Volume One: The Graveyard of Eight Coffins Chapter 32: The Monster in the Coffin

At the same time, a series of creaking sounds echoed from within the coffins. The coffins were arranged in no discernible order, making it impossible for me to pinpoint the source of the noise—whether it came from a single coffin or several at once. The sounds resembled something scratching from inside the coffins, and mingled with them was a faint, almost imperceptible crying.

Suddenly, I recalled what Old Wei had said at the Four Seas Hotel: when they uncovered these coffins while digging the foundation, they had heard a dry wailing from within, and wisps of black vapor had escaped. Strange and terrifying things had happened then.

I hurried two steps forward, catching up with Professor Ma and grabbing hold of him again, whispering, “Professor Ma, do you hear the crying from inside the coffins? It’s dangerous here. Let’s take a look around before we go any further…”

Professor Ma glanced back at me, his eyes filled with disbelief. He blinked, then replied, “All the more reason for me to take a closer look…”

I groaned inwardly. I had thought bringing Professor Ma would be like finding a savior, but this eccentric old scholar—perhaps because of his profession—seemed utterly reckless, driven by curiosity with no regard for his own safety.

He broke free from my grasp and took a couple of steps forward.

From the cracks in several coffins, black vapor continued to seep out. Thankfully, the space below was large enough that the vapor quickly dispersed, not yet obscuring our vision.

Suddenly remembering something, Professor Ma rummaged through his bag and handed me a face mask. “Who knows if this black vapor is poisonous—put this on.”

I nodded, thinking that at least the old academic hadn’t completely lost his senses; he still knew to protect himself. But was such a simple method really effective? If the vapor was poisonous, could a mere mask provide any real protection?

I took the mask, noticing it was sealed in a plastic bag. Tearing it open, I put it on. It was thick and slightly damp, sealing my mouth and nose, and immediately I was assaulted by a pungent, musky odor that nearly made me retch.

I reached up to pull the mask off, but Professor Ma stopped me. “If you don’t want to get poisoned, best leave it on. You’ll get used to it,” he urged.

With that, he put on his own mask, gave me an encouraging “OK” gesture, and strode toward the coffins.

I had no choice but to steel myself, following behind him while staying alert to our surroundings.

There were plenty of candles in the room—not as bright as electric lights, but enough for me to see clearly. Aside from the eight coffins in the center, nothing else seemed out of the ordinary.

As we drew closer, I realized the coffins weren’t all the same size. Seven were similar, but one was noticeably larger. The smaller seven were old and decrepit, with much of the wood rotted away, gaps and holes marring their surfaces. Black vapor poured steadily from these openings, though I sensed the vapor was growing thinner, not as thick as before.

The largest coffin, by contrast, was much newer. In the candlelight, its surface was almost glossy. It had no obvious cracks, and only faint wisps of black vapor seeped from the seams between lid and body, much less than the other coffins.

Recalling Old Xiao and Old Wei’s stories, I was now certain: these must be the eight coffins unearthed during the construction at Tianyou Plaza all those years ago.

Back then, it was said the coffins were disposed of, but according to Old Xiao, Wu Tianxiong had brought them here. His purpose remained a mystery to me.

Professor Ma, however, was visibly disappointed, sighing repeatedly as he examined the coffins.

I asked quietly what was wrong.

He shook his head. “Such a pity. Though these ancient coffins are likely from the Qing Dynasty, their craftsmanship is highly unusual, making them academically valuable. They probably once bore inscriptions. But now, after being unearthed and left to decay, it’s impossible to trace their origins. Their value is greatly diminished.”

I pointed to the larger coffin. “That one looks intact.”

At that moment, a sudden hum made me jump. The fire beetle, which had vanished earlier, reappeared and darted straight toward the largest coffin.

Before we could react, the beetle—perhaps disoriented—crashed headlong into the coffin lid with a loud thud.

Startled, Professor Ma fumbled with his glass vial, produced something that looked like a mothball, and dropped it inside. Sealing the lid, he shook the vial, and the mothball burst into flame. He opened the lid again, aiming the vial at the beetle, hoping to lure it back.

But his trick had no effect. The beetle, after several collisions with the coffin, remained alive but exhausted, its wings and legs twitching feebly as it fell to the ground.

Professor Ma rushed over, retrieved the beetle, and placed it back in the vial, his expression pained.

Yet this entire episode had focused our attention on the largest coffin.

We now stood beside it. The coffin was pitch black, exuding a chilling gloom. The black vapor had ceased, but a cold, sinister aura seeped from within.

Taking the flashlight I’d given him, Professor Ma shone it over the coffin, almost pressing his body against it to inspect it more closely.

I scanned the room, hoping to find another exit. After all, apart from the coffins, there was no sign of anyone else I sought.

Just then, a sudden noise came from the nearest coffin, as though something inside had struck the wood.

Immediately, the coffin lid began to shake violently.

Even Professor Ma recoiled in fear, and together we stared, wide-eyed, at the uncanny coffin.

The shaking caused the candle atop the lid to wobble precariously. Yet, oddly, it seemed the tiny candle alone kept whatever was inside from breaking free. Though it nearly toppled, the lid never gave way, and soon the motion subsided, the sounds fading to silence.

Professor Ma and I exchanged a breathless glance.

Still undeterred, Professor Ma edged forward, eager to study the coffin further. That’s when I noticed something black and formless writhing beneath the coffin, as if crawling out from within.

The lid remained untouched, yet something had opened a panel on the coffin’s front and was crawling out.

The candlelight didn’t reach far, and I couldn’t make out whether the thing was human, animal, or something else entirely.

I grabbed Professor Ma, signaling him to be careful.

He, too, sensed something was amiss and stopped.

A bizarre, guttural cackling—neither laugh nor cry—filled the air as the thing emerged and stood upright.

Since entering this sealed space, there had only been the two of us and the eight coffins. Now, suddenly, something crawled out from within, its eerie cry sending chills down my spine. I couldn’t help but let out a startled gasp.

Once the creature stood, I judged it to be no taller than one and a half meters. It lingered in the shadows, its face obscured, but its eyes shone with a sly, greenish light.

The sight instantly reminded me of the glowing eyes I’d glimpsed on the first floor—eyes I’d jokingly asked Liang Yue about, wondering if there was a cat in the building.

Those same eyes! It had been watching us from the dark all along.

“Who are you?” I shouted, though my voice trembled—I’d lost my peachwood sword in the basement and was completely unarmed, my bravado a mere facade.

The figure moved forward, stepping into the candlelight. Professor Ma, ever the fearless fool, shone his flashlight straight onto the creature’s face.

What we saw sent another wave of icy dread through us, the chill invading our very bones.

The figure, barely one and a half meters tall, was something between man and beast, more monkey than human. Apart from two arms, its body was covered in white fur. On its hairy, monkey-like face, those cunning eyes bored into us.

I noticed its arms—the skin was a lifeless, ashen gray, instantly reminding me of the pale hand that had rested on my shoulder in the upper floors.

For a moment, our eyes met. It was as if I had violated some taboo; the creature let out a low howl, hunched, and sprang at me.

I shuddered—this thing was far more agile than the corpse of Chen Wanli. Given what I’d now seen, the prowler on the roof and the hand that had touched me in the stairwell must have belonged to this very creature.

(End of chapter)