Hearing his words, a strange sense of peace washed over me. Only then did I realize that after surviving a near-death experience, I had come to view him as a brother, even though Xie Yuting’s true origins remained shrouded in mystery.

Once Xie Yuting closed the door, I let out a sigh of relief and flopped back onto the **.

A thousand images flashed through my mind: the ancient ruins of the Wei Kingdom, the colossal serpent, the Ghost Eye. When I woke up in the hospital, I had momentarily believed it all to be nothing more than a nightmare, but now, Xie Yuting had dragged me back to the brutal reality.

I had a premonition that this was far from over.

The memory of my grandfather’s brutal death sent a sharp pang of agony through my heart, and I let out a long, heavy sigh.

“In a couple of days, Mom and Dad will be here. How am I supposed to explain this to them?” I sank into a haze of endless sorrow and utter helplessness.

That evening, when the doctor made his rounds, he noted my vacant stare and advised me not to worry too much, assuring me that it was merely extreme muscle strain combined with multiple soft tissue contusions, requiring only two weeks of rest before I could get out of bed.

I used my writing board to ask him how I ended up at the hospital. He explained that on the day of the earthquake, forest rangers on a helicopter surveying the disaster area spotted three people unconscious beside a small river and rescued us; one of the victims had even been bitten by a venomous spider and required extensive emergency treatment upon arrival.

He earnestly cautioned me that young people shouldn't court such danger, stating that deep, remote mountains were utterly unsuitable for urban youths seeking thrills. “Next time you pass out from exhaustion,” he added, “you might not be so lucky.”

I found this slightly amusing, yet I was genuinely grateful to the doctor, who then proceeded to ask me for my hospital fees...

On the first day, even getting out of bed was agonizing; any slight movement sent throbbing pain through my limbs—a clear sign of full-body muscle tears.

By the fourth day, I could manage to stand, but due to the severe muscle fatigue, I couldn't take long strides when walking.

The most critical difficulty, however, was using the restroom; every time I squatted, my legs ached to the point of breaking out in cold sweat.

That very day, my parents rushed over from Beijing. The doctor recommended I be discharged for convalescence, so my mother handled all the paperwork.

Before leaving, I went to the ICU to check on Da Xiong. His complexion had improved significantly, his breathing even; he was even smiling foolishly in his sleep.

I settled all his outstanding medical bills at once, and supported by my parents, I left the hospital and returned to our home in Chengdu.

I was originally from Chengdu, but after my grandfather moved to Beijing for work, he was allotted two apartments there. When I was young, my father went to Beijing to teach, so we ended up living there, and eventually, our household registration was transferred as well.

However, the old house in our hometown was never sold. All my childhood memories were imprinted upon that old courtyard in the western suburbs of Chengdu.

The courtyard later came under the care of my second uncle. At the time, he was poor and had no home; now he ran a successful restaurant, but he still couldn't bear to part with the old residence, meticulously tending to the flowers and plants my grandfather had left behind whenever he had free time.

Upon seeing us arrive, my second uncle was delighted and brought my cousin, Nie Qilan, out to greet us. Nie Qilan was the youngest of all the siblings because my second uncle married last.

But she was also the best-looking among us cousins. I heard she was just starting the second year of middle school and had already received over a hundred love letters.

When I was little, there were still many fields in the western suburbs of Chengdu. She often used to pester me to go into the fields together to catch grasshoppers and fry them up for a snack—a truly clingy little sprite.

Yet, after seven or eight years apart, she had become a young girl on the cusp of womanhood, and seeing me now, she looked slightly shy.

I didn't hesitate, stepping forward to pinch her round cheek. Only then did the brother and sister enter the courtyard, giggling.

Inside, Second Aunt had already prepared dinner. Hearing that my father enjoyed Hongxing Erguotou, she had specially bought a few bottles of aged liquor to accompany our meal.

Looking at the dishes on the table—Mapo Tofu, boiled beef in chili oil, and other common Sichuan staples—I knew that food made at home always tasted different. For someone who hadn’t tasted my hometown flavors in so long, the aroma alone made me want to swallow my tongue.

After several rounds of drinks, my aunt and uncle chatted happily with my parents, exchanging family updates.

I was happy at first too, but after a few bites of food, a heavy conflict began to churn in my gut, bringing pain. Because I didn't know whether I should tell them about Grandfather.

Second Uncle had always been his favorite among the grandchildren. I heard he had developed some heart issues recently, and I worried if he could bear the news.

My expression was plastered on my face, impossible to hide. My perceptive cousin, Nie Qilan, quickly noticed my abnormality and asked softly, “Brother, what’s wrong?”

Her question silenced the other four; their laughter ceased, and their expressions turned solemn.

I faked a smile and waved my hand, saying, “Nothing, nothing, just some things weighing on my mind.”

At that moment, Second Uncle watched me intently, while my father lowered his head to reach for a cigarette.

I noticed a flicker in my uncle’s eyes, as if he had something he wanted to tell me privately.

After watching me for a long time, he sighed, raised his glass, and said, “Nephew, come, let’s toast, Second Uncle.”

We each downed the baijiu in our glasses. Dad lit a cigarette and retreated to a dark corner to sit, while Mom began to wipe away tears, and Second Aunt kept sighing.

Then Second Uncle spoke, “We already know. The Academy of Sciences notified us yesterday that something happened to the old man. We were mentally prepared. I know you went into the ruins with him. You can tell us exactly what happened now.”

A weight lifted from my chest. I let out a breath, recalled the sequence of events carefully, plucked out the key points, and recounted the entire incident to them.

The parts involving the Ghost Eye and the Crimson Lotus Blood Coffin were so bizarre that no one could quite believe it; they kept exchanging uncertain glances.

Only my cousin listened with astonishment and excitement, loudly insisting that she join me on the next expedition.

I knew what I described far exceeded the scope of normal human understanding, and as ordinary people, they would naturally feel fear.

Sure enough, moments later, Mom came over, cupped my face, and said, “Xiao Chuan, this is too dangerous. Don't go back to the Academy of Sciences, okay? Let your Dad find you a teaching job, settle down, and marry a good wife.”

To be honest, I used to obey my mother completely, and I was quite timid; faced with such a situation, I would have definitely run away before.

But now, for some reason—perhaps because of what I had experienced—I felt that I was different from ordinary people. I sensed some kind of mission within myself; I could no longer live a mundane, unremarkable life.

Even though that’s what I thought, I still verbally agreed to my mother’s request because I didn't want to worry her.

The family sat in silence, none of us having the appetite to continue eating.

We couldn't hold a funeral for Grandfather because, under these circumstances, he could only be listed as missing, pending the search results from the Academy of Sciences.

We sat in quiet tension until very late before finally retiring for the night.

The next morning, I went to sort through my personal belongings retrieved from the hospital. Everything was packed into a large trunk placed in the trunk of my father’s SUV. When I opened it, I saw a hospital tag bearing a number and my name affixed to it.

I pulled the trunk out and noticed it was quite heavy.

Just then, my cousin ran over, peering curiously at the trunk, a small smile playing on her lips. I knew she was eager to know about my adventures and perhaps see the spoils brought back from the Wei Kingdom ruins. So, I ruffled her hair and said nothing further.

However, what I hadn't anticipated was that when I pulled the trunk open, a foul, sour stench erupted, nearly making me stumble backward.

My cousin also covered her nose and backed up two steps, frowning as she asked, “Brother, did you pack up a dead rat, too?”

Holding my nose, I rummaged inside the trunk and pulled out an old leather coat.

The coat was completely caked in mud and miscellaneous debris, riddled with holes—it looked as if it had just been fished out of a jar of pickled vegetables, emitting a fierce stench.

I tossed the coat aside, feeling sheepish. Covering my mouth, I told my cousin, “This is the coat your brother wore during the adventure. I didn’t notice it then, but now I realize how foul it smells. But it saved my life; otherwise, I would have frozen to death. So, I’ve decided to keep it.”

I thought my cousin had become my fan; she nodded vigorously and declared, “Exactly, that’s a true explorer’s uniform.”

I smiled slightly, then looked back into the trunk, a feeling of stunned shock washing over me. Because I saw something shimmering gold. Taking it out, I realized they were several gold bars.