Tomb robbing: I was Buried alive in the Mausoleum of the First Emperor, I Get Stronger by Looting Corpses - Chapter 29

Chapter 29: Opening the Gates of Slaughter Once More

Meng Jiangnv’s brows furrowed slightly as she looked at Yang Yi. “Husband, what should we do?”

Yang Yi smiled reassuringly, his tone calm yet firm. “There’s nothing to worry about. We just need to be cautious.” He gestured toward the ancient mechanisms embedded in the ground. “Traps and mechanisms are most dangerous when they remain undiscovered. But now that we know they exist, we can approach them carefully, take our time, and dismantle them one by one.”

His confidence was unwavering. At this moment, his only task was to reach the other corridors. As long as he was cautious, even the deadliest traps wouldn’t be able to stop him.

However, storming the fortress was a different matter altogether. Not only would he face the formidable tomb guards, but also the deadly mechanisms hidden within the walls. The best strategy was to continue growing stronger and force the guards out. Taking a deep breath, he turned to the two women beside him. “Let’s move. But when I start dismantling the traps, I want you both to stay inside the corridor until it’s safe.”

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As they retraced their steps to the corridor entrance, Yang Yi was taken aback by what he saw. The previously triggered mechanisms—the hidden crossbows, the flipped stone plates, the sunken pressure traps—had all reset themselves. The ground was restored, the crossbows retracted, and the only sign of the earlier attack was the scattered arrows lying across the floor.

Yang Yi narrowed his eyes, his respect for ancient engineering growing deeper. “I underestimated them. These mechanisms aren’t just deadly—they’re intelligent.”

The realization sparked a thought. The Mohist engineers who designed these traps had mastered a level of ingenuity that modern scholars could hardly fathom.

Why did Mohist engineering disappear from history? Was it because of the imperial suppression that came later? Or was it because Confucianism became the dominant ideology, silencing other schools of thought? If such engineering had continued to evolve for thousands of years, would humanity already be among the stars?

Shaking off his musings, he focused back on the task at hand. At that moment, a familiar sensation washed over him—that eerie feeling of being watched.

Lifting his gaze toward the dimly lit fortress wall, Yang Yi’s eyes locked onto a familiar figure. The old man stood there again, his expression grim and unreadable, but this time, there was something different in his gaze: Murderous intent.

Yang Yi’s lips curled into a smirk. “Are you finally thinking of making a move?” His stance remained relaxed, but internally, he was on high alert. He knew that if the old man crossed into the corridor, he could use the confined space to his advantage and fight on his own terms. But the old man did not move.

Beside him, the middle-aged general clenched his fists, his voice low and cold. “My Lord, should we act?” The old man shook his head, his tone firm. “No. Let him be.” The general’s brows furrowed in frustration. “But he’s dismantling the traps.”

The old man’s eyes remained calm. “Let him. If he wants to exhaust himself, let him dig his own grave.” He turned away, his voice indifferent. “Our duty is to ensure that no one leaves this tomb alive. As long as we fulfil that, his efforts are meaningless.”

Hearing this, Yang Yi chuckled softly. “So, unless I attack the inner palace or try to escape, you won’t make a move?” His strategy became clearer. He now knew that he could move freely within the outer corridors without immediate retaliation. Lifting another stone sphere, he hurled it into another corridor.

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The stone sphere rumbled forward, its impact echoing through the silent darkness. Unlike last time, nothing happened—no collapsing floors, no hidden crossbows. Yang Yi’s eyes gleamed with understanding. “So the traps are only meant to prevent entry into the inner palace. The corridors themselves are left unguarded.”

Moving forward cautiously, he pushed the stone sphere further, testing each step. When he reached the entrance of the second corridor, a familiar stench hit him—the pungent, metallic scent of blood. As his eyes adjusted, he saw them…corpses, dozens of them.

The floor was littered with rotting bodies, and the walls were stained with dried blood. A group of survivors sat motionless against the corridor walls, their eyes hollow and lifeless. But the moment they saw Yang Yi, something in them changed. Their bodies tensed. Their expressions darkened. Their gazes filled with hunger and desperation. And when their eyes shifted toward Meng Jiangnv and Qing Lian, their faces twisted with an unsettling gleam—a mix of lust and madness.

Yang Yi’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Humans reduced to nothing but starving beasts.”

He took one step forward. The air shifted as a suffocating pressure descended upon the corridor. A wave of killing intent surged outward like a crushing tide. The hollow-eyed men flinched. Some gasped for breath, their bodies trembling uncontrollably. And when they saw the gleaming, bloodstained war halberd appear in Yang Yi’s hands, several of them let out strangled gasps. Fear gripped their hearts.

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“P-PLEASE—”

“SPARE US!!!”

They had no time to beg. Yang Yi’s halberd swept forward, carving through flesh with brutal precision. The first two fell instantly, their bodies collapsing in a spray of crimson mist. The rest stared in horror, frozen in place.

Then—

“RUN!”

The survivors panicked, sprinting into the darkness. Yang Yi exhaled softly. “How ungrateful. I was trying to give you a quick, painless death.” He took off after them, his halberd whistling through the air. Blood painted the corridor walls. Flesh tore apart like wet parchment. Their screams echoed endlessly, merging into a symphony of death. One by one, they fell. By the time Yang Yi stopped, the entire corridor was silent.

The last of them lay in a heap, their bodies still twitching faintly. Meng Jiangnv and Qing Lian stood at the corridor entrance, watching in stunned silence. Yang Yi wiped the blood from his halberd, his voice indifferent.

“A clean death is better than what they had planned for each other.” His eyes glowed coldly. This was only the beginning. He would purge every last one of them. And then—he would tear open the gates to the inner palace.