The red coffin that no one had dared to fish out of the Yellow River for a hundred years was dragged ashore by the ninety-nine-year-old corpse-fishing king. The resentful corpse that others could not avoid, he took the bowl and chopsticks to eat with his tablemate. My name is Xuan Qian. My grandpa said that I have overcome relatives, friends, ghosts and gods in my life, and I am a born corpse hunter. When he passed the bronze coffin that had sunk to the bottom of the river for a hundred years to me, he left a message: What is in the coffin is not a corpse, but a legacy. When the Thousand-year-old Corpse King knelt down and begged me to open his coffin, and when a hundred thousand Yin soldiers kowtowed on the day the Yellow River dragon coffin surfaced, I finally understood what my grandfather was kowtowing to the river every night - he was worshiping me.
