, fainter, overlaid on the first. These tracks led away from the body, toward the back wall of the natural cave.
"He didn't die here," Han Batou realized. "He walked past here."
"But where did he go?" Rat asked. "There's nowhere to go. It's a dead end."
Han Batou walked to the back of the cave. He ran his hands over the rough stone wall. He tapped it. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Solid rock.
"Maybe he climbed out?" Iron suggested.
"There's no shaft," Han Batou said. "He walked into the wall."
Suddenly, the giant, Iron, let out a curse. "Boss! The water!"
I looked down. The black water in the chamber was rising. Slowly, but noticeably.
"The tide," Rat panicked. "The river is connected to this place! We're going to drown!"
"Shut up!" Han Batou roared. He was still staring at the back wall. "There's something here. I can feel it."
He pulled a stick of dynamite from his belt.
"Han Batou, are you crazy?" Rat screamed. "You blow this roof, the whole swamp comes down on us!"
"It's not a wall," Han Batou ignored him. He looked at me. "Chen. Read the inscription."
He pointed to a patch of cinnabar text I had missed earlier, hidden in the shadows near the floor. It was smaller than the warning signs.
I squinted. The characters were archaic, but I had studied the rubbings in Beicheng.
"The nobleman sleeps not in gold, but in stone. The gate opens for the living, but closes for the dead."
"It's a mechanism," I said, my heart racing. "The gate is hidden."
Han Batou grinned, a feral expression. "Exactly."
He didn't use the dynamite. Instead, he reached into a niche in the wall—a niche I hadn't seen before—and pulled a rusted iron lever.
SCREEECH.
The sound was deafening, like metal grinding on stone. The back wall didn't explode; it shifted. A massive slab of stone, perfectly camouflaged against the natural rock, slid sideways.
Beyond it was not a tomb.
It was a staircase. Carved from black jade, spiraling down into a darkness so deep our flashlights couldn't find the bottom.
And the air that rushed out... it didn't smell of rot.
It smelled of incense. Cold, ancient incense.
"Jesus," Iron breathed.
Han Batou looked at us. The greed in his eyes was terrifying.
"Rat, you stay here. Watch the entrance. If the water gets too high, you get out."
"What about you?" Rat stammered.
"We're going down," Han Batou said. He looked at me and Iron. "This is it. The real prize."
He stepped onto the first stair.
I hesitated. My instinct screamed at me to run. To follow Rat. To get back to the surface, to the rain, to the living world.
But I looked at the black stairs. I thought about Hanhe. I thought about the ninety yuan.
I stepped forward.
"After you, Boss," I said.
- Writer
