When the cold dagger was pressed against Chen Xuan's throat, Lin Qi smelled the familiar smell of blood in the Ghost King's Tomb - the smell of rust and putrid mud where his father died twenty years ago.
Hidden under the gentle mask of the archaeologist is the tracker of the Cultural Relics Bureau, and the amulet of Ajiu, the personal assistant, is glowing with the unique phosphorescence of a tombkeeper. Deep in the tomb with twelve blood coffins floating in the air, the handsome ghost king chuckles at the ancestral jade pendant around her neck: "The daughter of the Lin family has finally come to her death appointment."
The thousand-year curse was boiling in her veins. She wanted to blow open the bronze coffin that locked the family secrets with her own hands before everyone betrayed her.
