Volume Two – The General’s Tomb Chapter Forty-One – The Cold Poison

I looked up and was met with a blinding whiteness. Even the beam from the flashlight refracted into sharp, dazzling glares. Li Kun exclaimed in awe, “My god, Old Liu, who would have thought this place looked like this? It’s incredible.”

We found ourselves standing in an enormous, frost-laden ice burial chamber. The walls and floor were blanketed in thick layers of ice, and above our heads hung massive icicles, each about half a meter long.

Turning my attention to the walls, I noticed that faint murals could just be made out beneath the thick sheet of ice. The outlines were barely discernible, and it was impossible to see clearly what the carvings depicted.

Beside me, Li Kun said, “Old Liu, look over there.”

Following the direction of his flashlight, I gazed to the center of the chamber. There, a colossal platform rose up, and atop it appeared to be a coffin.

But this coffin was not the wooden kind from antiquity; rather, it was a massive ice coffin, more than three meters long.

The platform itself was sheathed in solid ice, standing over four meters tall. Its base was a giant circular dais, about a meter high, above which sat a perfectly square black stone altar, now sealed beneath a thick layer of ice. The ice angled downward, merging with the lower platform in a slanted sheet.

Even the steps were encased in ice, forming a slick incline down to the base of the platform.

Confronted with this immense, frozen altar, I couldn’t help but marvel aloud, “This place is like a world unto itself. I can’t imagine why a chamber like this would be so full of ice. Could there be some kind of mystical treasure buried beneath, preserving this tomb since the Song Dynasty?”

Turning to Li Kun, I said, “Old Li, the foundation of this tomb must be built atop a geomantic node of extreme Yin energy—a treasury of frost and shadow. We must be cautious. If anything seems amiss, we need to get out immediately. I have a feeling this tomb is anything but ordinary.”

Li Kun nodded. “I agree, there’s no way this is as simple as it looks. It’s been hundreds of years since the Song Dynasty, yet the ice remains perfectly preserved. Hey, Old Liu, do you think there might be something like a Dragon’s Eye in here?”

The Dragon’s Eye refers to the heart of a dragon vein in geomancy. Dragon veins gather the essence of earth and sky, the best of mountains and rivers. The Dragon’s Eye is the core, as if a slumbering dragon suddenly opens its eyes—a finishing touch of spiritual energy.

Li Kun’s speculation was reasonable. Given the rare geomantic layout of this general’s tomb, the presence of a Dragon’s Eye would not be surprising. However, placing a tomb at the Dragon’s Eye is considered inauspicious.

The Dragon’s Eye channels all the auspicious energy of a vein through itself, nourishing the entire formation. A corpse interred at this spot may never decay, but it would also seal away a portion of the vein's fortune.

Over time, this would bring ruin upon the dragon vein, and the tomb owner’s descendants would suffer—at best misfortune, at worst utter destruction.

I scrutinized the chamber’s layout. It was built entirely of stone bricks. Unlike the round side chamber we’d seen earlier, this one was square, but tapered—narrow at the top, wide at the base. The ceiling slanted upward, pyramidal, as if a stone pyramid stood within.

Seeing such a structure, I was uneasy. My copy of “The Twenty-Four Mountains of Feng Shui” described such configurations, but those passages were always obscure and difficult. I could only surmise that this was neither particularly auspicious nor wholly disastrous, but fraught with risk—one misstep could be fatal.

Gazing up at the massive ice coffin, I turned to Li Kun. “Old Li, even if there are no obvious traps in this tomb, we must stay alert. If anything goes wrong, we leave immediately.”

Li Kun nodded. “Don’t worry. So, what now?”

I looked up at the coffin. “We go up and take a look. Otherwise, what did we come all this way for?”

Li Kun grinned, pulling his hands from his sleeves. “I was waiting for you to say that. Let’s go open the coffin.” With that, we stepped toward the platform’s staircase.

But as we approached, we realized that the platform was completely sheathed in ice, slanting steeply downward—climbing it on foot was impossible. One wrong move and we’d slide straight down.

I drew a crowbar from my backpack, and Li Kun took out his entrenching tool. We nodded to each other, then began slowly inching our way up, jamming our tools into the ice for grip.

Yet things rarely go as planned. Li Kun had barely gone a few steps before his foot slipped. He landed squarely on his backside and slid straight down the ice. A moment later, I heard a thump and Li Kun’s voice echoing behind me in a strangled cry.

I turned to check on him, but at the sight of his predicament, I couldn’t help bursting into laughter.

It was the dead of winter, and we were both bundled up, but Li Kun, always sensitive to the cold, had layered himself even more.

Now, sprawled in an ungainly heap on the ice, he tried to sit up. But his heavy clothing made him clumsy, and as he struggled to rise, his center of gravity shifted and he flopped back down with a heavy sigh—about as bedraggled as one could be.

Seeing him like this, I couldn’t hold back. I laughed so hard I doubled over. But in the midst of my glee, I leaned forward too far, and my crowbar slipped out from the ice.

All my weight was on the crowbar, so as it skidded away, I landed on my rear, sliding straight toward Li Kun like a child on a slide.

Just as Li Kun, having heard my laughter, sat up and readied a curse, he looked up and saw me barreling straight at him.

Grinning mischievously, I aimed both legs at his backside. “Old Liu, you bastard!” he yelped, but before he could finish, I crashed into him with a thud, sending him sliding even further across the ice.

Li Kun let out a wail, while I burst into laughter once more. The tension that had filled the chamber was gone, swept away by our antics. Li Kun, knowing full well I’d done it to ease our nerves, grumbled, “Old Liu, you rascal.”

I chuckled. “I have no idea how I slid down, but it’s a good thing I landed on you. Come on, let’s try again. This time, let’s be careful.”

I stood and began inching up the platform once more, with Li Kun following close behind.

At last we reached the top. Before us stood a massive ice coffin, pure white throughout. Two enormous phoenixes were carved into the surface, their colors still vivid. The lid was unadorned, but through the ice, one could just make out the vague outline of a woman in red.

A biting cold radiated from the base of the coffin. Curious, I reached out to touch the chill—but the instant my skin made contact, an icy pain shot through me, chilling me to the bone.

Sensing the danger, I snatched my hand back and lifted it for a look.

My palm, especially the web between thumb and forefinger, was no longer rosy but tinged with blue.

Li Kun, seeing my expression, turned to look at my hand. As he watched, the blue deepened into a purplish hue.

In that moment, Li Kun’s eyes widened. “Old Liu, what happened to your hand? Why does it look like that?”

A sense of dread crept over me. Though my hand felt no pain or discomfort, I knew if this continued, who knew what would happen next. Suddenly, a realization struck me.

I whispered, “The dragon vein, the ice coffin, the frozen chamber—could this be... cold poison?”

Hearing this, Li Kun grabbed my arm with both hands, trying to stop the blood flow to my hand. “Old Liu, this is bad! If it really is cold poison, your hand...”