Volume One – The Hundred Coffin Tomb Chapter Twenty-Seven – An Unexpected Opening

Li Kun and I pulled our clothes tighter around ourselves. Li Kun muttered, “Damn, this wicked wind is freezing me to the bone.”

With both hands covering my ears, I replied, “Old Li, I think we’ve reached the burial chamber.”

Li Kun paused in surprise. “We’re here?”

I nodded. “It should be just beyond this door.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get inside.”

With that, Li Kun strode up to the stone door and gestured for me to follow. I joined him, nodded, and together we pressed our shoulders to the massive stone, pushing with all our strength until it slowly swung open.

The instant both stone doors parted, an icy chill swept over us, seeping into our bones. I shivered, muttering, “Just how many people died in here?”

As the words left my lips, Li Kun and I raised our flashlights and scanned the chamber ahead. The moment the beams of light cut through the darkness, we both gasped sharply, the shock plain on our faces. Li Kun stared, stammering, “Old Liu, did—did you see that?”

I stood frozen, stunned by the scene before us. The doorway was merely the end of a passage; beyond it stretched a grand hall, massive enough to fit four or five football fields. But what truly left me speechless was the dense rows of coffins filling the hall.

Some of the coffins were already corroded, with bits of remains and water stains pooled beneath them. Li Kun and I counted at least a hundred scattered throughout the chamber.

His expression was one of utter disbelief. Li Kun turned to me. “Old Liu, why are there so many coffins? Could this be the burial ground for an entire family clan?”

I shook my head and stepped closer to one of the coffins. Its surface was badly decayed, and several small holes had appeared at its base—likely chewed through by rats after the wood weakened.

Glancing around, I saw that nearly all the coffins were in similar condition. I lowered my voice. “Judging by the state of these coffins, they were all interred around the same time. That means this isn’t a family burial.”

With that, I moved toward a few more coffins.

Li Kun was examining the nearest one. “No idea what happened here, but so many corpses buried together…”

As he spoke, Li Kun pulled a crowbar from his pack, wedged it into the coffin’s seam, and with a quick motion, he pried the lid open with ease.

At that moment, I was about ten meters away. Hearing the sound, I turned, and as I saw Li Kun lifting the lid, my heart leapt into my throat.

I shouted, “Li Kun, don’t open—!”

But it was too late. Before I could finish, the lid was already off.

Li Kun turned toward me, puzzled, as I watched him, tense and alert.

Just now, I’d noticed faint red threads crisscrossing the coffins—subtle but present on every one.

Those red threads instantly reminded me of something my grandfather once warned me: If you ever see red lines on a coffin, never open it—for it might be a method to cultivate or imprison the undead. Opening such a coffin could mean certain death.

The red threads, according to legend, are called Black Dragon Lines—meant to trap the living dead inside the coffin.

The living dead, or “zombies,” are known as “stiffs” among tomb robbers like us. Humans possess three souls and seven spirits; when someone dies, the souls are taken by the underworld, and the spirits gradually dissipate. But some unwilling souls cling to their mortal shell, and if the “life soul” and seven spirits remain, the body can rise as a living corpse—a zombie, a “stiff.” The Black Dragon Line, made with the blood of a black dog raised for over ten years and flicked across the coffin in an ancient, now lost technique, was said to keep such corpses contained.

What I feared most now was that, upon opening the coffin, if the corpse inside had been preserved, it might rise—and then, escaping this tomb would be nigh impossible. One misstep, and we’d end up as corpses ourselves.

I whispered urgently, “Old Li, don’t turn around. Just come to me, now.”

Li Kun saw the gravity in my expression—a first for him. Remembering his reckless act, he swallowed hard and started toward me, whispering, “Old Liu, don’t scare me, man.”

I kept my eyes glued to the space behind Li Kun, ready to bolt at the slightest movement.

Once he reached me, Li Kun spun around, weapon raised and aimed at the coffin. We waited, tense, but there was no sound from behind.

I said, “Let’s take a look. If we see a well-preserved body in there, shoot it on sight.”

Li Kun nodded nervously. “Old Liu, what if a big zombie suddenly jumps out?”

I didn’t answer, just pressed a finger to my lips, signaling for silence. I crouched and drew the triangular army dagger from my pant leg, gripping it tightly.

Li Kun realized his mistake and followed as we crept toward the coffin.

We approached cautiously. I nodded to Li Kun and raised my arm, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

Li Kun circled to the other side, rifle trained on the coffin. As we both edged forward, we peered inside.

My heart pounded as I saw a male corpse lying within. The clothing was tattered, the face half-rotted, crawling with moisture bugs. Yet, the body itself was eerily well-preserved.

Just as I was about to signal Li Kun to shoot, the corpse’s nose twitched, as if catching an unusual scent.

In a split second, the corpse shot upright, stretching out its decayed hands, lunging straight at me.