Chapter 27 – Martyrdom – Northern School Tomb Raider’s Notes

Boss Sun led the way, and the group huddled inside.

Because of the inconvenience, we drilled inward without a torch, manpower a flashlight lighting, it is a bit like the field military training kind of creeping forward.

There is a lot of dust and spider webs on these cypresses put together by the Yellow Gut title.

As he drilled, Boss Sun, who was leading the way at the head, suddenly stopped.

“What’s up boss,” asked a mole.

Boss Sun twisted his head and shone his flashlight, which shook my eyes very much.

I heard him say, “Have you guys noticed that it’s getting shorter and shorter and we’re going downhill?”

There was wood all around, plus I hadn’t even paid attention to it when I was nervous earlier, and now that I heard him say it, I looked down and it seemed to be true.

Where we had just climbed over, it turned into a small slope.

The discovery baffled everyone.

Because according to common sense, the yellow intestines are built on flat ground, and the very center of the wooden hill is the coffin, but what’s going on here? Is this the way down? There’s more down there?

“Don’t even think about it, let’s get to the head first,” Boss Sun left a message and continued to climb in.

The further you climbed in, the more alarmed you became.

Just a moment ago it was a slight incline, now the incline is increasing.

Although the Sun brothers had done a lot of work before, this was the first time they should have seen such an abnormal design.

I was at the very end of the line, and in front of me was a mole, there was very little room, and a mole was wearing jeans, and her ass was puckered and arching, which made me a little distracted.

After estimating about ten minutes or so of climbing, the space ahead slowly got bigger again.

“Careful, watch your head, don’t hit a wooden hand,” Boss Sun tried to get up.

It was dark inside, and when everyone came out, Boss Sun shone a bright flashlight in all directions.

His hand with the flashlight was fixed in mid-air, and following the bright light, all of our pupils widened instantly.

No coffins, just caskets.

Row after row, I don’t know

How many coffins are there?

Some of these coffins are rotten, some have collapsed into a flattened shape, and some are basically intact.

That heathered scent, which smells very pronounced now, endures.

Dozens of coffins were piled up and placed together, and there were still no obvious burial goods on the ground, which was completely inconsistent with the funeral system of any dynasty.

Third brother frowned: “Big brother, so many concentrated coffins, is this a Western Zhou martyrdom pit?”

He was justified in asking this question because, except for the Shang Dynasty and the early Western Zhou Dynasty, there was no such system of martyrdom thereafter, and unless it was of a voluntary nature, it was a violation of the regulations of the time to force a living person to be buried with him.

Sun Lao San’s face was grim as he took a step forward to a coffin that had collapsed not too badly, just a bit flat.

I gulped and held up my flashlight, my eyes unblinking as I watched Sun Lao San.

“Boss, give me the crowbar,” Sun Lao San stretched out his hand with a stony face.

“Then,” the two of them worked in tandem as the older brother threw the small crowbar.

Almost without pause, after getting the crowbar Sun Laosan was ready to make his move to pry open the coffin.

“Wait for the oldest first.”

“Did you count how many coffin nails?” Big Brother asked, frowning.

Sun Lao San moved his flashlight to look, “Some of the nails are rotted out, can’t be sure, could be six.”

“Six coffin nails?”