A figure suddenly stood upright from inside the coffin.
“Ghost!” Shuisheng screamed in terror, darting behind Elder Changmei.
Ye Qiu gripped the Emperor Sword tightly, while Elder Changmei clutched a Corpse-Suppressing Talisman.
Both wore grave expressions.
After a tense wait with no movement from the figure, Ye Qiu and Elder Changmei exchanged a glance and cautiously approached the coffin.
They stopped a meter away.
Peering closely.
They saw the figure was eight feet tall, wearing a golden crown and a black robe stitched with gold thread.
An ancient corpse.
At its waist hung a simple three-foot sword.
The scabbard bore an engraved Bagua pattern.
The Heavenly Master Sword!
“Finally found it,” Elder Changmei said, barely containing his excitement, reaching for the sword.
“Wait,” Ye Qiu stopped him, “Old man, look at its face.”
Elder Changmei then noticed the corpse’s face was plastered with Corpse-Suppressing Talismans, at least a dozen, covering it entirely.
“These are Dragon Tiger Mountain talismans, likely left by the Patriarch,” Elder Changmei said, his eyes flickering, “With so many talismans and the Heavenly Master Sword pinning it, this thing didn’t just turn, it might be a full-on zombie.”
He turned to Shuisheng, “You grab the sword.”
“Martial Uncle, you do it, this guy looks bad news, I’ve got no martial skills, if he attacks, I’m dead meat,” Shuisheng said, stepping back further.
“You coward, I’m right here, what’s to fear? You’re a born saint, evil can’t touch you, quit stalling, get the sword,” Elder Changmei snapped.
“No way—”
“Now!” Elder Changmei barked, “Disobey me, and I’ll kill you myself.”
Ye Qiu chimed in, “Shuisheng, take it, if anything goes wrong, your Martial Uncle’s got you.”
“Him protect me?” Shuisheng scoffed, “He’s barely saving himself, I don’t trust him.”
“You—” Elder Changmei fumed.
“Don’t trust him, but don’t you trust me?” Ye Qiu said, “If there’s danger, I’ll strike first.”
“Fine, then,” Shuisheng hesitated, then crept toward the coffin, shakily reaching for the sword.
Elder Changmei watched, seething.
“Damn it, how’d Dragon Tiger Mountain raise such a spineless kid, I oughta kick you out.”
“Kick me, and who’s getting your sword?” Shuisheng shot back.
“Less talk, more action.”
Shuisheng snatched the Heavenly Master Sword off.
The moment it left the corpse, chaos broke loose.
Puff!
The corpse’s clothes disintegrated into dust, revealing flawless, jade-like skin, gleaming and pristine.
Lifelike.
How was this possible?
Shuisheng’s eyes widened, staring in disbelief.
He couldn’t fathom how a thousand-year-old corpse stayed so perfect.
Ye Qiu said, “In ancient times, some masters knew secret preservation techniques.”
“I heard Wu Zetian’s body still looked like it did when she died, true or not, no one knows, her tomb’s still sealed.”
“But one thing’s well-known.”
“When Sun Dianying raided the Eastern Tombs, they opened it and found Empress Dowager Cixi’s body perfectly preserved, her face stunning, like a sleeping beauty.”
“It was because she had a priceless night pearl in her mouth, Sun Dianying pried it out with a knife, and her body rotted instantly.”
Shuisheng pondered, “Dr. Ye, you mean this corpse is so intact because there’s treasure in its mouth?”
“Treasure or not, just take a peek,” Ye Qiu joked.
But Shuisheng took it seriously.
Gritting his teeth, he prepared to climb into the coffin to check the corpse’s mouth, when Elder Changmei’s sharp whisper stopped him.
“Hold it!”
Shuisheng turned, seeing Elder Changmei’s grim face, “What’s wrong, Martial Uncle?”
Ye Qiu looked puzzled too.
Elder Changmei said gravely, “The candle’s out.”
Ye Qiu glanced back.
Sure enough, the southeast corner candle had gone dark.
Elder Changmei explained, “Man lights the candle, ghosts blow it out. Ancient tomb raiders always lit a candle in the southeast corner before opening a coffin, if it went out, they had to leave fast, taking nothing.”
“It’s said to be a pact between the dead and the living, set by the Gold-Touching School’s founder, upheld for a thousand years, no exceptions.”
“Ye Qiu, looks like we’re not getting this coffin out.”
Shuisheng asked, “Martial Uncle, you said take nothing, so do we put the Heavenly Master Sword back?”
“Like hell!” Elder Changmei snapped, “It’s Dragon Tiger Mountain’s sacred treasure, we’re just reclaiming it.”
Ye Qiu eyed the corpse, “We shouldn’t stay, let’s go…”
Puff!
Suddenly, the dozen talismans on the corpse’s face turned to dust, revealing a man’s face.
About forty years old.
Square jaw, thick brows.
Eyes shut, yet exuding an aura of stern authority, while his joints cracked and popped, sending chills down their spines.
“Bad news, he’s waking up, run!” Elder Changmei shouted, turning to bolt for the cave exit, when the corpse’s eyes snapped open.
What a pair of eyes.
Blood-red pupils, like fresh gore, brimming with murderous intent.
“He’s awake.”
Elder Changmei flinched, ready to slap his talisman on the corpse’s forehead, but as he got close, it punched him flying.
Bang!
He hit the ground, spitting blood, ignoring his injuries, yelling at Ye Qiu, “Little brat, stick the talisman on its forehead!”
Before Ye Qiu could act, the corpse launched out of the coffin.
“Holy crap, a Flying Corpse!” Elder Changmei’s face paled.
Zombies varied in strength, Flying Corpses, or Corpse Kings, were agile and powerful, immune to most spells.
Ignoring Ye Qiu and Shuisheng, it lunged straight for Elder Changmei.
