Liu Dashao glanced at his watch; it was past nine in the evening, the cold biting enough that everyone had bundled up in thick coats and begun readying their gear. It was a perfect illustration of an old saying from the Northern territories: “Wear furs in the morning, silk by noon, and eat watermelon around the stove.”

Watching Uncle Diao and his crew unpack, Liu Dashao gasped. It seemed their previous descent into the underground palace had only involved a light sampling; now, the real haul was being dragged out of the SUV trunks. It was a veritable cornucopia of equipment, including specialized tools for geological exploration. With this arsenal, they could probably turn the Golden Ancient City inside out. He wondered what treasure they had been told to seek to warrant bringing along so much gear.

The group lined up, each person laden with their necessary items, striding across the desert. Initially, excitement was infectious; laughter and banter filled the air. Fan Debiao even chased after Jackson, badgering him to explain the dirty jokes scribbled in his notebook, much to Jackson’s steadfast refusal.

But that initial high was quickly eroded by the vast, unending expanse of the desert. A creeping fatigue began to assault their bodies, and before long, everyone felt utterly lost in the monotony.

At that point, they were little more than automatons; their legs moved purely by reflex, driven forward one step after another into the shifting sand. This mechanical trance persisted until a burning sensation finally shocked them back to awareness. Looking back, they saw nothing but an infinite sea of dunes. It was then they truly grasped how insignificant their small party was against the backdrop of this desert.

When consciousness fully returned, it was the next morning. They had marched mechanically through the entire night, and now the heat was scorching. Fan Debiao, completely unable to bear it, stripped down to his briefs, heedless of any image he might project to any imaginary beauties.

Everyone else had swapped their heavy coats for light, short-sleeved attire, but Mudman Zhang remained fully swaddled, wrapped tight from head to toe. Liu Dashao felt hot just looking at him, wondering how he endured it.

Continuing to walk under such conditions was impossible. They pooled their efforts, digging several large pits in the sand. Uncle Diao then ordered large, UV-blocking umbrellas erected over each pit, which brought immediate, welcome relief.

Liu Dashao couldn’t stand another day of this—sweating buckets by day only to have any water freeze by night, even with this important mission at hand. He found himself wistfully recalling his days minding Uncle Diao’s shop: leisurely reading a book, the air conditioning set perfectly, and the occasional, illicit glance at Sister Bai Bing’s ample cleavage. That was the life.

Lost in his daydreaming, he must have drifted off. He was vaguely roused by loud arguing, and Fan Debiao forcefully shook him awake, announcing they were moving out. Liu Dashao checked the time: just past three in the afternoon. Why so early?

Fan Debiao adjusted his gear while explaining to Liu Dashao, “Rat sneaked ahead to scout. We aren’t far from the Golden Ancient City now—about an hour’s trek. Uncle Diao wants us to push hard. Once there, we’ll have a celebratory gathering, rest for the night, and then begin the main operation.”

A celebratory gathering! Did that mean they were planning an outdoor fling inside the Golden Ancient City? Uncle Diao certainly had ideas. Liu Dashao took a long drink of water and quickly packed his few belongings; they weren't messy, so it took no time at all to shoulder his pack.

Rest break over, they set off again, marching directly into the brutal sun. This time, with a clear destination and a time limit, there was no risk of repeating the previous night’s zombie-walk.

The hour passed quickly. They arrived at the edge of a precipice, and everyone erupted in excitement. Liu Dashao stepped forward and looked down. A half-buried ancient city lay spread before them, laid out in a somewhat irregular circular pattern. From this height, it was breathtakingly beautiful, a testament to the sheer, godlike artistry of its long-dead creators.

“We’ve finally reached the Golden Ancient City!” Wang Feifei exclaimed beside Liu Dashao, and he was certain he wasn't the only one marveling at the sight.

The Golden Ancient City was reached, yet perhaps no one truly grasped that the endeavor had only just formally begun!

After days of grueling hardship and constant peril in the desert, they had finally arrived at their objective—the Golden Ancient City.

Reflecting on the past few days, on every harrowing experience, a chill crept down Liu Dashao’s spine. He thought of his deceased colleagues: Tiaozai, Sun Li, Wubai—all gone before they even understood the true nature of the danger. Life, he mused, was often terribly fragile.

He looked at Lin Simiao’s face, radiant with joy, and imagined if the three dead men could see this moment. Yes, they would be even more elated.

Liu Dashao, however, felt surprisingly calm instead of elated. Perhaps it was the sheer exhaustion of the journey. Besides, why be excited? They had only reached the destination; their actual work was only starting. The secret Uncle Diao and his group had uncovered twelve years ago still lay hidden somewhere within this massive ruin. How long would they be here this time? Would danger still lurk? Questions naturally surfaced in Liu Dashao’s mind.

As he pondered, Uncle Diao was already directing men to prepare the descent into the city. Liu Dashao’s thoughts drifted back to the promised “evening party,” and a wave of anticipation washed over him. He pushed aside the distant worries for a moment, focusing on the impending pleasure of the night.

The entire city rested in a deep, natural depression, a terrain feature highly advantageous for an ancient city in the desert. Should a heavy rain fall, the water would naturally collect here. The ancestors of the Golden City were clearly intelligent, perhaps even cunning people.

Without Uncle Diao’s preparations, they would have been forced to search for a route down.

But Uncle Diao had every piece of equipment imaginable. They wouldn’t need to find a path; they could rappel straight down the cliff face. After Uncle Diao organized things for a while, the preparations were nearly complete when Rat approached the group and began handing out sets of climbing gear to everyone.