Volume One, Chapter Five: The Work

Get down.

Everyone, get down immediately!

I couldn't make a sound through the oxygen mask, so I had to kick each person behind the knees to force them away from the stone hole.

Because hidden inside that hole might be a spring-loaded trap.

Everyone’s fantasy of an ancient tomb seems inseparable from such a mechanism—a volley of arrows ready to fire, instantly turning a living person into a hedgehog. I am no exception. I instinctively felt that if a small hole were to claim a life, it could only do so by firing deadly arrows from within; there was no other way.

The people gathered in front of the small hole each took a kick and let out pained groans. After glancing at my expression, even the slowest among them understood what I meant. Except for Master Qi, everyone collapsed into the waist-deep water like deboned shrimp, trembling, sending ripples shivering through the surrounding seawater.

But we waited in terror for a long time, and there was no movement from the hole. It was Master Qi again, leaning against the stone wall with leisurely ease, watching our entire process of crawling on the ground with great interest. He gestured to me: "Good apprentice, it's still a long way from the New Year; are you all kowtowing to me already? I haven't prepared any red envelopes for you."

I remained tense, staring at the stone hole. Master Qi’s gaze shifted between me and the hole a few times before he understood. He smiled, traced a graceful parabola in the air with his finger from the hole, and finally pointed it at the center of my brow—asking, "Silly apprentice, do you really think that if we just stand here, an arrow will just 'whoosh' out of the hole?"

"This mechanism is actually just like being a person: the more delicate the construction, the more delicate the life, and the easier it is to break. This ancient tomb dates back at least to the Tang Dynasty, and having been soaked in the seabed for so long, if we were to encounter an automatically firing trap, it would truly be a miracle in the history of Chinese burial."

He always kept his back to outsiders, using police tactical hand signals that only the two of us could understand to communicate. I knew he was saving face for me. Otherwise, the people present would think that I, their young leader, was jumpy and unreliable.

Master Qi was right. To date, no archaeological record has ever found a tomb with a functional, automatically firing crossbow trap. The reason is simple: the arrows are metal, and over time they would rust and become unusable.

I took a few steps back and leaned against the cold stone wall of the tomb passage, trying to clear my head. Perhaps it was the psychological pressure applied by the spy, making my already cautious and suspicious nature even more neurotic. In war, strategy is paramount; I hadn't been defeated by a tangible enemy, but by an intangible psychological game.

I stopped paying attention to the incessant chatter of the enemy. Circling around the others, I slowly felt along the stone wall: the entire wall was pitted and bumpy, appearing to be made of natural reef. Perhaps the tomb owner was not wealthy during their lifetime, or perhaps there was a lack of planning in the construction, leading to a shortage of materials, forcing them to use whatever was available from the underwater world.

The small, cat-eye-like hole in the center was above the water level, roughly at eye level for an adult. It was pitch black inside, without a glimmer of light. The entrance narrowed slightly and widened as it went deeper, shaped like a trumpet. I carefully inserted my finger into the hole to gauge the distance—about three fingers wide. It should be a thin stone door.

"Officer Shi, have you decided who to sacrifice yet?" The spy in the communicator began to urge me.

I still ignored him, holding my wrist light high to continue observing. I discovered characters carved into the stone wall:

The first character featured a triangular hat, with ears and a base, its overall shape resembling a big-bellied vase, looking very much like the bronze *you* vessel—a national treasure involved in the case. Below it was the second character, with two vertical lines on the sides, a fold in the middle, and a horizontal line at the bottom, looking like a human mouth slightly upturned.

"Officer Shi, do you recognize those two characters?" the man in the communicator asked again from afar.

"Hukou," I replied instinctively.

Both characters were pictographs. They were likely ancient scripts intentionally imitated by the Tang people, though the specific reason for writing them was unknown. They weren't as rounded and regular as Small Seal Script; they were likely Oracle Bone or Bronze Script. Due to my work, I had once systematically learned about ancient scripts. But I never expected this obscure knowledge to be of use in an underwater tomb.

"Correct. Hukou, the number one waterfall of the Yellow River under heaven." The spy actually began to recite poetry. "Officer Shi, although I am not Chinese, I have always been very interested in Chinese culture. I don't know if you appreciate the works of the great Tang Dynasty poet Li Bai—'The waters of the Yellow River come down from the sky, surging into the sea, never to return'?"

The Yellow River rushes from north to south into the sea. Near Hukou, the great river, originally hundreds of meters wide, suddenly constricts to twenty or thirty meters. The water pours down like it’s being poured from the spout of a pot, hence the name "Hukou."

Hukou is not a new term; the *Shangshu: Yu Gong* recorded it long ago: "Loaded at Hukou, governing Liang and Qi." Connecting it to the Tang Dynasty background of this tomb, I quickly reviewed Tang history in my mind. I recalled that when Emperor Gaozu of Tang, Li Yuan, raised his army to rebel against the Sui, intending to march straight from Taiyuan in Shanxi to Chang'an, he reached the natural barrier of the Yellow River and hesitated. It was the people of Hukou who brought boats to the Tang army, helping them cross the river to destroy the Sui. The famous poet Li Bai, in the opening of his poem *Bring in the Wine*, is said to have drawn inspiration from the majestic momentum of the Hukou Waterfall to outline the vast, surging waters of the Yellow River.

"Bring in the Wine? What do you mean by that?"

As soon as the words left my mouth, I suddenly had an ominous premonition:

A Tang tomb, Hukou, the water of the Yellow River. A deadly trap.

If these few keywords were connected...

I immediately re-examined the tomb passage and found many scratches on the reef walls on both sides, looking like marks made by manual chisels. This was very wrong. Logically, normal tomb stones buried underground for thousands of years, even if bumped by craftsmen during construction, would have long been smoothed out by crustal movement and seawater erosion. But I could even touch some moist shavings; the marks were fresh.

I was certain these were left by that gang of tomb robbers.

This was not a good sign.

Based on the illegal excavation sites I have seen, traces of tomb robbing can be roughly divided into two types based on the method: First, if they encounter a shallow burial, the tomb robbers use traditional tools like hoes, shovels, and Luoyang spades to dig violently, forcibly destroying the topsoil before taking turns with primitive digging methods. Second, if they encounter a deeply buried tomb or a protective layer made of special materials, it is more troublesome. The tomb robbers use explosives and detonators for directional blasting, or dig a hole first and then use industrial emulsion explosives and detonators to ignite it. This ignition is not difficult; connecting the positive and negative poles of a dry cell battery to cigarette box foil will do. They then use the blast force to squeeze out a tunnel, section by section, like squeezing toothpaste, until they reach the inside of the tomb.

But in any case, they would never leave these kinds of traces—all the tools were consistently used to chisel into the stone wall, forming grooves of varying depths.

I began to visualize it in my mind. First, I pictured the tomb robbers, each one terrified. They tried to use various tools to frantically gouge the stone wall, wishing they could crawl into the cracks.

They seemed to be avoiding something terrifying. Or perhaps, they were afraid of slipping and falling in the tomb passage. I thought to myself. But given the slope's angle and roughness, as long as one is careful not to slip or be intentionally murdered, a normal person wouldn't just roll down. Why on earth would they be hacking and chopping everywhere, fixing themselves tightly to the stone walls?

I hadn't even sorted out this mess when the spy started causing trouble again: "Officer Shi, since you have not been cooperating, I can only follow the natural law of 'survival of the fittest' and screen the elite for you."

"Pay attention."

"The waters of the Yellow River are coming."

I was still stunned when I heard what sounded like a thunderclap from the other side of the stone wall, followed by a dense, hissing sound, as if ten thousand snakes were drilling into a cave. It was all-pervasive, causing the entire seabed to tremble slightly.

I watched helplessly as a torrent of water—at once extremely rigid and extremely soft—forcefully tore through that small stone hole and lunged at us like a hungry eagle snatching its prey!

I realized with a jolt: we were on a slope. If we didn't take action, we would inevitably be swept away by this ruthless current. It was like being in a narrow riverbed and encountering a sudden flash flood upstream; there was simply nowhere to hide. We would be washed directly into the bottom of the tomb, our chances of survival zero, destined to suffocate and drown on the seabed.

I had truly seen it all today, encountering such a "hidden water" trap.

The ancients had many methods to counter tomb robbing, and the heavy traps within the tombs were their most outstanding works. Aside from the hidden crossbows, hidden fires, piled stones, piled sand, wooden figures wielding swords, and bizarre fake tombs described in ancient texts, there were also physical and chemical anti-theft measures. For example, the tomb of Duke Jing of Qi contained "poisonous green gas," the tomb of Duke Huan of Qi had a highly toxic "mercury pool," the tomb of Prince Jing of Zhongshan had piled stones within the walls, and the tomb of Emperor Wu had inner and outer coffins with *huangchang ticou* (a burial structure of stacked logs). All were dedicated to building "stone sarcophagi and iron walls" for the tomb owner. But encountering a trap that kills using water flow was something I had never even heard of.

At first, only a thin line of water seeped from the hole, a mere trickle. After we avoided its brunt and retreated a dozen steps, we saw cracks appearing around the hole, constantly spreading and leaking water. After just a few short minutes, the hole continued to expand, and more seawater filled the entire tomb passage, rushing toward us.

That’s right, authentic seawater. It even contained some small, colorful fish, shrimp, and seaweed, visible to the naked eye.

I also changed my previous opinion: it didn't seem like the original trap of the tomb, but rather a human act. If the ancient tomb had an original "hidden water" trap, it would be impossible for it to have such strong impact power after sleeping on the seabed for a thousand years, and even more impossible for so many colorful marine organisms to survive in the water. Moreover, once such a highly destructive trap is activated, it cannot be controlled. After all, a small tomb cannot contain all the water of the Pacific Ocean; the seawater would inevitably pour in continuously until the entire tomb was completely destroyed. Since that gang of tomb robbers had already been here, and we could still experience it once more, it could only mean someone was playing tricks.

I checked the pressure gauge on the air cylinder and roughly estimated the air remaining in the cave before pulling off the oxygen tube without hesitation. Fortunately, thanks to years of police skills training, I had also trained with the SWAT brothers on underwater gear removal. I shed my entire diving kit at the fastest speed possible, while loudly warning everyone: "Throw away your equipment, climb high, find cover!"

Master Qi reacted the fastest. Before I finished speaking, he was stripped down to only his wetsuit and gear belt. By the time I had offloaded my equipment, I saw he had already pulled out the rescue hook from his wetsuit, firmly securing it into a crevice he had spotted early on, and was slowly moving to find more anchor points.

His playful expression was replaced by seriousness. He even displayed a spirit of selflessness, grabbing the mask and oxygen tube of a nearby archaeologist. The latter was dragged a few steps by the momentum, choked on some water, and failed to stand steady, but was then pushed hard upward by Master Qi toward me: "Go! Don't just stand there!"

The uneven wall of the hole did us a huge favor.

I knelt halfway on the slope, pulled out my own rescue hook, and firmly latched onto a piece of reef. At the same time, I leaned forward, reaching out to grasp the protruding stone wall to maintain balance. Only then did I turn back to assist the archaeologist, helping him stand steady and secure his hook.

"Don't move around; conserve your energy." Seeing the man floundering in the water like an octopus on a serving plate, I impatiently pressed his head down, forcing him to grip the reef tightly with both hands. I made him stay still. Even if the entire stone wall were torn apart, the cross-section of the tomb passage was limited; as long as we anchored ourselves, this level of water flow wouldn't be enough to wash us away.

I looked at Master Qi. His situation was not very optimistic. He had to take care of two archaeologists, a man and a woman, but there was only one rescue hook between them.

"Ah!" The female archaeologist, slightly weaker, had her feet entangled by the rolling waves, and her body instantly lost its center of gravity, tilting toward the seabed. She only had time to leave behind a scream. Fortunately, Master Qi reacted with lightning speed, quickly reaching out to her: "Grab me!"

I watched as she gripped his hand tightly. Fingers interlaced. In the rushing current, Master Qi's center of gravity also slowly tilted. He had to brace his legs against a support, half his body exposed to the rolling torrent, risking everything to reach out a hand, like a straw for survival.

"Officer Shi, hurry! Decide!" The spy in the communicator began to urge excitedly again, as if he had long expected that our companions would accidentally fall into the water. And I was more convinced than ever that this seawater was nine times out of ten his doing.

Unfortunately, he missed one point.

Our cultural relic police force does not raise "waste."

Master Qi had already successfully adjusted his posture. He even bent his free arm behind his head, intending to report to me that everything was currently under control.

I slightly nodded my head in response, acting as an upstream observer to keep an eye out for dangerous floating debris for him. Master Qi turned his head and called the other archaeologist to help pull out the telescopic baton from his waist, first teaching the person how to swing it, then how to probe into the water to ensure there were no hidden whirlpools at the bottom. After ensuring safety, he supported himself with both hands against the protruding reef, back against the shore, and slowly slid into the water.

This is called a slide-in wading rescue. It is suitable for wading rescues in deep water, fast currents, and unknown underwater environments. Under Master Qi's guidance, the archaeologist slowly approached the trapped companion, then had the companion float on their back on the water, with their left arm resting at a right angle on his waist, forming a simple safety support. The two moved toward the safe area together.

Seeing that the distance was just about right, Master Qi told the other archaeologist to let go, while he used the strength of one wrist to lift the armpit of the lighter female archaeologist, tilting at a certain angle to the direction of the water flow, pulling her toward him. His other hand firmly gripped the protruding reef, just as he had done back in the police academy, doing fifty pull-ups on the single bar with one hand, effortless.

Seeing the three people opposite out of danger, the heart that had been in my throat slowly settled down.

I don't have a hero complex, feeling that I am the greatest and must manage everything. But as long as I wear this dark blue police uniform, I have the responsibility to protect the people, and I will not allow anything to happen to anyone in front of me.