Daxiong, clearly sensing something amiss, clenched his fists while staring at the wall, his clothes already soaked through with sweat.

It was then that Liang Qian turned her head with an unnerving swiftness, her face ghastly white as she whispered to us, "Get the guns ready... these things, they're inside the stone..."

Inside the stone? The thought struck me as utterly unbelievable. If they were within the rock, how could our light cast any shadows at all? It fundamentally defied the laws of optics...

But I had no time for deep contemplation. Liang Qian shot Daxiong a look and commanded, "Strike!"

Without a second word, Daxiong hefted the sledgehammer he held, let out a resounding cry, and brought it crashing down upon the stone face.

With a deafening boom, the wall instantly fractured where Daxiong struck, a massive hole appearing, followed by spreading fissures that caused the entire stone surface to collapse inward.

Liang Qian and Daxiong bolted back almost simultaneously, raising their rifles, poised to fire at whatever might emerge from the breach in the wall.

As the dust settled, the first things I noticed within the cavity were several specks of light, glowing brilliantly, looking for all the world like torches.

At first glance, I assumed there was another contingent of men inside, but upon closer inspection, I realized it was an enormous bronze mirror.

A myriad of thoughts connected instantly in my mind, and I couldn't help but offer a bitter smile, wishing I could slap myself twice.

It turned out the stone wall was artificial. While it looked no different from the surrounding rock, it was constructed using a material called "gray crystal," which was translucent.

Someone holding a torch stood in front of it; the shadow passed through the gray crystal wall, was projected onto the mirror, and then reflected back by the mirror to cast a new shadow onto the wall, thus creating the deceptive illusion.

I surmised that the bronze mirror could not have been perfectly flat; it had to be convex, as only a convex surface would scatter the human silhouette into those elongated shapes.

Seeing the bronze mirror, the tightly strung nerves of everyone present finally eased slightly.

Humans fear what they cannot explain; we dread the unknown with an inexplicable terror. Yet, once these strange phenomena are accounted for—even if the explanation is just a trick—the mind finds a certain solace.

And so, those present collectively exhaled a great breath of relief and rushed forward with their torches to investigate what lay beyond the ruined wall.

I watched as the gray crystal, smashed to smithereens by Daxiong’s hammer, was now beyond recovery; not even a few whole shards remained, which caused me a pang of regret.

Such a large piece of naturally occurring gray crystal was priceless; in ancient times, it could fetch a king's ransom.

Gray crystal, much like the lens of sunglasses, rendered everything opaque from the outside looking in, yet allowed perfect clarity from the inside looking out. As far back as the Qin and Han dynasties, it had been used in constructing mechanisms and hidden chambers.

But I didn't have the leisure to study the crystal further, as the soldiers gathered around the bronze mirror were already issuing gasps of astonishment.

"A treasure..."

I quickly squeezed through the crowd to get a look at the colossal bronze mirror.

If my prior judgment held true—that this tomb dated to the Qin period—then this mirror was worth even more. Bronze mirrors were exceedingly rare then, affordable only by royalty and nobility. Never mind a mirror this size, which would have taken hundreds of artisans over a decade to complete.

I stepped before the mirror and examined it closely. It was indeed a masterpiece among mirrors: framed in white marble, inlaid with gold at its four corners, and etched with a pattern of twenty-four bronze fish playing among lotus flowers—a dazzling, soul-stirring sight. Even to my amateur eyes, this remarkably preserved mirror clearly qualified as a rarity of the highest order.

I stood up straight before it and confirmed my suspicion: the mirror was not perfectly flat but subtly domed outward—definitively a convex mirror.

The figures of myself and the soldiers reflected in it were drawn out into comical, elongated shapes.

Old Huang declared that he would bring more team members back later to carefully transport the mirror for national research, but finding the missing people was the immediate priority. He signaled the soldiers to stop gawking at the mirror and start searching for a passage.

Strangely, after searching everywhere, we discovered that this chamber was a dead end, as if the ruins terminated right here.

Yet, we all knew that was impossible. If this was the end, where had the original survey team vanished to? Had they evaporated?

Ultimately, we focused our suspicion entirely on the bronze mirror; given its immense size, it might conceal a secret doorway behind it.

All thirteen of us gathered before the mirror. The combined light of six torches created an intense glare, casting our shadows flickeringly upon the surrounding walls, giving them a spectral, ghostly appearance.

Perhaps it was the accumulation of bizarre events that had drained the color from everyone’s faces. Coupled with the oppressive atmosphere underground, the air was thick with a strange, foreboding haze.

Right now, all I wanted was to rescue the missing people and leave this godforsaken place immediately; I felt I could barely draw breath in this suffocating environment...

Suddenly, the patterns etched on the mirror began to shift, startling me greatly.

The people beside me were also struck dumb, their eyes locked onto the mirrored surface.

It was difficult for me to articulate precisely how the mirror changed. I understood that it involved using the heat from the torches to melt a waxy substance coated on the surface. As this wax changed, the reflective angle of the mirror slowly altered.

Initially convex, the surface began to curve inward as the wax melted, finally recessing completely.

Then, utilizing the focusing effect of a concave mirror, the torchlight was projected at a forty-five-degree angle toward a specific spot on the cavern ceiling.

Following the beam of light upward, I felt the hair on my scalp prickle instantly.

The light was illuminating a massive stalactite, a stone resembling damp parchment, glowing a pale yellow. The rock was crawling with a species of milky-white insects that lacked eyes.

These creatures clearly abhorred the light, emitting sharp hisses as they immediately scattered in retreat.

I recognized these insects: they were called Cave Stinging Wasps, among the most venomous of the Vespidae family. Having lived in caves for so long, their eyes had regressed, which is why they feared bright light. Furthermore, they were notoriously aggressive; a single sting would cause half the body to swell, leading to shock and death if medical attention wasn't prompt.

As the swarm dispersed, they exposed a human skull embedded halfway into the stalactite. The skull was set firmly in the stone, holding a black candlestick in its mouth.

I knew that had to be the mechanism for opening the hidden passage. Ancient people truly were ingenious, I thought. An ordinary person would never suspect the mechanism was hidden amidst a swarm of insects—creatures common and notoriously aggressive in damp caverns, which most people would avoid touching.

It was pure chance that we had used torches to heat the mirror; if we had used flashlights, we certainly wouldn't have discovered the mechanism.

However, a question still troubled me. Generally, once a tomb is completed and the occupant interred, no provision is made for its subsequent opening; the seal is intended to be as absolute as possible, unless the designers actively welcomed grave robbers...

So, why would the owner of this tomb design a mechanism specifically to allow access to the main burial chamber? I couldn't find an answer at that moment...

As I pondered, Old Huang had already picked up a half-burnt torch handle and poked the candlestick resting in the skull's jaw.

The candlestick gave a distinct click and slowly retracted into the skull's mouth, which then closed seamlessly.

Then, I heard a deep, rumbling sound from one side of the cavern as two sections of the stone wall slid apart, revealing a massive, dull gray stone door.

Everyone exchanged glances, swallowing hard.

I took a deep breath, beginning to speculate on what secrets lay hidden behind this massive portal.

A colossal stone door stood before us.

The door towered at least ten meters high, constructed of blue-gray rock, overgrown with moss and similar vegetation, allowing only faint outlines of carved patterns to be discerned.

The dozen or so of us gathered beneath it, examining its structure.

I couldn't definitively name the material, but it strongly resembled basalt.

Basalt is a rock formed during volcanic eruptions. Due to varying degrees of oxidation, basalt exhibits wildly different structures—some as soft as wood, others hard as steel.

The basalt used for this door was clearly the latter type. It was immensely thick, and both door leaves were perfectly intact, having resisted decay for millennia. I placed my hand upon the surface and was immediately struck by a heavy, ancient sensation; it was cool as jade, imbued with the profound melancholy of elapsed time.