# Chapter 2: The General's Treasure (2)
[Is it just one person?]
Qi An ignored it, maintaining his startled expression. With moist eyes, he subtly scanned his companions.
Apart from Wang Xiangqun and himself, everyone else's expressions were too calm. It was natural for Lin Jiajia, the organizer of the paranormal investigation, and Jin Huijuan, the horror novelist, to be unfazed—but Zhang Zhaoqi, a devout atheist, was completely breaking character.
He was from the穿越局, the Crossing Bureau. He had almost shamelessly revealed his identity, searching for his own kind. He didn't care at all that this would make ordinary people suspicious, especially in this completely disorienting supernatural realm.
"She deliberately led us here, but clearly, not of her own will." Jin Huijuan pointed at Grandmother Zhang, whose pupils remained constricted, her weathered eyes bearing undisguised fear. From Grandmother Zhang's consistently fearful behavior, she must have known something. "Lin Jiajia, why did you choose this place?"
When they first arrived, not a single local had been willing to guide them. It was only after they decided to head back that the village chief pulled Grandmother Zhang out and had the cowering woman lead them.
The villagers had seemed to be looking at something through them, but aside from Grandmother Zhang, no one had tried to convince them to leave.
Lin Jiajia met Jin Huijuan's sharp gaze. The other woman's tone sounded like an accusation, and her expression soured. "A fan told me about it. They said there's an ancient tomb here, and it might contain something... unclean."
"Their name?"
"It was a username. 'Grass-Eating Bunny.'"
"Contact them and ask if they know who the tomb belongs to." Jin Huijuan decided immediately.
Lin Jiajia turned her phone toward herself, found the QQ number, and knocked on the contact. Suddenly, her face changed as if she'd discovered something. She pulled up her chat history, her beautiful eyes fixed on the last message.
"What's wrong?" Jin Huijuan asked.
"The chat records about this tomb are all gone." Lin Jiajia scrolled up in disbelief. "I never deleted any messages. There's no undo notification either. They just... disappeared."
Qi An watched their movements quietly, appearing gentle and harmless.
While curling his body inward, he used the warm yellow light to observe his surroundings.
He had clearly heard that cold, eerie voice from before. The others couldn't make it out clearly because this wasn't a language they were familiar with—it was a language from some ancient kingdom that existed only in memory.
The voice carried the stiffness and ethereality of someone who hadn't spoken in years.
They were saying—
Who is... that person?
He had been to this world before.
Qi An made this judgment instinctively.
"Has he replied yet?" Jin Huijuan watched Lin Jiajia chatting with Grass-Eating Bunny and couldn't help leaning in to look at their conversation.
"He says... he never talked to me about any tomb. He doesn't even know this place exists." Lin Jiajia's expression was strange, carrying both terror and an inexplicable excitement.
Then, who had been chatting with her?
And what connection did they have to this tomb?
"Shouldn't we leave?"
Wang Xiangqun gripped the pendant in his hand so tightly his knuckles were white, beads of sweat clearly visible on his forehead.
When he spoke, no one responded.
There were only six people in their group. Grandmother Zhang was already dead. The three穿越者 had their mission to complete. The only real ordinary people were two—which meant, numerically speaking, there was no way his proposal to turn back could pass.
Wang Xiangqun received no response for a long time. He moved his stiff neck, his face shifting with the only source of light in the darkness. It was only then that he felt the calm resolve emanating from those around him.
Someone had just died, mere moments ago.
Yet no one but him and Qi An showed any helplessness.
The cold corpse lay right beside them, yet they discussed the sequence of events with such rationality.
Only... Qi An.
Wang Xiangqun turned to stare fixedly at Qi An. The other man was drowning in fear just like him, head slightly bowed, hiding his eyes from view, revealing only his fair, elegant neck.
"What do you think, Qi An?"
"I..."
The other man sensed his gaze. Wang Xiangqun caught sight of the eyes beneath those wispy bangs—trembling like a creature cornered by a hunter. He saw this person shift his gaze toward the others, seeking help.
Suddenly, he thought—this person was extraordinarily beautiful.
"There's no way out." Strangely, Zhang Zhaoqi, who had been silent all along, glanced平淡ly at Wang Xiangqun and answered his question. "The door hasn't been operable since we entered."
"You... how do you know?
Wang Xiangqun started to ask, but then Zhang Zhaoqi's deep, clear, icy eyes turned toward him. He swallowed the words that were about to tumble out.
"Keep moving."
Jin Huijuan gave Zhang Zhaoqi an odd look, then issued the command. "Lin Jiajia, ask your audience to look up information about this place."
"Then... what about Grandmother Zhang?"
Seeing everyone prepare to leave, Wang Xiangqun couldn't help but ask.
"If we survive, we'll take her out." Without anyone noticing, Jin Huijuan had become the leader of this group. Her tone remained cool, but Wang Xiangqun felt a chill spread through his heart.
The five continued forward.
Even though they deliberately lightened their footsteps, each one echoed distinctly in the empty passage.
No one dared speak.
They walked along the damp, narrow path that seemed endless. The spotlights continuously swept away the darkness ahead. Suddenly, a beam of light fell upon a colored wall.
It was part of a mural.
Zhang Zhaoqi swept his flashlight across it, and a series of murals immediately appeared before them.
Without hesitation, everyone gathered around the first mural and moved along the uneven wall, viewing them one by one.
The first mural depicted commoners lying fallen on the ground, with faint black paint brushed across the surface.
The second showed two armies in battle. The artist had used brushstrokes to glorify one side, whose armored soldiers had left the opposing force nearly annihilated.
At this point, all five people's expressions shifted. They connected this to the guardian statues standing sentinel beside the tomb entrance.
The third mural featured a figure in strange clothing, standing on a high platform, holding various peculiar objects. Around him, countless people prostrated on the ground.
This was followed by a palace and a person whose face was impossible to discern.
The final mural depicted soldiers as well, but this time, thick black mist swirled around them.
It was completely incomprehensible—what had happened?
"Since these are murals inside a tomb, they must have significant connection to the tomb's occupant." Jin Huijuan said. "Among them, only the soldiers changed, but we still don't know what the black mist represents."
"Do any of you have any ideas?" she continued.
"Those two figures painted separately should be important." Zhang Zhaoqi淡淡地 pointed them out.
"Agreed, but we have no way to identify them yet." Jin Huijuan frowned.
After pausing his narrowed eyes on the figure with the indiscernible face for a moment, a subtle glint flickered in Qi An's downcast gaze. He glanced at the group whose thoughts had stalled and said, seemingly at random, "That stone over there is a bit strange."
His soft voice immediately drew everyone else's attention.
Pink was visibly blooming on Qi An's raised cheeks. His stamina was poor—the same distance left him looking far more exhausted than even the two girls.
Zhang Zhaoqi said nothing, walking calmly to Qi An's side. He followed the other man's line of sight to the stone.
Qi An had already lowered his head again. Speaking up had seemingly exhausted all his energy.
But somehow, Zhang Zhaoqi couldn't forget the sight of those flushed cheeks—like delicate petals blooming in white snow—ghostly and radiant.
The stone Qi An had pointed to appeared completely ordinary at first glance. But where it connected to the ground, there was an uncanny smoothness. Zhang Zhaoqi's eyes flickered with deep meaning. He exchanged a glance with Jin Huijuan, then extended his long, strong hand and pressed gently.
Chunks of the mural's stone surface crumbled away, a series of sizable rocks falling to the ground with continuous clattering sounds.
Zhang Zhaoqi reacted swiftly, pulling Qi An backward, escaping the falling debris.
"This is..."
Before them stood a tall stone door.
On either side of the door stood two sculptures, identical to the ones they'd seen before—also clad in armor, each holding a blade. One grasped a dao, the other a jian.
"The signal disappeared the moment this door appeared." Lin Jiajia, who had been monitoring the livestream since Jin Huijuan's instruction, said grimly.
Not a single viewer had been able to find information about the cemetery they were in, from start to finish.
"Should we continue inside?" Jin Huijuan furrowed her brow, consulting Zhang Zhaoqi. She felt those two sculptures were deeply unsettling.
"There's no retreat now." Zhang Zhaoqi took the first step forward. "Our supplies are limited. If we can't find another exit quickly, we'll starve."
As he spoke, he moved to push the door.
"Wait, they're looking at you!" Wang Xiangqun shouted.
The moment the words left his mouth, the two sculptures whose eyeballs had just rolled now came to life. They raised their weapons, about to slash down at Zhang Zhaoqi. Zhang Zhaoqi dodged swiftly, and even in such a critical moment, his expression remained calm.
The two sculptures turned their stiff necks, their emotionless gazes shifting to Qi An and the others before charging toward them at speed.
At this instant, everyone ran outward.
Facing life and death, they naturally ran as fast as they could—but the differences in stamina became apparent. Zhang Zhaoqi was the fastest, Wang Xiangqun close behind, then Jin Huijuan and Lin Jiajia.
Qi An, who had always appeared frail and delicate, fell to the very back.
The sculptures' heavy footsteps rang out as they pursued. They closed in on the easiest target—Qi An—whose weapons were about to fall.
The unyielding weapons were about to land on Qi An's head, yet at the moment before impact, they stopped. Both statues gently lowered their weapons.
Their eyeballs were fixed intently on Qi An.
But it wasn't eerie—rather, it carried a peculiar tenderness.
Two low, hoarse, guttural voices sounded in unison.
It was a language none of them had ever heard.
They watched in shock as Qi An, who should have been doomed, survived beneath the blade. His face remained pale and exquisite.
Qi An was looking at the two sculptures as well. They were saying—
I've... finally found you.