Volume One: The Field of Eight Coffins Chapter 35: The Hanging Taoist

The moment this thought crossed my mind, a chill ran down my spine, and an inexplicable terror gripped me. Ma Su and I exchanged uneasy glances, each peering behind the other, but the burial monkey was nowhere to be seen in the chamber. Suddenly, we both realized what we had overlooked: we had been searching for the monkey on the ground, paying no attention to the chamber’s ceiling.

“Not good,” I shouted, and both of us instinctively looked up.

Sure enough, a snarling, hairy face glared down at us from above. The burial monkey clung to the ceiling, and upon realizing it had been spotted, it let out a guttural cry and launched itself toward me from above.

I was caught off guard. By the time I reacted, the monkey’s gaping mouth was less than a foot from my face, its rancid breath assaulting my senses. I saw its sharp teeth aiming straight for my throat.

There was no time to dodge—I could only watch in horror as it pounced.

Just as I resigned myself to fate, the monkey’s body suddenly jerked midair and crashed to the ground. Ma Su had seized its tail, mustering all his strength to drag the creature away from me.

But the burial monkey was unfazed by the fall. With another vicious screech, it turned on Ma Su and lunged at him.

Ma Su, still stinging from an earlier swipe, instinctively covered his face and tried to flee. But how could he ever outrun the monkey? After just a few steps, it caught up, landing a heavy blow on his shoulder.

Ma Su cried out, sprawling face-first onto the ground. The monkey leapt atop him, reaching for his back.

I was unarmed—save for the flashlight I’d kept in hand, which hadn’t been of much use until now. In desperation, I hurled it at the monkey.

The flashlight spun through the air and struck the monkey squarely on the head before bouncing to the floor. Infuriated, the monkey turned to glare at me with a venomous gaze.

Knowing I was in grave danger, I spun around and tried to dash back the way we’d come. But the monkey was faster: in two bounds it blocked my escape, launching itself at me with renewed fury.

Letting out a terrified cry, I dared not turn my back, afraid the creature would attack from behind. Forced to confront it head-on, I retreated step by step until my back pressed against the wall. My legs buckled, and I collapsed onto the ground.

With another shriek, the monkey spread its arms and lunged for me again.

Darkness clouded my vision, my heart sinking with dread—I feared my end would come in this very tomb.

But survival instinct overpowered despair. Scrabbling desperately across the bare ground, my hand closed around something solid. I had no time to see what it was; acting on instinct, I thrust it at the oncoming monkey.

Only after I had driven the object into the monkey’s body did I realize what it was—a sword.

And this sword had pierced the monkey’s heart with uncanny precision.

At that moment, I heard two screams.

One belonged to the burial monkey; the other, to Ma Su.

My strike, combined with the monkey’s momentum, had driven the blade deep into its chest. The creature toppled to the ground, but curiously, no blood poured from its wounds—only a greasy, oily substance oozed forth.

Ma Su cried out and rushed over. I thought he was concerned for my safety, but I was mistaken. Seeing the monkey lying dead, he stomped his foot in frustration. “Damn it! We finally found a living specimen, and you had to kill it. What a waste…”

He looked as though he’d rather trade places with the monkey himself. I couldn’t help but laugh, climbing to my feet. “Come on, Ma Su—you’re being unreasonable. That thing nearly killed us! If we hadn’t gotten rid of it, we’d both be dead.”

He stared at the monkey, sighed, and finally shook his head. “Forget it. Maybe there’ll be another chance. Are you alright?”

I assured him I was fine—thanks to the sword I’d grabbed from the ground.

I went over, pulled the weapon from the monkey’s body, and examined it under the beam of my flashlight.

What I saw gave me pause. This was no metal blade, but a sword of peachwood. Its craftsmanship and style were strikingly similar to the one my third uncle had given me.

The sight of that sword made me think immediately of him.

I looked around anxiously, though it was purely instinct. I knew I’d already scoured this space countless times—apart from the monkey we’d just killed, no one else had appeared.

Ma Su noticed my unease. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“This sword looks just like my third uncle’s,” I replied.

I didn’t know what to do. If this really was his sword, it could only mean one thing: my uncle had run into trouble. Perhaps from the moment he appeared in the underground parking lot, he’d already been under someone’s control.

Ma Su took the sword and examined it. “Not necessarily. As far as I know, most Taoist peachwood swords look pretty much the same. There’s no name or special mark on this one—how can you be sure it’s his?”

His explanation gave me a glimmer of hope. That’s human nature: when trapped in despair, even the faintest hope becomes magnified.

Perhaps Ma Su’s words were unlikely, but they were enough to reignite my determination to continue searching for my uncle.

He walked over to the tunnel where the fire beetle had flown, turned on his flashlight, and peered inside. “I trust the fire beetle’s instincts. We should follow this path.”

I nodded, my fear nearly gone now—my only thought was to uncover the truth and rescue my uncle and Liang Yue.

I used the peachwood sword to clear the web from the entrance, and together, Ma Su and I crawled into the dark passage.

Beyond the previous chamber, the passage narrowed once again. We trudged onward for about ten meters until another chamber appeared ahead.

Cautiously, we entered. Unlike before, this chamber contained a coffin in its center.

The moment we stepped in, the air was thick with dampness and rot. The coffin was badly decayed, riddled with holes—perhaps because it had been buried underground and exposed to air, its wooden frame was heavily oxidized, barely resembling wood at all. Wisps of black vapor drifted from the coffin. Hastily, I tightened my mask, suspecting this was the infamous “tomb miasma.”

Ma Su stepped forward, inspected the coffin, and nodded. “This is a genuine Qing dynasty coffin—must be centuries old.”

So this was the coffin unearthed during the foundation work.

Several oil lamps burned along the walls. Ma Su took one down and moved closer to the coffin for a better look.

We both noticed it at once—a plant had sprouted near the head of the coffin: a black datura.

Ma Su gasped in excitement, quickly taking a magnifying glass from his pocket to study the plant.

Its roots pierced straight down into the coffin. Though not as large as the one my uncle and I had found in the abandoned building, it was thriving—lush and vigorous.

“Why would a flower grow on a coffin?” I muttered.

But Ma Su was lost in his role as eccentric professor, ignoring me and focusing on his examination. Seeing his absorption, I decided not to urge him onward.

Curious, I leaned in to get a closer look.

No sooner had I done so than something dripped onto my face from above.

Instinctively, I wiped my cheek. The substance was greasy and sticky. Holding my hand up to the light, I saw it was a white, oily liquid.

Another drop fell, landing on my head.

My nerves tensed—hadn’t the burial monkey hidden on the ceiling just before? Who knew how many more of those creatures might lurk down here? Fearing another attack, I jerked my head upward.

In this tomb, anything seemed possible—and what I saw next was more horrifying than anything before.

A corpse hung from the chamber’s ceiling. It was impossible to tell how long it had been dead, but now that white liquid was dripping steadily from its feet.

“Damn!” I realized my face and hands were smeared with the stuff—disgusted, I wiped furiously at them with my shirt and staggered to the side, retching violently.

Ma Su, hearing the commotion, also looked up and saw the hanging corpse. As a biologist, he was far more composed than I—hardly fazed by the sight of death. Instead, he calmly shone his flashlight upward to get a better look.

That was when I saw it—the corpse was clad in a gray Taoist robe.

My heart lurched. Nausea forgotten, I shouted, “Ma Su, shine the light on his face!”

He adjusted the beam, and the halo of light settled on the corpse’s features.

The face was ashen, the eyes bulging grotesquely, devoid of any expression.

When I recognized that face, my whole body convulsed. My strength failed me, and I collapsed onto the ground.

(End of chapter)