Little Pink Starfish

The entire passage was blocked from front to back by a dense mass of jiangshi. At this moment, these jiangshi were completely still, their bodies emitting a faint crimson aura.

The atmosphere froze.

Zhang Qiu gripped his dagger tightly, warily glancing at the jiangshi around them. Confirming that they weren’t moving, he quickly stepped forward. Just as he touched Zhang Yushui, his hand was pulled away by Li Shu. Even so, the burning sensation from his fingertips made his heart pound.

The temperature was so high—it could probably boil an egg.

Nearby, the Prince of Xiapi was curled up on the ground in pain. Underneath his pale skin, blood flowed visibly, as if his body was on the verge of shattering into pieces.

“What do we do?”

Li Shu glanced between the mummies, the Prince of Xiapi, and Zhang Yushui. Though he didn’t understand what was happening, he could see a pattern.

“There’s a connection between the three. One weakens while the other strengthens. Look at Zhang Yushui—whenever his face relaxes, the Prince of Xiapi’s pain intensifies, and his blood flows faster. Similarly, when his suffering increases, these mummies seem to lighten up.”

Zhang Qiu followed Li Shu’s explanation and indeed saw the pattern. But without a solution, he could only say, “Why don’t we go inside first and figure things out later?”

Just as Li Shu was about to respond, a voice echoed from inside the tomb.

“Hahaha, it’s useless! You’ve broken the array’s core!” The voice belonged to Boss Jin, who suddenly changed his tone. “Zhang Yushui, will you choose to die yourself, or will you do what you did before and kill the Prince of Xiapi?”

Zhang Yushui’s entire body trembled. The memories that flooded his mind left him unable to distinguish whether he was Zhang Yushui or Emperor Zhang of Han. For a fleeting moment, his vision cleared, and he saw the Prince of Xiapi’s face, contorted in agony. The image overlapped with a person from his memories—someone who had once died in his embrace.

“You die, or the Prince of Xiapi dies. Zhang Yushui, the choice is yours.”

Boss Jin’s voice echoed from all directions in the tomb, eerie and sinister, accompanied by the crunching sounds of chewing.

“Shut the fuck up!” Zhang Qiu furiously shouted into the tomb.

Silence returned, but their predicament remained. Zhang Qiu noticed Zhang Yushui’s golden-yellow pupils deepening in color, turning into pure gold. His body radiated an intense heat, enough to burn. The jiangshi around them reacted in sync—thick crimson mist seeping from their bodies, their faces twisted in silent agony. The entire space became a soundless hell.

“Second Brother!” Zhang Qiu had no idea what Zhang Yushui was about to do, but he could tell it was self-sacrificial. The Prince of Xiapi’s blood flow was gradually slowing, his expression relaxing, confirming Zhang Qiu’s suspicions. He panicked. “Don’t listen to that old bastard Jin! That guy eats mummies—he’s probably tricking us into killing ourselves!”

Zhang Yushui didn’t respond to Zhang Qiu. His face was contorted with pain, but his eyes remained locked onto the Prince of Xiapi with an intense, almost devouring gaze.

“Ah Yan…”

He barely managed to utter the words. His skin was now glowing with golden light, growing brighter, illuminating the tomb passage as if it were daylight. His clothes began to burn. The surrounding jiangshi bled crimson mist from their seven orifices, their wails echoing like ghostly cries.

Zhang Yushui’s lips moved slightly as his entire body became engulfed in golden flames. Yet the fire did not touch the Prince of Xiapi, who stood right beside him.

His self-immolation was absolute—yet his gaze held deep, lingering sorrow.

“You… you—!” The Prince of Xiapi clenched his teeth, staring at Zhang Yushui, now a blazing inferno, unable to say a word.

Zhang Qiu’s heart clenched. He knew there was no saving him now, but why had it come to such a cruel choice?

Boom—

Golden light shot up, bursting forth with intense waves of energy.

Li Shu shielded Zhang Qiu in his embrace, pressing his head down to avoid direct exposure to the blinding light.

Enveloped in darkness and the icy hold of Li Shu, Zhang Qiu’s eyes stung. Just a moment ago, everything had been fine—how had it come to this?

The scorching light burned out in an instant. The tomb passage was pitch black once more, filled only with the thick stench of decay—the scent of the jiangshi.

Zhang Qiu’s mind went blank. Li Shu had already let go of him and was about to speak when a sudden “Bang! Clang—” echoed from above.

Looking up, Zhang Qiu saw Boss Jin’s glowing eyes. In his hands, something shimmered with golden light.

Li Shu reacted instantly, yanking Boss Jin down from the hole he was trying to escape through. He tossed the man onto the ground like a discarded fish.

The Prince of Xiapi, filled with killing intent, shattered Boss Jin’s skull with a single palm strike. Red and white fluids splattered across the ground. He pried open Boss Jin’s fingers and retrieved the golden bead, handling it with extraordinary care, as if it were something precious.

The actions unfolded in mere moments.

Li Shu quickly turned to Zhang Qiu, his brows slightly furrowed.

“You can see?”

“What am I supposed to see?” Zhang Qiu was confused. Then he followed Li Shu’s gaze to his own eyes.

Something wasn’t right.

The tomb passage was shrouded in darkness, yet he could still see everything clearly.

“I… I can really see!”

The thousands of jiangshi inside the tomb had turned to bones, piling up in a thick layer. Their dried flesh had crumbled to dust, filling the air with the scent of decay. The realization made Zhang Qiu’s stomach churn in disgust.

“Where’s Second Brother?!”

When neither Li Shu nor the Prince of Xiapi answered, Zhang Qiu’s heart sank. He had hoped—just maybe—that Boss Jin had lied, that the golden light had vanished but Zhang Yushui remained.

“Since you said he’s a phoenix, doesn’t that mean he’ll be reborn?” Zhang Qiu turned to Li Shu, desperation in his eyes. “There has to be a way, right?”

The Prince of Xiapi clutched the golden bead through his robe. It was warm to the touch. He recalled the last words Zhang Yushui had spoken. His eyes reddened, his expression dark with rage.

“For ten years, he bled onto my coffin every three years, trying to revive me. I heard a voice telling him that the ritual was complete.” The Prince of Xiapi’s eyes flickered with killing intent. “Whoever that voice belonged to must die.”

Zhang Qiu remembered the inner coffin, once believing its red carvings to be paint. Now, he suspected they were Zhang Yushui’s blood. He couldn’t find the words.

“Zhang Yushui carried the bloodline of a phoenix. He couldn’t truly die—unless his essence was drained, leaving him weak enough to self-immolate, reducing him to his core essence.” Li Shu glanced around the tomb. “For someone to plan such an elaborate scheme over a thousand years, that bead must have some significant use.”

The golden bead in the Prince of Xiapi’s palm was the color of a true phoenix—a Yuan Chu.

The Prince of Xiapi understood. Looking at Boss Jin’s corpse, he realized he had killed him too soon.

“What about rebirth?” Zhang Qiu only cared about one thing. “Phoenixes are supposed to be reborn!”

Li Shu saw the desperation in Zhang Qiu’s face but didn’t want to lie.

“It wasn’t rebirth. It was self-destruction.”

The Prince of Xiapi’s gaze darkened. He lowered his head, pressing the bead against his palm, his face deathly pale.

The atmosphere grew heavy as they walked out of the tomb. No one spoke.

Behind them, in the pitch-black corridor, Boss Jin’s shattered corpse suddenly twitched…

—

Zhang Qiu and the others exited the tomb—it was already the next morning. Unknowingly, they had spent the entire night inside. As they descended the mountain, they saw a figure in the distance.

“That’s Na Wu.” Zhang Qiu recognized the familiar clothing and found it strange. “Didn’t he already escape?”

As they got closer, Zhang Qiu realized something was wrong.

Na Wu was kneeling, his head bowed in the direction of the tomb entrance. Behind him were two corpses glowing with a greenish hue—kneeling just like Na Wu. The fact that these corpses could still remain in a kneeling position was highly unusual.

“He’s dead.”

Na Wu looked like he had been drained of all moisture. The two corpses behind him had already turned into pure skeletons, completely lifeless. They were the subordinates of Lao Fei.

The Prince of Xiapi showed no interest in these matters. Ever since leaving the tomb, one of his hands had never left his pocket, clutching the golden bead with an indifferent and distant expression.

“Maybe we should cover them with some leaves and inform the villagers when we return so they can bury them properly,” Zhang Qiu suggested. After all, Na Wu had guided them. Now that he was dead, they needed to give an explanation when they got back.

Zhang Qiu felt a headache coming on—of the dozen people who had entered the tomb, only the three of them had survived.

Li Shu didn’t let Zhang Qiu handle the bodies. Instead, he dragged Na Wu’s corpse under a tree.

On the way back, they passed by the stone wall tombs again, but this time, there were no surprises.

By the time they returned to the village, it was already past two in the afternoon.

Of the three, Li Shu and the Prince of Xiapi were still relatively clean, but Zhang Qiu was covered in dirt. He took a hot shower, but his appetite was gone. Every time he saw the Prince of Xiapi, he was reminded of Zhang Yushui, which completely killed his desire to eat.

Setting down his chopsticks, Zhang Qiu asked the young boy who had brought his food, “Do you know someone named Na Wu in this village?”

Clatter!

The boy’s bowl of food slipped from his hands and smashed onto the table. His wide eyes filled with tears, and he choked out, “Why are you asking about my father?”

Boom—

Zhang Qiu’s mind went blank.

When he first arrived, he had heard that the old village chief’s son had entered the southern mountains three years ago and never returned. The villagers all assumed he was dead. Out of respect, Zhang Qiu had never asked about the tragic past. But now, he was completely stunned—Na Wu was the supposedly dead son from three years ago?

Wait—Na Wu had been brought to them by Boss Jin. They had met at the foot of the mountain, and Na Wu had never once entered this house.

Everything seemed to fit together, yet at the same time, it made no sense.

Had Na Wu really died three years ago? Or had he only died now?

If he had died three years ago, then the one who guided them into the mountains was already a dead man.

A shiver ran down Zhang Qiu’s spine.

Li Shu noticed Zhang Qiu’s pale face and coaxed him to go upstairs and rest.

“I don’t even dare to sleep alone right now,” Zhang Qiu muttered. “I’m afraid that when I close my eyes, I’ll realize that everyone in this village isn’t actually alive. I can’t even tell who’s dead and who’s alive anymore—”

He suddenly remembered that the Prince of Xiapi was a jiangshi too. His emotions became complicated.

It wasn’t exactly fear—just the realization that aside from himself and Li Shu, everyone around him seemed less than human. In the most literal sense.