Chapter Forty-One: The Strange Door

After listening to Wang Feiyang recite that string of words, I was utterly bewildered, having no idea what any of it meant. Beside me, Lu Li had already begun quickly making calculations with his fingers. He finished soon after, then said, “Brother Wang, keep reading.”

“Zhang Lan, born in the year of Xin Hai, month of Bing Shen, day of Gui You. Died in the year of Geng Chen, month of Shen, day of Wu Shen. Cause of death: drowning. Number: forty-one!”

“Li Yuting, born in the year of Jia Xu, month of Ji Si, day of Geng Zi. Died in the year of Jia Wu, month of Jia Xu, day of Geng Shen. Cause of death: suicide by carbon monoxide, number: twenty-three!”

As Wang Feiyang continued reading the inscriptions engraved on the coffin wall, Lu Li had already finished his calculations again and again, and began muttering to himself: “Liu Haoqiang, born February 12, 1992, died September 21, 2012, cause of death: car accident, number thirty-eight!”

“Zhang Lan, born August 16, 1971, died August 18, 2000, cause of death: drowning, number forty-one!”

“Li Yuting, born...”

“Stop reading.” I suddenly interrupted Wang Feiyang and Lu Li, saying, what’s inscribed here must be these people’s birth dates, death dates, and causes of death, but what does that ‘number’ at the end mean?

“Could it be their age?” Lu Li wondered beside me, but he quickly shook his head. No, that couldn’t be it. Their birth and death dates were already recorded; for example, Zhang Lan was born in 1971 and died in 2000, so she should have been twenty-nine. But the number at the end was forty-one, meaning the ages didn’t match!

I nodded, saying it was strange indeed. Why would these seven coffins be inscribed with such odd information, and what did that number represent?

“The inscriptions on the coffin wall are constantly changing!” Wang Feiyang suddenly blurted, startling me. I hurriedly asked what was going on.

Wang Feiyang frowned and explained that there were thousands upon thousands of inscriptions here, each representing a person’s birth and death record, but they weren’t fixed—new records would appear in some places, and others would vanish.

While I was still puzzling over this, one of the large red coffins floating above suddenly opened a crack on its own. The three of us were startled and quickly stepped back, just in time to see a man and woman emerge from within.

The pair looked to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. The man was dressed in a suit, but his once-white shirt was now completely stained red with blood, and he limped as he walked. The woman wore black stockings and high heels, looking quite alluring, but her face was a bloody, mangled mess, her features almost unrecognizable.

Hand in hand, they walked out of the coffin, expressionless, and made their way toward the round iron door at the center. As soon as they stepped inside, Wang Feiyang furrowed his brow, pointed at the red coffin from which they’d emerged, and told us to look.

Following his finger, I saw that two new lines of inscription had suddenly appeared on the coffin. The style matched the rest, recording the birth dates, death dates, and causes of death of those two, with the same mysterious ‘number’ at the end.

As I stared at those lines, entranced, several other red coffins also began to open one after another. More men and women, much like the first pair, emerged from within.

Among them were old and young, men and women—some missing arms or legs, some covered in blood, and a few who, aside from their pallor, seemed otherwise unharmed. In the ten or so minutes we waited, at least twenty people emerged from the coffins and headed toward the round iron door.

Each time they entered the door, a new record appeared on the coffin they had exited, just like a file.

The three of us exchanged glances. Then Wang Feiyang said, “All these spirits are going inside that door. The treasure the Taoist nun is after must be hidden behind it. If we want it, we have to go through that door.”

With that, Wang Feiyang cautiously followed the spirits toward the iron door.

We didn’t stop him, because I agreed with his reasoning. Lu Li and I followed close behind.

Soon, the three of us stood before the iron door, which was now slightly ajar. Wang Feiyang reached out to push it, but the instant his hand touched the metal, he let out a scream and staggered back.

His face turned deathly pale, sweat beading on his brow. I rushed over to ask what happened. He trembled as he showed me his hand, which was seared and still smoking, as if scalded by red-hot iron.

I asked anxiously if he was alright. Wang Feiyang sucked in a breath and shook his head, saying he’d live. Just then, Lu Li walked up to the door. Instead of pushing it, he extended a finger and tapped it lightly.

The moment his finger touched the iron, a crackling electric sound rang out and he quickly pulled his hand back. “There’s a barrier on this door!” he said.

“A barrier?” I repeated, puzzled. I’d never encountered such a thing in real life, but I’d heard the term often enough in movies. “If there’s a barrier, how come those spirits can pass through unharmed?”

“Maybe only spirits can pass through,” Wang Feiyang mused. Then, as if struck by a realization, he said, “Twenty years ago, the Taoist nun performed a blood ritual at the Yellow Springs, trying to harness your Nine Yin fate to come here. She must have wanted to enter this door. So, aside from ghosts, those with the Nine Yin fate can enter too.”

I paused, considering his logic. The treasure the Taoist nun sought was behind this door. Back then, she was still alive, so to get at the treasure, she needed someone with the Nine Yin fate—hence her massacre of over three hundred villagers at Dongmen for the blood ritual, all to use my fate to open the way.

“But if the Taoist nun’s plan made sense when she was alive, now that she’s become a vengeful ghost, why doesn’t she just go through the door herself?” I asked, puzzled.

“Maybe she’s afraid,” Lu Li replied. “No one knows what lies beyond that door—it could be unimaginably dangerous. Even now, as a powerful spirit, she might not survive. That’s probably why she sent us down here to fetch the treasure for her.”

“Or maybe not all spirits can pass through,” he continued. “There could be other restrictions. Even as a ghost, she might still be barred from entry. But since she once tried to take you into the reservoir, it suggests that as long as the Nine Yin fate is present, not only can the person with it enter, but those accompanying them can as well.”

Hearing this, I didn’t hesitate. I strode up to the iron door and carefully reached out. To my surprise, I felt no pain at all upon touching it. Emboldened, I pressed my palm against the door and pushed.

“As we guessed—I can break the barrier! Grab onto me, quickly!” I called.

Wang Feiyang and Lu Li wasted no time. They each grabbed a shoulder, and I stepped boldly forward, pulling them with me through the door.

The moment we crossed, I was hit by a crushing sense of oppression. Looking around, I found myself surrounded by blood-red liquid, as if submerged in a pool made entirely of blood.

Holding my breath, I swam desperately upward. Soon, I broke the surface and looked around, realizing I was in a vast river—the water bright red, seemingly made of blood. The liquid that had flowed from the door earlier must have leaked from this very river.

“Where are we?” Wang Feiyang and Lu Li surfaced nearby, looking around with wide-eyed astonishment.

We soon noticed that we weren’t alone. All around us were others, including those who had come out of the seven coffins and entered the door earlier. They were all struggling toward the riverbank, but suddenly a wave of blood swept over, dragging half of them beneath the surface, never to reappear. The survivors scrambled out of the river as fast as they could and moved on ahead.

A strange thing happened: as these spirits climbed out of the river, the blood vanished from their bodies. Even those who had been missing limbs now had all four whole again. No matter what they looked like in death, after passing through this river, they were restored to the appearance they’d had in life.

After narrowly avoiding the bloody wave, the three of us hurried after the spirits and soon saw a vast city ahead.

The city had not a trace of modern style; it looked as if it had stood for a thousand years. The towering walls were dozens of yards high, patrolled by soldiers in black armor. At the base of the walls was a massive gate, more than thirty feet tall, above which were three bold, forceful characters.

The characters were written in burial script, which I couldn’t read. I turned to ask Wang Feiyang what they meant, but when I looked at him, I saw him standing there in shock, eyes wide as saucers, as if he had witnessed something utterly unbelievable.