Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Heavenly Fire Glazed Dome

On the summit of Grave King Mountain, shadows clustered as Da Xiang led his men to encircle the area. At the mountain’s peak, a Daoist of the Facetaking Sect, adorned with a hair circlet, sat cross-legged in tranquil meditation, his eyes closed in repose. By his side leaned a clever spirit monkey. Nearby, a robust and muscular Mountain Mover Daoist stood with a Luoyang shovel slung over his back, surveying the surroundings. Resting against a tree was a woman garbed in leather armor, a Mo Jin talisman at her neck, and an exorcised black dagger at her waist.

After some time, Fang You arrived from the distance, reeking faintly of glutinous rice and chicken blood, his back bearing two swords of copper coins and peach wood.

“Sir, you’ve arrived?” Da Xiang hurried forward to greet him respectfully.

“You carry quite an air, making the three of us wait so long!” the Facetaking Daoist nearby interjected, his patience already thin.

“My apologies, the journey on foot delayed me,” Fang You replied, stepping forward with a bow. “I am Fang You, third disciple and final pupil of Maoshan Sect. Please forgive my lateness.”

“I’d heard a master of talismans and exorcism would join us—so you’re the last disciple of Maoshan. An honor, indeed!” said the Mountain Mover Daoist. “I am Fang Zhong of the Mountain Mover Sect. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“I am Bai Ling, descendant of the Mo Jin lineage,” the woman with the talisman introduced herself.

At this, the seated Facetaking Daoist finally rose, opening his eyes. “I am Qiu Ruji of the Facetaking Sect. Call me Daoist Qiu, that will suffice.”

In his hand, Qiu Ruji held a horsetail whisk, his bearing ethereal, though his sharp features and simian visage hinted at a difficult temperament.

“Now that everyone is here, we can begin,” Da Xiang declared, a cigar clenched between his teeth as his men stood watchfully nearby.

“I’ll open the tomb passage first, if you please,” Fang Zhong announced, retrieving his Luoyang shovel and testing the soil.

Opening a tomb entrance was the specialty of the Mountain Mover Sect—carving new passages, avoiding traps and mechanisms. The Luoyang shovel, slender and sharp, was designed to bore through soil, digging deep shafts to discern changes in earth composition, allowing the user to pinpoint the tomb’s location.

Fang Zhong drilled several test holes, then knelt to sniff and feel the soil upon the shovel. The earth was sticky, and blacker than usual—distinct from the ground above.

After a moment’s thought, Fang Zhong spoke. “We can’t break ground at the summit—the conditions aren’t right. We’ll have to endure a bit and open the passage halfway down the mountain,” he informed the group.

At this, Bai Ling, the Mo Jin descendant, stepped forward to inspect and remarked, “Skyfire Glazed Dome.”

Fang You immediately understood: this was a tomb defense technique, consisting of three layers. The lowest was a simple stone roof; the second, perilous white phosphorus powder. White phosphorus ignites at high temperatures, burning fiercely and rapidly. The topmost layer was a mixture of petroleum and gunpowder.

Drilling through the first layer was safe enough, but if one unknowingly penetrated the second, the white phosphorus would combust on contact with air, igniting the petroleum mixture. At best, it would unleash a deadly blaze; at worst, an explosion equivalent to an artillery shell, obliterating intruders in an instant—a truly terrifying trap.

“Skyfire Glazed Dome—spontaneous combustion upon heat, lethal as wildfire. Best to keep our distance,” Fang You cautioned.

“You’re not without talent, young sir,” Daoist Qiu remarked, passing the three of them. “So what are we waiting for? Move to the mountainside and open the tomb. Are you planning to wait for nightfall?”

“You—!” Fang You, young and proud, was about to retort at Qiu Ruji’s dismissive tone, but Bai Ling held him back. “Don’t stoop to the level of such insufferable people. Ignore those who hold themselves above others.”

Clearly, Bai Ling harbored her own grievances against Daoist Qiu.

The group made their way to the mountainside. Ideally, the tomb’s entrance would be directly above its chamber to avoid traps, but experience spoke otherwise. On the slope, Fang Zhong quickly drilled several more test holes with his shovel, using the earth’s texture, moisture, and climate to find a suitable entry point.

He then took a rock pen and drew a large circle on a stone wall at the chosen spot. “No need for excess—three pounds of Fire Immortal Powder will suffice,” he told Da Xiang.

Da Xiang nodded in understanding. These days, tomb raiders used explosives to open passages, but first, the local villagers had to be appeased—perhaps with some money and a story about mining for stone, as the loud blast would surely stir suspicions.

The mountain villagers lived off the land; if someone wanted to buy stone and spared them the labor of quarrying, why would they object?

The Fire Immortal Powder used in tomb raiding had its own illustrious history, refined and improved over generations. Jet-black and packed in sealed paper, it created a powerful shockwave with minimal sound, swiftly shattering rock and opening a passage in the shortest time.

Otherwise, they would have to dig with shovels—a process that could take weeks.

Da Xiang’s men were efficient; soon, three pounds of Fire Immortal Powder was set at the marked spot.

Everyone withdrew to a safe distance. With a thunderous crack, the designated section collapsed, revealing a perfect passage directly into the tomb’s corridor—truly masterful work.

Once the passage was open, Bai Ling lit a candle and tossed it inside. A flicker of flame erupted instantly.

Large tombs, when constructed, were sealed tight, with ever-burning candles inside to consume the oxygen, preserving the bodies in a near-vacuum to prevent decay.

Bai Ling fetched a rope from her belt, hooked one end outside the entrance, and dropped the other down into the tomb.

“Keep your wits sharp, everyone—don’t take a spill once you’re inside!” With that, she slid down the rope into the tomb passage, and the others soon followed.

Above, Da Xiang watched the four descend into the darkness, a sly grin curling his lips. “These four masters from different sects are all up-and-comers. Cao Aman’s tomb shouldn’t be beyond their skill.”

“Boss, wise as ever! Once the job is done, do you want us to…?” asked a thuggish man with a cropped haircut at Da Xiang’s side.

Da Xiang nodded. “Send a few men down to assist for now. They’re still useful—for the time being.”