Volume Two – The General’s Tomb Chapter Thirty-Six – The Ancient Deadly Weapon

As I spoke, I turned to Li Kun and said, “Let’s keep looking around here to see if there’s anything else of use. I don’t think this place only holds so much junk.”

Li Kun nodded, then moved to my side, while I glanced behind the display rack where the long spear had stood, and then walked to the front of the rack.

The massive display rack before me was divided into three tiers—upper, middle, and lower—unlike any other rack in the place. But what sat upon it were not weapons, but a series of long boxes.

On the lowest tier were two boxes, each about half a meter long and completely blue. The carvings on the boxes were simple, just a few decorative patterns, and each box had a keyhole set into it.

I smiled at the sight. Although these boxes required a key to open, they had clearly sat here for who knew how many years; a bit of force would surely break them open.

Still, I didn’t hold out much hope for what might be inside. Most of the things here had rotted away from age, and I guessed these boxes would be no different.

I took one of the lower boxes and placed it on the ground. With one hand gripping the box and the other lifting the lid forcefully, I heard a crisp snap—the long-neglected cover was torn right off.

Peering inside, I found a dagger so corroded and rusted that it was barely recognizable.

I sighed softly at this, but unwilling to give up, I took out the other long box from the lower tier and opened it. Once again, inside lay a short-handled dagger, in the same ruined state.

Seeing both boxes held nothing but decay, I sighed and prepared to move on to the next display rack. But just as I stood and looked up, I caught sight of a blood-red wooden box placed atop the third tier of the rack.

This box, however, was packed differently from the others. Its entire surface was wrapped in thick genuine leather, sealing the seams to prevent air from getting in.

The moment I saw it, I felt a jolt of recognition—I had seen this box somewhere before. I thought for a moment, then realization struck: wasn’t this the same red box from my recent dream?

On tiptoe, I reached up and took down the wooden box, setting it on the ground. As I held it, I was startled by how cold it felt, as if it contained a chunk of ancient ice within.

I shook my hand and studied the red wooden box. The thick leather wrapping looked like the hide of some kind of fish, though I couldn’t think what kind could last so many years in a tomb without any sign of decay.

Each corner of the box was tightly bound by golden metal. As I gazed at it, Li Kun came over and said, “Old Liu, why is this box so securely wrapped? Think there’s something valuable inside?”

“I have no idea,” I replied. “I was just about to open it.”

“Let me do it,” Li Kun said. He took out his crowbar and entrenching tool, set them on the ground, crouched down, and used the crowbar to pry loose the metal bindings, one by one. Then he sliced through the leather at the lid’s seam with the entrenching tool.

When he finished, Li Kun rubbed his hands together, gripped the bottom of the box with one hand and the lid with the other, and gave a sharp pull. With a loud crack, the lid flew open.

We peered inside, surprised to find yet another box, about the length of a forearm, nestled within. This inner box was submerged in a viscous, crimson liquid that looked for all the world like blood—and it was as cold as ice.

Li Kun blinked in surprise. “Old Liu, why is there blood in here? And it’s cold, too.”

I was puzzled for a moment, then realization dawned. “This red liquid is probably to prevent the inner box from decaying. Look,” I said, pointing at the little box encased in the blood-red fluid.

“The box inside is completely undamaged, its surface sealed by this cold red liquid, even coated in a thin layer of ice. I once heard of this stuff when I was in the army.”

“This liquid is specially used to protect wood from decay. Once coated, a thin layer of ice forms on the surface, shielding what’s inside from external harm. It’s called 'Blood of Water-Ice.'”

Li Kun looked doubtful. “Just a little of that stuff has so much power? Hey, Old Liu, if that’s true, is this 'Blood of Water-Ice' worth anything?”

I nodded. “It’s worth a fortune, but now that we’ve opened the box, its value is gone. The moment it’s exposed, it’s nothing more than ordinary water.”

Li Kun curled his lip. “Well, that’s a waste. Let’s see what’s actually inside—the real treasure must be what they went to all this trouble to preserve.”

I nodded, poured out the liquid, and the small box inside was finally revealed.

It bore no carvings, just a thin layer of ice coating its surface.

I rapped on it, broke off the ice, and slowly lifted the lid.

As the box opened, we both froze. Inside lay a short sword, about forty centimeters long, its hilt black as if forged from some unknown metal, the scabbard also black. Carved into the scabbard was a fierce, monstrous beast, the whole thing pristine, as if freshly made.

I picked up the short sword. It was heavy—over ten pounds by my guess—and felt just right in my hand.

I studied the carving on the scabbard. The beast depicted there seemed familiar, and Li Kun pointed at it and said, “Old Liu, isn’t that the ancient beast Zhuyan?”

Zhuyan was a fearsome creature from ancient Chinese myth, ape-like in form, with a white head and red feet. Legend held its appearance foretold great wars—a harbinger of battle. The Classic of Mountains and Seas records: “Four hundred li further west lies Mount Xiaoci. Its heights are full of white jade, its base of red copper. There dwells a beast resembling an ape, with a white head and red feet, called Zhuyan. Its appearance signals great armies.”

With this, I was certain—the carving was indeed of Zhuyan, one of the ten great ancient beasts. It made perfect sense: Zhuyan symbolized war, and the short sword in my hand was a weapon of slaughter. Its presence was fitting.

I gripped the hilt with one hand, the scabbard with the other, and slowly drew the blade.

But the moment the blade slid free, it was as if we heard countless vengeful ghosts shrieking in our ears. I felt my mind flooded by a murderous aura, waves of dizziness crashing over me.

It was as though I stood in the midst of a battlefield of hundreds of thousands, surrounded by the endless wailing of the dying. The sky above was still blue, but the earth was drenched in blood, crimson rivers winding around me, threatening to consume me.

Li Kun was writhing on the ground, clutching his head as if struck by a sledgehammer, howling in agony—pain so intense even he, a hardened man, couldn’t bear it.

Hearing his cry brought me to my senses. With all my strength, I tore the blade all the way out of its scabbard!

With a metallic clang, the oppressive sensation vanished as if it had never been.

We collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, gradually regaining our composure. My head still spun, and beside me Li Kun panted, “Old Liu, what just happened? I thought my head was going to explode.”

Rubbing my aching head, I replied, “I don’t know. When I drew the blade, it was as if I was transported to a battlefield, surrounded by severed limbs and rivers of blood.”

Li Kun swore, “Damn, what kind of evil blade is this? Just drawing it nearly killed us. Old Liu, could this be one of those legendary ancient weapons?”

I found myself agreeing with him—no other explanation fit. Only an ancient weapon could possess such terrifying power.

If just unsheathing it had such an effect, I dared not imagine what might happen if it actually struck a living being.

But then, suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my leg.

Looking down, terror seized me—a long, thin cut had appeared on my thigh.