41: Chapter 41 The copper sheet flew away, the wall cracked, and the door... opened.

The lightbulb in the tactical tent was low-wattage, casting a yellowish glow onto the map of relic sites in Qin Province spread across the folding table, making the red circles look dim.

Section Chief Han Zheng sat on the edge of the cot.

He turned the bronze piece over and over in his palm.

On the front, the two characters for "Kindling." On the back, a totem of flames supporting the stars.

The engraved lines had been rubbing against the whorls of his fingertips for twenty minutes, but it remained dull and gray, showing no reaction at all.

It was no different from a piece of scrap copper.

The tent flap was lifted. Wang Hao walked in carrying two bowls of instant noodles and set one down in front of Section Chief Han Zheng.

Steam billowed onto the map, causing a layer of condensation to form over the red circles.

"Section Chief Han, you've had that look on your face ever since we got on the plane."

Wang Hao sat down and tore open a seasoning packet.

"Your brows are so furrowed you could crush a fly."

Section Chief Han Zheng didn't move; his gaze was fixed on the bronze piece.

"Fourteen coordinates nationwide, with six archaeological teams advancing simultaneously. It's been five days, and we haven't found a single valuable clue."

He placed the bronze piece on the table and subconsciously rubbed his fingertips after they left the metal surface.

"Are you sure there's no way to actively activate it? What did you do that time in the laboratory?"

Wang Hao picked up a mouthful of noodles with his chopsticks and chewed twice.

"I didn't do anything. It lit up on its own. I walked over, and it resonated with me."

He paused, his gaze falling onto the noodles swirling in his bowl.

"It's like... it's waiting for something to fall into place. If that thing isn't here, it doesn't matter how hard I hold it."

Section Chief Han Zheng was silent for three seconds.

He pushed the bronze piece toward Wang Hao.

"You take it. It has a bloodline connection to you; it's only likely to trigger when it's with you."

Wang Hao took it and tucked it into the pocket of his windbreaker, right against his chest.

"Running to each relic site one by one is too inefficient."

Section Chief Han Zheng rubbed his temples.

"But there's a basis for the order of these fourteen coordinates. The Ancient Observatory has the highest priority—that signal back in '71 only lasted 0.2 seconds, but its intensity ranked first among all records."

Footsteps sounded outside the tent. The crunching on gravel grew from a distance, accompanied by the dull, heavy thud peculiar to old-fashioned military boots.

Professor Zhou's team had emerged from the relic.

——

Dinner was served in the camp's open-air cooking area.

Military self-heating meal boxes; pull the heating pack, and it's ready in ten minutes.

Beef stew with potatoes. The taste was passable, but the rice was hard enough to bounce off teeth; Chen Yiming chewed twice and nearly chipped a molar.

Professor Zhou and Section Chief Han Zheng sat at opposite ends of a folding table, exchanging information.

The veteran archaeologist spoke methodically, citing thirty years of relic data with ease.

Section Chief Han Zheng listened attentively, occasionally interjecting with a highly precise question.

The two graduate students sat at the other end.

Chen Yiming chewed his food, casting a sidelong glance at Wang Hao across the table.

His windbreaker was washed until it turned white, his hands holding the chopsticks were rough, and there were stubborn traces of machine oil under his fingernails.

He hadn't said much since sitting down, just keeping his head down and shoveling rice into his mouth, occasionally looking up toward Section Chief Han Zheng.

He looked like a low-level employee on a business trip with his boss, unsure of where to sit.

Chen Yiming leaned toward Zhao Xiaohe's ear, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear.

"What are these two here for? Do they even know archaeology? That guy clearly does manual labor; surely he isn't here to help move rocks, right?"

"Don't talk nonsense."

Zhao Xiaohe frowned.

"Section Chief Han is from The Seventh Division; his rank is higher than all the soldiers in this camp combined."

"Then what about Wang Hao?"

"...I don't know. But anyone brought along personally by a Section Chief from The Seventh Division must have a use."

Chen Yiming pursed his lips and said nothing more.

But the words "getting in the way" were already written all over his face.

——

After dinner, Section Chief Han Zheng proposed going down again at night.

The shaft, the iron ladder, the corridor, the front hall.

Everything was the same as during the day. The star map on the dome was submerged in darkness, and the phosphorescence of the mineral pigments was even clearer than during the day.

Scattered stars hung on the curved surface, creating the illusion of standing beneath a starry sky.

The beams of the flashlights cut across the relief of the alchemist, the bluestone slabs, and the west stone wall.

Everything remained quietly in place; not a single molecule had moved.

Section Chief Han Zheng had Wang Hao walk a circle around the front hall.

From south to north, from east to west.

He walked slowly, feeling to see if the bronze piece would react.

It did not.

Wang Hao finished the circle, stopped in place, and shook his head.

Chen Yiming leaned against the base of the wall and muttered softly,

"What's he pacing for? It's not like he's strolling through a park..."

The dome structure of the front hall caught the sound and lightly echoed it, sending every word into the ears of everyone present.

Section Chief Han Zheng didn't turn around.

Wang Hao didn't react either.

He started walking again, beginning a second lap.

Halfway through, his pace slowed.

He stopped in the northeast corner of the front hall.

A stone wall.

No reliefs, no carvings, no markings whatsoever.

The grayish-brown rock surface was rough and flat, cut from the same material as the surrounding mountain.

Everyone had scanned this wall before; geological radar had swept it, flashlights had shone on it, and palms had knocked against it.

The echo was dull and solid; no hollow cavities, no anomalies.

It was so ordinary that it wasn't worth writing an extra word about in the logbook.

But Wang Hao stopped moving.

He couldn't say what it was.

It wasn't sound, it wasn't temperature, it wasn't anything within the range of the five senses.

It was more like an extremely thin thread extending from inside the wall, tying itself to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Thump.

Thump.

Pulling.

"What's wrong?"

Section Chief Han Zheng spoke up.

Everyone's gaze converged on him.

"I don't know."

Wang Hao scratched the back of his head, his rough face full of confusion.

"This wall... I just feel like something is calling me."

Chen Yiming rolled his eyes and opened his mouth—

"Nobody move."

Section Chief Han Zheng's volume wasn't high, but the hardness of his tone sliced through all the noise in the front hall.

"Recording team, film the whole thing. Everyone else, step back and give him space."

Chen Yiming froze.

His mouth was still open, and the words on the tip of his tongue were swallowed back down.

He wanted to say, "Professor, we are doing—"

He didn't get to finish the sentence.

Because he saw it.

The chest area of Wang Hao's windbreaker—lit up.

——

Light seeped out from the gaps in the fabric fibers.

Pale gold, pulsing on and off.

The frequency was perfectly synchronized with Wang Hao's heartbeat.

"It's happening again..."

Wang Hao looked down at his chest, his voice trembling.

It was exactly the same as that time in the East Sea destroyer laboratory.

The same light, the same pulse.

But stronger.

The bronze piece vibrated in his pocket.

The frequency was getting faster and faster, the amplitude growing larger. It wasn't passive resonance—it was active struggle.

Like a trapped heart beating desperately to escape.

"It... it wants to come out—"

Before he could finish.

The bronze piece flew out.

The thumb-sized bronze piece tore through the seams of the windbreaker and hovered in the air.

The golden light flared, the pulse frequency accelerating into a strobe visible to the naked eye.

The entire front hall was illuminated in alternating flashes of gold.

At that moment, all the residual luster of the mineral pigments on the dome's star map was activated simultaneously, and the dense star points flickered in unison.

Tens of thousands of chisel marks cast miniature shadows in the golden light.

The patterns on the entire wall pulsed in synchronization, as if the mountain, having slept for a thousand years, had awakened at this moment and taken its first breath.

Chen Yiming's voice was stuck in his throat.

His mind went completely blank.

All thoughts about "amateurs getting in the way," "here to move rocks," and "strolling through a park" were crushed into dust in that one second.

The bronze piece traced a golden arc.

As if guided by an invisible hand, it slowly flew toward the stone wall that had no markings whatsoever.

It stuck to it.

With the front facing outward, the two characters for "Kindling" faced everyone.

It embedded itself perfectly into the surface of the stone wall.

It was as if that spot had always had a reserved slot, waiting for a thousand years, specifically for this piece.

The golden light spread outward.

It spread along the surface of the stone wall and seeped into the texture of the rock.

Cracks appeared.

The golden lines extended along a predetermined trajectory, outlining a huge arched silhouette stroke by stroke.

The highest point was over three meters off the ground, and it was about two meters wide.

The proportions of a door.

The moment the lines closed—the stone wall vanished.

In its place was a door of light.

A pure, flowing, pale golden curtain of light embedded in the mountain rock wall.

Fine ripples were undulating on its surface.

Like a pool of liquid sunlight ruffled by the wind.

No one in the front hall spoke.

Five soldiers simultaneously raised their muzzles, aiming at the light door. Their hands were shaking.

Professor Zhou's glasses nearly slid off the bridge of his nose.

He kept his mouth open, his lips moving several times, but not a single word came out.

Zhao Xiaohe pinched her upper arm hard; it hurt, so it wasn't a dream.

Chen Yiming's legs went weak, his shoulder hit the stone wall behind him, and he slid down halfway.

Only one thought remained in his mind—

I thought they were in the way just now?

The thing they have can open mountains.

——

"Section Chief Han—the bronze piece flew away!"

Wang Hao's voice was filled with obvious panic.

"I'm not blind."

Section Chief Han Zheng's reply was blunt.

He stared at the light door for five seconds. The ripples of the light curtain were reflected in his pupils, golden waves oscillating in circles.

Then his gaze shifted to another direction.

The corridor, the path they had come from.

The iron door at the end of the corridor had closed.

Silent and soundless, no impact, no vibration, it had simply closed.

Chen Yiming noticed it too; he rushed toward the corridor, slamming his hands against the iron door—ice cold, and it didn't budge an inch.

It wasn't locked from the outside. From the inside, it had been welded shut by something.

"The exit is closed!"

Fear began to spread through the front hall. A young soldier's breathing grew ragged, his muzzle trembling slightly.

"Quiet."

Section Chief Han Zheng's voice wasn't loud, but in the front hall at this moment, it was more effective than a gunshot.

Everyone shut their mouths.

Section Chief Han Zheng turned toward the light door. He pressed his hand against the recorder on his chest; the red light was flashing.

But he knew that from the moment the light door appeared, all communication signals had been cut off.

Satellite phones, walkie-talkies, mobile phones—they were all bricks.

There were only two things left to do.

Explore. Record.

"Go in."

He swept his gaze over everyone.

"The exit is sealed, and there's no way back. The only way is forward."

"I'll go with you."

The professor turned his headlamp to its brightest setting.

Section Chief Han Zheng nodded.

"Follow behind the soldiers; if there's any anomaly, retreat immediately."

The five soldiers walked at the very front with their guns raised.

Section Chief Han Zheng and Wang Hao followed closely behind, with Professor Zhou bringing up the rear with two pale-faced graduate students.

Ten people.

A golden light door growing out of the mountain rock wall.

They filed in one after another.

As Wang Hao took his first step into the light door, the sensation under his feet changed.

It was no longer rough rock.

It was stone bricks polished to an extremely smooth finish.

The light curtain closed and opened behind him, like passing through a layer of warm water.

He opened his eyes.

In front of him was a straight corridor.

Gray stone walls, with lamp holders hanging from the dome that had been extinguished for who knows how many years.

Between the gaps in the floor's stone bricks, something was flowing, extremely faintly and slowly.

Golden.