Eighteen hundred skeletons—all of them were Li Shu’s trusted subordinates. And for more than four thousand years, he had been suppressed by the resentment generated by his own people. This was pure torment!
Whoever orchestrated all of this had to be truly ruthless.
Zhang Qiu didn’t respond, staring blankly at his fingers, looking completely indifferent.
“Ju Wang? Qiong Chan’s grandson?!” Hua Ting spoke up.
Zhang Qiu’s ears twitched involuntarily, but he still didn’t lift his head.
Hua Ting continued, “The Gu Mu Kingdom is too ancient. Most of what’s known comes from myths passed down through generations. There are only a few vague records about this Ju Wang. As for his status in the Gu Mu Kingdom, I don’t know. But given the hereditary rule of that time, perhaps Ju Wang was the king of Gu Mu.” He turned to look at Li Shu, clearly intrigued. The history of Gu Mu fascinated him—it was a time filled with mythical beasts and divine bloodlines.
Li Shu’s gaze shifted to Zhang Qiu, who was still staring at his fingers, his head lowered. The murderous aura around him suddenly dissipated. His tone was calm, as if he were speaking of someone else’s story. But his simple words made Zhang Qiu’s heart clench. His eyes turned red, though he kept them downcast.
Gu Mu was a small kingdom. When Ju Wang ascended the throne, the Shang Dynasty sent troops to attack. Li Shu led the army to battle and returned victorious—only to be ambushed by his own people.
He was trapped and left to die in the bitter cold of winter.
After death, countless resentful voices echoed in his ears. His eighteen hundred loyal generals had been buried alive, layer upon layer, suffering unimaginable torment, fueling the strongest of resentments.
The route to the tomb, the layout of the burial chamber, the identities of those entombed—these were not things an ordinary person could have calculated. Only Ju Wang could have orchestrated it.
Human sacrifices existed during the Shang Dynasty, but those buried were not considered human—they were lower than livestock. Never before had soldiers been used for such purposes.
功高震主—”A meritorious general threatens the ruler.”
The phrase popped into Zhang Qiu’s mind. He had read enough history books to recognize the pattern. Ju Wang had granted Li Shu a tomb with the status of a vassal king, earning himself praise from outsiders while simultaneously eliminating Li Shu’s most trusted men. With them gone, he no longer had to fear rebellion.
Unconsciously, Zhang Qiu glanced at Li Shu, only to meet his gaze. He quickly looked away, telling himself not to dwell on it. What did Li Shu’s past have to do with him?
“…This is more complicated than I initially thought,” Li Shu spoke.
Zhang Qiu thought about the tombs they had passed through—the Phoenix Pearl, the Nine-Palace Immortal Locking Formation, the unkillable Jin Laoda. Everything pointed to a larger conspiracy, one that had been brewing for over four thousand years.
He thought and thought but couldn’t make sense of it. Frustrated, he decided to stop thinking altogether. He and Li Shu had nothing to do with each other—so why bother?
Something tickled his chest. Zhang Qiu looked down, his eyebrows shooting up in anger.
The little one in his arms was pressing its face against his chest, drooling and smacking its lips, rubbing against him and trying to lift his T-shirt.
Zhang Qiu had never taken care of a baby before, but even he could tell—
It was looking for milk!
He was a grown man—where the hell would he have milk?!
Zhang Qiu’s eyebrows furrowed fiercely. He grabbed the little one and was about to scold it, but then he saw its big, bright, watery almond eyes staring at him.
Instantly, all the words stuck in his throat.
He was furious!
The little one, oblivious, giggled happily, smacking its little red lips and trying again to burrow into his chest.
Xiapi Prince chuckled, “The little one is hungry and looking for milk!”
Zhang Qiu: ……
His second sister-in-law must be getting revenge on him! So petty!
Feeling a scorching gaze on him, Zhang Qiu became even more flustered. He stood up angrily, stomped over to Li Shu, and shoved the baby into his arms. “Yours. I’m not dealing with it.”
With that, he turned and left.
Behind him, the little one chirped incessantly, making Zhang Qiu wish he could block his ears.
Because of this, the tension in the room eased somewhat.
Li Shu held the baby in one arm and said to Hua Ting, “Back then, you were implicated because of me. Now that this formation is broken, I’ll handle what comes next.” He was referring to Hua Ting’s lifespan issue in this lifetime.
Lu Feng was deeply grateful to Li Shu, even after knowing that he wasn’t human. Just moments ago, when Hua Ting was shot, Lu Feng had performed emergency aid. Li Shu’s hands had been ice-cold, but his blood had miraculously healed Hua Ting’s wounds, keeping him alive until they could remove the bullet.
Lu Feng didn’t care about past-life entanglements. All he wanted was to protect Hua Ting in this lifetime.
Before he could say anything, Li Shu preempted him. “I’ll let you know if anything happens.”
With the tomb matters settled, just as they were about to leave, Xiapi Prince glanced at Jin Laoda, who had passed out. He kicked him. “This guy just won’t die. Annoying.”
“The formation is broken,” Li Shu speculated. “He was probably relying on it. Now that it’s gone, he should be powerless.”
“Wake him up. We need answers.”
Jin Laoda knew too much. Xiapi Prince didn’t hesitate—he stabbed Jin Laoda’s thigh. The man, who had just fainted, immediately screamed awake.
Seeing the group surrounding him, Jin Laoda winced in pain. “What do you want?”
“Who is your master? Where is he? Speak!” Xiapi Prince pressed a dagger to his face.
Jin Laoda let out a short laugh. The blade dug a little deeper, making him hiss, but he still sneered, “You can’t kill me. I won’t tell you anything.”
“You want to spend eternity in this tomb?” Li Shu said coldly.
Jin Laoda’s expression changed drastically. He hadn’t seen the formation break—he had passed out before it happened. His body shuddered. “Even if I told you, you wouldn’t be able to defeat my master.”
“Seal him in a coffin,” Li Shu ordered.
Xiapi Prince moved to comply. Jin Laoda turned pale. “Wait!”
He hurriedly confessed, “Seven years ago, I was scavenging in Mongolia when I met my master. Ever since, I’ve followed him. He promised me I wouldn’t die. Even if I did, I could just change skins. That’s all I know—I can’t even remember what my master looks like.”
Xiapi Prince wasn’t interested in that. “Where is the divine bloodline?”
Jin Laoda’s lips trembled. “How do you know about that?!”
Seeing that he refused to talk, Xiapi Prince dragged him toward the coffin. Jin Laoda panicked. “I don’t know where it is! But if you gather the map pieces, you can find it! With it, I can achieve true immortality—no more switching skins, no more eating corpses. Complete and absolute immortality!” His eyes gleamed with madness.
No matter what they asked after that, Jin Laoda only spoke in delirious riddles. Seeing no further use for him, Li Shu knocked him out and sealed him inside the coffin.
“Wait, there’s writing on the coffin lid,” Hua Ting suddenly noticed. He quickly took photos and made an imprint.
As the lid slammed shut, an eerie knocking sound echoed from within.
It was methodical.
Inside the tomb, it sounded disturbingly like a heartbeat.
The knocking echoed ominously in the tomb. Jin Laoda had clearly just fainted, yet he made no sound—no screaming, no struggling. Just that steady, rhythmic thump, thump, thump.
The eerie sound sent chills down Zhang Qiu’s spine. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something sinister lurked in the darkness. A cold, creeping wind seemed to slither through the tomb, making him quicken his steps to catch up with Xiapi Prince.
As he passed by Li Shu, he kept his eyes straight ahead, not sparing him a single glance.
The little one in Li Shu’s arms, however, was thrilled to see Zhang Qiu again, babbling excitedly, “Baba, baba!”
Zhang Qiu pretended not to hear, walking even faster—so fast he almost crashed into Xiapi Prince.
“Baba, hungry!” The child’s voice was clear and crisp.
Go find that bastard Li Shu to feed you! Zhang Qiu fumed internally.
Then, a louder, even clearer voice rang out—
“Milk! Milk!”
Zhang Qiu stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face.
Before he could hit the ground, a strong hand caught him—Li Shu.
The baby in Li Shu’s arms beamed at Zhang Qiu, giggling and repeating, “Milk, milk!”
The moment Zhang Qiu felt Li Shu’s cold grip, it was as if he had been doused in ice water. He violently shook off the hand, bolting ahead without looking back.
“You don’t seem afraid of me,” Li Shu remarked.
“Why should I be? You’re my second sister-in-law.” Zhang Qiu’s voice carried an odd note of dejection, though even he wasn’t sure why.
Xiapi Prince nearly choked on laughter. “Li Shu is a four-thousand-year-old Jiangshi, and I’m a three-thousand-year-old one. Don’t play favorites.”
“This has nothing to do with that,” Zhang Qiu blurted out, then clammed up when he caught the knowing look in Xiapi Prince’s eyes. His irritation only grew. “I don’t know, okay?”
No one spoke after that.
When they finally emerged from the tomb, Zhang Qiu wasted no time squeezing into Hua Ting and Lu Feng’s car.
Xiapi Prince glanced at Li Shu’s expression and smirked. Oh, Zhang Qiu, you’re really digging your own grave.
Zhang Qiu sat in the backseat, slammed the door shut, and avoided looking in Li Shu’s direction.
But the moment he did, he couldn’t help himself—he turned to sneak a glance.
To his surprise, Li Shu didn’t even hesitate, simply carrying the little Jiangshi into his car and driving off without a second look.
Zhang Qiu fumed.
Scumbag!
Heartless bastard!
Figures! Cold-blooded Jiangshi!
For a brief second, he felt an inexplicable pang of sadness. Then, annoyed at himself, he scoffed internally. What’s wrong with me?
Hadn’t he already decided to cut ties with Li Shu? The guy ignoring him should be exactly what he wanted.
…Then why am I still mad?!
Muttering curses under his breath, Zhang Qiu sulked the entire ride back to the city.
When they arrived, Hua Ting asked, “What’s your plan now?”
Zhang Qiu stared out the window absentmindedly. The streets were eerily empty despite the sweltering heat. He suddenly felt a little down. “I’m heading back to Xi’an.”
“We’re going back to Beijing for a bit. Do you want to stop by the hotel first, or go straight to the airport? We can drop you off.”
“No need. I’ll grab a cab.”
“I should—” Hua Ting started, but Lu Feng cut in with a smile, “Zhang Qiu, take care. See you in Xi’an.”
Zhang Qiu nodded and got out of the car.
As they drove away, Hua Ting frowned. “It wouldn’t have been any trouble to drop him off. What if he gets heatstroke?”
“Li Shu won’t let anything happen to him,” Lu Feng said confidently.
Thinking of how protective Li Shu had been in the tomb, Hua Ting sighed. “You’re probably right.”
Zhang Qiu walked under the blazing sun, his head pounding from the heat. He finally flagged down a cab, but when he arrived at his destination, he was stunned—
The driver had taken him to his hotel.
“Why are we here?”
“Sir, you said you wanted to go to the hotel.”
Did I? Zhang Qiu had no recollection of saying that. Maybe the heat had fried his brain.
Oh well. Since he was here, he might as well grab his luggage.
He paid the driver and went inside. His hotel room was exactly as he had left it. Gathering his documents and backpack, he sat on the bed, staring blankly at the floor.
What was he waiting for?
The phone suddenly rang, jolting him from his daze.
It was the front desk.
“Sir, would you like to extend your stay?”
Zhang Qiu checked the time—2 PM. His room booking ended today.
“No, I’m checking out.”
He should really leave.
Dragging his suitcase behind him, Zhang Qiu stepped out of the hotel. He had made up his mind—this was it. He and Li Shu were on different paths. He’d return to Xi’an and focus on being a student.
Yet, for some reason, a strange emptiness settled in his chest.
By the time his plane landed in Xi’an, it was already 8 PM. Zhang Qiu took a cab straight to the residential complex across from his university.
As soon as he stepped out, the scent of food hit him. A row of small restaurants lined the street. Though he hadn’t felt hungry before, now his stomach growled.
He ordered a cold Ice Peak soda, took a deep swig, and let out a satisfied sigh. “Ahh—”
The frustration in his chest eased a little. He happily ordered a bowl of hand-pulled noodles.
After eating, he headed home. His apartment was in an old neighborhood. The streetlights had been broken for over a month, but no one had fixed them. The place was quiet—most university students hadn’t returned yet.
Tall trees lined both sides of the road. Their overgrown branches stretched toward each other, blocking out the sky. The moonlight filtering through cast eerie, shifting shadows.
Zhang Qiu had been through multiple tombs lately, and he liked to think his nerves had toughened.
But now…
He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was following him.
He glanced over his shoulder—twice.
Nothing.
Still, his gut told him otherwise. He picked up his pace, nearly running.
That creepy, stalking sensation only intensified.
Just as he reached the base of his apartment building, something snagged his foot.
A gust of icy wind whooshed past him—
And then—
“AHHHH!!! THERE’S SOMETHING ON MY SHOULDER!!!”
Little Pink Starfish 
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