This tomb chamber was nearly ten times larger in height and width than the burial wine chamber we had just seen. Four massive, intricately carved columns stood in the corners of the chamber. The floor was piled high with all sorts of items, and when the cold flames flickered to life, we discovered a small mountain of gold and silver vessels, gemstones, and pearls. Our flashlight illuminated them, casting brilliant reflections that were almost blinding.

“My grandfather—” the胖子 exclaimed, his eyes wide open, his face twisted in disbelief.

I was equally stunned, nearly losing my balance. 潘子 murmured, “What did I say? The treasury of the Jurchen, the tribute of the Southern Song. I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

After being in this line of work for so long, I had only encountered broken copper and iron. I thought I would escape my fate this time as well, but I never expected to find so many treasures in the tomb of this small, weak frontier kingdom. Could it really be as 潘子 said, that all the treasures after the fall of the Jin dynasty were hoarded here? It wasn’t just about getting rich; even taking a few items from here would allow one to live comfortably for a lifetime.

The胖子 wanted to roll into the pile of gold and silver, and I felt an urge to join him, but a sliver of reason held me back. I stopped him from getting carried away; many of the gold items in tombs are coated with deadly poison. Rolling in there and getting poisoned would be foolish. It was best not to touch any of these things.

However, while I held back the胖子, I couldn’t stop 潘子. He had already dashed into the pile of gold, grabbing a handful of gold items, staring in awe as the reflected golden light illuminated his face. He was trembling all over. Then he loosened his grip, and the items fell through his fingers, making a clattering sound.

Seeing 潘子 grab a few handfuls without any harm, I relaxed and couldn’t help but join in, grabbing a handful myself. The heavy weight almost made me laugh uncontrollably. I don’t know who said it, but the love of humanity for gold is written into our genes, becoming an inherent, irresistible instinct. They were absolutely right.

Even for someone like me, who outwardly maintained a facade of propriety, the thrill I felt upon seeing gold came from deep within. I wanted to deceive myself, but I couldn’t; I liked these things.

In an instant, we all forgot everything else. We rushed into the pile, scooping up various items, then running to another pile to examine a gem-encrusted headband closely. These items were all true masterpieces; just one of them would be a treasure in any museum. Yet here, there were so many that we felt no regret in taking or stepping on them.

The胖子 had already begun stuffing items into his bag. He emptied all his gear, discarding everything, and forcefully packed his bag until it was full. Then he realized something was off, emptied it again, and started packing different items, all the while making meaningless sounds.

But soon we all realized that no matter how much we packed, we couldn’t take away even a fraction of this treasure. After packing one thing, we would immediately discover something even better and more precious beneath it. Once we grabbed that more precious item, we would find another exquisite piece we had never seen before, leaving us utterly at a loss for how to proceed.

I had been crazy for a long time, and it wasn’t until we were exhausted and people calmed down from their extreme excitement that I felt something was wrong—why hadn’t I heard Shunzi’s voice since we came in? I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead, stood up from the pile of jewelry, and shone my flashlight around. I saw Shunzi standing on a pile of gold artifacts, seemingly looking at something.

I walked over and asked him what he was doing, wasn’t he excited about all this gold? He didn’t respond but pointed below. Following the direction of his finger with my flashlight, I discovered that nestled among several piles of gold artifacts were several people curled up, motionless, seemingly dead.

I was instantly startled; the excitement I had felt moments ago vanished, replaced by goosebumps all over my body. The fat guy and Panzi saw that Shunzi and I were standing there in a daze and thought we had discovered some treasure. They rushed over, only to find several bundles wrapped in cloth, which surprised them as well.

We descended into the depression among the gold artifacts, turned our flashlights back on, and examined closely. It was indeed dead bodies, and they had been dead for some time; the skin of the corpses was frozen and dehydrated, resembling orange peels. What was strange, however, was that these people were wearing rotting woolen overcoats—modern clothing—and nearby were several badly deteriorated old military-style backpacks.

The fat guy asked, “What’s going on? Who are these people? Are they our fellow travelers?” I shook my head and put on gloves to rummage through the backpacks and clothes. This type of clothing was popular in the 1980s and 1990s; even now, people in their forties or fifties in rural Northeast China might wear them. We had seen quite a few middle-aged men like that in Ying Shan Village. Judging by the level of decay, these people had likely been dead here for 5 to 20 years.

Panzi asked, “Could they be herbalists or hunters from Changbai Mountain who accidentally wandered in and couldn’t find their way out?”

“Not likely,” I said, pulling apart the clothing of one corpse. It was a female body. I looked at her ears, where old-fashioned earrings hung, and on her wrist was a watch that had long since rusted and stopped. “Look, this is a Meihua watch, an old model. Even a mayor-level person back then might not have been able to get one. This woman must have had some status; she doesn’t look like someone from the countryside.”

“Could they be lost tourists from the 1980s?” Panzi asked again. “Could the markings we’ve seen along the way be theirs?”

I shook my head; it was impossible that those markings were made by them. I had seen those markings in the underwater tomb; they were definitely made by related individuals, either Anning and her group or the Silent Oil Bottle. It was possible they were lost tourists, but could anyone really get lost in a place like this? A tomb passageway—ordinary people wouldn’t dare to venture down without considerable courage.

However, if this woman had some background, perhaps she was the child of a leader or had connections with local officials, her disappearance could have had a significant impact locally. Shunzi was no longer young; he might have heard about any sensational missing persons cases in the last 5 to 20 years. I turned to ask him, but when I looked back, Shunzi hadn’t followed us down; he was still standing on the pile of gold artifacts, his expression very stiff.

I thought it was strange. Could it be that Shunzi was also affected by the ghostly tongue like Pangzi? I didn’t see anything on his neck, and I noticed he was trembling a bit, which made me feel something was off.

Pangzi said to him, “What’s wrong? Are you afraid of dead people? I didn’t see you scared just now.”

Shunzi ignored Pangzi and walked down step by step with heavy feet, coming to one of the corpses and squatting down. I noticed he was so nervous that he was almost about to fall over.

Suddenly, I realized what was happening.

Pangzi wanted to go over and pat him, but I stopped him and waved my hand. Pangzi quietly asked me, “What’s wrong with him? Is he possessed?”

I shook my head. If I guessed correctly, these corpses might be the ones Shunzi mentioned, the ones his father brought into the Changbai Mountains ten years ago. The corpse Shunzi was looking at could possibly be his father, which explained his extremely tense behavior.

I couldn’t believe it; he had really hit the nail on the head. Following us, he could actually find his father’s remains…

But was this just a coincidence? Did the team from ten years ago accidentally end up here? Or was there something else we didn’t know about?