Dragon Vein Storyteller

Chapter 34 Placing the Memorial Tablet

Six memorial tablets were arranged on the ground. Two tablets each represented Zhang Liang, Zhuge Liang, Qin Qiong, Lü Bu, Empress Ma, and Empress Lü. Two tablets for each of the civil officials, military generals, and empresses.

Baldy Liao leaned over for a look, rubbed his bald head, and said, "This looks like they're finding partners for people, one person gets two."

"Choose my ass." I glared at him. "These are for testing. Do you think you're choosing a concubine?"

The little chick squatted on the ground, looked through the six memorial tablets, and suddenly pointed to the one with "Qin Qiong," looking up at me and asking, "Immortal, isn't this Qin Qiong the one we paste on the door for Chinese New Year?"

"The door gods were appointed later." I slammed the scabbard of the Yue King's sword on the ground. "He was a military general in life. A founding hero of the Tang Dynasty, one of the twenty-four meritorious officials of the Lingyan Pavilion. Door gods were pasted on doors by ordinary people after his death."

The little chick nodded as if it understood but not quite.

I sorted the six memorial tablets by category and glanced towards the stone gate. The three stone altars lay quietly beneath the gate, their surfaces bathed in cold light, not a speck of dust visible. The grooves carved into the altars merged seamlessly with the blood grooves on the ground, the dark red grime within gleaming damply under the pearly light. The entire hall was eerily quiet; even the four of us breathing were swallowed by the dome.

I stood up, weighed the "Zhang Liang" memorial tablet in my hand, and said to Sanjin, "Let's just throw it here. Don't be stupid and go up there one by one."

I placed the memorial tablet flat in the center of the stone platform. The grooves carved on the platform surface matched the bottom edge of the tablet perfectly, and when it was placed on, it made a very slight friction sound, like two stones that had been joined together for thousands of years finally meeting again.

Then I took a step back.

There was no light. There was no sound. There was no vibration. There was nothing at all.

Zhang Liang's memorial tablet lay quietly on that stone platform, like an ordinary piece of bluestone. I stared at it for a good dozen breaths, my knuckles turning white from gripping the jade tablet so tightly, but the jade tablet remained warm, unhurried and gentle.

"The second one," I muttered to myself, my voice so low I could barely hear it.

I walked to the stone altar inscribed with "General" and took Guan Yu's memorial tablet out of my pocket. This tablet was half an ounce heavier than Zhang Liang's, the bluestone was coarser, and there was a carving on the back, just like Zhang Liang's. I placed the tablet upright in the center of the stone altar. There was a deathly silence again.

There's only one piece left.

I took out Empress Lü's memorial tablet from my bosom. It was also made of bluestone, and in Han dynasty calligraphy… "Empress Lü Zhi of the Han Dynasty." There was also a very shallow and fine engraving on the back, the same pattern as the tablets of Zhang Liang and Guan Yu. I held the tablet in my left palm, my right hand gripping the hilt of the short dagger at my waist, and glanced at San Jin from a distance of several feet. He stood there motionless, the Vajra thread on his waist taut, occasionally emitting a very low and fine hum as his hand trembled slightly.

This isn't cowardice. This is professional instinct.

Ladies and gentlemen, you may have read many light novels where chivalrous heroes venture into tombs or masters break through formations, swaggering in, fiddling with mechanisms and hidden compartments, muttering incantations, and then the door clicks open. That's all fiction. Real mechanisms are never meant to test your wits or showcase your skills. What are mechanisms for? To kill. To ensure that anyone who dares to trespass cannot escape. Every mechanism is designed to kill; none are designed to spare you. You might think you're the clever one who has cracked the mechanism, but the next second you could be a meat pie nailed to the wall.

We've been in this business for so many years, we've seen it all. Dragon-slaying stones, chain traps, poisoned crossbows, plum blossom pitfalls—aren't they all designed to kill you? So when you encounter a trap, the first thing you do is plan your escape. Throwing it from outside the door—if you throw it wrong, you can still escape; going inside to set it off—if you set it wrong, you're dead. This isn't about being afraid of death, it's about having a brain.

"I'll throw the civil official first." I raised "Zhang Liang," aimed at the stone tablet on the left inscribed with "civil official," took a deep breath, and flicked my wrist. The tablet flew out smoothly. It landed on the stone tablet with a dull thud, "thud," swung around in the empty hall, and then swung back. The stone tablet remained motionless; nothing had happened. I listened for a few breaths; there was no sound of falling stones above, nor any vibration beneath my feet. The hall remained perfectly still.

"Throw another general." I threw "Qin Qiong" onto the middle stone platform. "Thump." Another muffled sound, another deathly silence.

"Finally, the Empress." I threw "Empress Ma" onto the stone platform on the right. "Thump."

The three memorial tablets lay crookedly on the stone platform, with Empress Ma's tablet even tilted by half an inch, half of it protruding from the edge of the platform. The four of us squatted at the bottom of the steps outside the stone gate, like four mice hiding at the entrance of a hole, not daring to breathe, and waited for the time it takes for an incense stick to burn.

Nothing happened.

There was no resounding crash of the stone door opening, no clattering of the mechanism being triggered, no poisoned arrows shooting from the cracks in the wall, and no dragon-slaying stone crashing down from above. The main hall was still the same main hall, the stone platforms were still the same three stone platforms, and the tightly closed stone door was still the same tightly closed stone door. Not even a single extra drop of blood had flowed from the blood groove on the ground.

"Something's not right." Baldy Liao squinted at the stone door. "Either we threw the wrong person in, or..."

"What do you want?"

"Or these three stones aren't meant to be used in this way at all."

I stood up, brushed the gravel off my knees, and took two steps toward the stone gate. Sanjin held his shovel horizontally in front of him, trying to stop me, but I shook my head, indicating he didn't need to. I had been crouching at the foot of the stone steps observing for the entire time it takes for an incense stick to burn, not only to see if the three memorial tablets had changed, but also to observe the reaction of the entire hall. No reaction. Not a single reaction. The dark red grime in the blood grooves didn't glow, the eyes of the dragon on the dome didn't light up, and the eyes of the sculpted figures on the stone gate didn't turn toward us.

That's not right.

I took the jade tablet out of my bosom and held it in my hand. The jade tablet was slightly warm, not the kind of scorching heat that warns, but a calm warmth, as if something was awake inside, watching everything I did.

I squatted down at the bottom of the stone steps, looked at the tightly closed stone door, and then at the memorial tablet I was clutching in my hand.

If you throw it from outside the door, you might escape if you throw it wrong; but if you go inside and put it in the wrong place, you'll die inside.

but……

I gripped the jade pendant a little tighter, and the warmth spread from my palm, climbing up my arm to my chest, making my heart pound.

I thought of the girl in the mass grave, the old man in the stele forest with his robe embroidered with snake patterns, and the last look Feng the Cripple gave me before he died.

They have died for me more than once.

Why the hell am I afraid of this?

"Three jin." I stood up, brushed the dirt off my knees, and said, "Tie the diamond thread around my neck."