“Ah! Look quickly!” Tian Guoqiang suddenly pointed inside the coffin and couldn’t help but cry out.
When Liu Dashao saw Tian Guoqiang’s expression, he thought he had spotted a zombie, so he quickly leaned forward to look. What he saw made him gasp in shock too, “Oh my God!”
Inside the stone coffin lay a corpse, flat on its back. The corpse wore a strange mask over its face and was dressed in a robe of bright yellow, embroidered with dragon-like patterns. These intricate designs, combined with the robe, created a powerful visual impact that sent an inexplicable chill through them. Around its waist hung a dark red, circular blood jade with a mysterious sheen. The jade seemed to shimmer with a strange light. Somehow, the corpse had been preserved for centuries without decaying, thanks to unknown preservatives. Even more astonishing was that the corpse’s skin remained surprisingly rosy, unlike the shriveled, dry bodies they usually encountered.
Everyone knew that after death, the body’s functions cease, and the skin gradually loses moisture, turning into a desiccated mummy. But how had this corpse retained its moisture? Even Zhang Enpu, who had extensively studied ancient mummies, couldn’t offer a clear explanation. It seemed the wisdom of the ancients truly surpassed that of modern times.
However, the group’s attention wasn’t focused on this miraculous corpse itself, but rather on its hands. In each hand, it held a mirror-like object. Though it resembled a mirror, it was more like an elaborately crafted bronze plaque. On the left side was a three-eyed human face with a faint smile, while the right side bore a three-mouthed face, twisted in a sinister grimace. Surrounding the mirror were countless black particles, pulsing with a sinister energy—the source of the malevolent aura.
Zhang Enpu examined it for a long time, and suddenly his body trembled violently. “No wonder… no wonder! It’s the mirror of…”
“The Qin King’s Mirror of Bones!”
Liu Dashao turned his head in astonishment, looking at Zhang Enpu with a furrowed brow. “What… what’s going on here?”
Zhang Enpu took three deep breaths before explaining the origins and significance of this mirror to Liu Dashao and Tian Guoqiang.
There was an old legend. During the reign of the First Emperor of Qin, while on a southern tour, he encountered a floating corpse at sea. The male corpse was that of an elderly man, unusually tall and handsome, with a long beard reaching his chest. His skin was pale and smooth, his flesh firm as iron, dressed in the robes of an ancient king. It was unclear how long he had been floating in the sea or how he had died, but his face looked as if he were still alive, showing no signs of prolonged submersion. When the sea breeze blew, his beard and eyebrows fluttered like those of a living man.
The First Emperor believed this ancient corpse was the remains of a sea immortal and should be worshipped to seek the elixir of immortality. However, others held a different view. The emperor, known for his obsession with alchemy and immortality, had many court scholars known as fangshi, or “masters of techniques.” These fangshi believed the corpse was an ancient zombie, a monstrous creature that must have risen from a sea cave in the South China Sea. They warned that merely seeing it was an ill omen, let alone worshipping it for immortality. They cited historical precedents, explaining what such an omen signified and how it should be properly handled.
Being a fangshi in the Qin Dynasty wasn’t easy. Ancient people were generally simple-minded, so anyone who could speak eloquently was considered talented. To become an imperial advisor, one needed to be a persuasive speaker, capable of making the dead seem alive. Though the First Emperor wasn’t easily swayed, the fangshi’s convincing arguments, combined with his deep belief in mystical matters, led him to fear that a zombie emerging from the sea might foretell the downfall of his dynasty. Unable to burn or destroy it with weapons, he ordered thirty thousand convicts to carve through a mountain to bury the corpse. A bronze beast was cast to suppress it, and the Qin King’s Mirror of Bones, one of the eight legendary Qin mirrors, was embedded in the beast’s head before the mountain was sealed.
During the Qin and Han dynasties, bronze mirrors were widely believed to have the power to subdue zombies. At the time, mirrors were used for “self-reflection”—to check one’s appearance and ensure proper attire. If one’s clothes were disheveled, they would immediately adjust them. Thus, mirrors symbolized “correctness,” and correctness could suppress a hundred evils. Additionally, mirrors represented “yang,” the brightness of day, which had the power to suppress “yin,” the darkness of death.
After unifying the six states, the First Emperor acquired many ancient treasures, including eight legendary mirrors. Among them was the Mirror of Bones, said to reveal the bones and meridians of the human body—a priceless treasure. The First Emperor buried the Mirror of Bones along with the ancient sea corpse deep within a mountain.
Soon after returning to Xianyang, the First Emperor died. The location of the Mirror of Bones became a mystery, its whereabouts unknown. Over time, during the Ming Dynasty, a herb collector on a mountain saw five dragons fighting around a hill. They all perished, their corpses falling from the sky. Yet where the dragons fell, there were no dragon bodies—only a large crack in the ground.
The herb collector told the villagers, who rushed to the site. They saw a massive object struggling to emerge from the crack. Fearing a mountain demon, they set it on fire. After the fire, they found a giant bronze beast—a creature with a bull’s head and turtle’s body, with bull horns on its head and a shell-like body. It had seven tails, each adorned with countless skull-shaped ornaments, grotesque in appearance. On its head was an ancient bronze mirror, which someone presented to the reigning emperor, the Tianqi Emperor.
The Tianqi Emperor was more interested in carpentry than governance, so he cherished the mirror greatly. A learned minister informed him that this ancient mirror was a relic from the Qin Dynasty—the fabled Qin King’s Mirror of Bones, a tool for subduing demons. Due to its lingering malevolence, it should not remain in the palace but be returned to its original resting place. However, the emperor cherished the mirror and refused to part with it. Soon after, while on a leisurely outing, the Tianqi Emperor fell into water and later died from a cold. The Mirror of Bones vanished once again.
The tale of the First Emperor discovering an ancient corpse by the sea was merely a legend from unofficial histories, not necessarily true. However, the Mirror of Bones was indeed recorded in historical texts. Later scholars speculated that this mirror might not be bronze at all, but a special material capable of seeing through the human body. If true, it would rewrite parts of scientific history. Just like some mysterious royal Han Dynasty artifacts mentioned in the “Book of Han,” some might even be early examples of radioactive substances. If such an object were found today, it could shake the world. Unfortunately, like many ancient Chinese treasures, its whereabouts remain unknown. Without physical evidence, all we can do is imagine its wonders through ancient texts, left with only sighs and regrets.
After Zhang Enpu’s explanation, Liu Dashao and Tian Guoqiang were filled with awe. Just as they were about to ask more questions, Zhang Enpu interrupted.
“Wait! This matter is getting too complicated. We need to organize our thoughts carefully,” Zhang Enpu said, shaking his head with a complex expression.
First, in search of the source of the malevolent aura, they entered an underwater cave, only to find themselves in a shrine dedicated to a dark deity. They discovered a massive scroll depicting the Eighteen Levels of Hell and eventually found a hidden passage.
Second, in the hidden passage, they encountered human-skin lanterns—something only found in ancient tombs. Based on inscriptions on the bones of Master Li Lishan, they deduced they had accidentally entered the tomb of the Ming emperor Zhu Youxiao.
Third, after escaping the pursuit of the ghostly lanterns, they climbed a ghostly stone staircase and discovered a child corpse preserved in mercury.
Fourth, they descended deeper into the cave, finding a blood pool and a magical formation. Inside the formation was a white jade coffin.
Fifth, after breaking the shattered jade coffin, they discovered a stone coffin bound with the Seven-Satan Unending Lock.
Sixth, after unlocking the Seven-Satan Unending Lock and opening the stone coffin, they found a corpse dressed in royal robes, holding a complete pair of Yin-Yang ghost masks in its hands.
A series of questions arose:
First, was the source of the malevolent aura beneath this coffin?
Second, what was the purpose of the tomb’s layout and the mechanisms that activated the malevolent aura?
Third, if this ancient corpse was indeed Emperor Zhu Youxiao, why was he buried here instead of the imperial mausoleum? What did the murals signify? And most puzzling of all, how had the supposedly dead emperor revived? It seemed that the mystery known to Master Li Lishan was only a small part of a much larger enigma yet to be uncovered.
After a while, Zhang Enpu finally calmed himself. Carefully, he reached out to remove the Qin King’s Mirror of Bones from the corpse’s hand. At that moment, Liu Dashao and Tian Guoqiang clearly saw the mask on the corpse’s face begin to glow with an eerie light. The corpse’s eyes seemed to open instantly, peering coldly through the mask at the three men.
Then, the mouth on the mask split open, releasing a jet of black mist. A black sandalwood bead shot out from the corpse’s mouth.
In the blink of an eye, Liu Dashao, acting on instinct, shoved Zhang Enpu aside and threw himself to the ground.
With a loud thud, the powerful bead struck a giant ox-hide drum hanging from the ceiling. A strange drumbeat echoed through the air, vibrating in their ears with a buzzing sound.
After the black mist had fully dissipated, the three slowly rose from the ground.
“Old Taoist, are you okay?” Liu Dashao asked.
Zhang Enpu brushed the dust from his clothes. “I’m fine, Master Liu. Thanks to you!”
Liu Dashao thought to himself, “What do you have to thank me for? If I didn’t save you, who would lead us out if something happened to you? Besides, I’ve risked my life to deal with this malevolent aura, and there’s no turning back now.”
“You guys, look at his face!” Tian Guoqiang suddenly cried out in alarm.
The two turned their heads toward the stone coffin. The corpse was undergoing a strange transformation. Its face was slowly melting and decaying with a crackling sound. Suddenly, with a tearing noise, its head split neatly into four pieces like a ruptured melon. Foul-smelling liquid oozed out, and from within the skull, a vividly colored flower slowly emerged.
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