Corpse Retriever

Because the process had been triggered early, the number of hatched Fireflies clearly wasn’t enough to feed so many gecko-snakes. Naturally, the rest of the living beings in the tomb would become their next target.

The first wave of gecko-snakes had already dropped down from above, lunging toward the bone piles and stuffed beasts to feast on the Fireflies within. But those coming out later found themselves without a meal. Quite a few were now wriggling rapidly toward the four of them.

There was nothing left to hesitate over. Even if the door beneath the pool led to hell itself, they had to jump. Being torn apart by those things—or worse, becoming a host for their parasitism—was far worse.

”Go down!”

All four leapt into the pool together, then dove into the opening below. There were steps inside. This time, Runsheng brought up the rear.

One gecko-snake, tongue flickering, sprang at them from the corridor wall.

”Bang!”

Runsheng swung his shovel hard, but the creature was quick. It recoiled and dodged the blow, then snapped taut and launched itself at Runsheng.

It was too fast—he didn’t have time to swing again. Just as the creature was about to hit his face, he caught it with his left hand.

”Hisssss...”It hissed in pain. That woman’s face twisted in agony. But up close, he saw it wasn’t a face at all—just folds of fleshy growths compressed together, forming a grotesque likeness.

It resembled those popular origami fortune tellers students played with—every face painted or scribbled, the mouth only fully opening when the four corners were pushed apart.

”Smack!”

Runsheng slammed the thing against the wall with all his strength. It splattered into a putrid mess.

Then came a second, a third. Runsheng kept swinging and retreating, buying time for the others.

But the number of gecko-snakes entering the tunnel surged. Runsheng began to falter. Two bit into his left arm and right thigh, and a third climbed onto his back, suctioning onto him like a leech.

”Runsheng, come on!” Xue Liangliang called out.

Runsheng stopped resisting and sprinted for the others.

Xue Liangliang and Tan Wenbin stood on opposite sides of the corridor. As Runsheng passed through, they each pulled out a bronze panel from recessed grooves in the wall. The slabs crashed together.

”Squish!” ”Squish!”

Several gecko-snakes were crushed instantly.

”Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!”

A barrage of impacts came from the other side. Countless gecko-snakes slammed into the door—but thankfully, the slabs held strong and sealed the tunnel.

There was no latch on this gate—it couldn’t be locked. It could be opened from either side, but only with a sideways pull. Fortunately, the creatures lacked that ability.

Tan Wenbin looked down. Even those severed gecko-snakes kept writhing and laughing eerily.

He lifted his foot and stomped on them one by one, until they were just mush.

Nearby, Runsheng ripped the two snakes from his arm and leg—tearing off chunks of his own flesh along with them. He crushed one in each hand.

”Smack!”

Two more dead.

Li Zhuiyuan stepped forward to help with the one on his back, but Runsheng twisted away.

”Xiao Yuan, don’t touch that. Step aside.”

With that, he slammed his back against the corridor wall—flattening the thing.

”Ahh...”

Oddly, tearing off flesh hadn’t hurt much. But crushing that one sent searing pain straight to his brain.

When he stepped away from the wall, the gecko-snake was now pulp—but it was still hanging there, its mouthparts embedded in his back.

This one hadn’t been feeding. It had been preparing to burrow in.

Maybe that was how the Qing dynasty corpse retrievers had ended up as bed-bearers.

Runsheng reached behind and grabbed it.

”Runsheng ge, don’t—”

Too late. He yanked it out.

The thing’s mouth came out whole—but so did a piece of flesh the size of a mahjong tile.

”Ugh...”

Runsheng shuddered. Strangely, he looked… slightly relieved.

Perhaps the creature secreted some numbing substance while embedding itself—like scratching a mosquito bite until it bled.

Xue Liangliang looked around frantically. Their clothes were soaked through. Nothing dry to disinfect or dress the wounds.

But Runsheng was calm. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tin cigar case.

Inside, the thick incense sticks were still dry—thanks to Aunt Liu’s waterproof craftsmanship.

He bit off a piece, chewed it, and spat the mash into his palm, then smeared it on his wounds.

Xue Liangliang scooped some up and applied it to the gash on his back.

”Will it work?”

Runsheng shrugged. ”No idea.”

After a moment, Xue Liangliang’s eyes lit up. ”Hey—it’s working. Bleeding’s stopped.”

Runsheng slumped against the wall, panting.

But soon, he pushed himself up again.

”Xiao Yuan, I’m good now.”

”Runsheng ge, just rest a little longer.”

”No, I’m fine. Just a little dizzy—like being tipsy. Not tired, though.”

Probably lingering effects of the numbing agent.

Seeing this, Li Zhuiyuan stopped insisting. ”Then let’s keep moving. We’ll rest properly once we’re out.”

The four moved on. This time, Tan Wenbin and Xue Liangliang led the way, with Runsheng taking the rear.

Xue Liangliang said, ”Xiao Yuan, that bronze gate… it felt like it was made to block those things. Did we come down here too late?”

”Not really. The upper gate gets pushed open, and that triggers the lower gate beneath the pool to open. Only after the corpse water drains does the hole appear. By then, the main door is wide open, and those things have already started swarming out.

”Our only window was that moment when the water began to drain. We’d have to dive into the corpse water and sneak through as soon as the lower gate was wide enough.

”But it’s our first time here. No way we’d react that fast.

”And that gate—it wasn’t meant for outsiders like us.”

Xue Liangliang blinked. ”Huh?”

Li Zhuiyuan shone his flashlight upward, onto the corridor ceiling. Murals came into view.

”This was built for her.”

Xue Liangliang studied the ceiling and nodded. ”Looks like this was her living space.”

Tan Wenbin frowned. ”Wait, a tomb… decorated like this?”

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head. ”This isn’t a tomb. The owner never planned to sleep here forever. In fact, she might not even have been dead when she moved in.”

Tan Wenbin was stunned. ”Buried alive? Who would do that?”

”Some do. Depends on what they’re after.” Li Zhuiyuan paused. ”Bai Family Town was like that.”

Xue Liangliang’s expression didn’t change. He gazed at the murals and said, ”These seem to depict the ancient State of Yong, right?”

Li Zhuiyuan nodded. ”The woman on the bed might have been a ruler—perhaps of secular power, or a religious leader.”

The paintings showed a noblewoman worshiped by the masses, undertaking a ritual to reach her highest belief.

She directed the construction of this place, selected the fiercest beasts and strongest warriors, and climbed a heavenly staircase. Its top reached the clouds—and above the clouds, a giant serpent.

It looked like a dragon, but lacked the defining features—no horns, just a long flicking tongue.

Atop its head was the sun. At its tail, the moon—symbolizing that in her worldview, this serpent ruled over the cycle of day and night.

In the final mural, she led her loyal warriors and beasts up the ladder into the clouds, arriving before the serpent.

That, to her, was paradise.

”Wait!”

Next Chapter >>>