The key in my hand had just entered the stone wall when a deafening boom echoed from within. Slowly, the stone wall opened up in the center, revealing a crossroads in the shape of a cross.

After the crossroads emerged, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned my head to look, and someone on the shore was swinging a large knife.

I was startled and instinctively raised my head. I remained elusive, concealing myself. Next to me, lying on the ground, was a deceitful trap I had set earlier—a skeletal hand. I wiped the sweat from my face.

This is a dream, but far too harrowing!

Looking at the corpse lying in my arms, if I cared even a little, I would throw it to the ground without hesitation.

Picking up the flashlight from the ground, I continued onward. Avoiding the scattered corpses, I tried to navigate through them. I had no idea how long it would take to reach the stone wall ahead.

A corpse leaning against the wall was clad in the same clothes I had worn in my dream. I started to doubt whether I had truly been dreaming.

Slowly, I crouched down to check the corpse. A knife was lodged in his neck; if pushed further forward, one end would slice through the other and fall off.

I set the flashlight aside and gently stroked the skeleton's sleeve. I remembered placing the key in my sleeve when I was alive. Upon searching both sides, I found the key was gone from the sleeve, leaving only some loose change.

That struck me as strange. If this had been a nightmare, it might mean that someone was still alive. Perhaps I could escape.

The best way to test this is to count how many corpses are here. I carefully regulated my breathing as I went through the process of tending to each body, one by one.

After an hour, I finally completed examining the corpses piled against each other. I counted them one by one.

1, 2, 3, 4…10, 11.

There are 11 skeletons here, but I distinctly remember 12 people in my dream.

Six people to carry the coffin. Two to stand guard at the entrances. Four guards.

My memory is utterly unclouded. There are 11 skeletons here. There must have been someone missing.

Now I speculated who, based on my clothing and attire, might have escaped. It must have been the master. But I was already at the door; there had to be either my skeleton or the coffin maker's skeleton at the gate.

This implies the master killed the coffin maker at that time. But is that truly the case?

Why would the master give him the key to escape and then kill him?

Confused by these thoughts, I looked again at the skeletons on the ground and at the locked stone door. I realized I truly lacked the strength to push open such a heavy door leading outward.

Over there, an illuminated tomb caught my eye. Now curiosity gnawed at me. Who was the person buried inside that tomb?

I returned to the tomb and threw the clothes I had taken from the group into the fire. The fire sparked instantly, blazing intensely.

Walking back and forth near the purple coffin, I noticed the twelve coffin nails used to seal the lid. I replicated the iron dagger I had first discovered in the crypt.

Standing in the corner where the coffin nails were embedded, it took me over an hour to pry off the unyielding nails sealing the coffin lid.

I held the coffin nail in my palm. The coffin nails from Chengdu were red. I lifted it to my nose to smell. A pungent, fishy scent lingered—likely blood. I couldn't discern whose blood it might be.

Finally succeeding, I had my moment of triumph with a coffin nail! Rotating the nail halfway, a wild thought struck me: if someone suddenly rushed in now, they'd think I was desecrating graves.

Glancing at the skeleton on the ground and the coffin nails that had fallen off the coffin lid, I saw in the pack a tiny piece of gold.

Now I found myself in a strange boredom. How could someone possibly catch a coffin?

After another hour, I nailed all the coffin nails back into place. I pushed the coffin aside, and a young boy gently patted the purple coffin.

Turning around, I rested my hand on the head of the purple coffin and pushed it backward with force. Saying one phrase aloud, the coffin seemed to respond by moving on its own, as if pushing a cart.

A cloud of dust was on the verge of erupting, along with the wind I anticipated to follow.

The stone coffin bore numerous scratches—marked by the blood of its coffin owner—which had yet to be cleaned. Each time I gazed at the spots where nails had dug, there was only the lingering aroma of despair.

I turned to look at the coffin owner. Even after hundreds of years, the delicate thread binding my daughter's soul remained unchanged, as though the inside concealed nothing foreign. I couldn't tell if it was due to the connections between dreams or some other factor. Seeing the girl inside the coffin, I felt no cowardice or fear but rather a strange sense of calm, as though the journey had been unexpectedly comforting.

The girl had an undeniable beauty, one unsuitable for the ancient capital's gloomy locale. Among the most beautiful women, she stood apart, and even among today's stars, she would certainly be hailed as the fiercest competitor.

Su Xinghe stared at the nails driven into his daughter's hand, knowing how much she had suffered before her death. Looking at her face, the young boy remarked, "All the pain of the past has disappeared now."

As I uttered those words, I saw the girl's eyes move unmistakably. This was no hallucination. Quickly, I stepped back, staring at the coffin lid. I couldn't identify the source of my escalating emotions and determination.

I dashed forward, gripping the stone coffin, using every ounce of strength I had and breathing as though tearing milk from the heavens, lifting the coffin directly onto the stone base. I attempted to hoist the coffin with just one hand.

The unpleasant sound of stone grinding against the blackboard echoed loudly, like nails raking across a chalkboard to draw shrieks.

Shivering, I exerted force in pushing the coffin until my hands touched its base. I leaned upon the coffin and took a deep breath, sweat dripping from my forehead.

The recent situation had been eerie and fraught with danger. I brushed my hand over the book inside the coffin. This scenario was said to awaken someone within. If I had allowed a moment's negligence, the corpse may have turned into a zombie.

Thankfully, I reacted quickly and woke up early! If not, I would have been interacting with beasts from hell instead of humans.

The stone coffin appeared silent, and I gingerly retrieved the book given to me by the middle-aged man from my dazed state to verify whether the buried person had risen as a zombie.

I searched through the book from beginning to end and finally found the answer on the final few pages!

The book described a burial method revolving around finding someone born on a day with triple Yin—a person hailed as the Sun Champion or possessing yuan-yin energy. This individual, born yesterday, must be sealed until the 77th day to change their fate.

Such corpse-bodies would possess immense power—fire and ice conflicting within, an indestructible strength akin to diamonds.

These beings were ideal creations sought after by ancient corpse refiners, transforming into one of the most powerful class of zombies.

With trembling hands, I glanced at the coffin nails scattered across the ground. I vaguely recalled reading about them earlier, so I pulled the book again to confirm.

On the fifth page was the mention of red nails designed for suppressing souls. As the name suggests, their purpose was to trap spirits. When humans die, their souls typically depart seven hours later to traverse the Bridge of Forgotten Souls for reincarnation, guided by entities like Ox-Head and Horse-Face.

However, if such red nails are driven into the coffin, the soul becomes trapped within its corpse and is prevented from reincarnating. Crushed under despair, the captive soul watches as its flesh rots away, slowly becoming a dreadful lingering spirit over time.

Toward the end of the description, I noticed some small notes appended beneath the main text.

Remember: never pull out suppression nails without careful preparation. If you accidentally remove one, flee immediately. Once the spirit emerges, your chances of survival plummet to zero.

Reading this sent a cold shiver down my spine, and sweat dripped as I glanced back uneasily toward the stone coffin. I couldn't help but wonder if inserting one more suppression nail into its surface would have any effect now.

The coffin's wooden planks had already fractured into jagged segments, leaving no place for secure insertion.

Quickly grabbing the flashlight, I stood cautiously, leaning against the wall, advancing toward the stone door. Raising my fist, I knocked upon it with force, calling loudly for the middle-aged man who—given his enigmatic abilities—should possess the power to resolve this spiritual oppression!

Yet, the middle-aged man caught up to me, seemingly prepared to feed me to the "Xiao Bao" creature he had been muttering about. How could I resist against such an overwhelming and dreadful entity?

As I pondered my options, an icy gust suddenly swept over me, shocking me into pausing my movements. Quietly, I retreated into the corner, crouching carefully with my body tilted sideways, scanning my surroundings with vigilance.

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