I took out my compass, watching the needle spin wildly—evil energy here had scrambled the magnetic field. The sunken ground around the tomb exposed only a sliver of coffin board, but upon closer inspection, my heart lurched. "Master Wang," I whispered, meeting his gaze, "this coffin is standing upright!"
Old Wang studied the exposed wood, then smacked his palm. "Holy shit, it's a Heaven Coffin! We can't handle this—I'm out."
Zhou Jianguo panicked, grabbing Old Wang's legs. "Master, don't go! What about the village?" He wailed, "You have a bodhisattva's heart—don't abandon us!"
Old Wang kept insisting he wasn't skilled enough, urging us to find someone else. When Zhou turned to me, I swallowed my dread. The Feng Shui Zhai Zhi described Heaven Coffins as using live people interred to trap souls in an array, condemning them to eternal servitude. No wonder the village reeked of resentment. Disturbing the array's eye during construction must have unleashed the (evil qi).
"Mr. Zhou," I said, "can you find the men who dug here? I need to talk to them."
As Zhou scrambled to fetch them, Old Wang and I sat by the village committee. "Kid," he puffed on a cigarette, "Heaven Coffins use live burials—big evil. That red soil was meant to suppress the qi. If we uncover the whole thing, the sky might fall."
"Shouldn't we at least try?" I pleaded.
He snorted, blowing smoke. "Your life is your own."
Soon, Zhou returned with five men on a donkey cart. Their skin oozed yellow pus from 溃烂 (ulcerated) sores—hardly a patch of healthy flesh. "They just took sedatives," Zhou said, "they can talk briefly."
"Tell me everything about digging the foundation—no details missed." Old Wang leaned in as the men recounted:
The village committee once sponsored a man named Ma Laoer, who later made a fortune and funded a new committee building. When digging, Liu Laoda's team found bronze nails (which they divided for money), then a huge bronze pillar. Lifting it with a crane, they saw something terrifying but indescribable—soon, everyone fell ill. Seven had died since.
"Where's the bronze pillar?" I asked.
We rushed to the old committee building. The pillar was engraved with thunderclouds and lions, each holding a child in its mouth. I drew a Heavenly Stems-Earthly Branches compass in the dirt—the pillar was the array's eye, and the coffin lay in the Xu (dog) position.
Old Wang studied the pillar and my drawing, then slapped his thigh. "I know what this is! It's the Twelve Child Coffins array from the Multitude of Evils Bureau. Count the beasts—twelve, right? Each coffin at Zi, Chou, Yin...Hai holds an 8-year-old matching the tomb owner's zodiac, buried sitting up."
"Created in the Yuan Dynasty—this array's been here 600+ years. The (evil qi) has poisoned the village's life force." He sighed, "This is too risky. Find someone else."
I saw through his act—he was waiting to bargain. "Break the array, and I'll give you all the money. I'll assist you."
His demeanor shifted instantly. Lighting a Changzheng cigarette, he squinted. "Well... there might be a way. I'll do my best."