Later, they came up with a risky plan. While the Japanese weren’t paying attention, they poisoned a wolfdog to death, then dismembered the dead dog and threw the pieces over the barbed wire fence in that direction, making sure all the remains landed near the ancient tomb.

A few days later, the Japanese noticed a dog was missing and became suspicious. By then, the dog’s corpse was already rotting. Big Bolton went to report to the Japanese, saying he smelled a strange stench.

The Japanese followed his lead and, sure enough, caught a whiff of the foul odor. When they went over to check, they found the dog’s corpse crawling with maggots and centipedes.

Of course, the Japanese refused to move it themselves, so they told Big Bolton to bring a shovel and bury it on the spot, watching him from a distance with their guns. Big Bolton went out and chose an area right by the ancient tomb, carefully digging a deep pit. Because the ground in the mountains was full of tree roots, he deliberately made the sound of the shovel chopping roots from time to time. When he was deep enough that only his upper body was visible, he struck hard against the tomb wall with the shovel, hitting it a dozen times until it finally cracked. The Japanese, now alert, came over to check. He immediately shoveled some dirt to cover the crack, then came up and tossed the dog’s corpse into the pit. After that, he pried the crack open a bit more, stacked the dog’s remains against the opening, packed mud in to seal the gap, and then filled in the pit.

As if in response from above, three days later a torrential rain fell, lasting a whole day and night. Big Bolton felt the time was right and told his companions to get ready to escape.

They waited quietly for the right moment, because the best time was during heavy rain—this way, their scent would be washed away.

One day in September, after a heavy rain, seven people disappeared. The Japanese, with their wolfdogs, searched all the way out of the mountains but didn’t find a single trace.

From then on, those seven people were never seen again. But in Changsha, an anti-Japanese movement suddenly swept through the people. A great man emerged from this movement and changed the course of China’s history. Whether this had anything to do with Big Bolton, no one knows.

Robert Thompson

The second-ranked master was called Robert Thompson. Robert Thompson was a dan (female role) opera singer, and in the Changsha Huagu Opera troupe, he was considered a famous performer. Robert Thompson’s operation was a classic grave-robbing setup from the old society. On the surface, he was a troupe leader, traveling all over with his opera troupe, but in reality, he performed by day and robbed graves by night. Their tools were kept in costume trunks, and everyone in the troupe had martial arts skills from their opera training. When they went into a tomb, it was quite a sight. My grandfather said he witnessed it once: the group entered a small tomb and didn’t even touch the tomb floor. Using a bamboo pole, they moved along the tomb walls with fluid, graceful movements. No one knew how they trained such skills.

Robert Thompson was not only a masterful singer with unique skills, but was also said to be a handsome man, so he had many romantic affairs and ambiguous relationships with many socialites. He also liked to frequent brothels, and his most famous story actually had nothing to do with grave robbing, but rather with redeeming a “daughter” from a brothel when he was young.

At that time, the custom for selling girls into prostitution, especially those brought from the Yangzhou area, was for the trafficker to carry the girl on his back and parade her through the busy streets. This was to announce to the world that the girl was about to be sold. If anyone wanted to stand up for justice, they could step forward during this parade and pay the ransom. The traffickers wouldn’t force anyone into the brothel, but once the girl entered, it was out of anyone’s hands.

Additionally, this was also a way to inform the wealthy and powerful that tonight there was a virgin available, and they should prepare their silver to bid for her.

At that time, Robert Thompson was not yet the troupe leader. These opera troupes were hereditary, and when his father was alive, he was just the junior leader.

One morning, while having tea at the Pleasure House, he saw a girl in her teens being paraded through the streets on someone’s back. Robert Thompson was used to the harsh realities of life and wasn’t surprised by such things. In those days, for poor families, selling a daughter into a brothel wasn’t necessarily a bad thing—at least she’d have enough to eat, and if she met a good patron, she might even become a concubine. In other words, it was a place where one could turn their life around. Outside, being abused was all too common.

But when Robert Thompson saw that girl, he was stunned, because he actually knew her. She was the daughter of a noodle stall owner he often visited, five years younger than him. He had watched her grow up, almost like an older brother. She was very pretty and well-behaved. How had she fallen to such a fate?

Watching the little girl, tears streaming down her face as she was carried by the trafficker, Robert Thompson couldn’t help but sigh. The girl was so delicate, and there were many onlookers. As she cried, she searched the crowd in despair, looking for something—soon, any of these people could become her client. She saw all kinds of faces, hoping to find a trace of sympathy or pity.

At that moment, she spotted Robert Thompson in the teahouse above. Robert Thompson looked back at her, and the girl immediately recognized him. It was as if she saw her only hope in her despair, and suddenly, with all her strength, she shouted to Robert Thompson, “Brother!”

That look of desperation and pleading shook Robert Thompson to his core. He suddenly remembered the little sister who used to follow him around, holding his hand. Could he really just stand by and watch, letting a part of his own memories be buried forever?