Tomb robbing: I was Buried alive in the Mausoleum of the First Emperor, I Get Stronger by Looting Corpses - Chapter 35

Chapter 35: A Female Death Guard Delivers Herself

The Imperial Medical Compendium?

Yang Yi now sat calmly at the edge of the bed, a thick bamboo scroll unfurled in his hands as he read with rapt attention. After their passionate interlude, both Meng Jiangnü and Qinglian had drifted off once more into deep sleep. He, however, remained full of energy, his spirit and vitality wholly unshaken.

With little else requiring his attention for the time being, he retrieved the medical compendium he had obtained earlier. Since he had no cultivation time left to use, he thought it best to delve into something productive—and perhaps even enlightening. It made for an excellent way to pass the hours.

The scroll turned out to be an intricate medical text, detailing a vast array of medical knowledge, treatments, and rare diseases. Its value was self-evident—an ancient tome of considerable significance. Yet the further Yang Yi read, the more his awe deepened. The initial chapters were understandable and fairly straightforward, but as he progressed, the complexity increased dramatically.

Eventually, the techniques discussed required the practitioner to be well-versed in the Ghost Gate Eighteen Needles. Yang Yi’s eyes widened when he came across a particular section.

Bone transplantation? The words struck him like lightning. This borders on surgery… Was ancient medicine truly this advanced? Could they really graft foreign bones into the human body?

Muttering to himself, he thought back to the mysterious bone he had unearthed previously—a unique specimen still lying dormant within the system’s spatial inventory. Yet as he read on, his enthusiasm dimmed slightly. The prerequisites were staggering. Not only did the procedure demand a thousand-year-old wild ginseng as a foundational life source, it also required extraordinary mastery of the Ghost Gate Eighteen Needles to both seal vital pathways and prevent blood loss. Several obscure herbs—ones he had never even heard of—were necessary to temper and nourish the transplanted bone, ensuring proper fusion with the host body.

Well, this particular technique is not something I’ll be needing for myself, he mused with a wry smile.

He had no need to replace any bones, not when his own were evolving naturally through cultivation and fortuitous encounters. With that in mind, Yang Yi allowed himself to be drawn deeper into the medical text. His powerful mental faculties enabled him to focus intensely, absorbing knowledge at an accelerated pace. Within a short span, he had already memorised dozens of herbs and their applications.

……………………………………………………………………………

Hmm? Suddenly, his concentration broke. He sensed something—his spiritual perception flaring like a silent alarm. He returned the scroll to the system’s space and rose to his feet, stepping toward the corridor with purpose.

The moment someone stepped into the passageway, Yang Yi had already heard the faintest echo of footsteps. His pace quickened, and before long, he caught sight of a solitary figure. He stopped abruptly. It was not what he had expected. The figure approaching was not one of the craftsmen from other passageways, but a woman.

She wore a tight-fitting black ensemble, over which was draped a dark cloak embroidered with golden patterns. Her form was powerful yet graceful, her long legs slender and straight, her bearing both commanding and alluring. She appeared to be injured, pressing one hand to her chest. A trace of blood stained the corner of her lips, adding a haunting beauty to her already striking features.

A death guard? A tomb sentinel? Someone from the Black Ice Platform?

[Black Ice Platform (Hēibīng Tái / 黑冰台): A fictional secret division often portrayed in Chinese historical fantasy as an elite intelligence or assassination unit, usually operating in shadows under imperial command.]

Yang Yi immediately began piecing the situation together. The woman had come from the inner palace. What puzzled him, however, was her identity. Were there women among the tomb’s guardians?

He could sense from her energy that she was no ordinary woman. She was a martial artist—and a formidable one at that. Judging by her aura, she had reached at least the late stage of Dark Strength. And she was not old either—perhaps just over thirty. Compared to Meng Jiangnü and Qinglian, she carried a more refined and mature allure. She was, without question, the very embodiment of an elegant dominatrix.

Clang—

The moment she saw him, her wariness surged. She drew her sword and held it across her chest, her cold eyes fixed sharply on Yang Yi. “I mean you no harm,” he said with a calm smile, even stepping back a few paces to demonstrate his peaceful intent. “Truly.”

Still, his thoughts turned quickly. Could there have been infighting among the tomb’s guardians? He rejected the idea almost as soon as it formed. He could not imagine any reason why the sentinels would turn on one another now. More likely, this woman had come specifically for him. But why? he wondered.

He posed no true threat to the inner palace or the tomb of the First Emperor. To the guardians, his existence ought to be irrelevant. As far as they were concerned, he was already a dead man. No food, no water—sooner or later, death would claim him regardless of his efforts.

So what is this woman playing at? Why feign injury and approach me? Unless my previous guess is correct. Someone planned to transform the nine guardian dragons into vengeful, malevolent forces—and I accidentally disrupted that scheme.

Pffft—

As Yang Yi retreated, the woman seemed to lose strength. She collapsed in a heap, blood spilling from her lips as she fainted.

A honey trap and a self-inflicted injury? You’re really going all in… He studied her carefully. So then, who sent you? Zhao Gao? The Yin-Yang Sect? Or someone from the Emperor’s bloodline?

He did not rush to approach her. She was not a known character, and her attributes remained hidden. If he wanted to gauge her loyalty later, a bowl of water or a small meal would suffice. Once someone accepted his mercy or generosity, the truth of their allegiance would eventually reveal itself. After cautiously examining her with his spiritual sense and confirming she had indeed lost consciousness, Yang Yi stepped forward.

You really did it… passed out cold? Just how far are you willing to go for this plan?

He knelt beside her and took her wrist to feel her pulse. After a few moments, the corners of his lips curled into a cold smile.

So, you took poison and passed out deliberately. Well played. Lucky for me, I have the system… and a decent grasp of medicine now. Otherwise, I might have walked straight into your trap. Still murmuring, he peeled back the collar of her garment to examine the supposed injury. There was indeed a palm-shaped bruise—but it was shallow. The blow would have barely hindered her performance in a real fight.

Half true, half false… It’s a convincing trick. But why go to such lengths to approach me? Assassination, perhaps? His expression sharpened into a cold smirk. Without further hesitation, he lifted her into his arms.