Seeing the situation before them, Young Master Liu finally understood what Clay Man Zhang had said: if one person could enter this place, it would only be if they could fly.

But things were different for the group now; their equipment was fully prepared, leaving them with no lingering worries. Crossing over would definitely not be a problem. Uncle Diao was in no mood to give commands now, so Old Wu stepped up to take the lead. With a quick call, the few men responsible for the high-difficulty gear began setting things up.

At this moment, Young Master Liu felt a surge of emotion. If they hadn't chanced upon Uncle Diao and his group back then, reaching this far with the equipment they had would have been quite an achievement already. Perhaps they would have ended up as a mere snack for whatever was inside the tomb, making the task of excavating the Golden Queen's sleeping chamber an impossible one.

Before long, those men had everything ready. They pulled out three ropes that looked quite sturdy. The wall opposite provided favorable conditions for everyone, though no one knew what contraption they used to secure them.

In the blink of an eye, those men were already set up to rappel down, sliding across. With a quick flip, they landed safely by the opposite wall. Everything went smoothly; within minutes, only the rest of the group remained.

Young Master Liu, Jackson, and Fan DeBiao rappelled across first, followed by Lin Miaoke, Wang Zhicai, and Clay Man Zhang. Just as Lin Miaoke reached the edge of the precipice, she almost lost her grip and fell, but thankfully Clay Man Zhang was there. He grabbed her hand, swung his arm, and tossed Lin Miaoke across as if throwing a swallow. Fei-fei Wang was quick and managed to catch her instantly. Lin Miaoke was visibly terrified, breaking out in a cold sweat and trembling uncontrollably.

Next, Clay Man Zhang hauled himself over. Wang Zhicai couldn't manage it, gripping the rope tightly in tension. Young Master Liu and Fan DeBiao each grabbed one of his hands and pulled him up.

Once everyone was across, they prepared to enter casually, but Uncle Diao stopped them: "Wait, these three Xuanmen are not right!"

Young Master Liu, who had already leaned halfway into the central Xuanmen, shuddered when he heard Uncle Diao say the three Xuanmen were incorrect. He immediately felt deeply uneasy. Although he knew it was psychological, he still broke out in a cold sweat. Without hesitation, he yanked himself back. Fan DeBiao had already leaned deep inside. Less than two seconds after Young Master Liu pulled back, he saw Fan DeBiao take several quick steps back to his side. Fan DeBiao’s fright was clearly less than Young Master Liu's; after all, he had been tomb raiding with Big Hairy Gourd for several years and had seen plenty of strange things. Even so, a few beads of cold sweat inevitably broke out on his forehead.

Fan DeBiao composed himself, walked over to Uncle Diao, and asked, "Uncle Diao, did you spot something amiss, or is today an inauspicious day, making it unsuitable to enter?"

Uncle Diao waved his hand, telling Fan DeBiao to be quiet. Without answering, he walked up to the wall and began running his hand over it. Fan DeBiao was used to being shut down like this and had long since grown accustomed to it. He put on an unconcerned expression, shrugged with a smile, and said, "People these days, the pace of life is too fast!"

Young Master Liu didn't understand Fan DeBiao's remark; perhaps it was a commentary on Uncle Diao's recent behavior, but the word choice was awkward. Normally, Young Master Liu would have teased him mercilessly, but he wasn't in the mood now. Seeing Uncle Diao so absorbed in studying the wall, Young Master Liu, being a Feng Shui practitioner, felt his curiosity instantly piqued. He moved to Uncle Diao's side and began examining it with him.

As the old saying goes, things from the Western Regions truly had little connection to those from the Central Plains. Young Master Liu probed the wall for a long time but simply could not discern what the markings were or what purpose they served.

However, Young Master Liu could certainly describe what was on the wall. Its mere presence here was strange enough, but the carvings were even stranger. They were abstract, yet Young Master Liu could clearly make out depictions of malevolent ghosts, spirits, and similar entities—the kind of things one might only expect to see in the eighteen levels of hell.

Of course, to an outsider, these carvings might not seem strange; perhaps the ancient inhabitants of the Golden City simply favored such motifs. But for those of them who engaged in archaeology or tomb raiding, this sight felt jarring. Everywhere else, the Xuanmen of ancient tombs were only adorned with auspicious symbols. For instance, in the Central Plains, the Xuanmen of imperial mausoleums were carved with dragons and phoenixes. Commoners who lacked resources might depict livestock, while the slightly less poor might carve a pair of auspicious couplets.

Young Master Liu believed the Western Regions wouldn't be different. Even if they didn't carve dragons or phoenixes, they should have carved something like a Hu Da (a creature associated with good fortune). But here, the entire wall was covered in unclean images. Setting aside that this might be unfavorable to the tomb owner, it would certainly be awkward for any descendants coming to pay respects. Therefore, there had to be something unusual going on—no wonder Uncle Diao said the Xuanmen were wrong! It was all his fault for being too eager and rushing in without paying attention to the surroundings. If Uncle Diao hadn't stopped them, who knew what trouble they might have run into? He had learned his lesson this time.

Fan DeBiao was the brute-force type in ancient tombs; the Black Donkey Hoof was the ultimate argument. He couldn't possibly grasp the intricacies of these Xuanmen or related knowledge. Seeing everyone staring intently at the wall, he felt a bit disconnected. He pretended to study the wall too, shaking his head after staring blankly for a moment, then asked Young Master Liu, "Young Master, what play are you guys putting on? Is there treasure up there?"

"Treasure my ass!" Young Master Liu explained the historical theory behind Xuanmen to him.

Fan DeBiao listened fuzzily but grasped the essential point: the Xuanmen were wrong. "Young Master, you've been rambling for ages, just tell me what mechanism there is."

"Don't ask me about mechanisms; I don't even know if there are any mechanisms here. Damn it, I'm completely confused," Young Master Liu told Fan DeBiao.

"So, you're the disciple of Heavenly Master Zhang, worked in a Feng Shui shop for years, and you can't figure this thing out!" Fan DeBiao teased Young Master Liu.

"Hell, do you think this is Jingdezhen porcelain that you can find everywhere? Let me tell you, not every tomb has a Xuanmen. Since our country started archaeological work, very few people have seen one. This is all theoretical knowledge. I dare say, besides Uncle Diao before his memory loss, no one here has ever seen one. This is common knowledge for archaeologists. Haven't you been in the South Crawlers team? You don't even know this, and you call yourself Fatty?" Young Master Liu retorted, teasing Fan DeBiao in return.

"I don't research these things much," Fan DeBiao said. After hearing Young Master Liu, the expression on his face immediately changed; he looked a bit sly. Fan DeBiao leaned toward Young Master Liu and said, "Young Master, if that's the case, this thing is quite rare. There are only a few like it in the world. Can you estimate how much it might be worth?"

Hearing Fan DeBiao’s words, coupled with the look on his face, Young Master Liu instantly knew what scheme he was cooking up. He gravely addressed Fan DeBiao: "Fan DeBiao! Fatty! Are you planning to haul this thing over to your Pestilence Tomb Raiding Group?"

Seeing Young Master Liu look so serious, Fan DeBiao adopted an indifferent expression, mimicking Clay Man Zhang's gaze and tone: "Why not? Everything is possible!"

Hearing this, Young Master Liu found it amusing: "Damn it, 'everything is possible.' Let’s not even discuss whether you can move this door; even if you could somehow dismantle it, with only twenty of us here, we couldn't carry out the Golden City itself. Are you dreaming in the daytime?"

Fan DeBiao scratched his head after hearing Young Master Liu, seemingly only then realizing the reality of the situation. He stood there laughing foolishly. This guy usually let his mind wander, so Young Master Liu usually ignored him. He turned and asked Uncle Diao how his research was progressing.

Uncle Diao, who could have been said to be intimately familiar with these three Xuanmen twelve years ago, felt a degree of frustration seeing that the place he had once entered offered no clues whatsoever now. He shook his head, indicating he didn't know what was going on.

Seeing that even Uncle Diao was puzzled, Fan DeBiao said to him, "Uncle Diao, you've been inside before; can you really not understand these Xuanmen?"

"No, I'm not certain I've been inside," Uncle Diao replied. "If I had entered before, I must have used my knowledge to unlock the mystery of these three doors. Yet, my mind is a complete blank now. Even with memory loss, one’s knowledge shouldn't vanish, right?"

What Uncle Diao said wasn't entirely impossible. Young Master Liu recalled watching a program discussing how someone with severe amnesia might not even remember what they were—losing some academic knowledge wouldn't be surprising. But the reality now was that the three Xuanmen had truly stumped them, or more precisely, their psychological state had stopped them. Perhaps this was merely a decoration with no deeper significance. But that's how the human mind works, especially in dangerous tombs—without a hundred percent certainty, one won't risk it. This was a situation where one wrong step could lead to eternal regret.

"The Rashomon, these are three rows of Rashomon!" Just as everyone was stumped, Clay Man Zhang, who had been silent, uttered this sentence.

"Three rows of Rashomon!" Everyone present stared at Clay Man Zhang, Wang Fei-fei and Jackson showing the most surprise.

"What three rows of Rashomon? How do you know?" Uncle Diao asked Clay Man Zhang.

Clay Man Zhang walked to the central door and stated coldly, "I recognized it the moment I first saw it."

Hearing this, everyone was even more astonished. Fan DeBiao said, "Brother, you saw it ages ago, why didn't you say so? You made us ponder for so long."

"I didn't want to speak; I wanted you all to use your brains," Clay Man Zhang replied coldly, facing the wall with his back to the group.

Hearing this, not just Fan DeBiao, but even Young Master Liu felt a surge of irritation. This man was clearly toying with them. If the timing were different, he really wanted to storm over and give him a couple of whacks. Young Master Liu asked Clay Man Zhang, "Then, what is the meaning of these three rows of Rashomon?"

Suddenly, Clay Man Zhang spun around, startling everyone. He was incredibly adept at setting the atmosphere, perfectly grasping the group's psychology. He explained, "Rashomon is a gate in Japanese legend, connecting life and death, incredibly strong, with many death-symbolizing images carved on it. Ancient texts say the term 'Rashomon' originated in Japan, spreading across Asia as a Buddhist term." However, Young Master Liu disagreed; based on his research, Rashomon likely first appeared in what is now France, and Japan merely plagiarized it. He then looked at Wang Fei-fei and Jackson.

Wang Fei-fei nodded in agreement. Fan DeBiao quickly chimed in, "No wonder the Xuanmen are covered in these menacing monsters; it’s that kind of gate. Those little Japanese are something else, claiming something that wasn't originally theirs."

Young Master Liu was less interested in the origin of Rashomon: "Whether this was first sung in which country isn't that important. What matters is whether there’s danger behind these doors and if we can enter." Young Master Liu looked at Clay Man Zhang. Fan DeBiao echoed him: "Yeah! Yeah!"

Clay Man Zhang slapped his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and said, "Relax, this is just decoration; there's no danger."

No danger, really? Doubt surfaced in Young Master Liu’s mind. However, seeing how certain Clay Man Zhang sounded, and knowing he was the only one who understood this door, despite his skepticism, they had no choice but to trust him.

Confirming there were no traps, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Old Wu selected one door and beckoned everyone to enter.

"We can't do it like this," Clay Man Zhang stated. "Although these three rows of Rashomon have no mechanisms, it doesn't mean every path leads to the main chamber. We need to divide into three groups. Those who choose correctly will wait at the next location; those who choose incorrectly must return and wait. The next pair who choose incorrectly will enter the correct door together."

Clay Man Zhang’s reasoning made sense. So, Young Master Liu's group divided into three teams, heading toward different doors. One team comprised the archaeologists, Uncle Diao, Old Wu, Old Rat, and the Cook-Brawny Man. Clay Man Zhang led another team, and the rest formed the final group. After Uncle Diao finalized the distribution details, Clay Man Zhang first led his people through the right-hand door. The rest of the group entered the middle one, and the others took the left.

Once inside, everyone cautiously observed their surroundings. It was a square corridor resembling a passageway, which could be considered a tomb passage within the tomb. All four walls were covered in colorful murals that looked particularly bizarre, giving the impression of being inside an animal’s stomach—only the digestive acid was missing.

These murals made Young Master Liu’s nerves tingle, preventing him from looking further. He stared straight ahead and paused, recalling the team division. He asked Uncle Diao, "Uncle Diao, why didn't you assign Clay Man Zhang to our group?"

Young Master Liu’s question received no reply from Uncle Diao, not even a grunt. He merely took out a cigarette, placed it between his lips, lit it with his lighter, and began smoking by himself. Seeing this awkward situation, Old Wu quickly pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and handed one to everyone.

Young Master Liu lit his cigarette but didn't press Uncle Diao further. Yet, countless questions swirled in his mind. Why wouldn't Uncle Diao let Clay Man Zhang stay with them? Clay Man Zhang was familiar with these doors and skilled in tomb raiding; having him around would greatly increase their chances of success. Was Uncle Diao perhaps looking out for the safety of the others? That seemed unlikely; it was clear Uncle Diao didn't care much for the safety of the people he brought. Could it be that Uncle Diao knew Clay Man Zhang’s purpose for coming here wasn't just tomb raiding? That Clay Man Zhang had other designs, perhaps a conspiracy, which caused Uncle Diao to act this way?

Of course, these were all Young Master Liu's personal conjectures. Whether they were true, perhaps no one knew. Maybe Uncle Diao was genuinely looking out for the others? Thinking this, Young Master Liu calmed himself, took a couple of contented puffs of smoke, and stopped pondering so much.

Clay Man Zhang was right; this passage truly had no mechanisms. Aside from the nauseating murals on the walls that made one feel like vomiting, everything else was fine. It was a smooth journey, their steps steady, neither rushed nor slow, and their moods naturally eased considerably.

But this feeling was soon replaced by another: tension, fear, and doubt. Yes, they were back to their initial state because they had discovered something wrong with the tomb passage!

It was too long. Young Master Liu wasn't sure if the word 'long' adequately described this passage. They had walked for nearly ten minutes, and although their pace was steady, it wasn't as slow as imagined. Now, both ends were shrouded in darkness. The reason he questioned if 'long' was the right descriptor was that he had experienced this exact situation once before—a heart-stopping experience, in fact, during the excavation of Zhang Jiao's tomb. Now, in the same situation, it was uncertain if the passage was genuinely too long or if something else was playing tricks.

Young Master Liu stopped, afraid to move forward, unwilling to relive the experience of Zhang Jiao's tomb. That had been a nightmare, and all the mysteries currently plaguing him stemmed from there. This time, he didn't want to end up empty-handed like before; he wanted a definitive answer.

"I don't want to! I don't want to!"

Young Master Liu's voice echoed throughout the entire passage, the sound drifting forward as if into a nebulous, otherworldly space. The feeling was so familiar; it had appeared in his dreams, and now it felt terrifyingly real. Instantly, his head felt like it was about to explode, the pain inescapable. Was this the brink of collapse? Would he break down?

Suddenly, he felt a coolness on his head, and the surroundings became quiet—eerily quiet. However, he could hear people breathing. Young Master Liu hadn't lost consciousness; he was clear-headed, the pain in his head gone, his heart settled. Everything was calm; everything had returned to normal.

"Big Brother, what the hell were you doing just now? Putting on a show like a lunatic?" Fan DeBiao's voice reached his ear.

Young Master Liu shook his head, wiping the water from his face. He saw Fan DeBiao looking at him with an empty water bottle, water still dripping from his mouth. It seemed Fan DeBiao had just sprayed him. Everyone else was also looking at him with strange expressions, making him feel intensely awkward.

"What just happened?" Young Master Liu asked Fan DeBiao, cutting straight to the point.

Fan DeBiao raised the bottle, drank the last few drops of water inside (the man surprisingly valued conservation), and said, "What happened? You were possessed just now. If I hadn't thought of this method, you would have collapsed right there." The method he referred to was clearly spraying him. He was annoyed...

"Possessed? No way?" Young Master Liu looked questioningly at the others.

"Who said possessed? Don't listen to him babble," Wang Fei-fei said, walking up to Young Master Liu. "Just now, you lost control of your mind, standing there shouting 'I don't want to.' Is the pressure too much? Do you need a rest?"

Lost control of his mind? What Wang Fei-fei said sounded even more serious than being possessed. Young Master Liu would rather have been possessed. But why such an extreme reaction out of nowhere? Could it really be that the recent pressure was too much? To prevent Wang Fei-fei from thinking he was mentally unstable, Young Master Liu said he was fine and could continue forward. To prove it, he deliberately stretched his limbs and took the lead in walking forward.

"Wait!" Uncle Diao suddenly spoke up. "Don't proceed rashly."

"Why?" Young Master Liu looked at Uncle Diao, then at the others.

"Your reaction just now wasn't possession or mental breakdown. Something here is not quite right." Uncle Diao looked at Young Master Liu with a peculiar gaze. Under that look, Young Master Liu felt a bit embarrassed.

"What do you mean?" Although embarrassed, he met Uncle Diao's eyes.