Before I could process what was happening, my entire face erupted in a fiery itch, feeling as if my whole head were no longer my own, driving me to slam against the rock wall to alleviate the agony.

I battered my head until it bled, and then, unable to bear it any longer, I reached up to claw at the skin on my face. The moment my fingernails scraped across it, a piece of my skin peeled right off.

My facial skin was soft, like tofu paper; it just sloughed away at a touch—it was absolutely horrifying. Suddenly, I thought of those faceless people on the ground, and a terrifying realization struck me: had I just suffered the same fate as them?

I was nearly wetting myself with fear when I heard Liang Qian’s voice from across the way calling out to Nang, "I know what's wrong! Hold him down, quick!"

As soon as she spoke, my whole body tensed up, feeling as though I were pinned beneath the weight of a truck tire weighing several hundred pounds, and then someone grabbed my shoulders.

"Hold his mouth open!" I heard Liang Qian’s voice right next to my ear, followed by two hands, strong as iron vises, bracing my jaw open.

Then I felt a hand force its way down my throat. Instantly, my head spun, and I was overwhelmed by a violent urge to vomit.

But whatever was churning in my stomach was blocked by that arm, preventing any expulsion; all I could manage were dry heaves, tears and snot streaming from my nose.

It was such intense torment that I swore I never wanted to experience it a second time in this life.

Before long, the hand was withdrawn from my throat, pulling out a blackish-yellow object held between two fingers, which emitted a faint, high-pitched squeak.

A sudden wave of relief washed over me; the itching on my face subsided. I turned my head sideways and retched, expelling a pale yellow fluid streaked with blood—it was utterly repulsive.

After several rounds of vomiting, I finally caught my breath, wiping the fluids and tears from my mouth and nose with my sleeve.

Nang helped me up then and passed me a canteen to rinse my mouth.

I coughed dryly a few more times before I could finally force out a word, asking, "Wh-what the hell was that thing?"

Liang Qian had already crushed the object and now held her hand open. "Did you enjoy the snack? This is called a Ku Long (bitter toad). I thought this species had vanished from the earth long ago; I never expected to see one here. If it weren't so pernicious, I might have donated it to the zoo."

His words struck me as strange, so I leaned in for a closer look and immediately recognized it: a small toad with golden spots on its back. "Isn't this just a toad? What's a Ku Long?"

Liang Qian tossed the remains aside and shook his head. "This is no ordinary toad. This creature was used during the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods to create poisons—it’s known as the Golden Cicada Gu. It’s one of the ancient dark arts devised by the ancients."

I didn't know about the Golden Cicada Gu, but I finally understood how that thing ended up in my mouth. If I wasn't mistaken, the zombie must have carried this Gu, and those three dead men must have been poisoned by it too, leading them to claw off their own faces in their final, agonizing moments.

When Nang smashed the zombie, some of its blood must have splashed into my mouth, and that Ku Long must have flown in at that moment.

We rested for about ten minutes when we heard the voices of Huang and the others echoing from the depths of the cavern.

Old Huang and his team soon spotted us in the passageway and seemed startled to see both Liang Qian and me looking battered.

When we told them what had just transpired, everyone was utterly astonished. Several soldiers even ran over to inspect the shattered remains of the corpse.

When they saw the three faceless bodies lying on the floor, Old Huang let out an "Eh?" and asked, "Are these members of the survey team?"

I had been too terrified moments before to examine the three individuals. Now, looking closely, I was surprised; they were all wearing similar-style assault jackets, looking like a group of hikers, but clearly organized.

After a thorough check yielded no further clues, we incinerated the pale-haired zombie and the three corpses with kerosene. Liang Qian then led the group to the shattered secret door, saying, "This tunnel is incredibly dangerous; we need to be extra careful."

Old Huang nodded and instructed the soldiers behind him, "Let's go."

Liang Qian reloaded his rifle, switched on his flashlight, climbed onto the pile of rubble, and ducked into the entrance of the hidden passage.

To conserve batteries, Old Huang directed several men to light five or six torches, and they followed Liang Qian inside one by one.

This time, I didn't enter last; I followed close behind Liang Qian.

Although the passage wasn't wide, it was over two meters high, allowing us to walk upright without much strain.

In fact, ever since I saw that stone coffin, I had already formed a hypothesis about what lay within the mine tunnels.

Where there is a coffin, this mine tunnel must connect to an ancient tomb.

My knowledge of ancient tomb structures was limited to the basics back then, but the discovery of the stone coffin, accompanied by such a concealed passage, confirmed my belief: at the end of this path, there must be a more significant burial chamber.

Based on typical ancient tomb architecture, the location of that stone coffin should be an antechamber to the main tomb complex, as larger tombs usually have two antechambers used to inter those who were close to the deceased—the sacrificial victims.

The narrow tomb passage was only about twenty meters long, constructed from some unknown, ancient, and sturdy stone, bearing no carvings whatsoever.

From my experience, large tombs dating from the Spring and Autumn Warring States period onwards usually featured murals or similar decorations. The complete absence here, coupled with the crude construction, suggested this subterranean chamber predated the Spring and Autumn period.

Emerging from the passage, we found ourselves in an extremely vast hall.

This hall soared over ten meters high and spanned nearly half a football field in area. Dagger-like stalactites hung from the ceiling, confirming it was a naturally formed underground cave.

As we walked toward the center of the hall, we soon spotted a bronze Ding (tripod cauldron) placed there.

The Ding stood half a meter tall, its surface covered in a pale gray patina, though we could still make out the archaic patterns carved upon it: motifs of phoenixes and fierce tigers. Due to the passage of ages, the cauldron's feet were almost fused to the rock floor by the verdigris.

Bronze Ding vessels began to be popular during the Shang and Zhou dynasties. Although iron tools were invented during the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, iron rusts and corrodes easily, so many emperors well into the Qin and Han dynasties still favored bronze for burial goods.

Judging by the metal composition and the patterns of this bronze vessel, it likely dates from the Qin Dynasty, over two thousand years ago, as Qin bronze artifacts tended to be thinner and featured simpler designs.

When I first saw the outer stone coffin, I couldn't definitively place the tomb's age, but now I was almost certain this was a Qin Dynasty burial site.

However, realizing this, I became puzzled. During the Qin Dynasty, the Sichuan region was still considered barbarian territory; it’s unlikely many people there would have possessed the immense wealth required to quarry and construct such a tomb.

Moreover, the ethnic minorities in Sichuan differed significantly from the Central Plains population, yet this bronze Ding—clearly a ritual cauldron for burning offerings—was placed here, a feature typical of Central Plains tombs.

These questions drove me to borrow a flashlight from Liang Qian and approach the bronze Ding for a closer examination.

Apart from me, however, the others seemed entirely uninterested in the cauldron, scattering throughout the hall searching for other clues.

I first aimed the flashlight into the interior of the Ding. Inside, there was a thick layer of blackish-gray powder, which, due to the ancient age, had largely congealed into a plaster-like mass.

I found a long, flat stone on the ground and began stirring the powder, eventually picking out fragments of animal bones and shards of jade. This confirmed my initial deduction: this vessel had indeed been used two millennia ago for burning sacrificial items.

My curiosity deepening, I shone the light onto the intricate patterns etched on the Ding's exterior.