Driven by instinct, Third Uncle kept digging through the surrounding soil, trying to poke his head out to breathe or grab onto something nearby. However, it was futile; after about two or three seconds, he felt the ground beneath him give way and he slid into some kind of space. Then, a chill enveloped him as he, along with the mud that was covering him, fell into the water.

The icy water washed away the mud from his face, and he coughed and struggled to get up. It was pitch dark around him, and he had no idea where he had fallen. All he could sense was that the area below his waist was submerged in water, and a peculiar, foul odor lingered in the air.

His flashlight was still on, but now that he was in the water, it only emitted a small beam of light. Third Uncle leaned down to retrieve the flashlight, but it flickered and dimmed as it got wet. After shaking it a couple of times, it finally brightened again, although the light was noticeably dimmer.

He shone the flashlight around and discovered he had fallen into a brick chamber. The walls were built of square blue bricks. Looking behind him, he saw a large hole in the blue brick wall, which was evidently the entrance through which he had just slipped.

After surveying the surroundings, Third Uncle understood what had happened. The spot he had been digging was compromised; it seemed to be a hollow space covered by soil. His weight pressed down on it, and there was no support beneath, causing the soil of the entire tunnel to collapse and roll him and the mud into the tomb chamber below.

But who had made the hole in the tomb wall? Had he inadvertently dug into the tunnel that the old man and his crew had used to enter the tomb? Was it really such a coincidence?

Third Uncle pondered this possibility. It indeed seemed plausible; his skills had been taught to him by the old man, and the old man’s skills were passed down from the previous generation. Since tomb raiding techniques had started to decline after the Qing Dynasty, they had essentially been relying on old methods. There had been no substantial development; the locations and methods for digging tunnels had become rigid rules. Disciples taught by the same master would nearly always dig tunnels in the same spots.

But he set those thoughts aside for now. He carefully observed his surroundings. The entrance behind him was completely blocked by fallen soil, and he had no idea where his shovel was buried in the mud. It would be quite difficult to return the way he came, but he wasn’t worried; he had explosives with him. If he couldn’t get out, he could just create a skylight.

The tomb chamber was a proper square with an arched ceiling, adorned with simple reliefs. It wasn’t large, but it was tall, and the water in the chamber reached his waist. The burial goods should be submerged beneath the water, but the dark pool made it impossible to see what lay below.

On the left wall, there was a door, presumably leading to the passage of this ancient tomb. With just this information, it was impossible to determine the dynasty of the tomb or the status of its owner. However, judging by the height of the chamber, it was clear that the tomb’s occupant was not someone of royal or noble rank.

In general, ancient tombs that have burial chambers are not of low status, because in ancient times, there were not many people who could afford brick-structured houses. If bricks were to be used for a tomb, the tomb owner would have to belong to an official class. However, even among the official class, most ancient tombs do not have overly elaborate traps, as their capabilities were limited. Throughout the dynasties, the top craftsmen, especially those who mastered the architectural knowledge of tombs, served only the emperor, and they probably only had the chance to serve once in their lifetime. Many top craftsmen died inside the royal tombs during their construction, which is also why so many things have been lost in China.

Uncle San composed himself and waded through the cold water into the dark passageway. The water was icy and created significant resistance, producing an unpleasant sound with each ripple as he walked.

The floor of the burial chamber beneath the water was uneven, and he nearly stumbled several times. At that moment, he couldn’t think about what he had stepped on. If this was indeed the ancient tomb recorded in the notes, then what he stepped on could be not only the burial items but also the remains of ancestors. This thought was too stimulating; the best way to deal with it was to not think about it at all.

The passageway was about twenty meters long, and he quickly reached the end. Behind the passage was another, larger burial chamber, with no other passageways around. Uncle San knew he had reached the rear hall. As he approached, he saw a stone bed in the center of the chamber, elevated above the water’s surface.

He shone his flashlight on it and couldn’t help but swallow hard, his legs feeling a bit weak. On the stone bed lay a stone sarcophagus, the lid of which had been turned to who knows where. This situation was not uncommon, but what frightened him was that there were two decayed skeletons leaning against the open sarcophagus. Their clothes were tattered, and the bodies had completely rotted, their flesh fused with the stone coffin. From a distance, it was hard to tell their dynasty, but they were definitely not the slaves who were buried alive.

Uncle San stood in a daze for a while, feeling cold all over and not daring to approach. He thought to himself, could these two be his relatives who died in the ancient tomb?

This was not his first time entering an ancient tomb, and he had long developed a mentality of ignoring the corpses within. To him, these corpses were merely objects. However, this time, he might be facing the remains of his own relatives, which filled him with an inexplicable fear, and his heart raced.

He slowly walked up to the stone platform in the center of the chamber, trembling all over, unable to steady his flashlight. He first looked at the stone sarcophagus and saw a patch of dried blood congealed at the bottom. It seemed to be wrapped in silk, but there was no corpse inside. Moving closer to the two skeletons, he saw that they had decayed nearly completely, their heads reduced to skulls, making it impossible to determine if they were his relatives. However, Uncle San noticed that one of the skeletons was holding a box cannon, with several blurred characters engraved on it — “Wu Dagui,” which was his great-grandfather’s name.

Uncle San’s knees buckled, and he knelt down, properly bowing twice. He was not a particularly sensitive person, but this action at that moment seemed to be instinctive.

After bowing, Uncle San glanced at the box cannon, which was already too worn to be used, so he tossed it aside and went to examine the contents of the stone coffin. He put on gloves and reached into the coffin, pressing down on the silk at the bottom.

After pressing, Uncle San realized that the body was not beneath the decaying silk; instead, he felt something ring-shaped beneath a mess of filth at the bottom of the coffin. He reached in to touch it and his heart skipped a beat—it was an iron ring, attached to the base of the coffin.

He placed the flashlight on the edge of the stone coffin, then gripped the iron ring with both hands and pulled hard. With a loud “crack,” one side of the coffin’s bottom board suddenly lifted, revealing a hidden door beneath the coffin.

Uncle San’s heart raced; he hadn’t expected this tomb to have more than one level. He quickly took out a fire stick, intending to throw it into the hidden door below to see what lay beneath. However, just as he reached in, he shone the light on a wrinkled, strange face that suddenly poked out from the hidden door.