Chapter 11: Entering the Hall

The door towered imposingly, nearly fifty meters high, its entire surface cloaked in darkness, exuding an ancient and solemn aura. I peered through the gap at its center, and immediately felt a chill as gusts of cold wind seemed to surge forth from within, making my back involuntarily tense.

I thought to myself, this must be the actual tomb of the ancient King Li. With this in mind, I steeled myself, gripping the seam of the dark bronze door and pulling with all my strength, but it didn’t budge in the slightest.

Suddenly, I laughed at my own impatience—how could I expect to move such a colossal door, likely forged from bronze, with my bare hands? There were no visible mechanisms nearby either.

If this had happened before I encountered that mysterious figure earlier, I would have been at a loss. But now, I had a swifter, more direct solution. I reached into my backpack and pulled out an extremely well-sealed package containing military-grade TNT. This explosive was the most violent tool at my disposal; I doubted anything could withstand its force.

The TNT was ready-made, complete with a fuse. Though over a year had passed since I acquired it, I wasn’t sure if it might have expired. After securing the explosive to the bronze door with plastic tape, I set up the fuse—though, really, it was already assembled, and the fuse stretched over twenty meters. I had some prior experience with explosives, but wasn’t entirely confident in my methods.

Taking out my lighter, I felt a twinge of nervousness and prepared myself to sprint for safety. My hands trembled slightly as I lit the fuse. It caught instantly, faster than I expected, and before I could fully process what was happening, danger dawned on me. I spun around and dashed away, my legs carrying me at a speed I’d never managed before—perhaps covering dozens of meters in just a second or two.

As I sprinted, a tremendous explosion thundered behind me. My ears instantly went numb; all sound seemed to vanish except for a muffled rumbling. A powerful shockwave lifted me off my feet, my back stinging painfully, and a momentary suffocation threatened to burst my chest.

It all happened in an instant; I was completely unprepared. I had vastly underestimated the power of even a small package of TNT. The entire cave and corridor quaked, chunks of earth and stone raining down, several striking me, and I was too drained to dodge.

The explosion came and went quickly, leaving only the lingering echoes. I lay prone, shaking my head vigorously, but my ears remained dull—I worried my eardrums might have been damaged. I twisted my body to press closer to the wall, hoping to avoid falling debris.

After a while, silence returned. My strength gradually came back, and I was grateful for my speed and distance—it had spared me from serious injury.

My hearing began to recover, and I breathed a sigh of relief; I had no desire to become deaf.

Turning to the bronze door, I saw it had been blown open, though to my surprise, only a small breach had been made. The quality of this ancient door was astonishing; such an explosion should have caused far more damage. Clearly, the ancients didn’t cut corners in their craftsmanship.

At least the opening was just large enough for me to squeeze through. Rising, I stretched briefly and gazed into the pitch-black void beyond. Whether from nerves or something else, cold drafts seemed to issue from within. Shaking off uneasy thoughts, I approached the newly blasted gap.

The bronze door was thick, as evidenced by the opening. I wondered how, in a time without modern machinery, they had managed to install such a door.

As I crawled through, a sensation of being watched prickled at me. I hurried inside, stood up, and switched on my Wolf-Eye flashlight. The chamber was instantly illuminated, but the feeling of being observed persisted, though nothing was visible.

This appeared to be a grand hall, or perhaps a plaza. Stone pillars rose on either side, and shining my flashlight upward, I spotted a vast, dark object suspended by four heavy chains. Gathering the beam, I discerned it was a massive, rectangular box—perhaps the coffin of King Li.

Looking ahead, I found what appeared to be the throne, some two hundred meters away. This truly seemed to be the main chamber.

Upon closer inspection, I realized the object above might not be the king’s coffin after all, as there were nine such boxes throughout the hall. Their contents remained a mystery.

The silence in the hall was almost unnerving, so absolute that it felt unnatural. The space was expansive and open; as I walked and shone my light around, I discovered the floor tiles and pillars were all black, lending the hall a mysterious air.

Soon, I reached the throne. It was crafted from an unknown material—resembling both stone and jade, smooth and delicate to the touch.

The throne bore no carvings or decorations, and nothing else surrounded it. I was genuinely curious: the tomb of King Li was so enigmatic and vast, with a mass grave outside—clearly this was only the tip of the iceberg—yet the main hall was surprisingly austere.

Unable to make sense of it, I continued exploring with my flashlight. Then, I heard the sound of water, a gentle splashing, and noticed small doors on either side. This tomb was indeed unusual—could it be modeled on a palace above ground?

Approaching the right-hand door, I saw it was half open, which startled me and made me tense. Typically, tomb doors should be sealed after construction; had someone entered?

But the bronze door outside was tightly shut. I doubted anyone could open it, even with a team of dozens. Besides, if that many people had entered, there would be traces—I’d seen none.

Who could it be? The thought sent a chill through me. I quickly shook my head to dispel such frightening speculation, reminding myself not to scare myself in such circumstances.

I drew my black-gold dagger and felt the reassuring weight of the loaded pistol at my waist. Holding the flashlight in one hand and the dagger in the other, I gently pushed the half-open door further with my foot and shone light inside. It appeared to be a passageway. Unsure whether traps awaited, I took a bullet from my backpack and flicked it inside like skipping a stone.

Only a few crisp sounds echoed—no traps, apparently. Relieved, I stepped inside, feeling the chill deepen and the sensation of being watched intensify.

As I walked, my back suddenly felt cold. I spun around, finding nothing. I told myself I was merely scaring myself. Though I prided myself on my bravery, even the boldest would feel fear here.

I pressed on, and an odd illusion arose: the passage seemed to be narrowing. Checking, I saw it had indeed shrunk from two meters wide to less than one.

On impulse, I shone my flashlight behind me. The Wolf-Eye was a German import, military-grade, with a range of several hundred meters—even if the battery was low, two hundred meters was guaranteed. But within its beam, the passage’s width appeared unchanged, which made no sense; I could feel it narrowing, but the width should not remain constant. I was less than a hundred and fifty meters from the door, yet it was nowhere to be seen. I was certain I hadn’t walked that far.

A sense of unease gripped me. I hurried back, but the passage kept narrowing, pressing against my body. Realization dawned—not that the passage was shrinking, but that the walls were closing in on me. If they kept moving, I’d be crushed here.

I moved as fast as I could—I must have covered at least one hundred and fifty meters—but to my horror, the door had vanished, replaced by utter darkness. I'm certain I never walked that far.

Now, the walls pressed so tightly I could barely move. This was no absence of traps—this was a trap, and a sophisticated one at that. I wondered how it was designed and how it was triggered; when I entered, nothing was amiss, but now it had begun to operate.