Chapter Nineteen: The Night the Dead Rose

Just as Ding Jun stepped outside the small door, Fang Qing, Master Zhu, He Wuqiu, He Xiangjun, and Fire God arrived in a flurry, though there was no sign of Stone Hand.

Facing the inquisitive gazes of the crowd, Ding Jun spread his hands and said, “The woman in the ice coffin has come back to life—she’s climbed out. This time, we’re truly in deep trouble.”

Master Zhu, who was at the forefront, suddenly stopped in his tracks. “What? Really resurrected? Damn it, what on earth is going on? What kind of trick is Old Shi playing?”

Fire God, in second place, was holding two extended revolvers, raising his eyebrows as he laughed heartily. “Interesting, very interesting. This trip isn’t wasted after all; to witness a resurrection spectacle? What are we waiting for? Let’s go down!”

Master Zhu stepped aside with a scowl. “If you’re going down, you go first. What’s so funny about that?”

“Down we go, what’s there to be afraid of?” Fire God strode through the small door.

He Wuqiu and He Xiangjun followed. Master Zhu hesitated briefly, probably afraid of missing out on the treasure feast, then slipped in as well.

“We can’t find Uncle Shi; he must have gone out alone to clear his mind,” Fang Qing explained.

“This is downright eerie,” Ding Jun said as he sat on the nearest chair. When he had gripped the woman’s wrist, he felt an overwhelming, chilling death aura seep through him, sending shivers down his spine.

“Could it really be a resurrection?” Fang Qing asked.

Ding Jun shook his head. “Not certain yet.”

Suddenly, they all realized that after the four had descended into the cellar, there was no response from within.

“The four of them—I'll go down to check.” Ding Jun rose.

“I’ll go too, no matter what, we have to uncover the truth!” Fang Qing followed.

They entered through the small door and descended five steps when, behind them, came a loud crash and thud. A heavy, dark Dragon-Breaking Stone fell, completely sealing their retreat.

“What’s happening?” Ding Jun pulled back and pushed with both palms against the stone slab.

The slab did not budge; its top and sides were deeply embedded into the stone walls, sealing the cellar’s exit tightly.

Ding Jun’s heart sank sharply. He realized he had made a grave mistake—he had never expected the cellar to be rigged with traps.

In truth, Tibetan Buddhist temples were designed by some of the most intelligent minds of their time. Out of respect for the Dharma and its practitioners, each designer poured their ingenuity into countless traps and ambushes aimed at treasure thieves. Any place involving hidden treasures never omitted this step.

Thus, among Tibetan treasure seekers, there was a saying: The closer you get to the treasure, the closer you are to death; the Grim Reaper is always with the treasure.

“Who set this trap? Who’s outside? Old Jin, Ruan Feng, or others from the ‘Ten Day Eagles of the Snowy Mountains’?” Fang Qing’s face turned pale.

The cellar had no ventilation; once the Dragon-Breaking Stone fell, the space below became an airtight tomb. Soon, all would suffocate from lack of oxygen. And beneath them lurked a resurrected woman, whose true nature was impossible to discern.

“We’ve been trapped,” Ding Jun said gravely.

“But with the Dragon-Breaking Stone down, what about the people below?” Fang Qing lamented.

The Dragon-Breaking Stone was often the final blow in a trap’s design: either sealing the enemy underground forever or ensuring mutual destruction. The term itself implied total annihilation—jade and stone burnt to ashes, dragons and snakes perished alike.

They hadn’t touched any traps, so whoever controlled the Dragon-Breaking Stone must be outside.

“Don’t panic. Let’s go down first and deal with whatever’s below,” Ding Jun replied. He searched the joint between the slab and the stone wall but found nothing. Since that was the case, they would descend and try to quell the disaster underground before planning their next move.

They proceeded cautiously down the stairs. At the last turn, they found Master Zhu and the others staring down in shock.

At the bottom of the cellar, the resurrected woman leaned against the ice coffin, gripping the hilt of a blade, poised to draw the deadly Tang Clan poison dagger.

“Stone Hand...” The woman suddenly let out a long, mournful wail, startling Master Zhu backward two steps, almost colliding with Fang Qing.

“I came to Zhada County only to carry out the High Priest’s order—to kill the entire Shi family and return to report success, thereby becoming the true Snow Mountain Saintess. Stone Hand’s silver tongue bewitched me; he was a born orator. Though my blade was pressed against his neck, he ultimately persuaded me to bring him back to the Shi estate. He coaxed me into revealing the secrets of the Great Snow Mountain, then tricked me into drinking the ‘Seven-Step Bone Softening Powder,’ which paralyzed my entire body. How I hate myself... why did I listen to him? The High Priest once said, no man can be trusted; all men are frozen snakes, and once awakened, they strike with deadly force...”

Fang Qing sighed softly, lips moving silently as if whispering: “That must be a tragic tale of heartbreak.”

When Stone Hand recounted this, he mentioned no emotional details—just a story of hunting and resistance, portraying the Shi family as pure victims. The resurrected woman’s words, however, completely overturned Stone Hand’s version, flipping protagonist and antagonist entirely.

Ding Jun whispered three words: “Rashomon.”

The renowned Japanese director Akira Kurosawa’s masterpiece “Rashomon” tells a story from multiple perspectives with differing testimonies but the same outcome. The Shi family’s story before them was a real-life Rashomon.

Because of Shi Hai, they trusted Stone Hand unconditionally and naturally assumed the threatening visitors were villains, while the Shi family, under pressure, were the righteous ones. But the woman’s words overturned good and evil with a deft stroke, complicating the entire game.

At some point, the two of them clung tightly to one another, facing this strange and inexplicable scene together.

“I confided all my youthful secrets to him; he was so understanding, every word struck a chord deep within me. Being with him felt like being wrapped in a warm current; no one in the Great Snow Mountain could compare. I knew that even if I killed him the moment I drank the ‘Seven-Step Bone Softening Powder,’ my life would never be the same again. So, despite knowing the powder would leave me powerless and my future uncontrollable, I held onto the illusion that he devised this scheme because he feared losing me. I had never been loved before; the feeling was intoxicating, dreamlike...” The woman’s alabaster cheeks flushed faintly.

The six standing on the stairs all inhaled sharply at the bizarre scene. A woman dead for fifteen years, her mind suddenly revived—she could only remember what happened before death.

“This matter should be handled by Old Shi himself; what use is it to bring us here?” Master Zhu muttered.

The woman moved slowly two steps, turning towards the stairs. It seemed she intended to walk straight toward them.

“How fascinating. Let me test if her body can stop a bullet,” Fire God raised his twin pistols.

“Brother, don’t be reckless. Listen to me,” He Xiangjun immediately stopped him.

“There’s no such thing as resurrection in this world. I suspect she’s under some subtle control—whoever controls her, she does their bidding,” He Wuqiu said.

This matched Ding Jun’s thoughts exactly. Moreover, he was certain the one controlling the woman was none other than Madam Ge.

“So, someone’s faking supernatural acts?” Master Zhu asked.

He Wuqiu rubbed his hands ambiguously. “This is quite complicated. If we don’t find the mastermind behind this, even if we kill this woman—no, she was already dead—dead can’t be killed.”

He Xiangjun’s face suddenly changed. “Brother, in our Five Poisons Sect, we have string puppet arts, wood puppet arts, marionette arts, and spirit jumping arts. The core idea is to control dead bodies with needles, drugs, poisons, and spells. Even if the puppet is cut to pieces, the controlling force remains, and the puppet can still cause great harm. If this woman...”

He Wuqiu nodded deeply. “Exactly. The dead aren’t frightening; the frightening thing is the control within her body.”

“I was sitting there; he poured us each two cups of wine—one for me, one for himself. After drinking the arm-binding toast, our relationship was no longer ordinary. Since I belonged to him, I told him all my secrets. He asked, I answered, chattering all night until the eastern sky brightened. At dawn, when the rooster crowed, he got up satisfied, laughing strangely. I felt uneasy. Just as I was about to stand, someone hidden under the table stabbed me; the poisoned blade buried itself forever in my chest. It turned out he only wanted my secrets. The one who killed me secretly was his wife—they set the trap together...”

Ding Jun’s heart tightened. If these words were true, the deeds of Stone Hand and his wife had crossed the bounds of humanity.

“At that time, I still had the power to control the ‘Seven-Step Bone Softening Powder.’ I could have killed them both with a flick of my hand or sent a signal to summon my men to complete the mission and escape. But I knew that even if my men returned, my heart wouldn’t. Killing him would kill my heart. I forced myself to stand and confronted him loudly. He said he could never love a killer from Guge; all he wanted was the fabled heavenly treasure. For that treasure, he was willing to go mad, to sacrifice everything—”

Master Zhu suddenly interrupted, “So what about the treasure? You told him where it was, didn’t you?”

The woman ignored him, continuing, “I hated him with all my heart, but his wife rushed forward, blocking my final strike. I died filled with hatred, but heaven gave me another chance to live and seek revenge... I want revenge...”

Ding Jun noticed that after the woman left the ice coffin, it was empty—no sign of Madam Ge.

“That’s enough,” He Wuqiu said, slowly stepping past the others and descending the stairs.

“I want revenge... I want revenge...” The woman moved forward.

He Wuqiu suddenly waved his hand, drawing a sharp line between them. On the ground appeared a three-meter-wide red line, composed of a dozen or so blood-red venomous insects baring their fangs. The insects usually hid in his sleeves, ready to unleash at will.

“No matter who you are, this act must end now,” He Wuqiu said politely. “Let’s talk it out—no need for tricks. These antics are leftover from the Five Poisons Sect disciples.”

“Hey, ask her about the heavenly treasure’s whereabouts! She has to know!” Master Zhu shouted.

Fire God grabbed Master Zhu’s shoulder and pushed him back. “Get behind me and don’t cause trouble!”

For the treasure, Master Zhu didn’t care about Fire God’s anger; he rolled on the stairs and then leapt up.