The Grave Robbers' Chronicles of Xiang and Qian

I owed a debt that could only be repaid with my life. My creditor took me to excavate a tomb where the dead had been sacrificed.

The Ming-dynasty ghost master inside wore a mask shaped like a pheasant's face, and that face appeared in my dreams every night.

Even more terrifying, the thin-skinned new coffin beside it held a fellow tomb raider who had just died inside a few days ago. The coffin walls were covered with bloody handprints scratched out by their fingernails.

Old Smoke Pipe's face turned deathly pale. He said we'd stumbled upon the most sinister kind of “corpse-nurturing coffin.”

Now, the troop of monkeys guarding the mountain was blocking our only way out, and something inside the coffin had started pounding against the lid.

And that ghost master's mask seemed to be smiling at me.