Volume One, Chapter Three: The Burial Offering

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The setting sun hung low on the horizon. Golden-red afterglow spilled across the roaring sea, illuminating the silhouette of the archaeological salvage ship with a radiant brilliance. The foaming white waves, under the sunset’s glow, looked like ribbons adorned with pearls, encircling the fleet of navy escort ships. Their blade-like bows parted the water with unwavering resolve, forming an indomitable defense line upon the blue sea of the homeland.

At the heart of the fleet, comrades from the Bureau of Cultural Relics worked feverishly, engaged in an emergency salvage operation.

Everyone was crying.

“Go ahead and cry. If tears worked, what would we need the police for?” I barked coldly, urging them forward. “You’re all young men and women with strong arms and legs—get to work and haul those relics up!”

Wiping tears, they quickened their pace. Pressed for time, they had entered directly through the damaged area left by the tomb raiders, leaving no room for detailed planning or preparation. Such deep-sea rescue excavations inevitably cause damage to precious sites and put archaeologists in greater peril, but no one could simply stand by and watch a national treasure of immense value vanish from the world forever.

“From the scale of the exploration, this tomb isn’t a shipwreck but is built directly on the seabed, which is exceedingly rare for tombs of this period. We’re still clearing underwater relics—there are many, and we’ve requested more personnel,” the archaeological lead reported, clutching a thick stack of documents. “Director Qi, Officer Shi, the salvage operation is proceeding steadily, but as we excavate further, two suspicious points have emerged…”

“Just focus on the key issues,” I interrupted impatiently.

“The first anomaly is internal. Around the tomb, we found several well-preserved bronze ritual vessels as burial items—something nearly impossible in the pre-Qin era, let alone at this depth. We reapplied for a dating analysis of the salvaged relics and discovered the tomb dates back to the Sui-Tang period. The tomb’s owner seemed obsessively fond of Spring and Autumn culture: he was buried in a jade-studded suit, deliberately fashioned the tomb in the style of a small stone coffin from the Spring and Autumn period, and the burial items are mostly daily-use ceramics—tripods, bean vessels, basins, cups. Even the mural inscriptions are skillfully imitated, indistinguishable to the naked eye. The tomb owner rested in a coffin within a wooden chamber, in a supine, straight-limbed posture. All these details perfectly match the characteristics of Spring and Autumn tombs.”

“What’s so remarkable about that? It’s not like you found Tang artifacts in a Spring and Autumn tomb,” Master Qi joked. “Maybe the tomb owner was an ancient cosplay enthusiast—loved collecting old antiques and kept them for his own burial.”

The lead wanted to say more but hesitated. Clearly, the matter was far from simple, yet it would be difficult to explain it all to police officers unfamiliar with archaeology.

“The second suspicious point is external. The tomb’s exterior is shaped into a highly recognizable yin-yang and eight trigrams motif. But such bizarre tombs only appear in novels and movies—in reality, it’s a glaring beacon. It’s like sending an invitation to every tomb raider: ‘There’s treasure here, dig away!’ Ancient builders were meticulous and discreet, never so blatant as to advertise their tombs.”

“This is obviously a decoy. You must immediately determine the exact location of the main tomb. By the end of this month, we need to cover the sea area within five kilometers,” I said without hesitation.

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“This…” The lead looked troubled.

“My dear apprentice, don’t always scold them. If you want to know the exact location of the main tomb, just ask the tomb raiders. They’ve been down there themselves—they know better than anyone,” Master Qi patted my shoulder, quietly reminding me, “Archaeologists are the experts; we’re just police. Outsiders shouldn’t direct insiders—it leads to conflict.”

“My dear master, are you aware that when the tomb raiding gang surfaced, three were dead and one critically injured? They’re either lying in the morgue awaiting identification or fighting for life in the ICU. We can’t ask them anything. Their clothing has been sent for forensic analysis—the results will be out next week at the earliest,” I glared at Master Qi. “The higher-ups keep pressuring us. They didn’t dare dump it on you, so all of it lands on me!”

Some crime dramas love to portray apprentices as brainless hotheads and masters as eccentric old men—pure stereotype. Master Qi was like a spring: when I pushed, he bent; when I eased, he pushed back; give him a little sunshine and he’s radiant, even cheeky.

“Alright, my good apprentice, let’s not argue. Time is short—let’s dive in and take a look first,” Master Qi surrendered, smiling at me.

I couldn’t fathom what amused him.

We presented our permits and credentials, suited up in diving gear and oxygen supply, and plunged beneath the waves. Human diving depth is limited—even professional divers in the Western Sea rarely exceed thirty meters. For safety, we planned only to survey the surrounding area, avoiding the core.

Luckily, the entire tomb site was easily identifiable. The seabed tomb formed a concave shape, with a yin-yang fish motif at its center, about a hundred meters deep—requiring a manned submersible to reach the bottom. The surrounding area was only tens of meters deep, radiating outward in high relief. Basalt stones arranged in a precise eight trigrams pattern encircled the site. At the very edge, we could reach it on this dive; piles of ancient ceramics and jars covered the area, stained greenish-yellow by the sea. There were no vibrant coral reefs nor aggressive large fish—just sea grass swaying gently in the rock crevices, like ancient souls drifting in the depths.

Encased in thick diving gear, occasional bubbles gathered on my suit’s surface, yet the cold and damp still seeped into my bones. I grew up on the Western Sea coast, was a capable swimmer, but had never encountered such a green, chilling seabed.

Investigating an underwater artifact theft was a considerable challenge for me. Truth be told, the ocean was my home, but not my battleground. My early work in cultural crime taught me: it’s easier to capture tomb raiders on land.

Take the excavation process, for example—no one can tunnel through solid ground without leaving traces. Tomb raiders always leave a shaft behind. With just one look at the shaft, I can judge the gang’s experience and size.

There are three types of shafts: vertical, horizontal, and mixed. Only novices, new to the trade, dabble in mysticism and dig vertical shafts like wells, foolishly drilling straight down. Seasoned raiders correct their errors through practice. They prefer mixed shafts, sometimes digging horizontally for hundreds of meters with just a surveying instrument, precisely reaching the main chamber. Even the branching ‘water pipes’—secondary shafts—are expertly aimed at smaller chambers, an impressive feat.

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But in underwater artifact theft, all that experience is useless. The raiders often vanish without a trace, leaving only a wrecked site in urgent need of rescue for us police. When we finally apprehend them, they stubbornly claim to be offshore fishermen, clueless as to how they netted so many valuable jars.

Of course, whether a crime has occurred is determined by evidence. Confronted with overwhelming proof, no amount of clever talk can save the tomb raiders.

I refocused, carefully examining the traces of the seabed tomb. Soon, I noticed an inconspicuous circular stone cover at the Xun trigram position, about three meters in diameter. Oddly, though sea grass thrived everywhere else, this cover was coated only with sand and mud.

I edged forward, trying to lift the stone cover.

“Don’t move.” Master Qi immediately pressed my hand, signaling caution. He gestured toward the surface, indicating he would go up first and call down some experienced colleagues to investigate.

Moments later, Master Qi returned with three archaeologists in diving suits, dragging an array of detection instruments. The three tinkered with the stone cover for a while, finally giving us a unanimous “OK” gesture—they judged that it was just seawater below, no danger.

But as we pried open a gap, the whole stone cover was suddenly wrenched aside by a tremendous force, forming a massive whirlpool.

Like pulling the plug from a bathtub.

In an instant, everyone around the opening was sucked down into the depths.