Dragon Vein Storyteller

Chapter 6 Welcome Path

As mentioned last time, we squeezed into that passageway by stepping over other people's bodies. As soon as we stepped in, the atmosphere changed... The previous damp and fishy smell faded, replaced by a dull and cold chill, as if seeping from the very bones.

The soles of my feet slammed against the stone slabs, making a dull thud, as if someone was following me. The torchlight flickered on the stone wall, casting the carvings on and off. I would occasionally touch the stone wall with my hand; it was icy cold to the touch, and the carvings were evenly deep, not hastily done, but rather like those carefully chiseled by a craftsman.

Feng the Cripple was walking in front of me. His limp wasn't a problem on flat ground, but with every step, his left shoulder was half an inch higher than his right, making his body wobble. I've followed him for so many years, I could recognize him even with my eyes closed.

Baldy Liao walked at the front, a thin layer of sweat covering his bald head, reflecting the torchlight. Little Chicken followed beside me, clutching his torch. The boy's steps were becoming increasingly steady, unlike when he first came down, his face pale and his gait trembling. Three Pounds brought up the rear, his physique blocking the way like half a city gate; anyone trying to sneak up from behind would have to get past him first.

This formation was intentional. The old brothers know each other well, so there's no need for many words; a single glance is enough for them to know where to stand. Although Little Chicken is young, he's bold and ruthless. Placing him in the middle will keep things under control, and if anything happens, Feng the Cripple and I can flank him from the front and back to protect him completely.

After walking for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, a commotion suddenly arose ahead. The sound was muffled, like someone arguing in a low voice, or like several people simultaneously gasping for breath. The sound traveled along the passageway, its pitch distorted by the impact against the stone walls, giving it an indescribably strange quality.

"There are people ahead." Feng the Cripple stopped and turned his head to whisper.

I listened intently, and the group ahead was indeed the same group we had brought out of the mass grave. I recognized their voices; the burly man leading them had the loudest voice, loud enough to be heard even from behind the crowd. His voice was lower now, but his tone was tense and anxious.

"It's not human." Baldy Liao turned around from the front and said in a low voice, "I just overheard it, it sounded like a stone sculpture."

"Stone carving?" I was taken aback.

Baldy Liao rubbed his bald head and said, "I didn't hear clearly, but I heard someone shout something about stone carvings or statues. They stopped in front of us."

When I heard the word "stone carving," my heart skipped a beat. In our line of work, murals, stone carvings, and steles are like instruction manuals for ancient tombs... everything about the tomb is hidden inside. People who don't know any of this would think they're at a temple fair when they enter a tomb and reach the gates of the underworld.

I grabbed the chick's arm and urged it forward: "Come on, let's go take a look."

We pushed our way through the crowd. Seeing us, people quickly parted to the sides, some with fear in their eyes. The burly middle-aged man who had been knocked down by Sanjin's punch earlier was now cowering at the back of the crowd. Seeing me approach, he instinctively took a half-step back… In doing so, he stepped on the foot of someone behind him. The person winced in pain but didn't dare utter a sound, only pulling his leg back slightly. The burly man's fleshy face trembled, his eyes a mixture of hatred and fear, forcing out a smile that was more like a grimace.

I ignored him, pulled the little chick to the front of the crowd, with Crippled Feng, Baldy Liao, and Sanjin following closely behind.

When the torchlight shone forward, I was completely stunned.

A stone sculpture stands prominently in front of the passageway.

The stone carving was about a meter tall, carved from the bluestone beneath its feet. When illuminated by the firelight, the stone was warm and smooth, its surface faintly glowing. The carving depicted a lady with an oval face and a high bun. Her features had been somewhat blurred by the passage of time, but the spirit in her eyes and brows remained. The corners of her mouth were slightly upturned, as if she were smiling, or perhaps saying something.

The lady wore a deep, flowing robe with wide sleeves that reached below her knees. The folds of the robe were intricately carved, layer upon layer. Her posture was slightly turned to the side, her waist twisting gently, as if she were walking, or as if she had just stood still.

What truly startled us all was her arm.

Her right arm was outstretched, palm facing upwards, fingers slightly spread, fingertips pointing deep into the passage. Anyone with eyes could see the obvious…

She was greeting people.

No, to be precise, it's welcoming guests.

"This..." Baldy Liao took a step forward, his bald head covered in sweat. He pointed three fingers at the female statue, his voice trembling, "Something's not right. Look at her hands, these aren't things you'd find in a Han Dynasty tomb!"

Feng the Cripple squinted and scrutinized him for a few moments, his expression darkening.

The little chick tilted its head and asked me, "Master, what's wrong with this stone carving?"

I didn't answer immediately. I stepped forward, brought the torch closer, and carefully examined the stone sculpture. The base was attached to the ground; it hadn't been moved here later. The base was carved with cloud patterns, the lines flowing smoothly. And looking at the lady's clothing and hairstyle... that high bun was almost exactly the same as the one we had seen in Beiman Mountain years ago.

I straightened up and made my judgment.

"It's from the Han Dynasty, no doubt about it." I handed the torch to the chick and patted the ash off my hands.

"But the problem is," Feng the Cripple interjected, his voice as soft as sandpaper, "I've never seen this kind of welcoming contraption in my entire life of digging graves."

He was absolutely right.

What is a tomb? It's a dwelling place for the dead. Everything inside—burial goods, murals, stone carvings—is there to ensure the deceased's comfort in the afterlife…to serve them, protect them, or showcase their former glory. Take the portraits of court ladies, for example. Whether placed in the tomb passage or a side chamber, they are all the same few types…lighting lamps, dancing, holding wine cups, bowing with robes drawn. These are all postures of servants, the postures of "attendants."

But the one in front of her wasn't serving anyone.

She was gesturing for people to come inside.

That outstretched arm, that slightly forward-leaning posture, that ambiguous smile—all together, they conveyed a chilling message…

Please come in.

This is a welcome. A welcome in a cemetery? This is even more eerie than hearing someone banging drums and gongs at a grave in the middle of the night. Who would welcome someone to their own burial site? Are they supposed to offer the visitor a cup of tea?

I stood there, my mind racing. This thing was completely against the rules, as if the tomb owner had deliberately placed it here, waiting for someone to come.

Who are we waiting for?

The thought had barely crossed my mind when I remembered the three infant spirit towers I'd seen near the mass grave... a deadly formation that used the resentment of innate infant spirits as nails to seal off the dragon vein's energy. Those who built that formation had buried their conscience.

If Baidi City is truly related to the dragon vein...

I shivered.

You're welcome to come, because once you're here, you won't be leaving.