I had expected Han Chong to apologize, but instead, Han Chong turned hostile right to his face, shouting angrily at Lu Zong, "I didn't expect you to speak up for an outsider instead of supporting me. Are we even teammates anymore? In my opinion, this Ganda is at best a porter, sent to carry our supplies. With the four of us experts giving directions, are we still afraid of getting lost or unable to cross the desert? You actually came here to do research, and you don't even know the way through here?"

Lu Zong was left utterly stunned by Han Chong's words. He opened his mouth but found no basis for rebuttal, so he could only lower his head in embarrassment.

Ganda, however, was not angered by Han Chong's outburst. Instead, he chuckled lightly. "The young lady is mistaken. To truly understand the temperament of this desert, one needs decades of experience traversing it. The desert, you see, changes on a whim. A sandstorm might brew up in the middle of a conversation—nothing can stop that. But we can prepare, and that preparation comes from desert experience. When a camel kneels and refuses to move, it means a sandstorm is imminent. When a camel suddenly shifts from exhaustion to high spirits, it signifies an oasis ahead. If you can distinctly feel your heart pounding fiercely, it means danger lies directly ahead. The most potent, and perhaps the most bizarre phenomenon, is if, in a certain instant, you prick up your ears and listen closely, you might even hear some strange, muttering sound, as if offering a sacrifice or saying a prayer—yet, when you strain to listen, the sound vanishes, utterly silenced. What do you suppose that portends?"

This statement instantly piqued the group's interest, leading to a flurry of speculation. Even the angry Han Chong found his curiosity overpowering his irritation, and he offered a guess: "I guess it means someone ahead is calling for help."

Ma Xiong asserted confidently, "I think it must be a hallucination caused by the desert."

Lu Sha was the most meticulous and thoughtful, first pondering with lowered brows, then shaking her head in negation. Finally, she settled on an answer: "I think it probably signifies the hallucination of someone crying out for rescue up ahead."

By this point, Lu Zong understood Ganda's intent. These people were completely captivated by him. Ganda's goal wasn't truly to pose a riddle, but to ease the tension among them. If the previous situation had escalated, the group might have disbanded, if not outright turned on each other—how then could the expedition proceed? Through Ganda's subtle mediation, everyone’s spirits were lifted, and a sense of camaraderie began to emerge.

Ganda looked toward the smiling Lu Zong and asked, "Professor Lu, what do you think it predicts?"

Lu Zong smiled faintly at Ganda, showing he understood the underlying motive, and replied, "I think it predicts that they have found the first glimmer of hope."

Ganda shook his head, laughing. "Actually, you are all wrong. Haha, do you all want to know the answer?"

"Yes!" the group chorused in unison.

Ganda glanced at the highly curious group and decided to leave them with a suspenseful hook to pass the dreary, boring time. "I can't tell you now. Come on, take a drink of water, or we'll dehydrate."

Can't say it? How could he not say it! Their curiosity had completely taken over their minds, pressuring Ganda to reveal the secret, with some even promising not to drink water until the answer was given.

Ganda smiled helplessly at their stubbornness and conceded, "Drink some water first, and I'll give you a hint."

This seemed like the best possible concession. The group lifted their canteens and took several sips.

Ganda watched them finish drinking with a kind smile and offered the hint: "You can try it for yourselves, you know. Hehe."

The group instantly slapped their foreheads in self-reproach, realizing they had missed such a simple solution.

They all pricked up their ears and listened intently.

The expressions on their faces began to change dramatically. Han Chong, in particular, gaped in sheer disbelief, forgetting the sand blowing into his mouth. Lu Zong was also startled, his brows knitting tightly together. Lu Sha, however, wasn't quite as tense; she listened calmly to the prayer in the wind. After all, Ma Xiong was CIA, specially trained, so this phenomenon wasn't entirely shocking to him, and he showed no particular surprise.

Ganda watched their stunned expressions, then, frightened himself, he also cocked his head to listen intently and roared, "Bad! Everyone, quickly mount your camels! The Ghost Sand is coming immediately!" With that, he leaped onto a camel, hunched his back, pressed his face tightly against the camel's hump, and roared again, "Hurry onto the camels! Follow me! The Ghost Sand is coming! Do as I'm doing—under no circumstances look up!"

Ma Xiong reacted first; his response to sudden crises was always faster than anyone else's. With a swift pull and push of his hands, he hoisted Lu Sha onto a camel. Then, he moved to Han Chong's side and, with equal ease, lifted him onto his own mount, before turning to find Lu Zong.

Lu Zong had already climbed onto Lu Sha's camel, and the two were sharing a ride. He shouted to Ma Xiong, "Hurry up and get on a camel!"

Ma Xiong sprang up nimbly, leaping onto his camel's back. Mimicking Ganda, he pressed his face against the hump. However, with the girls in front of him, Ma Xiong couldn't press his face against the camel's back; he had no choice but to press against the two women. He did so without restraint. A wave of rich, natural perfume almost intoxicated both him and Lu Zong.

Ganda let out a strange cry, and then the camels began to gallop wildly, nearly throwing the riders off.

Ganda shouted another warning to the group, "Do not look up under any circumstances, and don't speak! Trust me, we will be fine."

Yet, the group was consumed by curiosity. They desperately wanted to know what was happening. But judging by Ganda's tension and visible fear, they must have encountered serious trouble. It definitely had to be connected to the sound they had just heard.

However, they no longer needed to strain their ears to listen, because that sound was now expanding, growing at an astonishing speed, quickly escalating to a deafening roar. But this was no longer the sound of prayer; it was a cacophony of chaotic slaughter and screams, as if a massive battle were raging directly behind them. Lu Zong could distinctly feel Lu Sha's body trembling slightly; her previous composure had vanished without a trace.

The camels continued to race, and the terrible sound seemed to follow them relentlessly. Lu Zong cautiously glanced back toward Ganda. At that moment, Ganda's face was deeply buried in the camel's hump, utterly hidden; only his lean body could be seen swaying violently amidst the jolting ride.

They rode like this for over half an hour. The sound persisted, showing no sign of lessening. The camels' speed also began to drop; they were not built for sustained sprints, and the immense energy expenditure during this phase made them uncertain if they could maintain pace until the next water source or oasis.

Lu Zong finally could not bear the auditory coercion any longer. He felt that even if it cost him his life, he had to see what this thing was. In such an empty expanse, how could there be so much sound—the clamor of thousands fighting, groans, the clash of weapons, and even voices commanding troops?

Was it truly a hallucination, as Ma Xiong suggested? Impossible; if it were a hallucination, why would everyone experience it? If it were a sandstorm, that made no sense either; the sound behind them was vastly different from the roar of a storm. Could it truly be an ongoing battle between armies? Absurd.

Had they encountered ghosts? Lu Zong's body shook visibly. But he was an atheist; he didn't believe in actual ghosts. He felt he should turn back and look; perhaps he was just scaring himself.

He took a deep breath and suddenly spun around.

That single turn nearly scared him unconscious. Facing him directly was another face, a bloody visage, grinning strangely at him before dissolving into the wind. Looking past the bloody face, he gasped—there were thousands of warriors locked in a bloody battlefield! The ground was littered with the corpses of fallen fighters, trampled casually underfoot. The carnage was so gruesome it nearly made him vomit.

While he was stunned, one of the warriors swung an axe straight at him. He instinctively threw up a hand to block, but his body tilted downward—he realized he had fallen off the camel! The axe did not stop; with a sickening crack, it split his head.

Lu Zong's head swam, and he passed out.

In a hazy state, he drifted for an unknown time before his consciousness slowly began to return. He vaguely heard snippets of conversation, something about Zhang Qian and the Silk Road.

He felt a searing pain in his lungs and coughed twice with difficulty, drawing the attention of the four others, who immediately crowded around him.

Ganda pushed the onlookers back and brought the water bucket to Lu Zong's lips, making him drink.

He felt significantly better, and his mind slowly cleared.

Ganda spoke in a chiding tone, "The child didn't listen. We agreed not to look back! Now you've paid the price; you nearly got us all killed!"

He struggled to recall the moments leading up to his collapse. It seemed everything after falling from the camel was a blank slate. He quickly asked what had happened.

Ma Xiong lifted Lu Zong up, helping him lean against a rock face while examining his wounds. "You can thank Lu Sha; otherwise, you’d be dead. After you fell, Lu Sha tried to grab you in her haste, but the camel was moving too fast. She had to jump off and shout for help. That’s how we knew you were hurt and managed to rescue you. You owe Lu Sha a great debt," Ma Xiong said.

Lu Zong looked at Lu Sha, who also looked quite battered, and gazed at her with gratitude mixed with deep affection, saying emotionally, "Thank you very much..."

Lu Sha smiled faintly and said it was nothing. "Now, tell me, what exactly did you see?"

Lu Zong recalled the scene again.

His first impression, of course, was that bloody face. But it felt strangely familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere before, yet he couldn't place it. This sensation—that lingering, elusive familiarity—had been haunting him for a while now; it wasn't the first time.

He recounted, "I saw a blood-soaked face staring at me angrily, and then it just vanished."

"A blood face?" The others gasped the word in unison.