Chapter 53: Taking the Seal

Bai Xian spoke up, abruptly interrupting Ma Yu’s wandering thoughts.

“The sixth mural has been destroyed!”

At that moment, no one knew when Guan Xingbang had walked to the very front, but he suddenly shouted out. Everyone’s attention immediately shifted to the innermost part of the corridor.

On the wall, the final mural had been smashed to pieces by some unknown force, countless fragments of stone and brick piled at their feet, making it impossible to discern what had once been depicted.

But how could anyone have entered this tomb and deliberately destroyed a mural, let alone only this last one?

“Tomb raiders?”

“Impossible. This ancient tomb is extremely well preserved, and there are no traces of any robber tunnels,” Guan Xingbang, with his rich experience, dismissed his own student’s speculation. He continued, “The sixth mural likely records the reason why this regime vanished so suddenly. We must repair it as soon as possible.”

Having finished photographing the first five murals, Ma Yu walked over to the damaged wall with his camera.

“Professor Guan, let me take charge of restoring the mural.”

“Very well.” Guan Xingbang nodded, then said, “Let Xiao Wu assist you.”

After a simple assignment of tasks, Ma Yu and Wu Hao donned their gloves and began carefully collecting the shattered fragments. These pieces that had fallen from the wall formed only a thin layer, and had to be handled with great care.

The rest of the team bypassed the mural and continued deeper inside.

Beyond the corridor lay the “chamber” of the yellow-pine tomb construction, divided into many rooms where the tomb owner’s burial goods were stored: mostly silver coins, chariots and horses, foodstuffs, even weapons and musical instruments. This area most vividly reflected the lifestyle and cultural richness of the era.

Then ahead lay the antechamber and, beyond it, the coffin itself.

The archaeological team pushed open the antechamber’s wooden door, and a wave of dampness mixed with the stench of rot immediately assailed them. Even masked, they couldn’t help but frown.

The smell was almost unbearable.

As the door swung open, Meng Dejun, standing at the very front, shone his headlamp inside—and let out a terrified scream, collapsing to the ground.

“There’s someone! S-someone!”

Someone?

The other archaeologists quickly turned their lights into the tomb, and they, too, were startled.

Crouched behind the tomb door was a desiccated corpse.

Judging by its appearance, it was likely a monkey, squatting as if guarding the entrance, its arms relaxed at its sides. At first glance, it did strangely resemble a human.

No wonder Meng Dejun had been so frightened.

Professor Guan remarked, “The tomb owner likely kept monkeys in life, and had his pet buried with him after death. This is not uncommon in tombs.”

Realizing his overreaction, Meng Dejun, with Gu Xiaohan’s help, stood up, his face flushed, and retreated to the back of the group.

They bypassed the withered guardian.

At last, the burial chamber was fully revealed.

Within the modest tomb, a massive black lacquered coffin, inlaid with gold, rested atop a pedestal of white marble. Each side of the coffin gleamed with intricate patterns and exquisite golden ornaments, exuding a sense of opulence.

As everyone’s eyes were drawn to the magnificent gold decorations, Bai Xian suddenly spoke up.

“Is this normal?”

She pointed a finger at the lid of the coffin.

Everyone looked, instinctively holding their breath.

The coffin here was not the actual coffin, but rather the wooden outer shell designed to protect the real coffin and its occupant inside. In a proper burial, the coffin walls and lid should fit tightly together, sealed from air to prevent oxidation of the contents.

But this coffin’s lid was separated from the sides by a wide gap, as if deliberately prepared for opening.

Not only that—along the edge of the gap was smeared a black, palm-shaped substance, which, on closer inspection, looked like wax drippings from a candle.

But how could there be a palm-shaped wax stain on a coffin sealed underground?

Aside from the corpse lying inside, who else could have left such a mark within the tomb?

As this unsettling thought occurred to them, the team all felt a chill run down their spines and looked to Professor Guan, the most experienced among them.

He lived up to his reputation as a seasoned archaeologist. After a brief shock, he quickly composed himself and offered a plausible explanation.

“This was probably left by someone during the burial. He might have wanted, before sealing the tomb, to take some burial goods from the coffin, but it seems he didn’t succeed.”

The lid had only been shifted about an inch—nowhere near enough to extract anything.

“But what about that wax?” asked Gu Xiaohan, her voice trembling.

“Hmm… perhaps it’s…”

Ssssssss—

Just then, a ghastly wailing burst from the walkie-talkie at Guan Xingbang’s waist, making everyone break out in a cold sweat.

After a moment, the signal cleared, and the broken voice of Diao Tingting came through.

“Pro… Professor Guan… sss… it’s… it’s thundering outside… sss… maybe… raining…”

Guan Xingbang exhaled slowly, forcing his tone to relax.

“All right, we’ll come out now.”

The tomb was at the base of a slope—rain could easily trigger a landslide.

With the professor’s instructions, several students hurriedly retreated from the burial chamber.

Guan Xingbang shook his head and was about to leave when he noticed the young woman assigned to security still standing before the coffin.

“What is it?” he asked.

Bai Xian replied, “That’s not candle or lamp oil.”

Guan Xingbang was taken aback.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because even if hot wax dripped onto your hand, you couldn’t smear the print so evenly—and…” Bai Xian paused. “If your hand were scalded by wax, would you still try to open the coffin, regardless of the pain?”

“Besides, the direction of the fingers is wrong. It doesn’t look like someone outside was trying to open the coffin to take something out, but rather as if someone inside was trying to push the lid open. So…”

“So?”

“It’s corpse oil.”

Guan Xingbang gazed once more at that sinister, oily black handprint, and for a moment, he felt a chill in his bones.

Thunder crashed—lightning split the sky, striking deep in the distant mountains.

At last, the rain came, first as fine threads, soon swelling into a torrential downpour. Wind and rain mingled with the rustling leaves, sounding like the end of the world.

The archaeological team dashed back to the three-story building, bedraggled.

“The murals—did they get wet?” Ma Yu, barely inside, asked anxiously.

“No, they’re safe in the document cases,” someone replied.

“Good.” Ma Yu breathed a sigh of relief, took the boxes from his colleagues, and carried them into the adjacent laboratory.

“What cursed weather—where did this rain come from?” Wu Hao grumbled, toweling his hair.

The others looked equally glum. Their archaeological course was already running short on time; this rain would make it even harder to finish.

“The forecast didn’t say anything about rain, Professor Guan! Professor?”

“Ah?” Guan Xingbang started, as if just returning to himself.

“Professor, what should we do next?”

“Oh… For now, let’s study the materials here and work on the mural restoration. We’ll decide the next step when the rain stops.”

“All right.”

Noticing the professor’s distracted state, the students chalked it up to the delay and thought nothing more of it.

When the others had dispersed, Guan Xingbang approached Bai Xian at the door, hesitating.

“Were you serious about what you said earlier?”

The idea of a corpse rising was too fantastical.

He’d spent decades in archaeology, and had only ever heard vague rumors of such things—never seen them himself.

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I’ve never encountered it,” Bai Xian replied offhandedly, then pulled out her phone, her brow furrowing deeper and deeper.