In 1968, I transmigrated into the body of a worker’s son in Beijing and volunteered to join the rustication program in Ganggangyingzi.
Not because I was especially enlightened, but because I knew Hu Bayi and Wang Pangzi were there.
The yellow weasels in the hills had become spirits. They could steal souls and demand titles from people.
Pangzi didn’t believe in the supernatural. He sneaked into the mountains at night, lost his mind to an enchantment, and nearly buried himself alive.
Hu Bayi and I chased the yellow weasels into their grave, only to discover the remains of a Japanese military water-supply unit and a thousand-year-old Liao dynasty tomb beneath it.
In the underground palace, a spirit yellow weasel spewed poisonous mist, and Hu Bayi was poisoned while protecting me.
At that moment, I had no time to keep my secret. I took out the half-set of tomb-raiding techniques passed down to me by the monk Kong Jing, slew the yellow weasel, broke the illusion, and dragged Hu Bayi back from the gates of death.
That night, we swore a blood oath: in this life, we would face life and death together.
Later, we went to the Ancient City of Jingjue and fell under the curse of the Demon’s Eye;
we went to the Worm Valley in Yunnan and barely survived the tomb of King Xian;
we went to Kunlun Shrine and used the Dust-Removing Orb to break a thousand-year-old fate.
I thought that was the end, until we met the granddaughter of the chief of the Moving Mountains at Longling Labyrinth.
She told me the legacies of the four great sects went far beyond that.
Meanwhile, in a small village in Zhejiang, a young man named Wu Xie had just received a Warring States silk manuscript left behind by his grandfather...
