He rushed forward and slapped Fatty hard across the face, finally knocking the daze out of him. But Ma Xiong was still babbling nonsensically, "Hahaha, just the two of you, hehe..."

Han Chong struck Ma Xiong across the face with an open palm. Ma Xiong didn't react, perhaps due to his thick skin; the blow hadn't registered.

Seeing Han Chong’s weak effort, Lu Zong stepped up and delivered a firm slap with the sole of his shoe.

That finally jarred Ma Xiong awake from his delirium. The first thing he did upon regaining consciousness was vomit. After a long moment of recovery, he stammered, "My God, what just happened to me? It felt like my head wasn't mine; someone else was controlling me, making me do whatever they wanted. Oh, right, I think I even complimented you two."

Lu Zong asked, "Are we... possessed?"

"Possessed?" Fatty squeaked in alarm. "How is that possible? If you were possessed, how could you snap out of it yourselves? How could you two possibly resist such an influence? Impossible! Who granted you such incredible power?"

Lu Zong pondered for a moment, testing the air tentatively. "Could it be the power of love?"

The others ignored him, spat dismissively, "Pah," and continued walking.

Lu Zong and the flushed Han Chong lagged behind, wondering aloud, "Why wasn't Luosha affected? Maybe their aesthetic tastes were simply too low; nobody wanted to inhabit her."

He sensed the atmosphere was decidedly wrong and warned the group, "Everyone, be careful. There’s something wrong with this air. Try to keep your minds clear; don't inhale too much of this Yin Qi. The oppressive energy here is too heavy."

Suddenly, Ma Xiong shouted from behind them, "Run!"

Lu Zong jumped, spinning around, only to see the stone city walls behind them beginning to rot, melting away into black goo. It immediately started oozing toward them, creeping slowly over the stones, over everything it touched, and whatever it passed over simply ceased to exist.

Han Chong froze, terrified. "What in the world is that? What’s happening?"

Lu Zong didn't have time to worry about that now; he grabbed Han Chong and sprinted towards the cliff face ahead. A protrusion there, shaped suspiciously like an ear, seemed to mark the entrance to the underground palace.

Fortunately, visibility was still decent. Not far ahead, a massive arched doorway appeared. Everyone ran for it desperately. The roaring sound from behind grew closer—the collapsing city wall must have been falling incessantly. This was truly a 'race against death'; at that moment, they cursed their parents for not giving them extra legs, or better yet, wings so they could simply fly over the danger. The entire hall shook violently.

The group pressed on, unable to spare a glance backward. The path ahead widened, and they suddenly saw a shadowy figure dart past at incredible speed. Lu Zong yelled toward the silhouette, "Fatty! Is there a path ahead? Where do we go?"

Fatty offered no reply. Ma Xiong assumed Fatty had found the exit and urgently cried out, "Follow him quickly!" The others chased after the direction the shadow had taken. Ma Xiong, running fastest, caught up only to realize the figure was tall and thin—it didn't look like Tian Xun. As suspicion flared, the shadow suddenly whipped around, extending a hand like a phantom toward Ma Xiong’s face.

Ma Xiong hadn't anticipated such a move. By the time he registered the threat, the figure’s grip was clamped tightly around his neck. He felt a searing pain in his windpipe and immediately knew this shadow was definitely not Fatty; the hand possessed immense strength, far beyond anyone untrained in martial arts. Ma Xiong swayed his body left, clamped both arms around the attacker’s limb to twist, and simultaneously launched his left leg in a vicious kick toward the attacker's right ribs.

This maneuver was adapted from the traditional Chinese technique known as "Little Seizing Hand," specifically designed to counter sneak attacks. It was highly effective; essentially, the goal was to unbalance the opponent by any means necessary. There’s an old saying in Chinese martial arts: The foot has a thousand pounds of weight, the fist has ten thousand pounds of force. The meaning was clear: a martial artist needs a stable base—a solid stance—to generate power in their strikes. If balance is lost, if the footing becomes weak, even the most skilled fighter will lose.

The kick landed squarely on the attacker’s right ribs. Ma Xiong instantly felt a sharp, agonizing pain shoot up his left foot, as if he had kicked tempered steel. However, the figure staggered slightly, and the grip on Ma Xiong's neck loosened. He seized the moment, wrenched his arm free, retreated a few steps, and fired two shots directly at the figure's head.

The shadow seemed unfazed by the bullets. With a quick flicker, it vanished back into the darkness.

Just then, Lu Zong shouted from another direction, "Ma Xiong, hurry! Fatty’s over here!" Ma Xiong abandoned any further entanglement with the shadowy figure and raced toward Lu Zong. The group burst through the arched doorway one after another. The instant they were inside, a tremendous crash echoed behind them; the entire city wall collapsed, sealing the entrance tight.

Inside the chamber, the four found a square stone room. They immediately spotted Fatty crouched low, holding a glow stick, peering intently at something on the floor, seemingly unconcerned by the near-death experience outside. Having escaped danger, they rushed to Fatty's side, collapsing onto the floor, gulping air.

Lu Zong gasped, "Fatty, you have no idea! Those thrilling moments just now—the four of us were like Dr. Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark, escaping death by a hair's breadth. What a shame you missed witnessing that spectacle! You'll regret it for the rest of your life, I tell you."

Fatty didn't even look up. He replied calmly, "I didn't see any heroes. I only saw four cowards."

Ma Xiong glared. "Who the hell are you calling names? You looking for another beating?"

Lu Zong, seizing the opportunity to play peacemaker, intervened, "Alright, alright. We’re all safe now, and that’s what matters. Why argue? Hey Ma Xiong, what were you doing over there just now?"

Ma Xiong said, "I’m wondering myself. Some guy was hiding in the shadows and attacked me. That person had excellent external martial arts. I have no idea who it was."

Han Chong exclaimed, "This tomb has been sealed for over three thousand years. How could someone else be in here? That’s genuinely strange."

Lu Zong agreed, "Exactly! I even thought that shadow was Fatty! Now that our escape route is blocked, what do we do?"

Fatty said, "You all look at this first."

Ma Xiong and Lu Zong both raised their glow sticks and shone them around, immediately freezing in shock. In the center of the stone room stood a cross-shaped stone pedestal, about a meter high. Carved upon it was a stone beast resembling a deer, yet not quite a deer. The pedestal was also inscribed with countless patterns and characters. Suspended above the stone platform was an eternal lamp, emitting a faint, ghostly light. Apart from the pedestal and this lamp, the chamber contained no other furnishings and, critically, no other exits.

Lu Zong asked as he approached, "Did you light this lamp? The light is awfully dim, almost like it's unlit."

Fatty replied, "I didn't light this. This is the lamp of the sarcophagus; it must have been burning for three thousand years."

Han Chong gasped in disbelief. "What? Burning for three thousand years? What kind of fuel is that?"