The scene depicted a middle-aged man, bearing a striking resemblance to Poseidon, forging a trident.

Because the central depiction was rather intricate, and some of the images were eroded by time, I could only vaguely discern the narrative being conveyed.

The beginning of the depiction showed a meteor plunging into the ocean, just as it had in the accounts of Heizhugou and Lop Nur.

The difference was that this meteor disintegrated upon striking the sea surface; all the external matter scattered into the water, leaving only the central piece of black substance to plummet downward, embedding itself deeply into the seabed upon impact.

I surmised this black substance was meteoric iron, a metallic material originating from beyond Earth.

In ancient China, there are numerous records concerning meteoric iron, such as the famous Longquan Sword of the Shang Dynasty, which was forged from it.

The short sword I held in my hand, the Silver Fish, was also crafted from meteoric iron.

However, the piece of meteoric iron that fell to the ocean floor was clearly heavier than that used for the Longquan Sword or the Silver Fish, as it managed to embed itself so deeply into the rocky seabed despite the considerable resistance offered by the layers of seawater.

Following the meteor's descent, the image shifted to Poseidon navigating the ocean floor in a chariot drawn by four Hippocampi, where he discovered this meteor deeply lodged in the seabed.

Next came a spectacular sight: hundreds, perhaps thousands, of monstrous figures, entirely covered in scales, swimming through the water.

These creatures bore a striking resemblance to the Sea Maidens we had previously seen, suggesting they belonged to the same species.

Each of those Sea Maidens was girded by a rope tied at the waist, the lower end of which was fastened to that massive, weighty chunk of meteoric iron.

Yet, despite the combined exertion of so many individuals pulling, the piece of meteoric iron did not shift an inch.

In the subsequent scene, Poseidon summoned hundreds of whales from an unknown source, who joined the Sea Maidens in their effort to haul the meteorite.

I watched as the meteorite was slowly dragged to the surface and then grounded on the beach.

Beside the meteoric iron lay numerous corpses of Sea Maidens and whales, all in various states of decay, presumably worked to death.

The following sequence showed over a dozen blacksmiths moving their furnaces and anvils to the seaside, forging the meteoric iron day and night.

These men aged before my eyes, transforming from vigorous youths into grizzled elders by the time a single trident was completed.

Once the trident was finished, these blacksmiths had their heads severed by the Sea Maidens.

The final image portrayed Poseidon, trident in hand, seated upon a throne, receiving the adoration of the populace.

Upon finishing this viewing, I was utterly staggered.

Because if this were merely a story, that would be one thing, but directly on the platform bearing these carved scenes, a trident was indeed slanted at a seventy-five-degree angle.

The prongs plunged downward into the stone, the shaft angled upwards, the entire assembly measuring over three meters in length, radiating a dark, metallic sheen.

The fork looked like iron, but having survived so many years without rust or corrosion, it was clearly not common steel.

I gently traced my fingers over the trident, sensing a chilling, weighty aura.

Connecting this to the images I had just witnessed on the platform, an impulse struck me: I leaped onto the stone dais, gripping the shaft firmly with both hands, and pulled outward with all my strength.

The result, as I had already anticipated, was that the trident did not budge an iota.

Still, I could not easily accept that this object required such immense collective labor just to move; perhaps the base was simply welded to the stone, which is why I couldn't draw it out. This fact alone didn't definitively prove the trident’s intrinsic weight, considering I, an ordinary man, couldn't move the stone platform it rested upon.

I examined the section where the trident entered the stone more closely and noticed several fine hairline cracks at the juncture.

This observation suggested the possibility that the trident had been inserted by human agency was not entirely out of the question.

But if this was reality, did this mean the sea god Poseidon was once a real, living person?

If he were not a deity, I could scarcely imagine who else could possibly lift that trident.

The thought sent a tremor of both astonishment and excitement through me.

For if the sea god Poseidon truly existed, he must have been a person of the Durban Kingdom—my ancestors, perhaps.

Hoping to uncover more information on this matter, I resolved to venture deeper into the hall to see if there were any other discoveries to be made.

Switching on my flashlight, I continued forward along the main passage.

As I walked, I scanned the bookshelves lining the walls but found nothing of apparent value.

Walking on, I suddenly heard faint whispers emanating from the unknown darkness ahead.

The voices echoed in the vast, empty hall, sounding mysterious and distant.

I recognized the exchange as two men speaking a language akin to Russian, but I could not understand it due to the heavy accents.

One man’s voice was deep and commanding, while the other sounded submissive and weak, as if a person of high status were lecturing a slave.

I started violently, hastily extinguishing my flashlight.

In truth, I knew this might also be an illusion, but ever since I had glimpsed the leg of an unidentified person through the small hole in the main doorway, a sense of caution had settled upon me; perhaps in this hall, untouched by light for a millennium, there truly was some dark or malevolent entity dwelling.

Once I killed the light, the voices ahead abruptly ceased.

Thinking they had discovered me, I pressed myself against a pillar, holding my breath, daring not even to exhale.

After what felt like an eternity, I suddenly heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from a distance.

These footsteps were measured and powerful, unlike any noise an illusion could generate.

Fortunately, the steps were moving away from my position; otherwise, I truly would not have known how to react.

The footsteps passed near me, seemingly heading toward the main exit along the central path.

Just as I was pondering the walker’s objective, the footsteps suddenly halted.

I estimated the location: it was precisely at the stone platform where the trident was embedded.

When the steps stopped, I held my breath again, listening intently.

Then, in less than a few seconds, a sound occurred that was utterly beyond my expectation.

I heard the grating noise of the heavy trident being slowly drawn out of the stone.

“Good heavens,” I mumbled, momentarily petrified, as the unpleasant screech of metal grinding against rock filled the air.

When that sound finally faded, the footsteps resumed, now heavier, causing the very ground to tremble slightly with each stride.

I dared not move an inch, listening as the weighty tread passed by me once more and continued deep into the sanctuary.

Then, all sound vanished, and the surroundings returned to a deathly silence.

I waited in place for a long time, yet no further noise broke the stillness.

Finally, I was compelled to turn my flashlight back on and walk toward the direction the footsteps had disappeared. When I reached the very end of the sanctuary, the sight before me left me breathless.