As the gate rumbled open, a massive, pallid skull suddenly materialized beyond the opening, startling all three of us. But a closer look revealed it to be a lifeless piece of bone, utterly motionless.

The skull was enormous, roughly the size of a Dongfeng heavy-duty truck, easily spacious enough to contain the three of us comfortably. Using the faint light, I examined the skull closely, noting two protuberances on the back of the cranium, a very smooth nasal passage, and two rather large openings for the lower jaw.

The others beside me were trying to guess what kind of creature it belonged to in life. Number 12 declared, "It must be a dinosaur, given its size.

If the neck was this long, it should be a Plesiosaur." Number 2 countered, "Clearly, you lack knowledge. How could this be a dinosaur?

This is obviously a snake. Just look at the number of vertebrae—so many segments are necessary for better body flexibility.

Only snakes require that much suppleness, don't you see?" Number 12 was about to express admiration when I interrupted, telling them, "This is neither a dinosaur nor a snake, but an animal whose form is very close to a snake, yet it possessed four limbs. I suspect it might be a Bawangmang (Overlord Python), the ancestor of modern snakes." Number 12 asked, "Bawangmang?

That sounds quite formidable." I nodded and explained, "In freshwater environments, even the ancestor of the crocodile, the prehistoric crocodile, was no match for the Bawangmang. This creature had a powerful body capable of constricting any prey to death, and its dentition was excellent.

It could easily weigh over a hundred tons." As I spoke, I tapped one of the skull's long, sharp teeth, producing a clear clang. Seeing them listening intently, I continued, "This Bawangmang was widely distributed throughout China.

In the famous Jinsha archaeological site, the people of the ancient Shu Kingdom lived alongside these Bawangmangs. Oh, and in ancient times, this creature wasn't called a mang (python), but a ran (boa/large constrictor)." Like a biology teacher, I pointed to a thin leg bone on the side of the giant serpentine body and stated, "Look here; their legs are almost completely vestigial now, serving no purpose.

Their form is already very close to that of a modern snake." At this point, Number 2 seemed to notice something, furrowing his brow as he asked, "How long do you think this snake has been dead?" I touched the bone, finding that the calcium had not yet leached out, and the bone still possessed a good luster. More significantly, I saw what puzzled Number 2: beneath the serpent's belly, there were remnants of flesh and skin that hadn't fully decomposed.

Though inwardly astonished and finding it hard to believe, I finally murmured, "It seems... it seems it hasn't been dead long." Number 2 nodded in agreement.

"I agree. Such an ancient creature should only exist in fossil records." As we were speaking, a faint, high-pitched squeaking sound, reminiscent of rats, suddenly echoed around us.

Hearing that sound felt like waking up in the dead of night to the realization that a rat was somewhere in the rafters, yet being unable to pinpoint its location. We all instinctively looked up, searching everywhere, but found no trace of any rodent.

It was at that precise moment that a small, furry head poked out from atop the serpent's skull. This creature was at least twice the size of an ordinary rat.

Its two eyes emitted a startling white glare, and its nose twitched constantly, expertly sampling the air. Though I couldn't gauge its body size, I could see a primal wildness in its gaze that no common rat possessed.

I looked closer and saw its fur coloration resembled that of a certain squirrel: the fur above its mouth was dark brown, but the fur on its belly and chin was snow-white, sleek, and incredibly fluffy. As we watched, the creature seemed to lock onto us, its small eyes flashing with menace, and it emitted sharp, threatening squeaks.

A creature this small, no matter how fierce, posed no threat, so none of us paid attention to its intimidation, merely staring up at this somewhat peculiar, large rodent. Just then, the rat suddenly cocked its tail, revealing what looked exactly like a feather duster—a mass of fluffy white plumes.

Almost simultaneously, we exclaimed, "The Shizushou (Primal Beast)! It's alive!" Perhaps our collective shout was too sudden, startling the Shizushou, which cautiously retracted its head.

The sight of this rare beast instantly sent me into a state of pure rapture. I exclaimed, "Quick!

Don't let it escape! Catch it!

If we miss this chance, it’s gone forever!" With that, I prepared to climb up along the serpent's skull, but Number 2 grabbed my arm. He gestured with the Yehuo (Karma Fire) in his hand, saying, "The Karma Fire is agitated; there must be danger here.

Don't run off wildly. It's not worth losing your life for one surviving prehistoric animal!" Though anxious, I wasn't completely irrational.

Hearing him warn of danger, I reluctantly stopped, despite my eagerness. At this moment, Number 12 spoke up, "Don't you both find this room strange?

The size of this prehistoric giant snake is definitely larger than the stone door we entered through. How did it get in here, and why is it crammed into such a small space?" I had already considered this anomaly and said to the other two, "You're right.

We should examine the structure of this room first." With that, I led them along the serpent's bones, intending to see if there was another stone door on the opposite wall. However, after walking along the skeleton for less than a minute, the massive serpentine frame coiled back around, blocking our path with its tail.

Since we had no flashlights, we couldn't see what lay beyond the bones, so we finally decided we had to try and move the skeleton. It wasn't about destruction, merely relocation, but since it was already a fragile skeleton, moving it forcefully risked it falling apart.

No sooner said than done, we acted without hesitation. I used my telekinesis to slowly lift the bones, while Number 2 prepared to strike with his Rhino Fist to push the frame aside.

But just as I concentrated all my mental energy and managed to lift the bones even half an inch, a rustling sound suddenly erupted above us. The sound was intensely familiar to anyone who grew up in the countryside.

It was the sound of moths desperately trying to enter a house as autumn waned and winter approached. It is the instinct of insects; seeking warmth, they flee to warmer places to survive a few extra days.

During evening meals, if the main hall door was open, a flurry of moths would constantly beat their wings near the kerosene lamp hanging from the ceiling beams. If everything was quiet enough, that sound was quite distinct.

Now, we heard that very sound overhead, but in the silence of this underground chamber, it felt profoundly eerie. This time, we didn't have much trouble locating the source of the noise because they weren't flying down from above; they were pouring out from underneath the serpent bones I had just lifted.

And unlike ordinary moths, these creatures showed no fear of us; dozens of them swarmed directly towards our faces. Logically, moths shouldn't harbor karmic obstacles or ill intentions, yet at that moment, the Yehuo in Number 2’s hand spontaneously erupted from his grasp and shot toward the mass of incoming insects.

With a whoosh, the entire room suddenly blazed to life, bathed in a crimson light. As the flames ignited, it was as if we had disturbed a hornet's nest; fluttering sounds of wings erupted from all directions, and swarms of black insects surged out from beneath the serpent’s remains, flying straight toward the red fire.

I was caught completely off guard by the sudden intensity of the display and accidentally got hit square on the forehead by one of the insects. Unexpectedly, the impact was tremendous, nearly throwing me backward and leaving my head spinning.

The sensation was precisely like being struck by a stone the size of my fist. Of course, I wasn't the only one suffering bad luck; the other two cried out in pain, clutching their heads and crouching down.

Clutching my forehead, I asked Number 2 what was happening. He casually reached out and snatched one of the flying creatures out of the air.

He opened his hand to show me, and the sight stunned all three of us into silence. Because these were absolutely not moths; they were flying fish equipped with wings!

They had hard carapaces on their backs and legs like crabs, and the one in Number 2's grip held on tenaciously to his index finger. When we had only seen drawings, we had completely underestimated how small these flying fish were, just as we had underestimated the true size of the Shizushou.

While still marveling at the real specimen, the flying fish opened its mouth, revealing rows of sharp teeth, and lunged toward Number 2’s finger. Seeing this, Number 2 naturally didn't intend to let it bite him.

A ball of Yehuo ignited in his palm, instantly setting the flying fish ablaze, along with his finger. Although the Karma Fire causes no pain to those without malice, the sight was agonizing for us to witness.

Wincing in sympathy, I glanced at the swarm still flying toward the Yehuo, noting their suicidal persistence; one after another, they were incinerated with crisp sizzling sounds, releasing the aroma of cooked meat. Just as I wondered when this onslaught would end, the Shizushou suddenly crawled back down the giant snake's spine, seized one of the flying fish, and began devouring it ravenously.

I certainly wouldn't miss observing the rare beast feeding. The Shizushou seemed to momentarily abandon its caution toward us, focusing entirely on enjoying its meal.

Although the flying fish had hard shells, the Shizushou's teeth were incredibly sharp, and it dexterously used its claws to peel away the carapace, even spitting out the wings covered in spiky scales. It appeared the Shizushou had been hunting and eating these flying fish for quite some time; perhaps this diet sustained it until this very day.

Before I could confirm my theory, another abrupt change occurred. After finishing its meal, the Shizushou suddenly became alert for some unknown reason, continuously looking around and twitching its nose as if scenting something specific.

At that exact moment, a sound of splashing water drifted from not far ahead of us, and a wet, bird-like head slowly rose above the serpent's tail that blocked our path.