A distinct hiss filled the air; I hadn't expected the thing to even catch.

A mix of surprise and relief washed over me as I scrambled backward, but after only a few steps, the hissing abruptly ceased.

Thinking the bomb was about to detonate, I dove behind a pillar, clutching my head tight.

But after waiting a long while, there was still no sound of an explosion.

I cautiously emerged from behind the pillar and approached the doorway. The fuse had burned down to within an inch of the explosive charge before sputtering out.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry; I was utterly defeated.

If I tried lighting it again, I’d be blown to bits before I could even run, but abandoning the plan now felt like such a waste.

After much deliberation, I resolved to take the chance.

With hands trembling, I brought the lighter close to the fuse once more.

The instant the flame touched the wick, the familiar sizzle echoed again.

I threw myself forward in a desperate dive just as a faint thump sounded, followed by a plume of black smoke shooting skyward.

I rolled on the ground once before staggering back to my feet, disheveled.

The bomb had gone off. My vision was filled with black smoke and flying debris.

Once the haze cleared slightly, I moved closer for inspection, only to be met with a wave of speechless frustration.

Perhaps the explosives had been damp; the bomb had barely managed a pathetic pop. Other than staining the entire doorway black, it had only managed to blast a hole barely the size of a fist.

I sighed, switching on my flashlight to peer through the opening. The hole was small, but in a stroke of luck, the stone door wasn't overly thick, and it had, thankfully, been breached.

I crouched low, using the beam of the flashlight to survey the interior. The posture was awkward, but what I saw brought a jolt of astonishment.

On the dusty, rubble-strewn floor inside, there were several distinct, muddy footprints.

I wondered if the owner of those prints had been here before, perhaps this was his lair. Maybe Dà Xióng and the others had been captured and brought here.

The thought spurred a flicker of excitement. I drew my Silverfish Short Sword and positioned it against the edge of the small opening, intending to use its legendary sharpness to cut through the fifteen-centimeter-thick stone door.

The Silverfish scraped against the stone with an ugly, grinding noise, but this ancient treasure proved its worth, slowly carving into the rock.

A thrill ran through me, and I pressed harder.

It was then, in that very instant, that I saw a foot flash past the gap near the floor—clearly, something inside the room had walked by.

The foot looked vaguely human, yet alarmingly desiccated and dark.

I held my breath, lowered myself even further, straining to see what it was.

But once I was fully prone, the thing did not reappear.

A cold sweat began to bead on my forehead, a knot of both suspicion and rising anxiety tightening in my chest.

I knew, logically, that I could simply ignore the door, bypass it, and continue toward the summit.

But having come this far, there was no reason to quit now.

Even though I was alone, without Dà Xióng and the others for protection, fear was useless. To find the truth, I had to take this risk.

With that resolve, I wiped the sweat from my brow and resumed cutting along the score mark I had already made in the stone door.

Ten minutes later, I had carved a roughly one-meter-high square aperture at the very bottom of the massive stone door.

This effort had drained nearly all my strength; otherwise, I would have certainly cut the opening larger, providing a quicker escape route should danger arise.

I rested for a moment on the cold floor, examining the edge of the Silverfish Short Sword. It was pristine, without a single nick or roll, confirming that the Silverfish was indeed an unstoppable weapon.

Tucking the sword into my belt, I shone my flashlight beam inside the doorway again.

I could make out several colossal pillars, similar in girth to those outside, and dark, looming shapes gathered at their bases.

Most of these shapes appeared rectangular, suggesting they might be cabinets or chests of some kind.

Beyond that, I saw nothing else out of the ordinary—no movement, no humanoid figures.

Taking a deep breath, I ducked low and squeezed through the square opening.

The moment I entered, a thick cloud of dust assaulted my senses.

I sneezed once, but quickly adjusted. This great hall smelled far better than the stale, often putrid or bloody air of the caves I had navigated before.

I widened the focused beam of my tactical flashlight to sweep a larger area.

I first inspected the muddy footprints. They were dry, indicating they were quite old.

The tracks circled aimlessly, creating meaningless arcs across the floor, eventually vanishing near a shadowed spot not far ahead.

I couldn't speculate on why the tracks disappeared—perhaps the owner had deliberately wiped them away, or maybe the mud on the soles had simply dried and flaked off.

In any case, vanishing footprints were not a new mystery to me.

Looking in the direction where the tracks ended, realizing I wouldn't find more clues there, I aimed my flashlight forward and moved deeper in.

Soon, I reached the first of the massive stone pillars.

This pillar was identical to the ones outside—same material, same dimensions, supporting the great stone lintels that held up the entire temple.

Near the base of the pillar, resting on the ground, was a wooden cabinet, easily twice my height.

I suspected the wood might be ebony, which would explain its survival against decay over such a long period.

The cabinet was positioned sideways, facing the central avenue of the temple, leading me to believe there were more such pieces lined up along the central aisle.

As I approached, I confirmed it: nestled between every pair of temple pillars were two or three dark ebony bookcases.

The area resembled a small library, but when I swept my flashlight beam across the shelves, I found nearly all the books had disintegrated into nothing but black, flaky residue.

A wave of disappointment hit me. Finding little else of immediate value, I swept the light around once more before moving on.

I followed the main path, flanked by the decaying bookcases, for only a few dozen meters before a waist-high stone platform blocked my way ahead.

Curiosity instantly piqued, I strode toward the dais.

Under the flashlight's glare, I saw something slanted and embedded in the surface of the stone.

The side of the platform was also covered in intricate carvings of figures, apparently depicting some ancient saga.

I stepped closer, and the story revealed in the carvings brought me up short.