Seeing the nine massive centipedes coiled on top of the coffin at the bottom of the rift, despite being completely still, we still felt an immense pressure. One by one, our faces turned pale as we retreated while raising our weapons.

The Chinese expert said, “There’s no need to be so tense. It’s winter now, and the temperature here is still low. The centipedes are in hibernation, so these giant creatures won’t wake up easily.”

A Ning replied, “Even if they don’t wake up easily, there’s still a chance they could. We would make perfect winter snacks for them.”

The fat guy’s murderous intent flared up again, saying, “Who cares if they wake up or not? I’ll sneak up and shoot a few rounds at their heads. Even if they were ten times bigger, they’d be dead in no time. Then we can see whether this ageless King of Ten Thousand Slaves that crawled out from the ground is human or a monster.”

Panzi waved his hand and said, “Absolutely not! Do you remember what Shunzi said? A dead centipede can wake up its hibernating companions. This rift connects the entire Changbai Mountain range. Do you know how many centipedes are inside? We might end up provoking even bigger creatures to come out and avenge their kin.”

I raised the night vision binoculars, wanting to take a closer look. Such large centipedes might be fossils of ancient insects; I simply couldn’t convince myself that they were alive. As I lifted them, I noticed that on the shadow wall behind the coffin, what had previously been unclear was now revealed to be many characters in Jurchen script. I was immediately stunned and my heart raced with excitement.

The text on the shadow wall was extensive, and a concentration of so many characters must indicate some narrative content. In the buildings constructed by Wang Canghui, text was rarely found, but here there was so much that it was likely one of the most precious pieces of information in the ancient tomb—the owner’s inscription.

I hurriedly pulled over the short guy under A Ning who could read Jurchen script, handed him the binoculars, and asked him to help me decipher what was written.

The short guy looked at it, his face filled with confusion. He said that while these characters resembled Jurchen script, they were not Jurchen characters but another type of script from the same language family. He couldn’t decipher it right away.

I felt disheartened again, cursing under my breath that this King of Ten Thousand Slaves was too cunning, leaving no flaws for me to exploit.

It was no wonder that someone as scheming as Wang Canghui, who had been here for twenty years and directly participated in the transformation of the ancient royal tomb, could not uncover the core secrets that the Ten Thousand Slaves dynasty wanted to hide. The King of Ten Thousand Slaves had set an insurmountable barrier, let alone us who were relying on guesswork.

It was a pity that Master Hua was not here. He had immersed himself in this for many years and had unique thought processes that others lacked. If he were here, he might have been able to shed some light on the situation.

But then I thought it was wrong; if Master Hua were here, the complexity of the situation would be beyond my control.

One moment I had one thought, and the next moment it was another; my mind was a jumble. Meanwhile, I heard Panzi calling out, “Fatty? Are you okay? Should we switch?”

I hate hearing Panzi call Fatty’s name. My heart skipped a beat, and I looked up to see Fatty and Kirk carefully climbing up a chain, walking above the coffin. Fatty was tying a rope around his waist, probably intending to hang down from the chain like Tom Cruise, suspended above the coffin. Surprisingly, no one stopped him; they were even directing him on where to position himself.

I asked Anning what was going on. Were they preparing to watch a show like “The Nine Dragons and the Fat Pearls”? Anning replied, “It’s nothing. Generally speaking, this method won’t disturb the centipedes in hibernation. I just noticed that the centipedes’ tails are locked to the stone pillars beneath the stone platform with bronze chains, so their movement range is limited. Only those who walk close to them are in danger. They all came here to see what’s inside the coffin of the King of Ten Thousand Slaves. Now that they’ve found the coffin but can’t look inside, no one can resist.”

I said that even if Fatty could hang down, he couldn’t lift the enormous stone lid of the coffin. Anning said, “He’s not trying to lift the coffin lid; he’s going to wedge the coffin-opening hook into the gap of the coffin. We’ll hang a pulley from one of the bronze chains above, and then we can lift the coffin lid from here.”

I felt very uneasy. Anning was still fulfilling her company’s obligations, searching for something inside the coffin. Even at this stage, she hadn’t given up. Although I didn’t know what she was looking for, I felt there was no reason for anything to be more important than one’s own life. Moreover, there were so many bronze chains above the coffin; Wang Zanghai wouldn’t have overlooked their tricks when designing it. There must be something suspicious that made him think there was no need for precautions. Fatty, acting foolishly as the vanguard, clearly wanted to be the first to open the coffin and reap some benefits. I had to stop him.

No one knew what had happened to Kirk. Fatty was adjusting his bungee-jumping position when he saw Kirk jump even faster than him, and he froze, at a loss. Suddenly, he also flew up into the air, flailing his arms and legs, spiraling around before dropping straight down. Fortunately, he had a rope around his waist, and just as his head was about to hit the coffin, the rope snapped taut, stopping him just above Kirk’s corpse.

I nearly fainted; the sight was too bizarre. Was there something on the chain that pushed them down? Realizing this, I quickly shouted to the stunned Panzi, “Flare! Everyone, get your weapons ready!”

Everyone immediately reacted. We didn’t have time to worry about Fatty anymore. Panzi fired a flare into the sky, which exploded. Instantly, we saw countless shadows swirling above our heads, with several already hanging upside down from the chains, curiously watching us, the intruders in their nest.

It turned out that those strange birds had silently begun returning to their nest. I even saw a few among the flying creatures clutching something, clearly having caught prey. I raised my hand, signaling those who were almost ready to shoot to hold their fire.

These strange birds are nearly blind; under such intense light, they can’t see us at all. However, they are very sensitive to sound. It was only when we fired a shot in the front hall that a large number of these strange birds flew in from all directions. Clearly, these creatures, living in the pitch-black underground volcanic crater, have long adapted to life in darkness.

I had warned everyone not to shoot, yet there were still people firing their weapons—not just one shot, but a continuous burst of gunfire. The sound echoed loudly in the vast canyon, resonating through the skies, and chaos erupted above as countless shadows began to dive down.

I turned with an angry glare to see who the idiot was that disobeyed orders, only to find the fat man on the stone platform trying to climb the rope. He had taken Kirk’s M16 and was now firing repeatedly at the coffin below.

Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the enormous coffin of the King of Wannu had somehow opened a crack, and three violet-blue appendages, resembling arms—yes, three of them—were reaching out from the coffin, their long claws swiping through the air, trying to grasp the fat man above.