A Life of Attributes Starting as a Nobleman in the Republic of China Era

Akutagawa walked in front, with two Japanese soldiers in front and two behind, sandwiching Chen Che and his group in the middle. Chen San walked beside Chen Che, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white from the force.

The passageway widened. The bricks on both walls changed from bluish-gray to deep black, as if they had been smoked for a thousand years. The acrid smell in the air grew stronger, no longer faint, but so intense it was almost nauseating. The light from the kerosene lamp and flashlight shone on the walls, revealing a thin layer of soot-like deposits.

"It's smoke," Old Sun said in a low voice, "very thick smoke, the kind that's been burning for a long time."

The blood groove continued to extend beneath their feet. Every ten steps, there was a bronze valve. They had already passed eight. The ninth bronze valve appeared not far ahead, larger than the previous eight, about a foot in diameter, with a complex pattern cast on its cap—a bird with three legs, holding a ball of flame in its beak.

"A three-legged golden crow." Zhou Banxian adjusted his glasses. "The crow in the sun, a symbol of the sun. The ultimate form of fire..."

After the ninth valve, the passageway suddenly narrowed, and then abruptly opened up again.

They entered a huge underground cave.

Everyone stopped in their tracks.

The cave was circular, about twenty zhang in diameter, with a dome hanging three or four zhang overhead. It was inlaid with bronze stars—more densely packed and intricate than those in the passageway, forming a complete star map. The Big Dipper was particularly bright, each star inlaid with a thumb-sized piece of white jade, which reflected a cold luster under the beam of a flashlight.

In the center of the cave, there is a stone platform.

The stone platform was black, of unknown origin, with a smooth, mirror-like surface, as if it had been touched by countless hands over hundreds of years. The platform was three feet high, six feet wide, and six feet long, perfectly square, resembling a giant coffin.

In the very center of the stone platform, there is a groove. The groove is shaped like a lamp—an open, shallow dish with a small spout-like opening on the edge. The spout connects to a thin groove that extends to the edge of the stone platform and then merges into the blood groove on the ground.

The lamp holder is empty.

Akutagawa stood motionless before the stone platform for a long time. The four Japanese soldiers he brought with him looked at each other, and one of them whispered something in Japanese, which Akutagawa ignored.

"It's empty." Akutagawa finally spoke, his voice calm, but something was shattering beneath the calm. "The lamp isn't in this position."

He crouched down and carefully shone his flashlight on the side of the stone platform. The four sides of the platform were covered with inscriptions, which were more regular and solemn than those on the walls of the passageway. Every character was carved squarely, as if measured with a ruler.

"The coffin of Qin Huali, the Grand Master." Akutagawa slowly read the first line, "Qin Huali... a disciple of Mozi, the second Grand Master of the Mohist school. This is his tomb."

Chen Che walked to the other side of the stone platform and bent down to examine the inscription. The text recorded the life of Qin Huali—how he studied under Mozi, how he succeeded Mozi as the Grand Master after Mozi's death, how he led three hundred Mohists eastward from the State of Chu with fire, and how they dug pits to bury fire in this land. The inscription ended with:

"The Grand Master died and was buried here. The flame of revolution will never be extinguished and will be passed down to future generations. Every sixty years, future Grand Masters will come here to add oil with their blood to continue the nation's lifeline. As long as the flame burns, life exists; if the flame goes out, the nation perishes. Be careful, be careful."

"The flame will never be extinguished..." Akutagawa stood up, his gaze sweeping across the cavern. "Where is the flame? Qin Huali's grave is just an altar; the true eternal flame should be—"

His gaze settled on the north wall of the cave.

The wall wasn't made of bricks or stones, but rather a single, massive stone slab with a door carved in relief. The door's shape was strange; it wasn't the usual rectangle, but a perfect circle, like a giant well cover or the lid of some kind of container. In the very center of the circular door was a huge bronze ring, from which hung a rotten iron chain, broken into several pieces, dangling to the ground.

The round gate was surrounded by densely packed runes. They weren't words, but real runes—Chen Che recognized some of them; they had appeared in the "Preparing City Gates" chapter of the Mozi, and were secret symbols used by the Mohists to mark mechanisms and secret passages when defending cities.

"This door..." Old Sun stepped forward, ran his palm along the stone slab, then knocked on it and listened to the echo. His expression changed.

"There's nothing behind this door," Old Sun said. "A lot of space. But this door—" He knocked again, "is very thick, more than a foot thick. And it's carved from a single piece of stone, not pieced together. It'll take a lot of effort to open it."

Akutagawa turned around and said something in Japanese to the Japanese soldiers behind him. Two Japanese soldiers put down their rifles, walked to the round gate, grabbed the brass rings, and pulled hard. The brass rings didn't budge, but the iron chains snapped and fell to the ground with a clatter.

"Explosives," Akutagawa said succinctly.

"No way!" Chen Che and Zheng Debiao shouted almost simultaneously.

Chen Che strode up to Akutagawa and looked him straight in the eye.

"This is underground, and above us are dozens of streets and hundreds of houses in Zhabei. If you bomb here, what if there's a landslide? What about the people upstairs?"

Akutagawa looked at him and remained silent for a few seconds.

"Young Master is right." He surprisingly agreed, "Explosives do indeed carry risks. So—"

He turned to Old Sun.

"Sir, you're a stonemason. Can this door be opened without explosives?"

Old Sun looked at the door, then at Chen Che. Chen Che nodded slightly.

Old Sun walked to the door, took out a flat shovel and a hammer from his tool bag, and began to tap along the edge of the round door, little by little. The sound of the hammer echoed in the cave, deep and powerful, like a slowly beating heart.

After tapping for about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Old Sun stopped. A fine layer of sweat appeared on his forehead, but his eyes lit up.

“There’s a trick to it,” he said. “This door doesn’t close from the outside, it closes from the inside. There’s a bolt inside, a stone bolt, inserted into a groove in the door frame. To open it, you have to lift the bolt first.”

"A latch that can only be lifted from the inside?" Chen San frowned. "Doesn't that mean the door can only be opened from the inside? How did the person who locked the door get out in the first place?"

Old Sun didn't speak. He pointed to an extremely thin crack along the edge of the round door—so thin it was almost invisible, but it definitely existed. The crack stretched from the top of the door all the way to the middle, then curved and disappeared into the relief carvings on the stone slab.

"There's a secret passage here," Old Sun said. "It's very narrow, barely enough for one person to squeeze through. The person who closed the door climbed out from here and then sealed the entrance to the passage from the outside with something. If I'm not mistaken, this passage leads to—"