Mountain craftsman, the mysterious profession of digging graves in ancient times. It is the eighth generation of me. But when I was seven or eight years old, it rained heavily one night, and my father took me to a mass grave ten miles away. He I pried open a coffin like crazy, and there was a female corpse lying in the coffin, with a pale face, obviously dead for a long time. He forced me to put my finger on her lips, and then he disappeared, and the mountain shovel was gone It was handed over to me. I was also told to come and dig it up if there was a hurdle that I couldn’t get past. I thought I would never open the coffin, but ten years later, everything changed with the death of Seventh Grandma... 576937870 Readers, welcome to the old book 'Survival Game'.