Southern Wasteland Corpse Tent

I was just a poor boy who wanted to make some quick money to save my life. I didn't expect that greed would actually lead to a living hell. Following my half-assed cousin into an old cave deep in the mountains, what we pried open was not a coffin, but a seal. The black donkey's hooves can't suppress the teeth-baring corpse, and the glutinous rice can't scatter the lingering curse. A bronze vessel stained with corpse oil has become a life-threatening message that we cannot shake off. Trusted companions screamed about changes around them, and the familiar village was shrouded in invisible terror. If you want to survive, you can only be more ruthless than it. Entering the underground palace again, the murals on the Rakshasa altar are dripping with blood, and the thousand-year-old corpse immortal is breathing in the coffin. A wall of ghosts cannot block the desire for survival, and a swarm of corpses and puppets cannot block a blood-stained knife. But I know that the real terror is never the rotting monster in front of me, but the complete extinguishing of hope in my heart. Every step could be the last, every breath could stir up sleeping evil spirits. I can no longer tell whether I have broken into the tomb, or whether the tomb... Has already swallowed me up. This is an escape road paved with life, a desperate journey. Do you dare to follow it?