With a roaring shout from Zhou Huan, a head-sized conical stone plummeted down the narrow passage of the cave, lodging tightly between the rock fissures.

"Lame Leg, hand me your tool!" Zhou Huan turned back, taking the chisel from Huang Lame Leg, and then, in the confined space, exerted all his strength to hammer the wedge-shaped stone deeper into the soil, trying to shatter the pointed tip so he could push the remaining stone mass forward.

With a clatter and a bang, Zhou Huan knocked off the stone's tip. He then tried pushing the stone twice—it moved. Satisfied, Zhou Huan tucked away the chisel and began to crawl forward, pushing the stone ahead of him, with Long Translator and Old Man Huang Lame Leg following close behind.

Truly, Zhou Huan was incredibly clever. Up ahead, the cave passage narrowed further and further, until it reached a point where even crawling on all fours was a struggle.

Zhou Huan grew genuinely anxious. "Damn it, whoever designed this must be an absolute fool! Why make such a complicated contraption? It’s getting tight again." He turned back to Lame Leg. "Here’s the plan: use your hands above and below your head, try your absolute best not to let your face touch the floor or the walls on either side. You two must hold on, or if we die here, burying you later will be a real hassle."

"Master Zhou, don't worry. You lead the way; we'll follow," Lame Leg replied. Though old and panting from the crawl, he managed to keep up with Zhou Huan.

The three of them struggled in the narrow passage for what felt like half an shichen—about an hour by modern reckoning—before they finally saw light ahead. As Zhou Huan crawled, his arms started losing strength; the walls above and below him vanished, leaving nothing beneath his eyes but inky blackness, save for one thick vine he could feel.

"You two hold on up there for a moment; I’ll go down first. I'll call you when I reach the bottom." Relying on feel, Zhou Huan carefully descended along the vine. Suddenly, his foot seemed to brush against something solid—hard! He had reached the ground. He could sense the environment here; it was vast and open.

Zhou Huan pulled out a lighter from his pack; he had a habit of smoking. After flicking the lighter, he was confronted by a man-made passageway, exquisitely flawless. Along the corridor, torches wrapped in oilcloth stuck out from the walls. He quickly rushed two steps forward, took one torch, and lit it. This single torch illuminated the passage brightly.

"Lame Leg, both of you slide down the vine; I’ll light the way for you," Zhou Huan called out. They had been crawling for over a thousand meters, and the two men above were nearly asleep. Hearing Zhou Huan’s voice filled them with the feeling of hearing hope, seeing a dream, and glimpsing the light in their hearts.

The two responded to Zhou Huan, "Master Zhou, wait for us, we’re coming down right away." Then, they both slid down the vine in a rush and ran towards Zhou Huan. "Master Zhou, you are truly a divine man! We are completely, utterly convinced!" At this critical juncture, Huang Lame Leg was genuinely willing to say such things.

Zhou Huan nodded. "No need for such praise. Whatever we are here to see is likely not far ahead. There are torches up here; take one each, and let’s go."

Huang Lame Leg and Long Translator each grabbed a torch, and after Zhou Huan lit his, the three walked side-by-side into the depths of the cave.

This chamber was even more magnificent than the structure above. The floor was paved with the same bluestone bricks used in constructing the Great Wall. The decorations on the walls had abandoned the Persian style from above; instead, they featured ancient Chinese aristocratic motifs. The stones forming the walls were intricately carved with various murals, depicting scenes of commoners paying homage to the Emperor, the Son of Heaven reigning over the world, and scrolls showing dignitaries from various nations presenting tribute to the Emperor. These scroll paintings were national treasures; their craftsmanship and artistic skill were far beyond what an ordinary hand could produce. Considering only the aspect of cultural archaeology at that time, they were priceless.

"My heavens, if we took out just one of these paintings, wouldn't it be priceless?" Huang Lame Leg actually recognized the value, immediately thinking of carrying the murals away.

Long Translator chuckled. "Lame Leg, stop daydreaming. You really are imaginative. Move a mural? Could you even get it out?"

Huang Lame Leg fell silent, and the two continued following Zhou Huan. After walking a dozen more paces, the murals on the walls gradually transitioned into carvings. Under the reflection of the torchlight, a section of the carving seemed to shimmer—a light that radiated in all directions, shimmering with color.

Huang Lame Leg moved towards the source of the light, firmly gripping the glowing object with his cloth-wrapped hand, and with a sharp twist downward, he let out a roar of laughter. "A diamond, the very thing I’ve dreamed of! You can’t find these domestically; they’re only found abroad. With just this one item, I can equip an entire company of soldiers! Damn it, I’ll wipe out those little devils."

Although Huang Lame Leg’s words were primarily motivated by greed, his later sentiments were genuinely moving, as both Zhou Huan and Long Translator were upright Chinese men.

The three finally reached a stone door, heavily carved with a design of a Double Dragon playing with a Phoenix. The two stone rings on the door handle were both inlaid with gold bands, and delicate patterns were carved onto the gold. The meticulous workmanship was a form of art unimaginable to modern people, a gap in artistry they could never bridge.

Without needing to exert force, Huang Lame Leg pushed the stone door open. As soon as the door swung inward, brilliant, dazzling golden light shot out, stinging the eyes of the three men until they could barely recover. Once their vision cleared, all three stood rooted to the spot, staring dumbfounded at what lay inside. Huang Lame Leg’s saliva was nearly pooling at his heels.

"Zhou, Zhou, Master Zhou, this is all gold, isn't it?" Huang Lame Leg couldn't believe his eyes.

Long Translator forced himself to speak, his lips trembling slightly. "Not just gold; there are many bronze artifacts that are at least a thousand years old. Those items are worth more than the gold."

"Can, can we start working now?" Huang Lame Leg was already impatient. After speaking, he and Long Translator both turned their gazes to Zhou Huan, eager to see his decision. But Zhou Huan remained expressionless, seemingly stunned by the sight.

The scene reminded Zhou Huan exactly of the tomb of the female corpse he and Xiao He had encountered before coming to this era. The coffin in that tomb was placed in the exact same position. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at the ceiling, sensing something there. Zhou Huan waved his torch, scattering several cave bats, leaving only the Persian script he had seen before.

"Long Translator, what do these Persian incantations mean?" Zhou Huan asked.

Long Translator adjusted his eyes, gazing at the Persian script on the ceiling under the torchlight. He too looked bewildered. "Master Zhou, I am truly sorry. These are specific, secret verses from the Quran that are never taught publicly; only direct descendants of the faith learn them. I really cannot read them."

Zhou Huan realized the situation—it seemed he truly needed to find someone who understood these texts. As he and Long Translator started walking further in, they saw Huang Lame Leg had already spread out a bundle on the ground and begun his work, casually scooping the gold and bronze items into the bag one after another. As he grabbed, he laughed maniacally. "Today, I can build an entire division! Let’s see how you devils fight me then."

"Hey, Lame Leg, after all those years of tomb raiding experience, didn't you learn that the most valuable things are inside the coffin?" Long Translator pointed out. Lame Leg was already deliriously happy, having cast aside his experience and intentions, thinking only of how much he could carry away, unable to control himself.

At this point, Zhou Huan paid no mind to Lame Leg’s frantic gathering. He approached the large coffin, examining it from all angles, admiring the hollowed carvings and patterns—all masterpieces. "Excellent. What treasures. Even this wood cannot be bought by anyone."

"Hmph, that Liang the Blind is really rich. He arranged this tomb so magically—it’s practically inviting people to steal! Such a small tomb, yet he placed so much stuff in here," Huang Lame Leg muttered, drooling slightly, his hands constantly moving the treasures.