Chapter Nine: An Extraordinary Move

As he spoke, he flashed a wide, white-toothed grin at me—a sinister smile. Whether or not his name was real, looking at the surroundings, I was certain this man could not possibly be a friend of my father’s.

“How—how did you end up inside a coffin?” Old Tan finally couldn’t hold back his curiosity, and I had a hunch this man had been locked in here by my father.

Judging by the way the coffins had been arranged earlier, it would have been impossible for someone to climb inside on their own. But for my father to imprison a living man in the old family home was odd indeed.

“Hiding from enemies, of course. You know how dangerous grave-robbing is. It was your father, Yuan Liu, who let me stay here.”

Though I’d already suspected my father was involved in such matters, actually hearing this man utter the words “grave-robbing” made me shiver to my core.

“Damn, Yuan Jie, your old man really did that sort of thing.” Old Tan’s expression wasn’t mocking or derisive, but full of envy, as if thinking “too bad my own father wasn’t a tomb raider.”

I had a thousand questions. Although I couldn’t be sure if this young man was my father’s enemy, he was the only one I could ask. “What’s really going on here?” I gestured at the splintered coffins scattered about.

“I’m not sure about those coffins, but the things I just smashed are called ‘Soul Suppression Dolls.’ They’re specifically made to keep the restless dead in their coffins. They’re quite effective on corpses, but they shatter as soon as they touch the ground.”

“So, are these dolls made of porcelain or are they real?” Old Tan seemed fascinated.

“Soul Suppression Dolls are crafted from human blood, bear gall, and ancient clay dug from more than twenty meters underground. They could be shaped into anything, not just children—even naked women, if you like.”

Hearing this, Old Tan, the lecher, couldn’t help but look regretful once more.

“Then how did you get in there? And—”

“You can ask your father about all that yourself.”

I had so many questions, but this young man called Peanut seemed unwilling to discuss them. Things were developing in ways neither Old Tan nor I had anticipated. Who would have thought that so many strange and eerie things were buried beneath my family’s old house? And most troubling of all—there was a living man here. I had no idea what to do with him. Accuse him of trespassing? Hardly. Since he claimed to be my father’s friend, I could only treat him, for now, as my father’s companion, but I remained wary.

Peanut asked about my father’s recent whereabouts, but I knew nothing more than what had happened at the Yanjing Grand Hotel, so I recounted that incident. Honestly, with my father missing, I didn’t know if he would make it back in time for Grandfather’s memorial. I hoped Peanut might have some clue. Though we were practically strangers, at least he showed no hostility toward me.

After listening, Peanut turned away, frowning slightly. I was about to ask if he knew where my father was when Old Tan interrupted, “Hey, Yuan, didn’t you just hear your father’s phone ringing? Maybe it’s down here somewhere.”

Only then did I remember our main purpose. Quickly, I took my phone from Old Tan and dialed my father’s number. Down in the cellar, the signal was almost nonexistent, but fortunately, we still heard the long, faint ring of a call connecting.

Almost simultaneously, the sound of a phone ringing drifted to us out of the darkness beyond.

“It really is here!” Excited, I dashed forward, with Old Tan and Peanut close behind.

With the fire still burning in the stone chamber behind us, the cellar was no longer so pitch-black. We could hear the ringing, but still couldn’t pinpoint the phone’s location. We searched for a while, but found nothing. Then, Peanut, who’d been leaning against a bookshelf, fanning himself with a book, suddenly laughed.

“What are you laughing at?” To be honest, though I’d only just met him, I already found his laughter deeply irritating.

“What brand is your father’s phone? Imagine—it can walk on its own.”

“What do you mean?” Sensing there was more to his words, I stepped closer.

Peanut raised his right hand, and, as if tracking something, slowly moved his forefinger through the air. He pointed toward the cellar’s western wall—pitch-black, nothing visible to the naked eye. Old Tan and I stared blankly, not understanding his meaning.

“If you don’t want trouble, you’d better come out now,” Peanut withdrew his hand and, with an enigmatic look, turned his face toward the bookshelf.

Old Tan and I were still baffled about whom he was addressing. Peanut didn’t explain, but nonchalantly replaced his book and began tidying the mess we’d made.

Just as I was about to press him further, an aged voice suddenly sounded from the spot Peanut had indicated.

“I never imagined there’d be another expert here.”

The moment I heard that voice, a bolt of lightning flashed through my mind. I’d heard it once before—in the private suite at the Yanjing Grand Hotel, with Tu Gou and his gang. A sallow, emaciated child’s face floated up from my memory.

“It’s you!” I shouted.

“Hehehe… Young Master Yuan, we meet again.” This time, the old woman’s voice was very close, accompanied by soft, shuffling steps. Soon, a child of about ten emerged from the darkness.

Recalling Peanut’s earlier words, I immediately understood. “You have my father’s phone?”

The child shot me a sidelong glance and grinned. “That’s right.”

“Give it back!” I lunged forward.

“Wait.” The child stepped back. “Young Master Yuan, since I’ve come all this way, of course I intend to return your things. But don’t be hasty. Surely, after coming so far, you can’t expect me to leave empty-handed.”

“How much do you want?” My father and Tu Gou’s gang clearly didn’t get along, so for his phone to be in this person’s possession was highly suspicious. I was ready to sell our apartment in Yanjing if it meant getting my father’s phone back.

“Money?” The child shook his head. “I don’t want money. I want something from this old house.”

“As long as you return the phone, you can take the whole house if you want,” I said, face contorted with anxiety.

“Such filial devotion,” the child sneered, “but what I want isn’t so easily offered. First, have your two companions leave. Then I’ll tell you.” His calculating gaze swept over my face before settling on Peanut’s back.

“Don’t trust him, Yuan,” Old Tan warned. “He gives me the creeps. He’s up to no good.”

I knew the child was dangerous, but with no other options, I turned to Peanut.

Peanut turned just then, smiling at the child. “There are three of us. Do you really think you’re in a position to negotiate?”

The child’s smile only deepened. “The information on this phone could cost Yuan Liu his life. With a single press, it’s all gone. And if I dared show myself, do you think I fear three brats like you?” He produced my father’s phone from his pocket and waved it tauntingly.

Hearing a child of ten call me a brat stoked my anger. Dammit, could three grown men really not handle him? I shot Old Tan a look, ready to make a move.

Suddenly, a flash of white streaked before my eyes with a sharp “swish,” like a fierce wind scattering leaves. The white flash sliced across the child’s raised right hand.

“Ah!” The child screamed, dropping the phone and clutching his right palm in agony. Along with the phone, a severed right forefinger fell to the ground. Old Tan and I stood frozen, then realized the object that had cut the child’s hand was a strip of white paper, torn from a book.

Peanut strolled over with a relaxed smile, picked up the phone and handed it to me, then gently placed his left hand on the child’s forehead.

“You said you weren’t afraid, didn’t you?”

In that moment, Peanut’s calm words sounded like the devil’s whisper. I saw the child’s eyes glaze over, his body trembling with fear.

“What the hell is he?” Old Tan muttered, aghast. “He did that with a piece of paper…”

If I hadn’t already seen things like the Ghost Face and the Soul Suppression Doll, I’d have been scared out of my wits too.

“Spare me, please! I was blind, I didn’t recognize a master from the ‘Ghost Gate Sect’!” The boy’s bravado collapsed; his voice reverted to that of an ordinary child as he begged for his life.

“Ghost Gate Sect?” I echoed.

“Oh, sir, please don’t play games with me…” The child fell to his knees, desperate to escape Peanut’s ominous left hand.

Peanut chuckled lightly, then turned to Old Tan and me. “Let’s go upstairs first. This one knows the most about your father.”

Eager to check my father’s phone for clues, I nevertheless agreed. This place was unnerving, and the fire behind us was beginning to die. We made our way back to the cellar entrance and began to climb out.

Peanut was truly remarkable—one hand held the child in place, the other easily lifted me up. One by one, we emerged. Old Tan, shaken by the ordeal, vented his nerves on the child and tried to kick him, but Peanut stopped him.

Honestly, I too wanted to lash out. But later, as I came to understand the world of grave-robbing, I learned that this child was also a victim of fate. In the south, from Hunan to Zhejiang, tomb raiders would cultivate a group of children with special abilities. Grave-robbing is a deadly profession—no matter how advanced your equipment, success or failure ultimately depends on the people involved. These special children played an important role in such gangs, acting as their vanguard. Tragically, most were abducted or abandoned waifs, subjected to brutal training by their deranged leaders and forced to live inhuman lives. In the end, only the successful ones remained in the gang; the rest met unspeakable fates. I later learned that seven children trained in Xiangxi alongside this boy; he alone survived, while the others were chopped into pulp and fed to corpse insects in ancient tombs.