Volume One: The Graveyard of Eight Coffins Chapter 40: The Sacrificial Coffin

I kept turning over possible solutions in my mind, but at this moment, I felt utterly powerless. Right now, escape was out of the question—any sudden movement, even a slight one, and Wu Tianxiong would likely pull the trigger in panic. Old Ma and I were completely exposed, staring down the barrel of his gun.

But the eccentric Professor Ma Su seemed entirely absorbed in the tale Wu Tianxiong was spinning, and he pressed on, asking, “So how did Wu Tianze die? Was it illness?”

Wu Tianxiong let out a cold laugh. “If it had been illness, that would be fate, and I’d blame no one. But what I resent is that Tianze was driven to his death by Wu Tianyou, forced to die for his so-called grand fortune. When Wu Tianyou was developing Tianyou Plaza all those years ago, they unearthed eight coffins. I don’t need to spell out the strange events that followed—you’re both already aware.”

I nodded. “After the incident, didn’t General Manager Wu pierce his thigh to suppress the evil in the coffins and settle the matter? And as I recall, the coffins and corpses were supposedly disposed of, so how did these coffins appear here again?”

Wu Tianxiong spat on the ground. “Nonsense. He painted himself as brave and decisive, but in truth, he just concealed what really happened. Very few people know the truth. Those eight evil coffins couldn’t be suppressed at all. If things had gotten out of hand, not only would more people have died, but the land itself would become worthless. No one would dare take on such a cursed property, and for Wu Tianyou at the time, that was unacceptable. He’d invested so much money, so many resources—if he couldn’t cover up the incident, his business, his fortune, would all go up in smoke.”

The more Wu Tianxiong spoke, the more agitated he became, even his hand holding the gun began to tremble.

Afraid he might fire accidentally, I hurried to soothe him. “Wu… Third Brother, calm down. What happened after that?”

It was almost comical—when I first met Wu Tianxiong, I thought he was the eldest son. Later I learned he was the second, but now, so soon after, he’d become the third.

Wu Tianxiong glared at me when he heard my address, grunted, and continued, “Our Wu family has a genealogy passed down from our ancestors. Besides recording the lineage, it also details how Wu Baozhang discovered this dragon-vein and was buried here—much like what you saw on that stone tablet. We found a Feng Shui master, used the directions, and located the original site of Tianyou Plaza. After watching it for years, we seized the chance when it was up for development, sparing no expense to buy it. The real estate market was booming back then, but business strategy alone wouldn’t have justified such a huge investment. It was because we were determined to have it that we bid so high.”

I nodded. “With your ancestor buried there, sparing no expense makes sense.”

Wu Tianxiong sneered. “I used to think Wu Tianyou did it for the family, for our ancestors. But it was all for himself.”

With each word, he gestured wildly with his gun. Seeing his agitation rise again, I quickly tried to steady him. “Acquiring such a dragon-vein site must have been for the Wu family’s future prosperity, right?”

Wu Tianxiong shot me a look. “Do you think it’s that simple? Yes, it’s a dragon-vein treasure as a burial ground, but for anything else, it’s different. We couldn’t exactly build a cemetery here—the government would never allow it.”

I nodded. Even without understanding Feng Shui, I knew building over a burial ground—especially one on a so-called dragon vein—was a grave taboo.

I continued to cooperate with Wu Tianxiong’s confessions. It seemed he was desperate to unload everything he’d been bottling up, and now, seeing Ma Su and me as dead men walking, he didn’t care if we learned his secrets. Thus, a fleeting equilibrium formed between us. I struggled to maintain it, though I had no idea how long it would last.

Wu Tianxiong kept recounting the events surrounding the construction of Tianyou Plaza, and from his words, I gleaned more of the secrets buried here.

After Wu Tianyou bought the land, he immediately started construction, but things went awry—the coffins were unearthed, and people died. The Feng Shui master recognized the formation: the “Eight Pythons Coiling the Dragon”—each coffin entombing a wicked soul, buried alive. Now that the earth was disturbed, disaster would follow unless the evil was suppressed. The only way, he said, was for a direct Wu descendant to be buried with the coffins, so that Wu Baozhang beneath would know his descendants sought to profit from this land. Only then would the site’s fortune bless the family with prosperity—not quite to the level of ministers and kings, but enough for great wealth and business success.

Of course, no one agreed to bury a living person. Wu Tianyou tried to use his own blood to suppress the evil—he really did—but it wasn’t enough. The Feng Shui master warned that if a Wu descendant wasn’t given to the coffins, the curse couldn’t be contained. Not only would the land be lost, but more would die. At the time, there were only three Wu brothers. The master’s solution meant one had to die. Wu Tianxiong fiercely refused—he’d rather forfeit everything than take such a step. But Wu Tianyou, blinded by dreams of fortune, couldn’t bear to lose the business he’d built. In the end, he chose the frail and sickly Wu Tianze to be the sacrifice to the evil coffins…

At this point, Wu Tianxiong’s voice quavered, and even after all these years, his face contorted with unbearable pain—the depth of his feeling for Wu Tianze was obvious.

And the more affection he had for Wu Tianze, the deeper his resentment for Wu Tianyou—understandable enough.

Yet, from what I’d seen of Wu Tianyou, he didn’t seem like such a cold-hearted man. Had he been hiding his true nature all along, deceiving us all?

The agony faded quickly from Wu Tianxiong’s face, replaced by a burning fury—his teeth clenched so hard I could hear them grind.

Suddenly Ma Su spoke up. “The special Motuo you’ve been cultivating—was it to bring Wu Tianze back to life?”

Wu Tianxiong started in surprise, eyeing Ma Su, surprised he knew about the Motuo.

“I underestimated you, old man. You even know about that.”

I’d always thought the notion of Motuo bringing back the dead was nonsense, but seeing Wu Tianxiong admit it now, I realized it was true. I was shocked. “How could that be? How could the dead return to life?”

Wu Tianxiong sneered. “I really wish I could let you witness my brother’s revival with your own eyes, but I don’t have that kind of patience. You’ve learned all you’re going to learn. I’ll send you on your way now. Maybe you’ll meet him before he’s reborn.”

With that, Wu Tianxiong gritted his teeth, finger tightening on the trigger.

Fear clutched my heart—I waved my hands, shouting, “Wait, don’t shoot yet!”

Wu Tianxiong replied coolly, “Stalling won’t help you, boy. Even Wu Tianyou can’t get in here—you can forget about rescue.”

I nodded. “I’m not expecting to get out alive. But before I die, let me at least see my Third Uncle. And Liang Yue—I know they’re here.”

Wu Tianxiong shook his head. “You ask too much. I told you, my patience is gone, I—”

Seizing on his momentary distraction, I spun around and snatched the candle from above Wu Tianze’s shoulder in the coffin, holding it up. I’d planned this for some time—I didn’t know exactly what the candle’s flame meant, but guessed it was connected to Wu Tianze’s soul. Judging by the arrangement, it probably had to do with the body’s yang energy. At this point, it was the only thing I could threaten Wu Tianxiong with.

The candle’s flame burned small and steady, no larger than a bean.

Wu Tianxiong hadn’t expected this. He shouted in alarm, “What are you doing? Put that down!”

“This is Wu Tianze’s yang flame, isn’t it? Do as I say—let my Third Uncle and Liang Yue go, or I’ll blow it out,” I threatened.

Wu Tianxiong looked stunned for a moment, but quickly recovered, leveling his gun at me. “If you know it’s the yang flame, you should know it’s not something you can blow out so easily. Besides, you can test whether my gun is faster than your mouth.”

Before I could react, Ma Su darted over and grabbed another burning candle.

Wu Tianxiong turned his gun on Ma Su, but the old man ducked behind the coffin, shouting, “If you want your brother’s yang flame preserved, don’t try anything stupid. The kid can’t blow it out, but I can. I’ve studied these things for decades—I wouldn’t dare set foot in a tomb if I couldn’t handle this. If you don’t believe me, we can put it to the test.”

The old man’s movements were a bit dramatic, and after his speech, he was quite out of breath.

But whether or not it was true, Wu Tianxiong was clearly intimidated.

After a moment’s thought, he decided not to risk his brother’s life. He nodded. “Fine. I’ll grant your request.”

He pulled a remote control from his pocket and pressed it toward a wall.

With a mechanical rumble, the wall split open.

Only then did I realize there was a hidden elevator here, cleverly concealed within the wall.

As the elevator doors slid open, two people appeared inside.

They stood there woodenly, like mannequins.

By the elevator’s light, I immediately recognized the two faces I’d been desperately searching for: my Third Uncle and Liang Yue.

They were as dazed and expressionless as they’d been when bewitched by the flute’s melody.

(End of this chapter)