Liu Dashao nodded, tightened his grip on the crossbow, and glanced downward nervously. He smiled to himself and said, “Right now, the grappling hook of this ascending and descending crossbow is still attached beneath the beam. All you need to do is press the red button on top and slowly lower yourself down. The rope will unwind gradually, bringing you down safely. Don’t worry—it was specially crafted for me by a master of ancient mechanisms and hidden weapons, and it’s extremely sturdy. Once you reach the bottom, tell everyone not to touch the coffin yet. Wait for me to come down.”
Liu Dashao nodded again, feeling slightly dizzy as he looked down, steeled himself, closed his eyes, pressed the red button, and slowly lowered his feet. Fortunately, the lifting crossbow indeed began releasing the rope steadily. Liu Dashao leaned his body outward and soon found himself dangling in midair, slowly descending.
When his feet finally touched the solid ground of the palace floor, Liu Dashao opened his eyes and pressed the white button. The shengjiang nu automatically retracted the line and ascended back toward the beam where Jia Zhuangyuan was waiting.
At this point, the mechanical “click-clack” sounds had stopped. Liu Dashao turned around and saw Fan Debiao and the others standing around the massive bluish coffin that had landed on the ground, looking somewhat bewildered.
Liu Dashao quickly walked over and said, “Master Jia said to wait for him and not touch the coffin for now.”
Everyone nodded immediately. Fan Debiao, visibly frightened, said, “Man, I hate this stuff. I still remember that old mummy back at Buddha Mountain. If we open this thing and some ancient corpse crawls out, I swear I’ll lose it.”
At that moment, Jia Zhuangyuan’s voice echoed down, “Fan Debiao, you big guy, I never thought you’d be such a chicken.”
Everyone looked up and saw that Jia Zhuangyuan was nearly at the ground.
Fan Debiao flushed and replied, “It’s not that I’m a coward—I’ve just been afraid of ghosts and spirits since I was a kid. Ask me to fight in battle, and I won’t flinch for a second.”
As Jia Zhuangyuan landed, he ignored Fan Debiao and walked directly to the bluish coffin, examining it closely with the others.
The coffin stood about half a person tall, and its length and width could easily fit three or four large men like Fan Debiao or Yang Weidong. It was entirely made of bluish stone, with no patterns, carvings, or inscriptions—except for a single seam running down the center.
After a moment, Liu Dashao asked curiously, “How did this coffin even get here? And why is it so massive? Who could possibly be inside?”
Jia Zhuangyuan tapped the stone coffin with his fingers and shook his head. “This isn’t merely a coffin—it’s a ‘guo,’ which refers to the outer casing of a coffin, also known as an outer coffin. In ancient times, burial customs were strictly hierarchical. The size and number of outer coffins varied according to one’s rank. For instance, emperors were buried with four layers: the innermost was called ‘Tian’ (Heaven), covered with rhinoceros or water buffalo hide; the second layer was ‘Di’ (Earth), made of linden wood; the third was ‘Shu’; and the fourth, the outermost layer, was known as ‘Da Guan’ (Great Coffin) or ‘Guo.’ Empresses typically had two layers, commonly made of catalpa wood, hence their coffins were called ‘Zi Gong’ (Catalpa Palace). Other officials were buried according to their ranks, with differing numbers of outer coffins. Thickness was also strictly regulated: the emperor’s outer coffin was eight inches thick, a nobleman’s six inches, while commoners’ coffins were only four inches thick and had no outer casing. In short, whoever lies inside this coffin must have been someone of imperial or near-imperial status.”
“What do you mean by ‘near-imperial’?” Liu Dashao asked curiously.
Jia Zhuangyuan replied, “That would be someone like a crown prince, a royal family member highly favored by the emperor, perhaps a prince, or even a high-ranking minister specially approved by the emperor.”
At this moment, Cai Qingchong asked, “Master Jia, are you saying this coffin definitely contains someone of great importance?”
Jia Zhuangyuan nodded. “Exactly. But what puzzles me is why a coffin of such high status would be placed in the central palace of this underwater city, locked in place with such a rare astrological mechanism on the palace ceiling?”
Cai Qingchong said, “Well then, why don’t we just open it and find out?” The others agreed, thinking it was the only way to solve the mystery.
Liu Dashao noticed Jia Zhuangyuan hesitating. A thought struck him, and he asked, “Master Jia, are you absolutely certain that this highest-grade burial style was only used for the bodies of near-imperial figures and not for other purposes?”
Jia Zhuangyuan looked at him strangely, then thought for a moment and nodded. “Now that you mention it, I do remember something. Sixteen years ago, I and a few companions discovered an unknown ancient tomb in the Longquan Mountains of Sichuan. Inside the underground palace, we found an imperial-grade coffin. When we opened it, instead of a corpse, we found a strange, massive skeleton—not human, but resembling the bones of some animal. If this coffin might not contain human remains either, it might explain my confusion.”
Liu Dashao smiled faintly and said nothing more. Jia Zhuangyuan gave him another puzzled glance, as if surprised by the question, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he took off his backpack, placed it on the ground, and opened it, pulling out several strange tools: a small hammer, an axe, a flat-tipped steel rod, several steel tubes of varying thicknesses, a black object used to ward off spirits in haunted houses—a donkey’s hoof—and a pair of gloves made from some fuzzy animal hide.
Seeing the tools, everyone looked surprised. Jia Zhuangyuan gave an awkward chuckle and said, “These are tools from my old underground work days. I brought them just in case.”
Everyone was clearly curious about how he would use them.
First, Jia Zhuangyuan put on the fuzzy gloves and skillfully connected the steel tubes, then attached the axe to the end, transforming it into a long-handled axe. Seeing everyone watching, he explained, “This is a folding axe, for easier carrying. The gloves are made of deer hide, which is dense and protects against corpse toxins. This steel rod is a crowbar, modified for coffin-opening. The small hammer is for tapping the crowbar, and the donkey’s hoof is for dealing with corpse transformations.”
Everyone finally understood—these were all tools Jia Zhuangyuan had prepared for opening the coffin.
Jia Zhuangyuan continued, “We still don’t know what’s inside this coffin, so everyone step back and keep watch. If a corpse spirit jumps out, you’ll have to fight it off with everything you’ve got.”
Everyone nodded and stepped back, giving Jia Zhuangyuan space to work.
Taking a deep breath, Jia Zhuangyuan grabbed the crowbar and began prying open the seam of the stone coffin. Everyone tensed, raising their guns toward the coffin. Each person’s mind raced with speculation about what might be inside.
Slowly, Jia Zhuangyuan widened the gap. A thin stream of black smoke drifted out. Fan Debiao immediately turned tail and ran, shouting, “Oh my god! It’s Japanese poison gas!”
Cai Qingchong stood there laughing. After he calmed down, he said, “That’s not poison! It’s just common mold found in ancient tombs. This mold is lighter than dust and thrives in sealed, airless environments. When exposed to air, it naturally disperses.”
Liu Dashao chuckled quietly. Fan Debiao, looking dispirited, retreated to the stone door like a child who had just been scolded by his parents. Jia Zhuangyuan carefully examined the coffin and found no signs of tampering. With the flashlight beams from everyone present, they gradually widened the gap. The beams pierced through the dusty darkness, illuminating the interior of the coffin. Jia Zhuangyuan took another pair of white gloves from his backpack and gently wiped the inner surface of the coffin. As he cleared away the dust from one corner, everyone gathered around. Liu Dashao and Cai Qingchong shone their flashlights, revealing dense, intricate Taoist talismanic inscriptions carved into the surface. These inscriptions radiated inward toward the center. As Jia Zhuangyuan wiped away the dust at the center, a massive golden character—“敕” (Edict)—emerged. Liu Dashao dropped his flashlight, and Jia Zhuangyuan stood completely still. In unison, they gasped in astonishment, “The Supreme Taoist Artifact—the Zheng Yibai Chi Zhen Shi Guan (Imperial Edict Coffin for Subduing Corpses)!”
Fan Debiao and Cai Qingchong exchanged puzzled glances. Liu Dashao stepped forward, admiring the coffin as he explained, “This is a legendary Taoist artifact used to subdue powerful undead creatures such as the Handa or golden zombies. I’ve only heard of it from my master before; this is the first time I’ve actually seen one. It’s said that fewer than two of these exist. The Shan Hai Jing (Classic of Mountains and Seas) mentions one used to seal the corpse of Chi You, though at that time it was merely a black nanmu wooden coffin. Later, when Taoists acquired another nanmu coffin, they carved talismans into it and placed a Bagua mirror inside, significantly enhancing its power. Most importantly, the Zheng Yibai Chi Zhen Shi Guan must be carved from a single piece of 10,000-year-old nanmu wood!”
Hearing this, everyone looked at the coffin with renewed awe. Suddenly, Jia Zhuangyuan, who had been silent, spoke practically, “So… should we open it?”
“You really think there’s a golden zombie in there? Could it really be as terrifying as Dashao says?” Yang Weidong asked nervously.
“Who knows? If demons rise, we the people will rise to defeat them! The east wind blows, the war drums beat—who’s really afraid of whom? It’s not the people who fear zombies—it’s the zombies who fear the people!” Fan Debiao puffed out his chest, showing off his flabby physique as if he alone could handle the golden zombie king.
“Seconded, Comrade Fan!” Liu Dashao said solemnly.
“Go to hell! You old fortune-teller!” Fan Debiao spat.
“Haha!” Everyone burst into laughter.
After a while, they all turned to Jia Zhuangyuan, who had been pondering. Finally, he nodded, “Open it!”
Without hesitation, Jia Zhuangyuan and Cai Qingchong pried at the lid. Liu Dashao prepared himself in advance while Yang Weidong and Fan Debiao stood ready with guns. Jia Zhuangyuan inserted a special tool into the seam, twisted it twice, then gave a gentle push. With a dull “dong,” a round protrusion suddenly popped up from the lid. Jia Zhuangyuan chuckled, pulled it out—and with a loud “bang,” the lid flew off, knocking Cai Qingchong over. The heavy lid crashed against the wall behind them. Liu Dashao stood frozen in shock while Cai Qingchong, though thin, was clearly a trained martial artist—yet he had been easily thrown by the lid.
Thick black smoke poured from the coffin. Jia Zhuangyuan’s face turned pale as he shouted from the depths of his soul, “Golden Zombie!”
Liu Dashao nearly collapsed in shock. This golden zombie was said to be even more terrifying than the Hanba King Zhang Enpu had once faced. Then came a creaking sound, like the peeling of paint, followed by a bloodcurdling roar. Liu Dashao was certain this was not a sound made by any human. He gritted his teeth and cursed, “Damn it! Let’s fight!”
Ignoring the others, Jia Zhuangyuan rushed to Cai Qingchong, who was bleeding and unconscious. He dragged him to the wall and checked his injuries. Another ear-splitting roar echoed, and from the Zheng Yibai Chi Zhen Shi Guan, a towering zombie suddenly sat up.
At the sight of it, Liu Dashao’s courage nearly vanished. The zombie looked almost human, wearing a red floral robe and a golden crown with three prongs. But its face was pitch black, with several black fangs protruding from its mouth—utterly disgusting.
In this critical moment, Liu Dashao bit his tongue to stay alert. He rolled forward, dodging to the zombie’s front, then pulled out a silver demon-reflecting mirror from his bag. Using the flashlight’s beam, he aimed the mirror at the zombie. The zombie screamed in agony, as if struck by electricity. As the standoff continued, Jia Zhuangyuan quietly circled behind the zombie. Seizing the moment, he whipped out a short rope covered in talismans and swiftly wrapped it around the zombie.
The zombie struggled, but Liu Dashao joined in, flicking his wrist. Several small objects flew toward the zombie, each strike causing it to howl in pain. One of the objects landed near Fan Debiao, who saw it was a Ming Dynasty coin. He swallowed hard and pocketed it.
The zombie’s roars grew louder. Seeing the unconscious, injured Cai Qingchong lying beside him, Fan Debiao’s anger flared. He grabbed a spade and swung it at the zombie. As he approached, the zombie’s beastly roar shook his very soul—more terrifying than any tiger or lion at the Beijing Zoo.
“Watch out, fatty! This is the real golden zombie king! If it touches you, you’ll be lucky to survive!” Jia Zhuangyuan shouted while tying the rope.
“Screw it! Let’s see how tough this old Xinjiang bastard really is!” Fan Debiao roared, swinging the spade at the zombie’s chest. But the zombie was as hard as steel. The spade slipped off its chest and jammed into its armpit, nearly pulling Fan Debiao into the coffin. Stunned, Fan Debiao retreated to a corner, watching the others handle the beast.
Jia Zhuangyuan was nearly done tying the zombie when it suddenly thrashed violently, snapping the rope with sheer force.
“Damn! That was steel rope!” Jia Zhuangyuan spat.
In a flash, the golden zombie king leaped from the coffin. Everyone except the unconscious Cai Qingchong instinctively stepped back. Baring its fangs, the zombie stretched out its arms and began hopping after them in the cramped space. Jia Zhuangyuan, the team leader, shouted while running, “Fall back!”
But Fan Debiao realized the palace door had mysteriously closed. They were trapped. Their only choice was to fight to the death. As old northeasterners would say: “Go down swinging!”
They exchanged grim smiles, brandished their weapons, and dodged the zombie’s attacks. Standing over two meters tall, the zombie was too powerful to fight head-on. They had to protect the injured Cai Qingchong, and their strength was fading. Liu Dashao was slightly too slow and was slashed by the zombie’s claws. Blood gushed from his wound, soaking his sweat-drenched back. The stench overwhelmed him, but he no longer cared. He threw Cai Qingchong onto the coffin lid and prepared for a final showdown with the black-faced, fanged monster.
Just then, Liu Dashao’s flashlight flickered and died, plunging the room into deeper darkness. Everyone gasped, “No!” They all knew the remaining flashlights might fail at any moment. If Liu Dashao’s prediction was right, they were about to face a terrifying disadvantage.
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