But just then, I felt an itch on the back of my neck, a sensation of something soft and furry crawling upward.

I felt as if my neck was about to snap from the tension, yet my eyes involuntarily flickered to the side.

The instant I looked, my scalp nearly exploded. Behind me was a mound of tangled hair, layered and dense, enveloping what seemed to be a humanoid shape. Through the gaps in the hair, half of a ghastly pale face was visible, a single, cold eye staring intently at me.

This 'person' had already extended its left hand, thick with black hair, and placed it upon my neck.

At that moment, I don't know where the courage came from, but I threw my head back and bit down savagely on the thing's hand, biting hard enough to make the bones in its hand audibly crack.

Simultaneously, I saw the hair on its hand whip towards me, but I was ready; I instantly released my grip.

Feeling my teeth leave its flesh, the thing let out a muffled groan and quickly retracted its hand.

Seeing my opportunity, I bolted, scrambling up the opposite stone steps in a few swift bounds. When I looked back, the entity hadn't followed. Instead, it slowly shrank down until it dissolved into nothing but flat ground.

I sat at the top of the steps, gasping for breath. I noticed that the group of people across the way hadn't pursued me; they were just standing by the bridge of hair, staring at me blankly.

Having just chewed a mouthful of hair, I spat several times, laughing hoarsely. "You bunch of bastards, come on then! Your old man is free now! If you dare, come and catch me again!"

After a round of mockery, several of them quickly pulled out guns.

Startled, I jumped up, pushed myself forward a couple of times, and scrambled onto the cliff's edge. Behind me, several shots rang out, all striking the stone wall.

I dared not look back at them, plunging forward into the darkness, running blindly into the deep shadows.

Before long, I faintly perceived a huge, shadowy silhouette looming ahead—the giant stone tablet I had seen earlier.

Figuring the group would take a while to catch up, I remembered the box the woman had left on the Bixi's head and decided to climb up and examine it.

However, my hands were still bound behind my back, making climbing incredibly awkward. So, mimicking something I'd seen on TV, I searched the Bixi's massive hide for a sharp scale fragment and spent considerable effort grinding through the nylon rope binding my wrists.

Wiggling my numb arms back to life, I carefully managed to climb onto the Bixi's enormous head and quickly located the object the woman had left there.

Since the surroundings were almost pitch black, I had to rely on touch to determine that it was a large, plastic-cased box. The surface was smooth, but there seemed to be several buttons on one side.

I pressed the side buttons a few times; the box remained unresponsive. So, I continued to explore, finding a circular protrusion on the opposite side—it felt like a camera lens.

I cursed inwardly: Damn it, isn't this just a projector? I thought it was some kind of treasure! Having done odd jobs at the Academy of Sciences, I often helped adjust projectors. What I held must be a new model of portable projector, powered by rechargeable batteries, offering about five hours of runtime, and featuring a recording function—it was small and convenient for fieldwork.

This kind of high-tech projector couldn't be bought on the outside; it was classified as precision equipment used by the Academy for fieldwork because of its recording and playback capabilities.

Therefore, I guessed this item must have been left by my grandfather's expedition team, likely containing classified material. But it was out of battery now, and I had no way to power it up.

I decided to take it with me. It had a leather strap, allowing it to be carried on my back, and it was quite heavy—it could serve as a makeshift weapon in a pinch.

With the projector slung on my back, I stood on the Bixi’s massive head and suddenly froze.

I looked around. Everything was black, visibility was nearly zero, and the fog here was terrifyingly thick. If I grabbed randomly in the air, I could practically feel the resistance of the vapor. A question gnawed at my mind: in this enormous underground cavern, where was the air coming from? A sealed space so deep underground shouldn't possess such abundant oxygen.

I shook my head and muttered to myself, "Damn it, the priority now is finding Grandpa and the others; everything else is pointless talk."

Since this projector was abandoned here, they must be nearby. After being in these ancient ruins for so long, I finally saw a glimmer of hope for rescue.

Gazing into the depths of the darkness, I gritted my teeth and started walking in the direction of the Bixi's tail, plunging into the gloom. After only a few steps, gunshots and curses erupted behind me—the international thieves and the hair-monster had clearly engaged in a firefight.

Though the creature in the hair was bizarre, in my view, it was still flesh and blood; it probably couldn't withstand a sustained barrage of gunfire. If they caught up to me now, they would skin me alive like an eel, so I couldn't help but quicken my pace.

The journey turned out to be surprisingly smooth. Although it was pitch black, the ground was perfectly level, and the area was open, with no stone walls or glaciers for me to crash into.

I occasionally lit my lighter to check the terrain, but the light only illuminated about half a meter ahead. The ice fog was frighteningly dense; sometimes, even breathing felt somewhat labored.

The further I walked, the colder the air became. I could only prevent myself from stopping, constantly rubbing my hands together. I felt my eyebrows and my several-days-old stubble were frozen into one solid mass, and my entire face had lost all sensation.

According to the silk manuscript left by that damned King Wei, the colder the area, the closer I was to the so-called Ghost Eye.

That Ghost Eye, capable of annihilating a powerful race, was clearly an entity of immense terror.

I wasn't unafraid of death. To be honest, there were three reasons I kept moving forward.

The first was curiosity. Humans are strange creatures; many will risk their lives just to uncover a secret. A thing like the Ghost Eye—if I couldn't see what it truly was, I felt I would suffer unbearably.

The second reason was that Grandpa and the others were likely ahead. They must have known about the Ghost Eye to have made it this far.

Frankly, it was hard to say exactly how many secrets my grandfather kept. The fact that a group of elderly and frail researchers like them managed to pass through layers of danger to reach this place was an achievement in itself.

The third reason was self-preservation. I knew walking back was an impossible route. If I could find the Ghost Eye, perhaps there would be a slim chance of escape.

About ten minutes later, the next time I lit my lighter, a massive shadow materialized in the mist not far ahead.

At first, I thought I had fallen into another pit and encountered some giant beast, but as I approached, I realized it was a colossal stone statue, about three meters high.

This statue, carved from ordinary gray rock, depicted an unknown divine general completely covered in scales. He held a trident, appearing majestic and imposing, yet his facial expression was contorted in intense revulsion.

One of his hands was stretched straight out forward, his wrist wrapped with a heavily rusted, thick iron chain. His palm was upright, as if attempting to block something.

Following the line of his outstretched hand, I looked across the hazy fog and saw another palm reaching toward me—clearly, there was another sculpture opposite.

I couldn't fathom the beliefs of the Wei people, but I surmised these figures were similar to the Ox-Head and Horse-Face guardians of the Han people—symbols meant to intimidate evil spirits and ward off disaster.

These two ancient, enormous statues stood sentinel in the vast, dark world, covered in black stains weathered by age, lending them an air of profound eeriness.

I took two more steps forward and was astonished to see two more statues, similar in design, appearing ahead of me.

It suddenly dawned on me: I must be standing in a Shendao, a spirit way, which is very common in tombs and ancient ruins.

The sculptures along the Shendao were intended to suppress evil and demonstrate the majesty of the tribe or the tomb's occupant.

As I walked forward, I was perplexed by the sheer number of these statues. Then, a sound like dragging chains suddenly echoed from behind me.

That crisp sound was jarringly loud in the absolute silence.

I froze instantly. Though the cold was biting, sweat immediately broke out on my forehead.