Frankie was not in his room the next morning. Grant searched up and down the casino but no one had seen Frankie anywhere. The staff at the front desk confirmed Grant's worst fear when one they called up one of the night shift crew, who claimed they saw a person matching Frankie's description leave the casino late at night.

"Frankie is gone," Grant reported back to his team in his hotel room. "And I don't think he will be coming back anytime soon. Men are too prideful for that."

"Then let's go out into the city and find him!" said Monty.

"No let's let the police take care of that," said Grant. "Frankie's upset and not thinking straight. let him walk it off. But if he were here in our position what do you think he'd do?"

"He'd continue on after the treasure," said Makenna quietly.

"Yes," said Grant. "So that's what we are going to do."

"But without Frankie's knowledge how are we going to find where it is?" said Monty.

Grant clapped his hands together. "Well let's see here. Uh, where would be a good starting point?"

He was met with silence.

"Well I suppose it would likely be in the northern part of Vietnam," said Makenna. "The Taiping wouldn't have had any reason to flee so deep into the country."

"Ok well that narrows it down right?" said Grant. "Any other ideas?"

Rourke shook his head. "The treasure could be buried anywhere underground. It might even be buried within the walls of some building."

"Are you sure there wasn't anything else in the journal that could have hinted at where they buried the treasure?" asked Monty.

Grant shook his head. "Like I said before the journal ends with Jiang planning to move the treasure to Hainan."

"But that's not all they moved is it?" said Makenna.

They all turned to her.

"Remember, Jiang also sent a few men back to try and retrieve Hong Xiuquan's remains," she continued.

Monty's eyes lit up. "So they would have buried him with the treasure. You might be on to something here."

"How does that help us?" said Grant. "That just makes the body as hard to locate as the loot."

Makenna sighed. "Well from what I read Hong was buried in the Taiping custom however his body was dug up by the Qing when they raided Nanjing. His body was then cremated and his ashes disposed of. Now let's think about it. If you were a Christian where would you want your remains to be buried?"

"In a church cemetery I guess," said Rourke.

"And when your dying what would you realistically wish for above all else?"

"Not to die?" Monty asked.

"I said realistically."

Grant smiled. "To be remembered. Hong would have wanted to be buried in a place befitting his status. However his followers wouldn't want the burial site to be easy to recognize at a glance."

"We need to find Christian sites constructed around the 1860s then," said Monty.

The team went to work. Roruke and Monty did some research on the computer they purchased together while Makenna asked the hotel staff to help her get in touch with a tour guide or expert on Christian site in Vietnam. Grant readied their gear so they could head out at a moments notice. After half a days worth of digging through mounds of information the team reconvened at Makenna's request.

"There is an old church south of the city," said Makenna, pointing to a spot on the map. It is open to the public though it doesn't receive a whole lot of attention. Its really only visited by hikers who happen to be passing by. It received some damage over the years but its generally pretty intact. The expert I talked to explained that it is a chapel constructed by catholic Vietnamese back in the day."

"Or Chinese," said Grant.

"Right," said Makenna grinning.

It didn't take too long to reach the chapel located on some hills several miles south of Ho Chi Minh city. It sat abandoned in a clearing area a good trek off the road. There was no cemetery just a brick building with its partially collapsed roof.

"No one visiting today besides us," said Grant. "That's good."

"It looks European," said Monty, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand and looking the structure up and down. "Maybe it was so connecting it to the Taiping."

"Let's just go in," said Makenna. "I don't want to be caught out here in the open hills when Gordon shows up. If he shows up."

The interior was simple, a large rectangular chamber that likely once held pews and a podium for the pastor to preach from. A door could be seen at the end a little past the altar which led to a back room. There wasn't anything there either though, just cobwebs, some rocks and a broken chair.

"Is this 18th century graffiti?" Monty said sarcastically, pointing to some marking clearly made by spray paint on the walls.

"Looks like this site is a bust," said Grant. "It's even more empty than the one in Hainan. We aren't even the first to come here."

"Not even a statue," said Rourke. "No cross either, except the one carved into the altar. Looks like any candlesticks, bibles, pews, or any other forms of church furnishings were taking long ago by scavengers."

Grant knocked on the walls. "Well they don't seem hollow. No treasure hidden in there."

Makenna examined the altar more carefully. "There are scratch marks on the floor behind it."

"What?!" said Monty, hobbling over.

Grant bent down to see what Makenna was pointing at. "I see it to. Let's push it."

Grant and Makenna both pushed the altar for a good thirty seconds but it remained as solid as it looked. A still unmoving block of stone.

"Rourke give us a hand I think I felt it budge," said Grant. "Monty you pull."

Rourke placed his hands on the altar and nodded to Monty, who got into position. Together the four of them attempted to move the altar. The grinding of stone on stone was like music to Grant's ears. It was hard work and he felt like he was spending a days worth of stamina but eventually the altar gave away and slid forward a solid three feet. When the altar stopped moving abruptly it felt like it had clicked into place. Grant heard something move behind him. A large rectangular hole had opened up in the floor with a staircase leading down.

Makenna quickly took out a flashlight and shined down. "Well this looks promising. I can see a big crank down there, probably used to close the trapdoor behind."

"Let's not risk trapping ourselves down here," said Grant. "Leave it open. The only people who are going to follow us down are curious hikers."

"I'm with Grant," said Monty. "I don't wanna be trapped."

They descended down the stairs carefully. Grant had a pistol in his hip holster and the shotgun slung over his back. Rourke and Makenna had been given a pistol each while Monty volunteered to carry spare ammunition, flares, and a knife.

"Watch for traps," said Grant. "There's got to be traps for a place like this."

"This place looks too clean," said Makenna. "Not enough bugs or cobwebs. It's like someone has been doing housekeeping."

"If this place has been sealed tight then there really isn't anyway for living things to find there way in here," said Rourke. "We must also accept the possibility that we aren't the first to find this place. Someone could have looted the whole treasure and left without ever reporting the find."

"Let's hope that isn't the case," said Monty.

The walls were all brick and looked sturdy. After a minute of walking through the tunnel they came across their first significant find. On the left was a plaque carved into the wall. Grant recognized the Chinese characters which spelled out "Taiping Heavenly Kingdom".

"This is it," said Grant, feeling his blood surge.

"I can literally feel the gold running through my fingers," said Monty excitedly.

They scurried on forward. It was clear that there were no traps in the tunnel. However after only a few seconds of fast walking Grant was confronted by a sight he dreaded.

"Footprints," said Grant, gesturing for them all to halt. "See in the dust, footprints. Someone's bring through here recently. No a group of people. Different shoes."

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

They continued on cautiously until the narrow tunnel widened into a tall and spacious hallway. From here the walls looked much newer and better maintained.

"I hear voices in the distance," said Rourke.

"Yeah me too," said Grant. "It sounds....like singing. Group singing."

"It's the ghosts of the Taiping," said Monty. "They fill the halls with worship music to God."

"Ghosts don't make footprints," said Grant. "Come on let's see exactly what's going on here."

They eventually came what looked like a reception room. Though the ceiling and walls looked old there was a new and very modern looking circular table with plastic bags of groceries on it. At the end of the room was an old Taiping flag hanging above a set of heavy wooden doors. To the right of the doors was a smaller doorway with an arched top. The singing was very audible now though it was muffled by the door or walls.

"Let's go through the side door," Grant suggested.

The felt their way through the pitch black narrow space past the doorway up steep stairs and finally onto an equally narrow balcony barely lit by the lights coming from below. Twenty feet below was a vast chamber with an arched ceiling. Pews spaced fairly far apart faced a podium where a man in yellow robes stood in front of two large statues. One was Jesus Christ, sculpted in a more oriental style and the other Grant recognized as Hong Xiuquan. The man was preaching in Chinese to a congregation of a little under sixty, all in yellow clothing or white clothing.

"Seems like an underground church of some kind," said Grant. "They look pretty harmless."

"Yeah but where is the treasure?" Monty whispered urgently. "This place is giving me anxiety."

Grant scanned the chamber below. He could see a large half circle opening in the wall in the top right hand corner of the chamber from his perspective.

"No way we can get through to that without approaching the congregation first," said Grant. "I propose we talk to them."

"No way," said Monty.

"Alright then stay here," said Grant. "I'll leave you the smoke grenades and a the sub-machine gun."

"Be careful Grant," said Monty. "Church people can be scary sometimes. Remember that game Crimson Descent?"

"Later Monty," said Grant, leaving the balcony with Rourke and Makenna.

Grant went back to the reception area and pushed open the heavy wooden doors. The congregation gasped with fright as Grant stumbled into the worship chamber. He felt vulnerable and exposed in such a vast space in front of so many strange people.

"Hi I'm Grant Foreman," said Grant. "Uh these are my associates. We are backpackers from America, United States specifically. We were on an expedition looking fro historic Christian sites when he accidentally happened upon your little hideout. Apologies I think one of you left the door open or something."

The congregation muttered to themselves loudly in a mix of Asian languages. The pastor walked up to them. He was thin but tall man in cargo shorts, a stripped polo, and sneakers. His black hair was gelled neatly and his goatee long but well groomed.

"In over a hundred years no outsiders have ever entered the kingdom," he said in near perfect English.

"Right I get it," said Grant in his most diplomatic tone. "We were just big Taiping history enthusiasts. My friend had this theory that some of the Taiping may have fled into Southeast Asia and established a small hidden colony there. Looks like he was right."

The pastor turned and translated to the congregation. He was met with looks of surprise and confusion.

"Look I want you and your people to understand that we mean no harm ok?" said Grant. "We just wanted to know if it was true. We heard that Captain Jiang of the Taiping rebel army had taken many artifacts from Tianjing and moved them here. We've been to the former site in Hainan too."

"Hainan?" said the pastor, looking stunned. "How is it that you had such an easy time finding these places?"

"Well it seems most people aren't aware of or think this place exists," said Grant. "It is a long story but a bit of coincidence go us here really."

"You said artifacts but what you really mean is riches of gold and jewelry yes?"

Grant swallowed. "A rather large and very much golden looking broken coin back at the Taiping museum pointed to such a possibility."

The pastor laughed. "This place was indeed built as a final resting place for the Taiping plunder, and don't you worry my people have yet to touch it. It belongs to Christ and his brother Hong Xiuquan."

"Ah yes," said Grant, starting to sweat a little. "Hong believed he was Christ's younger brother."

"He didn't believe he knew he was Christ's younger brother," the pastor snapped. "How else do you think he mounted the largest peasant uprising in Chinese history. How else do you explain the miracles he worked?"

"My mistake sir," said Grant. "I assume that Captain Jiang had moved Hong's ashes here as well."

The pastor smiled at Grant and studied his face for a long uncomfortable moment. "You do no believe in the miracles do you?"

Grant didn't know how to respond.

"Come let me show you something," said the pastor, gesturing for him to follow.

Grant walked behind the pastor as he was led to the statue of Hong. The entire congregation was watching them all intensely.

The pastor knelt down beside the stone base of Hong's statue and lifted a latch there, revealing a small compartment underneath.

"Behold the greatest Christian artifact in existence," said the pastor, reaching in and taking out a shiny gold urn with the Taiping dragon on it. "There are remains left of Christ the savior, no even a hair like the Muslims have of Mohammed. Not even the nails that pierced his hands but we have the ashes of his brother and blood. The Chinese Christ's remains!"

Grant rubbed his chin. "He could only imagine how many museums would have loved to get their hands on the urn."

"I am humbled in its presence," said Grant. "I'm sure Hong's ashes will grant you all many blessings."

"Hollow words boy," said the pastor, stroking the urn. "You didn't believe a single word that came out of your atheist mouth. But before this day is over you will be a believer I assure you."

"Well I've heard of many of Jesus's miracles," said Grant, pacing over to his right in the direction of the congregation. "He turned water to wine, stopped a storm with his words, even brought back the dead. Even in death I assume that Hong still has that power?"

"Being the son of God is like being God," said the pastor. "They are one and the same. Many Christians understand this as the trinity. Are you familiar?"

"So it's Father, Sons, and Holy Ghost? Sons plural?"

"There is only one son!" the pastor snapped. "Hong is young brother of Jesus but younger brother as in successor. The savior come again to purge China of Manchurians."

"Right," said Grant. "My ignorance."

The pastor twisted the top off of the urn and grant's eyes widened in alarm.

"Hey he's no going to throw that at us right?' Makenna whispered. "i don't want human dust on my face."

"Human dust?"

"Ashes ok? Whatever!"

The pastor yelled something to the congregation in Chinese and a little more than ten people stepped up to them. To Grant's bewilderment the volunteers piled themselves up in a little mound. Another member of the congregation then poured what smelled like rice wine over the pile of humans.

"I don't like this," said Rourke, for the first time he seemed nervous.

Without warning the pastor dumped the contents of the urn onto the people piled up. Grey ashes sloshed all over them, a lot of it sticking due to the liquids. A man in a yellow t shirt handed the pastor a metal pike.

"The ashes of Hong have power," said the pastor. "Great power. They can be used and used again to perform miracles."

With a yell he stabbed the pike down, skewering all ten or so of the people piled on top of each other. Grant yelped while Makenna let out a scream.

The pastor threw a match onto the pile of bloody bodies. Grotesque streams of ashes mixed with wine and blood started to spread out on the dusty floor. The bodies burst into flames, the victims not even uttering a word or letting out a scream.

Grant was frozen in a mix of terrible curiosity and horror. He couldn't' bring himself to tear his eyes away from the sickening sight of burning bodies. To his astonishment the bodies began to wither and break away at an alarming rate. In fact they seemed to be melting and melding together, almost like pieces of metal being welded.

"Grant its expanding," said Rourke.

"Yeah I see what you see," said Grant.

Indeed the pile of bodies was now more of a fleshy ball and the fires had begun to die out. Grant became aware of the congregation being led in a chant or song by the pastor. The fleshy ball levitated then exploded into light. A creature emerged from the smoke and landed on the floor with a heavy thud.

Grant could not have imagined such a being even in his wildest dreams. A bear like creature that stood in an unnatural looking pose on its hind legs with a crocodile like head that sprouted antlers looked down on him. It stood at least a little over ten feet tall.

"What the fuck is that?" Makenna screeched.

Grant felt himself being tackled to the ground just as the creature let out a noise between a gurgle and a roar. Members of the congregation had charged them and were wrestling their clothes and weapons away from them. Grant saw Rourke pound a few of the thinly built church people good but there were too many of them. An overwhelming sense of dread and choleric frustration swept over Grant as he found that he could not move an inch. He craned his head to look at Makenna who was screaming and spitting in the faces of those who pinned her. They had taken off her shirt and were tugging at her bra. Grant felt hand trying to pull his jacket and shirt apart. A young man reached to undo his jeans.

"Got your fucking hands off of me!" Grant roared, trying to at least headbutt and bite.

Smoke filled the air around him and Grant began to cough. The hold of the congregation slacked greatly and Grant punched blindly, fighting his way out and searching for his weapon.

"Grant!" he heard Monty cry out. Monty had no doubt thrown the smoke grenade.

Grant found his pistol at last and began to unload round after round into the crazed people all around him.

"Makenna!' Grant cried out. "Rourke!"

The boom of a shotgun answered his call and Grant could just barely make out the spurt of blood through the smoke. "Let's get out of this smoke!"

Coughing the three of them stepped out, weapons in hand. The congregation had already begun to flee out the door Grant had come through. Several bodies were on the floor, already being gnawed on by the creature.

"I'm goign to take it down," said Rourke, raising the shotgun.

"No!" cried an anguished voice. The pastor dashed out of nowhere and wrestled Rourke for the shotgun which went off, narrowly missing the creature.

"Get off," Rourke growled, pushing the pastor to the ground and striking him in the head with the butt of the shotgun.

Monty began yelling as he fired off the sub-machine gun from the balcony. The recoil had clearly caught him off guard and the bullets flew in all direction and Monty stumbled back out of sight.

The creature screamed angrily and grabbed at Monty with its enormous clawed hands. Grant fired at it with his pistol to get its attention while Rourke and Makenna backed towards the exit. The smaller caliber rounds seemed to have little affect however.

"Throw me the shotgun!" Grant yelled.

Rourke tossed the weapon which Grant caught with his left hand. However as he did he felt the beast grab him and lift him into the air. Grant felt the wind being squeeze out of him and he dreaded the idea of his organs and bones being mashed together into a pulpy mess.

"Grant!" he heard Makenna cry out.

Grant struggled to aim with the shotgun as the beast raised him to his head. He could feel that he was going to be dropped down the throat as a snack any second. Lining up the iron sights with the creatures ugly right eyes, Grant squeezed the trigger.

With a howl of pain the creature let Grant go and he landed hard on the floor. Monty had ran into the floor holding the sub-machine gun out to Rourke who took it and began fired in bursts at the creature who was flailing in agony, clutching at its ruined eye. As its body absorbed the round fires from Rourke's weapon it shuddered and suspended itself in a pose before slumping to the ground with a loud thud.

"Is it dead?!" Grant asked, limping forward with the shotgun.

Rourke's empties the last couple of rounds into the creatures head, sending bits of blood and gore flying. "Now it is."

The team gathered around the pastor who lay slumped on the ground, his bruised and bleeding slightly from where Rourke struck him.

"You know you could have killed him," said Monty.

"I acted out of a sense of self preservation," said Rourke flatly.

Gunshots suddenly rang out from further back up the tunnel they came through.

"The church people are back!" Monty cried, ducking behind Grant.

"No I don't think so," Grant whispered.

Before they could hide, six men in tactical gear and assault rifles burst into the chamber, guns swinging around to check the corners and such. The two men who followed behind had Grant's eyes wide open.

"Frankie!?" Grant exclaimed. His look of relief turned into a glare. "Gordon!"

"Oh it's you," said Gordon, who was gripping Frankie by the arm. "Thank god we didn't accidentally shoot you like those fanatics back there. They really gave us a proper fright!"