Chapter 43: Master Chu and the Betrayal in the Tomb

2022-05-20

There were no stars in the sky, just a pale crescent moon hanging above. Someone once told me that this was called ‘Waning Moon Swallow,’ situated at the tail of the Black Tortoise.

‘Waning Moon Swallow’ means great misfortune. It’s a sign to avoid doing anything risky.

The grave Wei Changfeng mentioned finally lay before us. From the side, you could see a square hole dug straight into the ground—big enough for a person to fit. I didn’t know much about burial sites, but even I could tell the space below was pretty big, probably with more than one burial chamber.

I peered down and saw nothing but darkness, a deep pit with no end in sight. Zhao Mingkun flicked on her flashlight and shone it down, but she still couldn’t see the whole thing. All you could really make out were little pits carved into the walls, probably to help people climb up and down.

It was obvious this place had become the group’s hideout. Without Wei Changfeng texting me, there was no way I’d have found it. It would’ve been nearly impossible.

Zhao Mingkun and I exchanged a glance. She stuck out her tongue. “Let’s go down and take a look. I’ll go first, you follow behind.”

As she spoke, she tossed a dagger my way.

The sharp dagger spun through the air. I wasn’t about to catch it barehanded, so I waited till it hit the ground before picking it up.

Zhao Mingkun gave a little shake of her head, then climbed into the hole first. I quickly followed.

The tunnel sloped underground at about a forty-five degree angle, and steps had been carved into the wall for footholds. The tunnel ran at least thirty meters long. This was no ordinary grave—for someone to be buried this deep, they must’ve been rich or powerful. No wonder they had so many grave goods stuffed in those sacks.

At the end was a burial chamber. It wasn’t huge, maybe just over ten square meters. A coffin stood in the center, lid already pried open. But there was no corpse inside. Just a rotting, foul-smelling pile of cloth that looked like burial clothes. It was only a clothing grave.

On one side of the chamber, there was a round stone door. No telling where it led.

I swept my flashlight around, noticing faint drops of blood on the ground, all leading toward the stone door.

“There was a fight here,” I said to Zhao Mingkun. “Something must’ve happened—clearly they turned on each other.”

Zhao Mingkun was the first to shove open the stone door. “Stay close to me.”

Past the door was a pitch-black passage. Maybe it led to the main tomb, or maybe another side room. We followed the trail of blood until we reached a point where the passage split into three tunnels. Even with the flashlight, you couldn’t see far—at the end of the beam, it was just blackness.

The blood trail veered off into the left passage. This was my first time inside a tomb—I had no idea how it was laid out, so all I could do was press on.

Zhao Mingkun motioned for me to keep up.

At the end of the left passage was another burial chamber. There was another coffin inside. The bloodstains vanished beside it, and the coffin lid was sealed tightly. Could someone have hidden inside?

With a dagger in one hand, I carefully pushed the lid. Slowly, someone’s body came into view. Through the crack, I recognized the clothes—they belonged to Qian San. Heart pounding, I shoved the lid open, and there was Qian San right in front of us.

I barely had time to react before Qian San lunged at me with a dagger. I scrambled back, but not fast enough. The blade was almost at my throat when a hand shot out and grabbed Qian San’s arm—it was Zhao Mingkun.

Cold sweat poured down my back. Any slower, and I would’ve been dead.

Qian San crawled out, clutching his stomach.

I looked him over. There was a long gash across his belly—the source of all the blood in the tunnel. If he didn’t get help soon, he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Why you two?” Qian San asked, voice weak and barely holding on.

“Wei Changfeng sent me to find him. He said there’s a traitor among you four, and nobody can be trusted,” I told him.

Hearing that, Qian San let out a bitter laugh. Blood trickled down from the split in his mouth. “Don’t believe Wei Changfeng. As far as I see it, he’s the most suspicious one.”

“What actually happened? What are you all so afraid of?” I pressed.

Clutching his wound, Qian San told us a story, voice breaking and faltering.

The six of them had all apprenticed under the same master.

Their master was known in the underworld as Master Chu the Miracle Hand. The name fit—Old Chu had brilliant hands, could dig through earth bare-handed, wielded a dagger masterfully. Hence the nickname.

Old Chu and his original wife had long since fallen out of love. Not even the birth of a daughter could change it. They lived apart, and Old Chu never bothered to visit his daughter.

Old Chu had another woman, young enough to be his daughter.

She didn’t have a real name. Chu just called her Xiao Mei. Word was, when Xiao Mei was still a baby, she’d been abandoned by her own family. All because she had six toes on each foot. It was an easy fix—she could’ve had surgery if she’d been a boy.

But she wasn’t a boy. And she had six toes.

Old Chu took the baby in, and years later she became his woman.

When Qian Er and Qian San became apprentices, Master Chu was forty and Chu Mei was twenty.

Twenty—a woman’s most beautiful years.

Qian San had heard from Dadan that by the time Chu Mei was fifteen, Old Chu had already made her a real woman. As years passed, Old Chu only grew older. But Chu Mei became more beautiful every year—her face, her figure, nothing short of perfection.

Even the celebrities on TV didn’t compare to Xiao Mei. Especially those eyes of hers.

Sometimes, people didn’t become disciples for the master—they did it for the mistress.

Qian Er and Qian San were twenty-six, but their mistress was twenty.

Qian San had been with women before, but none could match Xiao Mei.

“Don’t you think about it, bro?” Qian San asked.

“Of course,” Qian Er replied, “we just need a plan.”

Half a year later, Lao Liu joined the group.

With all six apprentices assembled, the lineup was: oldest Dadan, then Wei Changfeng, then San, then Qian Er, then Qian San, and finally the youngest, Lao Liu.

To have Xiao Mei, their master had to die.

Five years ago, on Master Chu’s forty-second birthday.

It was the perfect chance—Xiao Mei couldn’t make it home because of university, so only the six apprentices were there for his birthday.

Master Chu raised his glass, “No women tonight, so we can drink to our hearts’ content!”

“As the eldest,” Dadan said, “here’s wishing Master health as boundless as the East Sea, and a life as long as the Southern mountains.”

“May Master prosper with wealth pouring in every day.”

“May short nights and long, healthy years always be yours.”

One by one, the six apprentices toasted their master.

Master Chu was clearly delighted. “Hah, my eldest has been with me since childhood. Wei Changfeng’s been following me for over ten years. Qian Er and Qian San, you’ve only been with me a couple of years. Lao Liu’s only just joined. I never had a son, but I truly see you all as my own. I don’t have much to offer, but when it comes to knife skills, I’ve taught you every trick I know.”

“Master, another round!” Everyone cheered and toasted again.

That night, Master Chu got dead drunk. One by one, the apprentices stepped up and helped him onto the floor.

Dadan sat right on top of Old Chu, hands locked around his throat.

The rest of them grabbed his limbs.

“Lao Liu, you haven’t been here long—finish him,” they urged the stunned Lao Liu.

It took Qian Er over half a year to figure it all out. Now, the only loose end left was Lao Liu. But everyone understood—with things as they were, Lao Liu knew what would happen if he refused.

After all, Lao Liu had only been here a few months—he didn’t have deep ties to Old Chu. Plus, if he went along, he’d get his share. The others had all done it already. If Lao Liu joined in too, the six of them would be in this together.

Whatever happened next, no one could walk away clean.

“Do it!” Qian Er barked.

Lao Liu stepped forward, pulled out the dagger their master had given him.

His hands shook as he moved closer, the knife trembling in his grip.

The others pulled out their daggers as well, stabbing straight into Master Chu.

Every wound was fatal. Every one of them was a killer.

“Someone will seek revenge,” Master Chu said with his last breath. “If you can betray me, then one day, you’ll betray each other too.”