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Relying on the time difference, the three gradually recognized each other and formed an alliance using the absurd codes of "2008 Olympic Games" and "Palace Jade Wine". Zhao Xiaobei "operates online" in Chaotang, Yang Wei "executes offline" in Jianghu, and Liang Guodong "technically tackles difficulties" at the border. They do not rely on "gold fingers", but only rely on their prediction of historical nodes and professional common sense to "micro-manage". In the collision of jokes, they prevent the "Jingkang Shame" step by step for the camp, and try to plant a new future for civilization.

My name is Chen Yanqing and I am a forensic doctor. My job is to use a scalpel to listen to the unspoken truths of corpses. But in my "toolbox", there is also a "Baiyikao Fragment" passed down by my grandfather, which records various ancient folklore phenomena intertwined with modern death. The wax corpse of the river god's wife, the formation with silver bells tied to the feet, the bloodstains of the soul sealed in the mirror room... Every cruel crime scene is carefully disguised as ancient taboos and legends. I know that it is just the murderer trying to cover up the evil thoughts of the world with the help of the mist of superstition. My duty is to cut through this layer of fog: use a microscope to analyze the source of the soil used in "witchcraft", use poison detection to decipher the essence of the "curse", and reversely draw the murderer's knowledge map and psychological map from every detail that goes against common sense. I firmly believe that all abnormalities must have scientific explanations. Until I discovered clues about my father's death in the line of duty in a series of serial crimes committed using intangible cultural heritage techniques, as well as a secret organization called "Bajimen" that claims to be the "guardian of tradition." They steal and twist ancient wisdom into the perfect criminal tool. Today, I stand in the "folk museum" they carefully built, surrounded by the tarnished memories of civilization. My scalpel will no longer only dissect the flesh, but also cut through the fog between awe and ignorance, inheritance and crime. The truth may lie in the forgotten ancient languages ​​spoken by the next corpse. And my mission is to let those truly precious heritages return to the world instead of being buried with sin.

Chen Mo returned to the underworld for the ninth time. Yan Jun threw down his life book and sneered: "Nine bowls of Meng Po soup, your bowls spilled on the ground." He raised his head, his eyes quenched the fire of the ninth generation: "That soup burns your mouth, and you will never forget the cries of all the people." "Who are you going to be this time?" "The third son of Chongzhen, King Ding Zhu Cijiong." He said word by word, "The last prince of the Ming Dynasty." Late at night on April 24, 1644, in the Forbidden City. Sixteen-year-old Zhu Cijiong - that was the last sunset he saw over the Forbidden City when his spine was trampled to pieces by the horse hoofs of the Qing army in his ninth life. He looked to the northeast and nailed each word into the wind and snow: "This time, the sun, moon, mountains and rivers will never perish again." This time, it starts from this place of death. Live towards death!

In Panlong Village in the mountains of western Hunan, the Chen family has inherited two things from generation to generation: elder brother Chen Shan has learned the "coffin door" craft, which can open coffins, read Feng Shui, and determine yin and yang; younger brother Chen Shui has become a "village guardian" who can connect to the earth's veins and see ghosts and gods, but he is as silent as a stone all day long. On the night when the developer demolished the "Longsuo Monument" at the entrance of the village, Chen Shui, who had been mute for three years, suddenly said: "I will die." That night, the developer died suddenly wearing an exquisite shroud. The size of the shroud was exactly the same, but no one knew who made it. The village elder begged Chen Shan with tears streaming down his face - only the heir of Coffin Gate could solve this life-threatening mystery. Chen Shan picked up the dusty ink fountain and discovered the secret that his grandfather had not revealed before he died: the coffin door was never just the coffin, but also the "land deed" that held the mountains and rivers in check; the village guardians never guarded the village, but the "human pillar" that integrated life into the earth's veins and held the gap between yin and yang for the living. The cry of an infant in a dry well, the awakening of a bronze coffin, the reappearance of the ancient corpse exorcism route, the Chenzhou talisman disaster... Behind every disaster, there is a "stealing of pulse" plotted for centuries. Chen Shan solved the problem with his coffin door craftsmanship, and Chen Shui guided him with the spiritual sense of guarding the village. One of the brothers was in the light, the other in the dark, but in the end they could not resist the sneer of the man behind the scenes: "The people who guard the village are the biggest 'living coffins' in this mountain. When the time comes, it's time to lay them to rest." When the final catastrophe came and Chen Shui as a "suppressor" was on the verge of collapse, Chen Shan made the most shocking choice in the history of coffins - he used himself as material and blood as paint to build a "living coffin" for his brother and this landscape. "This time, it's my brother who will be the guard. You go down the mountain and go to the human world."