Entry hall 219 was an ancient underground pool known in the water-ledgers as the Dry Cistern.
Quarried during the Second Dynasty, the chamber was fifty paces square and thirty arm-lengths deep, lined with finely dressed blocks of non-porous grey limestone. In hundreds of years past, it had served as an emergency settling basin to catch excess settled mud during the great dredging cycles. But during the invasion of Zhu Heling’s vanguard, the outer sect raiders had used this dry, secluded chamber as their forward staging depot and equipment dump.
Now, in the wake of their hasty escape, the floor of the water tank was littered with the abandoned machinery of their sacrilegious enterprise.
Qiao Ming dropped the wooden access ladder, his bare calloused feet stepping onto the cold limestone floor. His horn lantern cast long, flickering shadows across the detritus of invasion. Overturned wicker crates, abandoned coils of hemp rope, trampled rations of greasy salted pork, and three copper stoves still warm with the rancid soot of burned wolf-fat.
In the center of the chamber sat the true purpose of their expedition. Fourteen spirit-cages, designed specifically to capture and imprison the soul-vapor of the ancient statues.
Qiao Ming set his lantern upon a limestone ledge, unslung his tool satchel, and knelt beside the nearest cage.
