The Tomb Gate Chronicles 03: The Sacred Tree of Qinling

Chapter 1: Lao Yang Gets Out of Prison

Those few short words completely captured my attention.

“The fish is with me.”

What fish? My mind jolted—could it be the bronze fish with snake-like eyebrows?

According to the patterns on the ancient tomb carvings, this strange decorative fish should consist of three linked together head to tail. Right now, I have two in my possession, so there should indeed be one more to complete the set. Who exactly is this person? Since they have this photo and know about the fish, could they be connected to this whole affair?

Could it be one of the missing people?

I scoured the webpage carefully, but there was no name or contact information. Judging by the timestamp, the post had been up for a very long time, which was rather odd. If the goal was to find someone, why leave no way to get in touch? What was the point?

I tried every search variation I could think of, hoping to find more information, but no matter how I searched, this was the only relevant result.

I couldn’t help but feel frustrated, though this was still a major discovery. I figured I’d find some tech-savvy friends to help analyze it when I got back—maybe they could dig up more clues.

After all that back and forth, the d*mn storm finally passed. The day after it cleared, the Qiongsha ferry arrived from Qinglan Port in Wenchang. Since there was no reason to stay, we packed up and prepared to leave. Before heading out, we went to the military medical clinic to check on Ah Ning, but she was already gone. When I asked the doctor, he didn’t know when she’d left either. I couldn’t help but sigh in relief—I had no idea how to deal with her anyway, so her disappearing without a word suited me just fine.

The only downside was that the secrets hidden behind her might forever remain a mystery. But right now, the one thing I wasn’t lacking was mysteries. I figured I’d probably never see her again, and honestly, I had no interest in whatever was going on in her head.

Two days later, at Haikou Airport, I said goodbye to Poker-Face and Fatty and boarded a flight to Hangzhou. Four hours later, I was back home. First, I called Wang Meng to check on the shop. Aside from the complete lack of business, everything was normal—though no business was pretty much the norm anyway. If we actually had customers, that’d be the real surprise. Then I called every aunt, uncle, and distant relative who’d ever had contact with Third Uncle, but none of them had any leads. Finally, I called Third Uncle’s place, and one of his employees picked up.

“Has Third Master Wu come back?” I asked.

The guy hesitated before answering, “Third Master hasn’t returned, but there was this weirdo who claimed to be your brother. He insisted we tell him where you were. I didn’t know what his deal was, but he seemed shifty—didn’t look like a good guy—so I sent him packing. Before he left, he left a phone number. You wanna come take a look?”

I thought for a moment. “How old was he?”

“Hard to say. Probably around your age, but more weathered. Short buzz cut, triangular eyes, high nose bridge, wore glasses and an earring. Looked like a real oddball.”

“An oddball?” I repeated, then suddenly it hit me. “Did he have a stutter?”

“Yeah, yeah! D*mn, the guy stuttered like ten times in every sentence. Nearly drove me crazy.”

I knew exactly who it was. Overjoyed, I quickly got the number and called. A voice that was both familiar and unfamiliar answered, “W-w-who’s this?”

I chuckled and yelled, “You son of a b*tch, you can’t even recognize my voice now?”

He paused, then let out an excited noise and shouted back, “Y-you son of a b*tch! H-haven’t heard you in three years—of course I didn’t recognize you! D*mn, your voice actually matured.”

I felt a pang of emotion. The guy on the other end was Lao Yang—I’d long forgotten his real name. We’d grown up together, practically sharing the same pair of pants, doing everything side by side. At one point, we were so close we might as well have been the same person. His family was poor, and after finishing vocational school, he couldn’t find a job, so he came to work at my shop. We hit it off immediately, running the place haphazardly together. Despite his stutter, he was a smooth talker, and business was actually decent when he was around.

Then, three years ago, the idiot got mixed up with some Jiangxi guy and went tomb raiding near the Qinling Mountains. They got caught—the Jiangxi guy got life, but Lao Yang talked his way into being portrayed as a misguided youth led astray by bad influences and only got three years. At first, I tried to visit him, but the guy was too proud to see me. Eventually, I gave up, and we lost contact. Now, out of the blue, he was out.

Honestly, I was partly to blame for his tomb-raiding phase. Ever since we were kids, I’d bragged about how amazing my grandpa was, even showing off the Grave Robbers’ Chronicles to him. No doubt that planted the idea in his head. The guy had always been reckless—when we were kids, I came up with the plans, and he caused the trouble. I never thought he’d actually go through with something like this.

We had three years’ worth of catching up to do, and once we started talking, we couldn’t stop. Even when my jaw started aching, I wasn’t satisfied, so I invited him over. “You free tonight? Let me treat you to a welcome-back feast. We’ll drink till we drop.”

Lao Yang was just as fired up. “S-sounds good! Haven’t had a proper meal in three years. Gonna eat like a king tonight!”

And just like that, it was settled. I was too excited to sleep, so I took a quick shower, tidied up the house, and headed to the restaurant to wait for him. I ordered every meat-heavy dish on the menu. By evening, the guy showed up, and d*mn—three years in prison, and he’d actually gotten fatter. His face was swollen like a pig’s head.

No pleasantries needed between old friends. We immediately downed half a bottle of Wuliangye, reminiscing about the past and lamenting the present. By the time we were stuffed and the plates were empty, we’d run out of things to say.

I was pretty drunk by then and burped before asking, “Tell me the truth—what the hell were you after back then? How’d your Jiangxi buddy get life?”

He actually looked smug as he picked his teeth. “N-not that I won’t tell you, but even if I did, you wouldn’t get it.”

I scoffed. “Cut the crap. I’m not the same kid from three years ago. These days, I’ve got a bit of a reputation. Tang, Song, Yuan, Ming, Qing—name an artifact, and I’ll know what it is.”

Lao Yang burst out laughing at my serious tone. “Y-you? Tang-Song-Yuan-Ming-Qing? Pfft!” He dipped his chopstick in liquor and drew something on the table. “D-d*mn it, you ever seen this before?”

My vision was blurry from the alcohol, and I couldn’t make it out clearly. It looked like a tree or maybe a pillar. “You dumbass, three years in the slammer, and your drawing’s still trash. What the hell is this? A club?”

Even he had to admit it wasn’t a great drawing. “J-just work with me here! With your eyesight, this is all you deserve!”

I squinted at it but still couldn’t place it. “Looks like a cloud-patterned pillar. These branches—you meant to draw engravings, right? But they look like tree branches. I can’t tell.”

Lao Yang lowered his voice, speaking mysteriously. “W-well, that’s ‘cause they are branches. The thing we found was a tree—but not a real one. A bronze tree! Ever seen one?”

My head was pounding, and I knew I was about to pass out. I couldn’t even picture what a bronze tree would look like. “How heavy would that be? You skip the small stuff and go for a giant? No wonder you got caught.”

He patted my shoulder, peeled a shrimp, and popped it into his mouth. “I’m not that stupid. I only took four pottery plates and two jade pieces. My buddy was the one who insisted on hauling the tree out, said it was a treasure. D*mn it, we used all our strength but couldn’t even budge it. The thing was rooted in the ground. We dug down seven or eight meters and still couldn’t find the bottom. Weird, right? Who knows how deep it goes? I bet it’s not just sitting there for no reason.”

Now I got the gist. “So if you didn’t take it, how’d you get caught?”

“After seeing that thing, my buddy lost his mind. Once we got out of Qinling, we tried to sell the loot, but he started blabbing to everyone. That area’s always been harsh on tomb raiders—they don’t tolerate it. I didn’t even sell one plate before the cops got us. The tomb was from the Qing Dynasty, so the stuff wasn’t worth much. I played dumb, said I’d been tricked, and barely got three years. My buddy should’ve only gotten four or five, but he went nuts and confessed to every raid he’d ever done. Ended up with life, almost got the death penalty.”

I nodded. “D*mn, that’s some bad luck. All that work for nothing. How many times have I told you? Never sell locally. Our line of work clashes with the locals—it’s karma.”

Lao Yang grinned mysteriously. “N-not exactly nothing. Take a look at this.” He pointed to his earring.

**The Bronze Tree of Qinling**

**Chapter 2: The Hexagonal Bell**

I leaned in for a closer look and couldn’t tear my eyes away. I grabbed his ear and pulled him toward me to inspect it more carefully. The moment I saw it clearly, I sucked in a sharp breath. The earring was small and square, no bigger than the tip of a pinky finger. To anyone else, it might have looked like a cheap trinket from a street vendor—two pairs for a buck. But upon closer inspection, I realized it was actually a hexagonal bell.

In terms of shape and color, aside from being smaller, it was identical to the ones I’d seen in the corpse cave and the underwater tomb.

He winced as I yanked his ear and snapped, “You—you—you bastard, you’re drunk! You know I—I hate it when people pull my ear! Do it again and I’ll—I’ll lose it on you!”

By then, most of the alcohol had worn off. I asked him, “Did you loot this from that tomb too?”

He slapped my hand away, rubbing his reddened ear. “Where else would I get it? This—this is all I’ve got left now! Take a good loo