Chapter Seventy: The Gold-Finding Captain

The most crucial aspect of sustaining an army is money. Everything is rooted in wealth, and the two places where money gathers most rapidly are the fields of war and the depths of the earth.

Now that Youzhou is firmly under Zifan’s control, the system conveniently issues a new task: to seek out an ancient tomb a thousand years old.

Youzhou, one of the ancient Nine Provinces, is referenced in the Classic of Yu as: “Within the borders of Jizhou, Shun established twelve governorships, Youzhou being one of them.” The Book of Rites records: “To the northeast lies Youzhou.” The territory of Youzhou shifted slightly through different eras but broadly encompassed present-day Beijing, northern Hebei, Tianjin, and parts of Liaoning. Geographically, as a frontier region of the Central Plains dynasties, Youzhou lay at the crossroads of agricultural and nomadic civilizations.

It can be said that the lands of Youzhou converge at the dragon’s head, absorbing the vital energies of heaven and earth. With so many high-ranking courtiers and border generals interred here, their tombs have become repositories of rare treasures, each worth a king’s ransom.

Youzhou is described as “fortified with perilous mountains and flowing rivers, occupying the spine of the world, guarding the defenses of China, with formidable natural barriers—truly called the Heavenly Treasury.”

Prefectural Residence, Inner Courtyard

Evening fell, yet the lamps still burned brightly. Amidst the rustle of turning pages, Guo Jia tiptoed in, carefully pushing open the door.

“My lord, you have summoned me so late at night—may I ask what urgent matter requires discussion?” Guo Jia saluted with both hands as he spoke.

“My wise brother, our Youzhou is vast and rich, but to feed an army of this size is no trivial matter! Naturally, we must seek resources from others,” Zifan replied, setting aside his yin-yang texts and smiling at Guo Jia.

Guo Jia paused, an inkling dawning in his mind: “Could it be that my lord intends to seek from those beneath the earth?”

“You understand me well, Guo Jia! Do you know of any great tombs hidden beneath the lands of Youzhou?” Zifan looked at him expectantly.

“My lord, as the Prefect of Youzhou, grave-robbing is the skill of common tomb raiders and would sully your noble status!” Guo Jia exclaimed, stepping forward to dissuade him.

“Not so, not so, my thoughtful brother. You worry too much,” Zifan replied, rising slowly with a smile.

Wu Zixu once dug up the mausoleum of King Ping of Chu, exhumed his corpse, and flogged it three hundred times to vent his hatred—a tale known as “The Three Hundred Lashes of the Corpse.”

After entering Guanzhong, Xiang Yu enacted the “Three Burnings Policy”: slaughtering those who had surrendered to Liu Bang, sacking Xianyang, and burning the city and the Epang Palace to ashes.

It’s said that Dong Zhuo’s men, too, gathered a band of tomb raiders to amass sudden wealth from the treasures of the ancestors.

“Do you know of any grand mausoleums near Youzhou?” Zifan asked quietly.

“I’ve heard tales among the common folk that a princess from the previous dynasty was buried within Youzhou. Her father was the Duke of Dingyuan, and the princess was later adopted by the emperor as his own daughter. After her death, she was given a grand and splendid burial,” Guo Jia replied after some thought.

In ancient times, superstition held that princesses should not be interred in the tombs of their in-laws or in imperial mausoleums. But as princesses were of such high standing, it would not do to deny them dignity in death. The court debated and agreed that a separate burial place should be chosen, a solution that suited both the royal family and the princess’s husband’s kin.

“I know a little of geomancy myself—ten thousand steps to seek the dragon’s lair, each mountain fold a gateway. Should the gate have a thousand locks, a prince must dwell within. With mountains encircling Youzhou on all sides, if the whole region is the dragon’s head, the gathering point of energy must be Mount Wulü,” Guo Jia intoned with closed eyes.

Mount Wulü, once called Mount Yiwulu by the Donghu people, means “Great Mountain” in their tongue. According to the Book of Rites, “To the northeast lies Youzhou; its guardian mountain is called Yiwulu.” The name is ancient and its origins are lost to time, tied to the shamanic and medicinal worship of early Chinese tribes.

Legend holds that in Shun’s time, the country was divided into twelve provinces, each with a mountain as its guardian; Lüshan was made the sentinel of northern Youzhou. In the Zhou dynasty, it became one of the Five Great Guardian Mountains. From the Sui dynasty onwards, it became one of the “Five Great Northern Guardian Mountains,” gaining ever more renown. When emperors of the Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties ascended the throne, they would hold ceremonies at the Northern Guardian Temple at the foot of this mountain, establishing its fame as the foremost sacred mountain in the northeast.

Records state that this was where Yelü Bei, the eldest son of the founder of Liao, the King of Eastern Dan, once studied.

Mount Wulü, possessing the harmony of heaven, earth, and man, gathers the spiritual energies of the land, with many royal family members buried there. The ancients believed that burying the talents and wealth of the past beneath the earth would ensure everlasting glory for their descendants.

The next day,

Zifan selected several martial experts from among the Imperial Guard, and from the ranks of his army, he chose those with experience as “earth masters”—the tomb raiders.

Originally, these earth masters only made a living selling yellow clay dug from near graves. But with chaos looming and famine widespread, many of the people starved. Thus, the earth masters began to dig for yellow clay in burial grounds. Occasionally, they stumbled upon grave goods from Tang or Song tombs, which could be sold to antique dealers for a few measures of rice or a handful of coins. Sometimes, ancient artifacts fetched a handsome price. Realizing the profits, these men took up tomb robbing as their profession, abandoning their trade in clay altogether.

Among the people, tomb robbing—known as “upending the bowl”—was a desperate act for survival. The earth masters, steeling themselves, would form small teams of three or four, armed with hammers and shovels, to descend into the tombs. Every burial chamber was shrouded in dread, for the ancients, wary of grave robbers, had filled their tombs with traps and mechanisms. Some, so wealthy as to rival the state, built their tombs beneath the sea, seeking eternal peace.

Since ancient times, tomb robbing has always existed. Some, with just one lucky haul, made a fortune far surpassing a lifetime of toil. Yet it was a perilous trade—the ancients’ cunning traps claimed many lives.

The title “Commander of the Golden Touch” was first established by Cao Cao, but this time, Zifan took the lead, becoming the ancestor of the Golden Touch Commanders. In later generations, all who entered tombs as Golden Touch Commanders would pay homage to Zifan’s spirit tablet with three bows, in a show of respect.

Zifan established military ranks such as “General of the Grave-Seeking Corps” and “Golden Touch Commander,” forming a specialized force devoted to extracting treasures from tombs. Out of reverence for the departed, the Golden Touch sect that Zifan created enforced strict rules: “Man lights the candle, ghost blows it out; when the rooster crows and the light dies, no more gold is touched.” Upon opening a coffin, one could only search from head to toe once and take no more than one or two objects—never everything.

To ensure nothing was left to chance, Zifan also acquired standard equipment from the system: the Luoyang shovel, used for digging and testing soil layers to locate the exact position of burial pits.

Glutinous rice was carried as an antidote to poisons, much like in zombie tales. Ancient texts also claim that glutinous rice can ward off evil.

The Golden Touch Talisman was crafted from the claw of a pangolin, prized for its sharpness, and served as the insignia of the Golden Touch Commander. Its tip was needle-like, the lower end conical, inlaid with golden threads, jet black and translucent, gleaming with a lustrous sheen in firelight. The talisman was inscribed with the ancient characters for “Golden Touch” and was said to ward off evil spirits.

The quest for treasure beneath the tombs was now within reach…