My first thought went to Old Huang, because he was already close to death before I lost consciousness, and he was the closest person to me.

The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Old Huang's skinless corpse was right behind me, and a shudder ran through me.

The more I thought, the more terrified I became, scrambling out almost by tumbling and crawling.

But quickly, my hand brushed against something cold on the ground—it was a human face!

My fingers nearly slipped into the mouth of the face, and the shock made me cry out.

Then I recoiled, unsure what to do.

“So many dead bodies!” Sweat immediately beaded on my forehead again as I muttered to myself, “Has everyone died?”

I felt a measure of fear and dared not move recklessly.

Then I simply froze, my heart a chaotic mess, remaining motionless.

After an unknown period, I finally managed to slowly crawl toward the corpse in front of me.

As I probed the body, I whispered inwardly, “Forgive me.”

It wasn’t until a cold sweat drenched me that I managed to fish a lighter out of the man’s clothing pocket.

Clutching the lighter, I took a step back, my legs so weak from terror that I collapsed onto the ground.

Then, with trembling hands, I pressed the mechanism of the lighter several times before a faint flame flickered to life before me. “Damn it, almost out of fluid,” I muttered to myself.

When I looked around, I gasped sharply.

Illuminated by the lighter’s weak glow, I saw that I was in a pitch-black cavern, surrounded by seven or eight corpses scattered haphazardly.

These bodies all had their mouths agape, their faces stripped bare—their deaths were terrifyingly grotesque.

Even though I had mentally prepared myself to find bodies, my head still buzzed, and I felt a sense of suffocation.

I whispered to myself in a shaky voice, “This is too gruesome…”

Judging by their attire, these were clearly the warriors who had entered with me. I could still recall how they were laughing and joking not long ago, and now they were reduced to this.

An indescribable pang of sorrow struck my heart… Two streams of hot tears traced paths down my cheeks.

Staring blankly at the corpses, I soon dissolved into uncontrollable sobbing, unsure whether it was sorrow for these young lives or sheer terror, until the lighter grew hot enough to burn my hand, forcing me to stop my wailing.

After composing myself for a long while, I managed to ignite the lighter again.

Stepping over the scattered corpses, I began to survey my surroundings.

It was a cavern roughly the same size as the one where I had passed out. The walls were still made of that unnameable black rock, but the surface was significantly flatter, showing signs of artificial shaping.

I followed the stone wall forward and soon discovered a massive stone door closed tight not far ahead. The surface of this door was smooth as a mirror, devoid of any carvings.

I instantly realized what had happened: I must now be inside the stone barrier.

That meant I had reached the terminus of this tomb—the main burial chamber.

I approached the stone door, first giving it a tentative push, only to find it utterly unmoving; perhaps the mechanisms outside had sealed it shut.

However, I did notice one peculiar thing: the door felt significantly colder than when I had touched it before, and it was damp in several spots.

So, I lit the lighter again and examined the door from top to bottom.

Unlike the outer areas, this stone door had no intricate patterns, and there was far less moss. However, numerous unknown white insects were crawling across it.

These insects, though, were clearly not as terrifying as the Cave Stinging Wasps.

I observed for a time, but by the time the lighter grew hot, I had found no way to open the door.

Then, I pressed my ear against it and made a new discovery.

I could hear movement outside the door—a sound like “swish, swish…” that sounded profoundly ethereal in the vast emptiness of the cavern.

It was clearly the sound of water. I surmised that the outside might be flooded now, and I worried about Da Xiong.

Regardless, one thing was certain: if this main chamber had no other exit, I would undoubtedly be trapped inside.

I leaned against the stone door to rest, too weary to ponder further. The only path left open to me was to push deeper into the chamber.

I no longer had the luxury of thinking about rescuing anyone; right now, I couldn't even guarantee my own survival.

The only qualification I currently held was finding an exit so I could then bring people in for help; I was too weak on my own.

The lighter fluid was nearly gone, and I lacked the courage to search the horrifying corpses for a flashlight. I had to conserve the remaining fuel, as I didn't know when danger might strike again, and a flicker of light might then save my life.

So, I resorted to tracing the cave wall with my hands, slowly navigating through the darkness. Fortunately, the wall here was relatively smooth, so I wasn't afraid of sharp, protruding rocks scraping my hands.

I felt profound aversion toward this aimless progression, because in the dark, you can never predict what lies ahead.

I had initially assumed the main tomb wouldn't be vast, that it would take me only a few minutes to reach a turn and naturally find the sarcophagus holding the tomb’s master. But after walking for ten minutes, my hand still touching that same cold surface, a growing restlessness began to plague me.

Just as I was about to stop and rest, I felt a subtle change in the sensation on my hand.

I could distinctly feel lines of irregular grooves etched into the stone wall.

I frowned slightly and traced the grooves with my fingers for a moment.

“These are murals… very ancient murals,” I murmured quietly.

The reason I deemed the paintings ancient was that they were carved directly into the wall, a method only employed in extremely primitive societies.

In my understanding, such stone carvings typically appeared in ruins like those of ancient Babylon or inside the Egyptian pyramids, indicating their profound age.

Murals inside tombs usually recorded the life deeds of the deceased, pictorial records intended for praise and glorification. This held extraordinary significance for understanding this tomb.

But when I remembered the lighter was almost out of fuel, I hesitated.

“Light it, or not…” I struggled internally for a long time until sweat broke out on my forehead before I sighed and tucked the lighter back into my pocket.

Looking back after I eventually escaped the tomb, I found the situation somewhat amusing; that lighter was clutched to me like a gold bar, much like the matches described in The Most Beloved Comrades.

Though the murals were important, I only brushed over them roughly, trying to imagine what the patterns conveyed in my mind.

But I lacked the innate talent of a Mahjong master who could instantly tell the difference between a nine of winds or a two of bamboo by touch. I could only determine that the depictions likely represented a battle, as I felt many figures lying on the ground.

For some unknown reason, I started to feel deeply uneasy, because the style of the mural was too similar to the style I had seen on the bronze tripods outside. I felt that if I traced any further, I would encounter those long-necked monsters.

However, when my fingers reached the very end of a row of human-shaped figures, I was genuinely startled.

“0017!”

“What could this possibly mean? Four Arabic numerals embedded within a grand, ancient war mural—it’s as absurd as dropping a piece of chocolate into Longjing tea, making one want to laugh and cry.”

I pondered this, curiosity compelling me to trace further down.

Driven by intense curiosity, both my hands were nearly pressed against the wall as I explored, shifting my center of gravity heavily toward the wall.

So, what happened next was completely unexpected.

As I was tracing along, the space before me suddenly vanished, and without any mental preparation, I pitched forward.