I stood still, then abruptly lifted the flashlight to illuminate the outside of the cave. No, after carefully inspecting the surroundings, still nothing. Obviously, the body wouldn't move by itself, so it shouldn't be a deceitful corpse. I forcefully calmed myself to analyze this seemingly impossible situation. If the body was faking death, it would have targeted me first, not hide and seek. It must have been moved by something else, and since there's nothing in the cave below...
I gazed into the pitch-black abyss, and the most plausible explanation was that during that period, something approached me and took the body away. Due to my nervousness, I hadn't noticed.
Thinking about this, a chill ran down my spine. What silently came near me and took the body away? Why didn't it attack me, and what was its purpose? A series of questions troubled my mind. So many strange occurrences before entering the main tomb. This place was indeed eerie. I recalled the blue light I saw earlier and looked at the darkness in the cave, realizing that avoiding it was probably inevitable; even death would be acceptable.
I gritted my teeth, adjusted the flashlight beam to a smaller size but with intense penetration. With a Swiss Army knife in one hand and the flashlight cautiously held, I approached.
The pit was not tall; I had to crawl forward. Strangely, the terrain ascended sharply. Within a few steps, I felt I had ascended more than half a meter, and the ground was rough.
Unable to suppress my curiosity, I approached, shining the flashlight on the cave wall. This cave was indeed extraordinary; it seemed to be chiseled from the inside. A shiver ran down my spine. Could this be a secret passage?
The chiseling marks were messy, indicating that the person who dug it was in a hurry. Considering the scale and technique of the secret passage, it was likely dug from within the tomb. In ancient times, there was a tradition of killing craftsmen before sealing tombs, and skilled artisans would anticipate their fate. Thus, many ancient tombs had secret passages left by craftsmen to escape after the tomb was completely sealed. This person must have had a profound understanding of the tomb's structure to accurately create the passage within the underground drainage system.
While sighing, I continued forward. Suddenly, the flashlight caught a black object. Approaching, I found it was a black walkie-talkie. Not an ordinary one – it had a display screen and strong power, likely a military-grade waterproof model. I knew that if its performance was superior, it could communicate normally within 5-20 kilometers, even with many obstacles.
I pressed a button, and the screen emitted a dim blue light, displaying relevant numerical values. It dawned on me that the light I saw earlier probably came from it, creating an illusion of someone holding it. Excitedly, I tuned the frequency dial, but it only produced faint static. Trying various channels, still no signal. Reluctantly, I continued switching, and suddenly, the walkie-talkie emitted a burst of sharp, chaotic noise, startling me. It sounded like a woman screaming, and I instinctively pressed the power off.
That sound, like a woman screaming with her throat pulled, sent shivers down my spine. I knew there must be some interference nearby. Such interference generally had two causes: either frequency interference or harmonic interference. I couldn't fathom what ancient cave could emit such a powerful signal.
Carefully, I unscrewed the walkie-talkie, and the sharp, chaotic noise erupted again. It was coming from the depths of the cave. I closed the walkie-talkie, walked toward the source, and found myself more and more immersed in the unknown. Dark, lonely, eerie, and fearful – I didn't know how long I could endure.
Glancing at the knife in my hand, I wondered if I had the courage to end it all. I began to admire Old He and the others, repeatedly venturing into this terrifying tomb. I confess my fear; at this moment, I wished to encounter them, even if it meant dying together. This was better than walking alone.
The reverse-dug secret passage became narrower, and I could only crawl forward. I dared not look back, holding the flashlight in one hand. After about half an hour, I realized I had climbed out of the pit. Opening the flashlight to its maximum, I found myself in a stone chamber. Did I accidentally stumble into it? Holding the flashlight, I examined the surroundings. The elevation had increased significantly, but the cave was only dug into a corner of the stone chamber below. The cave complex we entered before should be directly beneath this tomb chamber. Someone dug this passage, connected it to the drainage cave, and accidentally led me into the ancient tomb.
The tomb chamber was not small, filled with black objects on the floor, and scattered ceramic bowls and jars. In the middle, there was a long stone table with several stone stools. This seemed to be a resting place for the artisans who built the tomb. I approached, squatting down to inspect. Confirming my suspicions, these black objects and the woven mats were where the artisans slept, although some were faded due to age.
I picked up a ceramic bowl, wiped off the dust, a yellow pottery bowl. Examining the patterns with my thumb, it was genuine. I also picked up a notched wooden groove nearby; it felt slightly heavy. Without checking, I could tell the weight was right. This tactile sensation confirmed it was a Tang Dynasty tomb. Indeed, only during the prosperous Tang era could such a grand tomb be constructed. According to Old He, Tang tombs could be summarized in eight characters: "Cutting mountains for corridors, piercing stones for hiding."
Thinking of Old He, memories of him describing the young Second Master surfaced. He didn't even need to go underground during his youth. Based on the soil texture above the tomb, brickwork method, surface patterns, and grout, he could determine the age of the tomb. His skill in finding the tomb's location based on the mountain and water features was unparalleled. To him, the mountains and rivers were dragon veins flowing eastward to the sea, unfurling a banner wherever he went.
It was hard to reconcile this old man, who considered himself superior, with the "Second Master" in the mouth of the people in the field. In my eyes, they were entirely different.
Arriving here only strengthened my speculation. The artisan who dug this passage must have been well acquainted with the tomb's structure, accurately locating the entrance. Perhaps this person was a minor leader, as he could see the design of the tomb chamber. I wondered if he managed to escape; the complex caves underneath would be challenging to navigate from memory. If I could find his cryptic clues, it might increase the chances.
I knew the odds were low, but the will to survive drove me to search. I lifted the dark bamboo mat, walking over one by one. However, disappointment struck when I found no clues. I sighed, ready to leave, but the flashlight seemed to catch something. This was entirely instinctive, yet I turned back to shine the light. I pulled out that patch of woven mat, and in the layers, there was something. I cut it open with the knife, revealing a perfectly preserved stack of bamboo slips.
I took a deep breath and slowly took out the bamboo slips, ten in total. Each had a
line of text carved on it in regular script, likely carved with a sharp object. I recognized most, but some were scratched off, and others were obscure. Still, it was possible to piece together their meanings. Unfortunately, they didn't provide clues to leaving this place.
The first recorded the number of days it took to build the hall and the number of workers involved.
The second detailed the allocation of stone and wood materials. The author complained about the unfair distribution, expressing frustration that, while the construction deadline was tight and failure meant execution, the supplies for building the tomb were insufficient.
The third also contained complaints, urging the overseer to quickly provide materials. However, something seemed to have happened in the mountains.
The fourth entry, recorded much later, mentioned the author being reassigned to supervise the excavation of the main tomb on the front line.
The fifth noted that someone was injured today.
The sixth conveyed a growing sense of worry. Following the incident with a craftsman named Li Xiaobai, another person was injured, and an ominous feeling settled over the writer.
Reading this, I began to understand. It was evidently a construction diary, and the tomb's scale and the author's tone suggested a wealthy and influential tomb owner. Ancient Chinese people were meticulous in choosing tomb sites, and any flaw in feng shui could lead to severe consequences. What did this meticulously chosen tomb reveal?
The seventh entry's first sentence left me perplexed: "We can't dig any further."