Chapter 82: That Thing

However, the grave robber discovered that, according to legend, the ancient Li Kingdom possessed a secret art—a technique said to grant immortality. The pursuit of eternal youth, though long considered mere myth, has never truly been realized; yet most emperors throughout history have harbored dreams of never aging, and many have paid a steep price in pursuit of it.

The rumors recorded within stated that, beginning in the Song Dynasty, emperors dispatched emissaries to seek out the secrets of the Li Kingdom. But by then, the Li Kingdom had vanished from the world, shrouded in mystery. It was more a tribe than a nation, impossible to trace. From that time forward, rulers of successive dynasties searched for the Li Kingdom. The grave robber reasoned that if such tales were only idle gossip, they would not have attracted so many emperors. Moreover, numerous records claimed eyewitnesses to Li people living for thousands of years. An even greater secret lay ahead: after opening a coffin, the grave robber found an ancient book recounting the Li legends. It was said that the Li Kingdom not only held the secret to longevity but possessed another technique—one capable of controlling the human mind. This was truly terrifying, for to command the mind meant to wield dominion over life and death itself, a dream coveted by every emperor.

And that was only the beginning. The second aspect of this secret art was even more formidable: those who fell under its control became astonishingly powerful, swift, and fearless—even indifferent to life and death. The implication was clear: such a technique could forge an army of unwavering loyalty, one that would never betray, one that was eternal. The fighting prowess of such a force would be unparalleled, invincible throughout the realm.

Though the matter was temporarily suppressed, those privy to the secret ensured its survival. The Li Kingdom’s mysteries remained obscure in history, but to a select few, they represented a trove far greater than mere wealth—a treasure of immortality and power beyond compare.

The Seventeen Gates of Tomb Raiding in China were rules of the grave-robbing world; naturally, they became custodians of the secret. Yet with this knowledge came a purge—a sweeping reshuffle that left only five gates remaining. The rest either concealed themselves or vanished entirely.

At this point, Black Sunglasses glanced once more around him, noting Old Ghost and the others deep in their research, then continued in a low voice:

“I’ve told you before, though I know a little, it’s not much. What I can share is only a fraction of what I know. Old Ghost and his crew work for certain people—people we must never provoke. Remember that. To be honest, I’m curious why you’re so passionate about Li culture. Frankly, I doubt you’re simply a devotee, like Li Ling claims. Besides, that woman is anything but ordinary. In my eyes, you, Li Ling, and Wang Wenshan are equally enigmatic.”

With these words, Black Sunglasses fell silent. I too paused before replying, “Perhaps. It seems things are getting complicated.”

Truth be told, there’s one thing I’ve never understood: the matter of immortality. I still have a theory, especially given I’ve encountered zombies thousands of years old, still breathing—the wax corpse in the desert that resembled a cat, and the faceless figure lying in the coffin, all breathing. But the notion of controlling the mind eludes me.

Suddenly, I thought of the Tomb Guardians—a clan that, generation after generation, has watched over Da Long Mountain for a millennium. Is that not a form of loyalty brought about by other means? Could the so-called mind control be achieved through some venomous method? If so, it would indeed force devotion, though it would be an artificial loyalty.

My thoughts grew tangled—a web of clues and connections flooding my mind. As I was lost in these musings, a gunshot shattered my reverie.

Amidst the distant blaze, several figures huddled together, seemingly on guard. Black Sunglasses and I hid in a corner, quietly observing. More gunshots rang out, echoing through the open surroundings, unnervingly loud.

Only then did I see clearly: they were firing at a shadow—a form darting about like a monkey. It had slipped in as well. What manner of thing was it? Its speed was incredible; I couldn’t make out its features at all.

The chaos of gunfire continued until a scream pierced the air; someone had been attacked. The cry was chilling, agonizing, as if the pain was beyond endurance. We were too far away to see what was happening.

Someone shouted, “It’s back again!”

Gunfire and shouts erupted, followed by sudden silence. The area fell quiet, everyone watching their surroundings in tense stillness. Black Sunglasses and I observed in silence as well.

“What is that thing?” I whispered to Black Sunglasses. He shook his head, indicating he didn’t know. I was surprised, for in my experience, there was nothing he didn’t know. His odd expression convinced me he was telling the truth, and I was left at a loss.

I noticed something else: Old Ghost and Madam Gu seemed just as unfamiliar with this creature. For seasoned operators in the underworld, encountering an unknown entity underground—and being attacked—was extraordinary indeed.

Just then, I felt a cold breeze brush my back, a chill that made my spine tingle. As I turned, Black Sunglasses swiftly grabbed my wrist and gave me a look—don’t move. The darkness was thick, but I could see his eyes clearly, warning me to stay still.

Uncertain of what was happening, I chose to trust him and froze. Soon, I sensed something behind me—something alarmingly close. The chill was the breath of whatever lurked there.