Little Pink Starfish

Li Shu’s warning did nothing to deter Jin Laoda and his crew. If anything, it only made them more determined to claim the tomb’s treasures.

After hastily disinfecting and bandaging the third brother’s burned arm, Jin Laoda asked, “Can you walk? As long as you can move, that’s all that matters. A little suffering now is worth it—once we get our hands on the treasure, we’ll be set for three lifetimes.”

This kind of work was slow, but when a job did pay off, it could set them up for life.

Jin Laoda’s words reignited the group’s greed. The thought of lounging atop piles of wealth made them forget the pain. Besides, having come this far, it would be too humiliating to leave empty-handed.

Li Shu didn’t say anything. This time, he took the lead, then turned back to Zhang Qiu. “Stay close to me.”

This was the most frequent thing Li Shu had said to him since entering the tomb. But Zhang Qiu didn’t find it annoying—on the contrary, it made him feel strangely at ease. He nodded and stuck close behind.

Jin Laoda called out to him and had the fourth brother toss him some supplies—a flashlight, two compressed biscuits, a bottle of water, and a knife.

Zhang Qiu tucked the knife into his belt, keeping one hand on the hilt while using the other to hold the flashlight. Then, he followed Li Shu inside.

The passageway beyond the door was far more refined than the previous one. The walls were made of brick, intricately carved with elaborate patterns, and the stone slabs underfoot were wider and smoother.

After walking for about ten minutes, they reached a four-way intersection. Li Shu turned to Jin Laoda.

“The map.”

Jin Laoda instinctively pressed a hand to his chest pocket. He hesitated for a moment before pulling it out, though he muttered, “Li Shu, my friend, we agreed to work together. You take what you want, and we take what’s ours—”

“I’m not interested in your share.” Li Shu cut him off.

Zhang Qiu grew even more curious. Li Shu didn’t seem like the type who was after antiques or money. So what exactly had brought him to this tomb?

The more Zhang Qiu observed Li Shu, the more mysterious he seemed. Not only was he incredibly skilled, but he was also strikingly handsome, had an unusual name, and carried an air of secrecy.

Jin Laoda unfolded the map while the second brother held up a flashlight. The deeper Jin Laoda studied the map, the tighter his brow furrowed, as if he had just discovered something terrible. Zhang Qiu could tell something was wrong right away.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

This time, no one snapped at him to shut up. Within seconds, Jin Laoda was sweating profusely. His eyes darted anxiously over the map, flipping it back and forth, but the more he looked, the paler he became.

Li Shu stepped forward and snatched the map from Jin Laoda’s hands. None of the men dared to protest. Zhang Qiu leaned in for a look.

It was a hand-drawn map, clearly ancient. Whoever had sketched it must have been in a hurry, as it was messy and covered in corrections—lines crossed out, new paths scribbled in. Even so, Zhang Qiu spotted a major issue.

“There’s no record of the door we just passed through.”

According to the map, the passage they had been following should have led directly to a T-junction, with the path to the left marked in bold. But in reality, their route had ended at a door. The junction Jin Laoda had counted on didn’t exist.

Jin Laoda’s voice came out hoarse. “But… but the directions matched. Even the spider nest was exactly as described.”

“What the hell is going on, big brother?” The second brother sounded panicked.

A strange tension filled the air. Even the temperature in the passage seemed to drop. Everyone was spooked, their minds racing with worst-case scenarios.

Li Shu shoved the map back into Jin Laoda’s hands. His voice remained calm. “This map proves that someone entered this tomb before us. But we haven’t seen a single corpse or old tunnel.”

Jin Laoda suddenly snapped back to his senses. That’s what felt off.

If the map was real, then they should have stumbled across the remains of the grave robbers who came before them. They should have seen old, abandoned tunnels, or at least some sign of prior entry. But so far, there had been nothing.

“But… but we found the pit, didn’t we? We’re inside the tomb right now,” Jin Laoda muttered, his voice tinged with desperation.

Li Shu scanned the passageways branching off from the intersection.

“The tomb’s owner put a lot of effort into deception,” he said. Then, looking at Jin Laoda, he added, “We took the wrong entrance from the start.”

“That’s impossible! There were spider nests, just like on the map—” Jin Laoda’s words trailed off. He was an experienced grave robber. Now that he thought about it, something wasn’t right. His face twisted in disbelief. “You’re saying… there were two identical spider nests? But our compass readings were correct.”

Li Shu simply stared at Jin Laoda.

Jin Laoda’s expression darkened. With shaking hands, he pulled out his compass and saw the needle spinning wildly.

“We lost our sense of direction the moment we stepped inside.”

Zhang Qiu thought back to the terrain outside. The four mountains had looked nearly identical. They had climbed one in the morning and reached this location in the afternoon. If they had misjudged their starting point, and Jin Laoda had blindly trusted his map, then Li Shu’s theory was entirely possible.

The reality was bad, but better than believing they were trapped in a supernatural maze. If Li Shu hadn’t pointed it out, the fear alone could have killed them.

“Let’s go.” Li Shu took Zhang Qiu’s hand and started walking.

Zhang Qiu: …

Sure, holding hands with another guy seemed a little embarrassing, but in this situation? He’d rather embrace the embarrassment and survive.

Li Shu chose to go straight. Jin Laoda hesitated. “Li Shu, based on what you just said, shouldn’t we take the left path? If we cross over, we should reach the area the other grave robbers explored, making the map useful again.”

Ancient structures were often built symmetrically, especially tombs. It was believed that the dead should rest in palaces that mirrored their homes in life.

Li Shu smirked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “If you’re so eager to join them, be my guest.”

Jin Laoda flinched but didn’t argue. The realization that he had paid a fortune for a useless map was a bitter pill to swallow.

They walked for what felt like forever. The tunnel seemed endless, stretching into the abyss like the open mouth of some great beast, waiting to swallow them whole.

Then, the second brother whispered, “Do you hear that?”

“Quit spooking yourself,” Jin Laoda snapped, irritated.

But the second brother was sweating. “Big… big brother… that crunching sound…”

“There’s no—” Jin Laoda froze.

A distinct, crunch, crunch noise echoed from behind them. It grew louder. The sound of something gnawing on bone.

Then, a sickening, inhuman giggle.

Zhang Qiu’s grip on Li Shu tightened. He turned his head just as Jin Laoda’s flashlight illuminated the passage.

The third brother was gone.

“B-big brother… it’s Lao Wu,” the second brother stammered, his legs shaking. “He’s… he’s carrying Lao San.”

From the darkness, Lao Wu emerged, his eyes bloodshot, his mouth stretched into an eerie grin. In one hand, he clutched a severed arm, shoving it into his mouth as he chewed. His other hand dragged the lifeless body of the third brother behind him.

They had been walking for so long. And yet, no one had noticed the third brother disappearing.

The fourth brother pulled his gun and fired at Lao Wu. The bullets barely made him flinch. Instead, he sped up, rushing toward them.

Zhang Qiu froze in horror.

Then, Li Shu’s voice cut through the panic.

“Don’t move.”

In an instant, Li Shu vanished. A flash of silver gleamed in the air as he plunged his dagger directly into Lao Wu’s forehead.

The giggling stopped.

Lao Wu crumpled to the ground.

Zhang Qiu barely had time to process what had happened before he was yanked backward. Someone grabbed him and dragged him into a full sprint.

It was the fourth brother.

And judging by the crazed look in his eyes—he was not in his right mind.

Zhang Qiu was yanked backward so suddenly that his feet barely touched the ground. He stumbled, nearly falling as the fourth brother dragged him away in a frenzy.

“Old Four! What the hell are you doing?!”

“Come back here, damn it!”

“Li Shu, what are you—forget it, after them!”

Zhang Qiu didn’t know how long they had been running. His breathing was ragged, his legs unsteady, but even without looking back, he could feel the sheer madness radiating from the fourth brother. The guy was gripping him so tightly it hurt.

Finally, Zhang Qiu lifted his head and managed to catch a glimpse of the fourth brother’s face.

His expression twisted in confusion, terror, and something more—hatred.

It was like he was staring at a complete stranger. His eyes flickered between fear and rage, as if he was struggling against some unseen force.

“Old Four?” Zhang Qiu tried calling out hesitantly.

The moment he spoke, the fourth brother snapped.

His pupils shrank, his breathing turned erratic, and his fingers clenched around Zhang Qiu’s wrist so tightly that he nearly lost circulation. His expression contorted with pure malice.

Something was seriously wrong.

Zhang Qiu kept his breathing slow and steady, forcing himself to stay calm. His fingers slid toward the knife at his waist, but just as he reached it, the fourth brother lunged.

Instinct kicked in—Zhang Qiu dodged, rolling low and slipping past the fourth brother’s legs. Without thinking, he bolted toward a nearby stone door.

The footsteps behind him were fast—too fast.

The fourth brother was chasing him at full speed, moving like a wild animal.

The door was just ahead.

But then Zhang Qiu remembered—the third brother’s arm had burst into flames when he touched the last door.

Was this one the same?

He hesitated for half a second. But there was no time. The fourth brother was right behind him, and his killing intent was real.

Zhang Qiu gritted his teeth. Screw it.

He shoved the door open.

To his surprise, it moved easily.

But before he could react, his feet slipped—there was nothing beneath him.

His body plummeted downward.

Shit, a trap!

Bang!

Zhang Qiu hit the ground hard. Pain shot through his entire body.

He groaned. He wasn’t dead. That was the good news.

The bad news?

It was pitch black.

His flashlight had rolled away somewhere.

Still dizzy from the fall, Zhang Qiu reached out blindly, feeling along the ground. His fingers brushed against something cold and rigid—like stone.

But then… the stone moved.

The texture under his hand was not stone. It was skin.

Ice-cold, stiff, and unnatural.

Zhang Qiu’s breath hitched. His blood ran cold.

He had no idea what he had just touched.

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Pinky says: Really? Not even an inkling? Not even a smidgen?