The sight of countless gruesome floating corpses pressed down on my chest like a massive stone, suddenly filling me with a desperate urge to raise a ruckus, just so I wouldn't be infected by the resentment lingering in the Gourd Cave.

Facing this mysterious bronze chest, Fatty became instantly agitated. He rummaged through his carry-all and pulled out the "Golden Beast-Head Short Staff," exclaiming, "Ry-D... no, wait, the Golden Key is here!"

The golden staff, slightly curved in the middle with a dragon head on one end and a tiger head on the other, gleamed brilliantly in the cold, bleak environment of the "Gourd Cave." This golden staff, along with the golden mask and several other gold artifacts, were all grave goods we'd poured out of the jade coffin belonging to the High Priest of the Satrap King. This was clearly an ancient, complete set of golden sacrificial instruments, with the mask and the staff being the most eye-catching pieces.

Unexpectedly, this beast-head golden staff turned out to be connected to the large bronze lump coughed up by that Huo Shi Immortal Worm we encountered. Seeing Fatty fumbling clumsily, I watched as he tried to insert the dragon head of the golden staff into the hole on the bronze lump.

I felt an indescribable curiosity toward this square piece of bronze—or perhaps, this "bronze chest"—eager to open it and see what was inside. Yet, deep down, I had a vague sense that something was amiss. Could there be something dangerous within?

Shirley Yang was also extremely cautious, warning Fatty and me, "Be careful, there might be hidden mechanisms inside the bronze chest, like poisoned darts or noxious smoke."

Though Fatty was rash, he wasn't foolish enough to court death. Hearing Shirley Yang's words, he muttered to himself, pondered for a moment, and then came up with a clever suggestion: "In my humble opinion, the priority is preserving our troop strength. We shouldn't take such needless risks. Therefore, the safest bet is to use de-n-r to blow it open. You two stand far away in a safe spot, and watch me conduct this little demolition job."

I thought that Fatty, usually relying only on brute strength and reckless courage, would be completely unable to deal with any traps inside the chest if they existed, likely resulting in him throwing his life away for nothing. So I told him, "If there’s something important inside, how could de-n-r preserve it? I've always been lucky; I think I should take this job. You two stay behind and watch the surroundings for me."

Fatty argued back, "It's not that I'm a coward. This box probably just contains mingqi [funerary objects]. Han Dynasty antiques are all gold, jade, or bronze. Even if it’s blown to smithereens, it won't significantly affect its value. If you two are too sentimental, I'll risk it all—I’ll risk my life to open it directly."

Without allowing any argument, I snatched the golden staff from Fatty's hand and told him and Shirley Yang to hide behind a nearby massive boulder. Shirley Yang handed me the "Steel Umbrella" and cautioned, "From what we’ve seen on this journey, there are many insidious and vicious traps in the King’s Tomb area. You must be extremely careful."

I replied to Shirley Yang, "Staff Officer Yang, rest assured. I don't have many virtues, but I am certainly bold—like a chicken tied to a utility pole. Not only am I bold, but I'm bold yet meticulous, unlike that fool Fatty, who rushes headlong into things while feigning caution."

Fatty, who had already crouched behind the rock, stuck his head out upon hearing my words and immediately started cursing, "Hu Bayi, you bastard, badmouthing me behind my back again! If you don't dare, just come back quickly and let me open the chest. But we need to agree in advance: everything inside belongs to me."

I waved my hand at Fatty, signaling him to stop messing around and focus on the serious task. Though my previous words sounded casual, it was merely an attempt to relieve overwhelming psychological pressure. Standing close to the "bronze chest," beads of cold sweat were already trickling down my temples.

With the Steel Umbrella and a gas mask, I wasn't afraid of even the most dangerous mechanism. However, having witnessed so many horrific scenes in the past few days had suddenly made my heart incredibly fragile. I just wanted to scream my lungs out and vent the immense pressure in my mind. I genuinely feared that some hideously deceased skeletons might be inside this "bronze chest." I could hardly face the gruesome sight of those dead slaves again; doing so might easily drive me mad.

But to uncover the secrets of the "Satrap King's Tomb," I had no choice but to grit my teeth and push forward. I took a deep breath, switched on the tactical spotlight on my climbing helmet, focusing the beam onto the two indentations on the side of the "bronze chest." Comparing them with the "Dragon-Tiger Double-Headed Golden Staff" in my hand, the outlines of these two holes indeed matched the staff ends—dragon on the left, tiger on the right.

If they were inserted according to these holes, the orientation of both the dragon and tiger heads would be correct. This meant that once the internal spring lock was activated, the "bronze chest" should open either vertically or horizontally. I couldn't see any seam on the "bronze chest" for now. Was our assumption that this was a "chest" even correct? If it wasn't a "box," then what was this mechanism for?

Furthermore, this double-headed golden staff was perfectly integrated in the middle; it was impossible to separate the two ends. This meant I could only choose either the dragon or the tiger at one time, making it impossible to insert both beast-head keys simultaneously. Which one first? Which one second?

I couldn't help cursing; this was just like disarming a time bomb—choosing between the red and green wires! Did the order of the "dragon head" and "tiger head" matter? What would happen if the order was wrong?

Suddenly, I remembered that the geomantic layout of the necropolis area behind "Zhelong Mountain" was half natural and half man-made. You could say these auspicious burial sites were created by altering the landscape—a clear act of "going against heaven," defying the laws of nature. In the secret arts of Feng Shui, altering the landscape involves the concept of "Dragon and Tiger Confrontation," which separately represents the manipulation of Yin and Yang energies: Crouching Tiger, Recumbent Dragon; Black Tortoise Repelling Corpses; Dragon Bowing Head, Tiger Weeping; Formologies Soaring Away; Dragon’s Sorrow, Tiger’s Wail; Front Flower, Back Deception; Left and Right Kneeling—all denoting positions where the dragon head and tiger head are not prominent, characterized as dragon concavity and tiger deficiency, where the teeth don't align and the Four Beasts do not respond.

The altered "Formology and Rationality" relies entirely on the subtle balance between Yin and Yang, clear and turbid energies. Reversing the Dragon and Tiger—that is, scrambling the clear and turbid energies—would, at best, manifest in the form of inauspicious Sha energy, and at worst, cause the three harms of wind, insects, and water to invade the tomb, degrading the coffin and rotting the corpse buried within, leading to endless misfortune.

Deducing from the principles of Qing Wu divination, it might be safer to first activate the relatively safer "Dragon Head" to engage the clear Yang energy. However, this was just my guess. This casing, seemingly cast from heavy bronze, had no other features apart from these two holes, and it might be completely unrelated to the staff anyway.

My mind became chaotic, knowing that further guessing would be fruitless. I had to take it one step at a time. Holding my breath, I hid behind the "Steel Umbrella," aligned the dragon head of the "Golden Short Staff" to the correct position, and pushed it into the slot on the side of the "bronze chest."

I heard a light click. Just by the feel, I knew it was a perfect fit. I looked back at Shirley Yang and Fatty, who were watching me intently from behind the rock. I flashed them a thumbs-up, immediately lowered my head, and tried to twist the "Double-Headed Golden Staff" left and right, but it wouldn't budge an inch. I marveled silently. Was our initial assumption wrong? Wasn't this a keyhole?

I tried randomly turning the "Golden Short Staff," but it was useless. Growing impatient, I poked my head out from behind the "Steel Umbrella," intending to pull the staff out first and think of another way. Unexpectedly, the slot on the "bronze chest" contained a mechanism that engaged on insertion but only held by friction when pulling out.

When I yanked backward, the mechanism inside the bronze chest was triggered. A stream of black liquid flowed out of the empty tiger-shaped hole. Thinking it was poison, I instantly released the "Golden Staff" and jumped back behind the rock to observe with Shirley Yang and Fatty.

The amount of black liquid wasn't much; it drained away in a moment. The entire "bronze chest" then shook once, as if its internal mechanisms had engaged, before everything settled back to normal, silent again.

I let out a breath. Fatty lowered the muzzle of his 1A1 rifle aimed at the chest, but he remained cautious. I approached the "bronze chest" alone once more. This time, when I pulled the "Double-Headed Golden Staff," it slid out effortlessly.

The "bronze chest" was indeed a "bronze chest." However, the seams around the lid were made to fit extremely tightly. Coupled with the great age, the material of the same property above and below had permeated and fused together, thereby maintaining an absolutely sealed environment inside, protecting its contents from being corroded by the giant worm's stomach acid. The "Double-Headed Golden Staff" had activated the internal mechanism; the lid of the "bronze chest" should have sprung upward, but because a large section of the seams remained fused, only a fine crack appeared on the body of the chest.

It seemed opening this "bronze chest" would require a bit of external force. Holding the "Steel Umbrella" with one hand, and the fine steel blade of the "Entrenching Tool" in the other, I pried at the seam. Without the slightest effort, I managed to lift the lid. As a precaution, I moved to the back and pulled the "bronze chest" lid wide open.

None of the booby traps we had most feared—hidden darts or toxic smoke—were inside. Seeing there were no hidden weapons, Shirley Yang and Fatty also emerged from behind the rock, carrying their weapons, ready to see what was actually in the bronze chest.

The tactical spotlights from our three helmets shone directly into the opened large bronze chest, illuminating the interior brightly. The first thing we saw was a chest half-full of black liquid—the same kind that flowed out of the tiger-shaped keyhole. This was likely the stomach acid of the Huo Shi Immortal Worm that had seeped in before the seams had completely fused. The bronze material hadn't turned green over the years; instead, the interior was covered in countless white spots. This suggested that a compound like "Yù Shùn" had possibly been added to give it anti-corrosion properties.

But when it came to the objects submerged in the black liquid inside the chest, we were completely stumped. The bronze chest was evenly divided into three compartments, with half-filled black water soaking three strange items. The three of us stared dumbfounded, unsure how to even begin. Shirley Yang and Fatty both looked at me. I spread my hands and told them, "We have no choice but to examine them one by one. Heaven knows what these are used for."

Fatty had actually wanted to flip the entire chest over earlier, but since these items seemed obscure and not immediately valuable, he had managed to restrain himself. Seeing me speak now, he took out the "Yin-Probing Claw," assembled it into a hook shape, reached into the large chest, and casually selected one compartment, hooking out an egg-shaped object made of wax.

This thing looked like an egg, but it was far larger than a chicken egg. The exterior was coated in steamed wax. Where the shell was broken, something crystalline and lustrous—like jade—was revealed under the light. Seeing the layer of fine jade inside the wax casing, Fatty didn't hesitate. His entrenching tool was already swinging. He smashed the wax shell into countless fragments, intending to scrape off the outer wax to see the jade within. However, the egg-shaped jade inside was merely a thin shell itself; a single strike from the entrenching tool shattered it completely as well.

Seeing that it was too late to stop him, I stood by, watching, hoping to discover what strange and precious artifacts lay beneath these layers of wrapping.