Chapter Forty-One: Cao Jin

With this realization, my mind suddenly snapped clear, and when I looked again at the zombie, a surge of nameless fury rose within me—the intense terror from moments before transformed into extreme anger.

“Damn you!” Without waiting for Peanut’s reaction, I shouted and charged forward.

The thing at the doorway responded in a way that immediately confirmed my suspicions. First, it yelped, “A ghost!” Then it turned back, “Wait, you’re a local?”

I didn’t care what it said. In an instant, I lunged out from the darkness, intent on tackling it, ripping off its helmet, and giving it a good beating.

But thoughts never work out the way you plan. Just as I leaned forward, the figure at the door pinned my shoulder down in a flash. With that move, I was forced face-first to the floor, like a dog eating dirt.

“Damn, you’re really human,” the man said, his tone tinged with delighted laughter, as he reached out to pull me up.

But just as he extended his hand, Peanut darted out from behind, launching a flying kick that sent the guy crashing into the wall, armor and all.

“Dare to act tough in front of your grandpa, huh?” The man caught his breath, then straightened up and lunged at Peanut.

Peanut’s gaze was cold. As the guy was about to reach him, the dagger was already pointed forward.

I was startled—the tip of Peanut’s dagger was precisely aimed at the gap beneath the man’s helmet, pointed at his throat. The other reacted quickly; had he taken one more step, his throat would have been pierced.

The two stood locked in a standoff, and I got up from the floor.

“Who the hell are you? Why are you pretending to be a zombie in this tomb?” My anger had dissipated somewhat, but I still couldn’t help cursing.

“I was born noble, I don’t exchange names with unknown riffraff,” the man retorted with a snort.

Peanut laughed, “Let’s see how tough you are with a knife at your throat.”

The man chuckled as well, “This rusty piece of iron isn’t enough to subdue me. I guarantee, if I make a move, you’ll be laid up in the hospital for half a year.”

Peanut laughed, “Go ahead and try, then.”

No sooner had Peanut finished speaking than the man suddenly twisted aside, deftly dodging the dagger. I could barely see how someone his size could move so quickly; in a blink, his hand gripped Peanut’s waist.

Clearly, Peanut didn’t expect such agility, his face changed, and he barely had time to react. The man hoisted Peanut up like a barbell.

I was dumbfounded. The guy wore heavy armor, probably weighing dozens of kilos, yet he could lift Peanut—his prowess was exceptional.

With a shout, he prepared to slam Peanut to the ground. But Peanut twisted midair, wrenched the man’s wrist, forcing him to release. Instantly, Peanut’s legs locked around the man’s shoulders, and the dagger was once again pressed to his throat.

“Well, not bad,” the guy admitted, surprised by Peanut’s maneuver, “Looks like I’ve lost this round. Kill me or torture me, it’s up to you—but don’t sit on my neck, a man can be killed but not humiliated. I’m not Han Xin.” He released his grip and shot a sidelong glance at Peanut perched above.

Peanut laughed for a while, then let go and jumped down from his shoulders.

“So who are you, really?” I asked.

The man turned and removed his helmet, revealing a grey, chubby face.

“My surname is Cao, given name Jin, courtesy name Yanran, tomb name Little White Dragon. Those who know me in the underworld call me Boss Jin, and those who don’t still have to call me big brother.” He rattled off a string of titles.

“Wait, your courtesy name is what? Yanran? With your build, you’d be better off called Chimney.” I thought he was just being slippery, even his name was far-fetched.

“Looking down on me, eh?” He stripped off his armor, and his figure, even without it, was just as stout as before. “When I was young, I had the bearing of an immortal, better built than your companion here. The country’s progressed these years, so I started keeping up with the times—this is called remembering the nation’s past with tears and feasting on its present with a full belly.”

Peanut and I laughed. “Fat is fat, but as a tomb raider, you don’t have to do a live broadcast while working,” I said casually.

“Tch, as if you two aren’t tomb raiders yourselves…”

Cao Jin was indeed from Beijing. After a brief introduction, I asked, “How did you end up here? And why are you dressed like that?”

Peanut interjected, “That armor is soaked in corpse qi; in a tomb, it’s like an invisibility cloak.”

“Ah, not only is your friend well-built, he’s sharp, too. That’s right, this armor is the only reason I’ve survived so long in here,” said the fat man with a sigh. “Damn it, when I came, that scoundrel said everything would be fine—who knew he’d end up dead himself.”

“What?” I was startled. “You came here with my dad?”

“Huh? You’re Dog’s son,” the fat man looked at me in disbelief, “Well, that bastard’s lucky—you're much better looking than him…”

I ignored his nonsense and briefly explained my situation.

When he heard my father’s name, the fat man exclaimed, “You—you’re Master Yuan’s son. Damn, you’ve got quite the pedigree. No wonder your bodyguard is so tough.”

“Forget that. What happened to your group, and where’s my dad now?” I pressed.

He took a deep breath, pulling out a half-crushed pack of cigarettes from his pocket. I was anxious to hear about my father, and watching him light up leisurely made me impatient.

“Out with it already.”

Exhaling smoke, he looked at me for a few seconds before finally saying, “Everyone who entered the main chamber—except me—is probably dead by now.”

His words made my heart tremble. Then the fat man recounted his experience.

Cao Jin was nominally a broker, roaming the country since his teens. He started out collecting antiques in rural areas, then after a fight with his boss, he went solo. He was a born wanderer, never keeping money for long. Once, at a drinking table, he heard someone bragging, and the fat man set his sights on tomb raiding. He traveled far and wide.

At first, he was just a lackey, but luck favored him. After a few years, he opened his own shop at Xiao Wu’s tomb. According to him, his name was well-known in Beijing’s antique supply market.

With his own business, he mostly operated in Beijing, only joining big operations when the money was good.

Last month, Dog’s crew suddenly came to his shop, inviting him to Sichuan. Cao Jin knew Dog from earlier days and was wary of his scheming nature, at first refusing outright. But Dog flashed something before him, and the fat man was dumbstruck.

It was a jade cicada from the Western Han, thicker than a thumb. Having grown up in antiques, the fat man knew at a glance it was a treasure—the bold lines of Han carving, the incised patterns, and rare mutton-fat jade from the Western Han. Most striking, it seemed freshly unearthed; he could even smell the familiar earthy scent.

“We know Boss Jin’s asking price. Here’s your advance; the balance will be paid upon completion. The jade cicada is a greeting gift,” Dog said, and the fat man realized this was a major operation. He agreed to join.

But he hadn’t expected that he wasn’t the only heavy hitter in the group—my father, Yuan Long, was also there. The scale was daunting. The fat man hadn’t gone underground in over a year and worried something might go wrong, but the lure of treasures in a Western Han royal tomb convinced him.

Led by my father, the group entered the tomb. The fat man sensed something odd about the place—everything felt uncanny. The path was eerily smooth, with no obstacles, unsettlingly so. Most bizarre, the side chambers contained only coffins, no burial goods. Yet Dog’s crew seemed uninterested in these, fixated on the main chamber.

At the main chamber, the fat man saw a wall built from copper bricks, like a dead end. At that moment, Dog and my father started arguing. Before he could figure out what was happening, crying echoed from the chamber. He couldn’t even tell where it came from, then suddenly, several people seemed grabbed by something and vanished into the darkness.

Realizing things were dire, the fat man turned to flee, but something dropped from the chamber’s main door, as if there had been an explosion, and everyone was blown away. In the darkness, he felt hairy claws and teeth everywhere, but couldn’t see what they were—only the shrill, miserable cries echoed endlessly.

Hearing the screams around him, he knew his chances were slim. But refusing to give up, he ran wildly through the chamber. After a short sprint, suddenly the ground gave way and he fell. He tumbled down a slope, then rolled down a long, long staircase, spinning until he nearly passed out, eventually realizing he’d landed in another passage.

“You just fell straight down here?” Remembering the distance I’d descended, I thought this fat man was incredibly lucky—falling from that height would break most people’s bones.

He pointed behind the corner, “Right inside that passage.”

I felt a surge of hope and looked at Peanut, “Hey, doesn’t that mean we can go straight to the main chamber from here?”

Peanut’s expression was unreadable; instead, he looked again at the fat man.

The fat man sighed, then strode forward, “Come have a look, and you’ll see for yourselves.”