At the end of the flashlight’s beam stood a throne carved from white marble, just like everything else.

The throne rested on a stone dais over two meters high, accessed by a dozen steps.

Its craftsmanship was plain, merely a stone chair larger than average, yet what occupied the seat was utterly unbelievable.

It was a mummy, utterly desiccated, resembling a piece of dried kindling.

This corpse was immense, nearly two meters tall even shrunken and dehydrated; one could only imagine its height in life.

The mummy wore simple white robes, or rather, tattered remnants of cloth clung to its frame. Its eye sockets were deep and sunken, its head bowed, yet I could still see its thick, untamed hair and beard.

I had heard that if a body doesn't decompose, hair and beard continue to grow after death. I'd never seen proof until now—it was true.

Despite the complete lack of life, the mummy, seated high above, still exuded an aura of profound reverence.

Logically, in this humid, oceanic climate, a thousand-year-old corpse should have long since decayed. This desiccated body must have undergone special preservation to resist decay for so long.

However, whether it was the mercury baths used in Chinese burials or the air-drying employed by Egyptian mummies, the preserved dead, if not interred or placed in a specialized sarcophagus, were never left exposed. This one clearly defied all convention.

But that wasn't the strangest part; it was what the mummy held in its hands.

It was a trident, almost two meters long, emanating a deep, black luster across its entire surface.

The mummy gripped the trident tightly, the prongs pointing upward, the shaft driven into the ground, embedded two or three inches deep.

Judging by the gouged earth around the base of the shaft, this must have happened very recently.

I swallowed hard, unable to stop myself from glancing back at the other trident, which was lodged diagonally in the stone dais behind me, and a cold sweat instantly broke out on my back.

Frozen in place, I stared fixedly at the mummy, wondering if this thing had walked right past me moments ago and wrenched the trident from the stone.

My thought was clearly correct, for on the dust beneath my feet lay a clear set of barefoot human footprints.

Realizing this, I began to back away cautiously.

The scene before me screamed of reanimation, and the one rising was very likely Poseidon, as depicted in the wall murals.

Given that it could single-handedly wield such a heavy trident even as a mummy, this was no opponent to trifle with.

I had no intention of sacrificing my life here. This Zongzi had obviously been alerted. If it lunged at me with that fork, ten lives wouldn't be enough. My plan was to retreat to the main hall first; outside, I would at least have room to maneuver.

But just as I was slowly backing away, the mummy’s head seemed to shift.

That movement startled me so completely that I abandoned all caution. I killed the flashlight and bolted backward.

In truth, I was terrified, not pausing to consider that turning off the light might cause me to trip or hit something; I only wanted to hide my position.

Fixing my eyes on the faint light spilling from the doorway, I ran perhaps ten steps before I heard a solid thump, and a sharp pain shot up through my knee.

Damn it, I thought, I was so focused on running, I didn't watch out for the dais.

The moment that thought formed, my entire body pitched forward.

As I fell, I felt my foot catch on something like a mechanism, and a deep, rumbling sound of machinery filled my ears.

Off balance, I had no time to see what mechanism I had triggered. My only instinct was to thrust my hands forward, desperate to avoid slamming my entire face onto the stone and shattering my front teeth.

Miraculously, instead of the violent collision I expected, I plunged into empty air.

The sensation was like a sudden void in my chest, leaving me utterly lost.

While saving my teeth was a small mercy, that relief vanished in a second because I realized I was dropping into an unknown abyss; I might crack my skull open.

Fortunately, this feeling of helplessness lasted only a moment before my hands brushed against smooth flagstones, and my body slammed into them.

Upon landing, I didn't have time to roll over. I slid forward in a face-plant posture down the stone surface.

I knew this must be a downward chute, more common in freight elevators or refuse disposal pits.

I wasn't sure if I qualified as cargo or trash, but I slid down the incline for what felt like over ten seconds.

Then, the surface beneath me gave way again, and I was in a sheer, freefall descent.

Knowing this, I realized the situation had become far worse. If this was a trap, I might just be dashed to death.

I protected my head with my arms, trying to minimize catastrophic injury.

As the wind roared past my ears, a chill of dread settled in my heart. I had dropped at least several dozen meters—perhaps farther than jumping from a skyscraper.

Just as I prepared for death, a faint glimmer of light appeared before my eyes.

If the surroundings hadn't been pitch black, I surely would have missed it; the light was so weak, like the dimmest star in the deep night sky.

Before I could discern what the small white spot was, I found myself hurtling toward it at an incredible speed.

Almost simultaneously, the roaring wind vanished, replaced by a sudden, icy coldness pressing against my forehead.

I assumed I was dead, that the coldness was the sensation of my skull splitting, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

But the chill spread from my forehead across my entire body.

Only then did I realize it wasn't death; it was the damp, cold feeling of rain.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and found myself staring up at the sky.

The sky was hazy, murky, and indistinct. Countless raindrops fell from the obscured heavens, striking my face and body with sharp coldness.

I couldn't comprehend how I had dropped from that dark underground channel only to emerge outside.

Moreover, I was lying on the icy ground, facing the sky.

Could I have hit my head so hard that I was dreaming?