The text on this is all letters from the English alphabet, like "M" or "y," but there are also strange letters, such as a capital "R" written backward. Nobita frowned slightly and said, "I recognize this character that looks like an R; in Russian, it's Я, pronounced YA, meaning 'I.' This inscription says something like 'I am in danger, entry forbidden,' and there's a skull drawn at the end." I hadn't expected Nobita to understand Russian and asked him where he had learned it.

He merely said he was actually from the Northeast, and he'd picked up a bit from a classmate in elementary school who was of Russian descent. I nodded, looking at the writing on the door, contemplating its meaning, and sucked in a sharp breath.

Red lettering usually signifies a warning, so the fact that someone had written these words here clearly meant to caution anyone wanting to enter. The skull represented death, suggesting that entering might lead to one's demise.

Nobita evidently shared the same concern, but after a moment of thought, he turned to me and said, "There's only one path forward, just like at Mount Hua; turning back means waiting to be eaten by those giant lizards. I imagine whatever dangerous things were here have long since vanished, haven't they?

Why don't we just press on?" I sighed and replied, "There isn't any other way; we have no choice but to proceed." After settling on a plan, we first pressed our ears against the iron door to listen for any sounds inside, but we detected nothing at all. That low murmur of a man's voice we heard earlier had completely vanished.

Nobita asked me, "Do you think that guy heard us moving and stopped talking?" I shook my head and said, "We'll know once we go in." Nobita hesitated for a moment before reaching out to push the iron door, but it wouldn't budge at all. Applying force caused rust and debris to flake off in showers, and some unidentified small black insects scurried frantically out from the crack under the door.

Seeing that he couldn't open it, I stepped up to help. Together, we put nearly all our strength into it, and finally, the iron door shifted inward slightly, slowly opening.

The moment the door opened, a heavy, musty odor billowed out, choking me to the point of near fainting. Nobita coughed violently and cursed, "Damn it, what is this smell?

It’s awful!" I pulled Nobita back, retreating outside the doorway temporarily to let the smell dissipate somewhat before going in; otherwise, we risked poisoning. Such a strong moldy smell usually results from prolonged sealing in an enclosed space.

It likely wasn't toxic, just heavy with carbon dioxide, which can cause suffocation. Furthermore, mold only thrives where moisture is plentiful, leading me to suspect that behind this iron door was a rather damp environment.

Once the odor had mostly cleared, we cautiously peered inside and shone our phone lights in. Both of us knitted our brows.

Our earlier guess was indeed correct: there was water inside, but not just any water—it was preservative solution used for soaking specimens. We often see this scenario in American movies—a protagonist accidentally discovering a laboratory filled with huge specimen jars containing bizarre creatures and organs, some looking utterly alien to Earth.

In those films, a specimen in one of the jars is usually still alive and bursts out to attack the hero. However, reality differs greatly from cinema.

The solutions in the specimen jars before us were extremely murky, some even pitch black. Many jars were broken; some were actively leaking, while others had completely dried up from evaporation.

We approached a shattered jar and examined it closely, noticing that the liquid that had leaked out had completely dried up. It contained a specimen of a desert plant, possibly something like an aloe.

The solution from the jar had spilled onto the wooden table, causing it to rot and grow mold, creating an extremely hostile atmosphere here. Although I am a biologist, these specimens were too far gone for any further research.

Nobita held his nose and told me, "This shouldn't be a regular dwelling; it must be some kind of research base." He pointed to Russian writing on a specimen jar and added, "And this isn't a Chinese base; it's very likely Russian." I nodded, recalling that when the People's Republic of China was newly established, Sino-Soviet relations were excellent, and many Russian research teams came to China for various cooperative studies. Perhaps this building was a research institute constructed by the Russians back then.

However, many of the Russian research projects were not disclosed externally. Rumors persisted that the Soviets conducted a series of mysterious studies in Lop Nur, like digging a massive hole leading to the Earth's core.

Whether true or not, this research institute was certainly unusual. We carefully surveyed the surroundings and found that the primary focus here seemed to be botany.

Not only were the specimen bottles filled with numerous plants, but the workbench on the left side of the lab held several old-fashioned microscopes, and the adjacent sterilization box was full of plant slices. What was I?

I was an expert in botany. What puzzled me was that some of these plants could grow in the desert, while others were impossible to find there, such as a strangler vine that I only recognized as being native to dense forests.

Nobita ignored the botany and busied himself fiddling with the microscopes, trying to see if he could sell them. After a while, he set them down in disappointment.

He then proceeded to check every drawer beneath the workbench, pulling out stacks of yellowed documents. I leaned in to look.

The documents were filled with handwritten research notes, along with many hand-drawn illustrations of plant structures and cross-sections. Although I had significant botanical knowledge, I couldn't read Russian, so I asked Nobita what the notes said.

Nobita scratched his head and replied, "Well, I really can't make sense of this. I'm just a beginner in Russian, only knowing some conversational phrases.

Scientific terminology like this is extremely complex; even an average Russian might struggle to understand it." I supposed that was true; whether in grammar or pronunciation, Russian is one of the most complex languages in the world, and the scientific jargon made it even more arcane. Having no other recourse, I tucked a few particularly interesting-looking pages into my pocket to study carefully later.

Nobita wouldn't be satisfied until he found some valuable antique, completely forgetting that our current objective was finding an exit. He continued rummaging through the cabinets while I remained by the documents, trying to fathom their meaning.

Suddenly, Nobita called out, "Comrade Xiao Chuan, come look at this quickly!" I hurried over and saw that Nobita had managed to flip up a cutting board on the workbench, exposing a narrow gap between the drawer and the wall. Inside, he had found a small bronze plaque.

I couldn't help but laugh, clapping him on the shoulder and chuckling, "Nobita, you must have been a rat in your past life! How did you manage to find this?" Nobita missed the teasing tone and looked up proudly, saying, "Don't joke, I'm the great shark of the tomb-raiding world." I assumed he was comparing himself to O'Neal—the physique was somewhat fitting—but then he continued, "I can smell an antique from a hundred kilometers away through the air." I hadn't encountered such shamelessness before, so I ignored him and carefully used my fingers to retrieve the bronze plate.

I wiped off the grime with my sleeve, and just one glance made me gasp sharply. The rectangular bronze plaque was topped with a carved Qilin head, with dragon motifs carved on both sides; the craftsmanship was exquisitely detailed.

Engraved on the front were three ancient seal script characters: "" (Imperial Spirit Temple). I immediately remembered: "Imperial Spirit Temple"—wasn't that the mysterious organization within the Tang Dynasty officialdom recorded in the Wei King's Silk Manuscript?

The Wei King himself had served in this organization. According to the manuscript, its members were not only highly skilled in the arts but also dealt exclusively with demons and ghosts.

Nobita, having heard me recount the contents of the Wei King's Silk Manuscript, was visibly shocked, swallowing hard several times before asking, "Could that pretty boy Wei King have been here?" I offered no confirmation, turning the plaque over. The reverse side featured a design of bamboo shadows and mountain ranges, with a line of smaller text centered beneath: "Spiritual Inspector Garrison Officer Wang Huan." I hissed, "It wasn't the Wei King, but someone else from the Imperial Spirit Temple named Wang Huan." Nobita swore under his breath, "Damn it, why is this goddamn Spirit Temple popping up everywhere?

It’s like they're specifically confronting us." Then, with a sudden burst of excitement, he added, "Hey? My magnificent China is truly incredible!

Even among the Russians, we have our officials embedded. The Celestial Empire is mighty!

What did they call Russia during the Tang Dynasty? Ryukyu or Goryeo?"