>At the Chongqing ghost market auction, the moment the bronze compass shattered, I caught a glimpse of the secret pattern drawn by the missing master.
>In order to find the whereabouts of my master, I was forced to form an alliance with the mysterious woman Su Muqing and sneak into the Wulong Tiankeng.
>The underground river was turbulent. We untied the nine palace hanging coffin array, but were shocked to find that Qin Shihuang's underground palace was actually moving.
>The Yin soldiers cleared the way, and the mercury river surged like a living creature. Su Muqing suddenly cut her palm and said, "Quickly! The people guarding the tomb are my blood relatives!"
>A heartbeat-like vibration came from the depths of Lishan Mountain. It was not the First Emperor who sat up in the coffin, but the pale face of my master.
>Mercury dripped from his fingertips, and he said hoarsely: "Two thousand years of blood sacrifice... It's all about you."
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The ghost market in Chongqing only opens quietly late at night when there are heavy rains.
The raindrops hit the greasy bluestone road, crackling and breaking into pieces of turbid water. The air was filled with an indescribable mixture of smells: the decay of old wood, the pungent smell of cheap tung oil, the fishy-sweet moisture steaming up from underground rivers, and the choking smoke of low-quality tobacco burning in the shadows of the corner. Soaked tarpaulin awnings hung low, covering the stalls, leaving only narrow, crowded gaps. In the gap, there are figures, like ghosts swimming under the water, and the muffled chatter is blurred by the rain curtain, making it buzz.
I huddled in the shadow of the greasy doorpost of "Jubaoxuan", my soaked jacket clinging to my skin, giving me a cold and sticky feeling. His gaze passed through the swarming heads and steaming water vapor, and was fixed on the ebony tray in the center of the auction table.
In the tray, lying quietly was a bronze compass.
