Now there was no room for hesitation. Liu Dashao immediately signaled everyone to head down the secret passage. He led the way with a flashlight, each step taken with utmost caution. The stairway stretched endlessly into pitch darkness, and occasionally, the skeletal remains of past victims came into view, sending chills down everyone’s spines.
No one spoke much along the way, tiptoeing through the gloom. It was impossible to tell how long they walked, but suddenly the darkness gave way to an open space—they had finally emerged.
Before them lay a narrow wooden walkway flanked by evenly spaced stone pillars. The path was long, ending in a raised platform—perhaps the burial site of the Golden Queen.
The chamber was vast, about the size of a football field, littered with wooden chests made from poplar wood. Some were half-open, revealing treasures inside.
“Underground river! Water, water!” Lin Miaoke suddenly shouted.
“Where?” Liu Dashao quickly asked.
Without answering, Lin Miaoke turned and ran to the right. No one hesitated and followed her.
Sure enough, a subterranean river came into view. It was wide and fast-flowing, indicating a powerful underground water system. But if there was water, how had the Golden City perished?
Everyone rushed to the riverbank, greedily drinking. They were so absorbed in the water that they nearly forgot about Mr. Ni and Wang Zhicai. Liu Dashao snapped out of it and quickly filled a flask, offering it to Wang Zhicai. Wang, revived by the water, drank greedily. Meanwhile, Fan Debiao was pouring water into Mr. Ni’s mouth.
Liu Dashao noticed that Mr. Ni was covered in sand, which could infect his wounds. He immediately called Fan Debiao and another man to help wash him down.
As Liu and Fan carried Mr. Ni to the riverbank and prepared to rinse him off, the flashlight beam hit the water—and revealed a horrifying sight: the riverbed was littered with human bones. The sight nearly made both men vomit.
Wang Feifei hurriedly asked what was wrong. It was best not to say anything to avoid leaving a psychological scar, so Liu simply said it was nothing.
He then poured water directly over Mr. Ni’s head, washing away the mud and sand. The face hidden beneath the scarf was finally revealed.
Liu Dashao and Fan Debiao were stunned. It was Scarface! No wonder he had always kept his face covered—he was hiding his scar from ridicule.
Fan Debiao burst into laughter. “The legendary Scarface Jason.”
Liu Dashao was speechless. What was going on in this guy’s head?
As Liu cleaned Mr. Ni’s wounds, Fan couldn’t help but poke at the scars on his face. Liu thought if Mr. Ni ever found out, he’d probably kill Fan.
But Liu had no mood to scold Fan. He continued cleaning the wounds, noticing how thin Mr. Ni was—less muscular than himself—and yet he had easily overpowered Fan with one hand.
Just then, Fan suddenly stood up. Liu found it odd and looked up at him.
Fan’s expression had changed. His face was grim, his eyes fixed on his hand.
In his hand was something new: a piece of skin—a human skin. Liu immediately understood and turned his flashlight toward Mr. Ni’s face. His heart tightened.
The scarred face was a mask—a human skin mask. His real identity was Geshuangwa!
Liu and Fan stared at each other, minds racing. This was beyond comprehension.
Mr. Ni—no, Geshuangwa—hadn’t died ten years ago. In fact, he looked younger than before. How was that possible?
Fan was now even more agitated. He crouched down and grabbed Mr. Ni’s shoulders, shaking him violently and shouting for him to wake up.
Liu saw Fan was shaking him too hard—Mr. Ni might die from it. He quickly intervened. After a while, Fan finally calmed down.
Liu analyzed the situation and said, “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions yet. Think—how could someone not age? Maybe he’s a relative of Master Ge. Let’s wait until he wakes up.”
Fan was at a loss, muttering, “It’s definitely him,” and then began rummaging through Zhang Zheng’s bag.
Liu stopped him. “That’s his personal belongings. Don’t touch.”
Fan resisted, insisting on searching the bag. They began to struggle. Liu saw Fan was truly losing his mind and almost wanted to punch him to calm him down.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed both of theirs—Mr. Ni’s. He slowly sat up and said, “Yes, I am Geshuangwa!”
Mr. Ni—no, Geshuangwa—admitted it outright. “Yes, I am Geshuangwa!”
Such a simple statement. Liu and Fan were stunned. Their grip on the bag loosened. They looked at each other, speechless.
They had expected denials or excuses, but this direct admission left Liu at a loss.
“How can you prove it?” Fan let go, glancing between Liu and Zhang Zheng.
Liu inwardly cursed Fan. He was acting insane—first insisting Zhang Zheng was Geshuangwa, now doubting after he admitted it. In truth, Liu himself had similar doubts. It was human nature—when the truth matched expectations, people often questioned it. Perhaps that was what Fan often called “lack of excitement.”
“Believe it or not, Captain Fan!” Geshuangwa smirked slightly and turned to Liu. “Do you believe me?”
The moment Liu met his gaze, he felt an emptiness inside. He couldn’t bear to look into his eyes and shifted his gaze to Fan, instinctively nodding.
In fact, Liu had already confirmed his identity when Geshuangwa mentioned Fan’s former title. None of Diao Shu’s team knew that.
“Speak clearly, don’t talk in riddles!” Fan exploded, as if Geshuangwa had killed his father.
Liu saw the situation spiraling and intervened. “Geshuangwa, what really happened back then? You owe everyone an explanation.”
Geshuangwa glanced sideways. “Call me Mr. Ni. I already told you everything back then. I only wanted the book, not to harm anyone.”
Fan shook his head, said nothing, and walked off to smoke alone. Liu understood his feelings and didn’t disturb him.
At the time, Liu hadn’t thought much of it, assuming it was just comfort. But later, he realized how much hidden meaning lay in those words.
“Don’t you feel you’ve gotten younger over the years?” Liu said meaningfully. He was clearly asking if Geshuangwa had discovered immortality—an absurd idea, in Liu’s opinion.
“I don’t know,” Geshuangwa replied coldly, clearly evasive.
“Fine, you don’t have to say that. But tell me about Zhang Jiao’s secret in the Taiping Jing,” Liu pressed, staring at Mr. Ni, desperate for answers.
“That secret isn’t for you to know,” Mr. Ni replied.
Liu felt a surge of anger. “Who says I don’t need to know? My name is in that book! Zhang Jiao was the guardian of the Taiping Jing. Why do you say I shouldn’t know?”
“I don’t know the secret of the Taiping Jing,” Mr. Ni said.
“You’re lying,” Liu accused. “If you didn’t know, why come here? You must’ve known the Golden Queen had the lower volume of the Taiping Jing. Even the ‘Three Rows of Luoshengmen’ was fake. You wanted everyone to find the Golden Queen’s coffin first, then leave alone to solve it. You knew this place but underestimated the danger, which is why you got hurt.”
Mr. Ni’s face twitched slightly. Liu realized he had struck a nerve and felt proud of his deduction.
“You’re right,” Mr. Ni admitted. Liu felt a glimmer of hope. “I do know this place. The ‘Three Rows of Luoshengmen’ was fake. Each door leads here, but with different dangers.”
“Cunning old fox,” Liu muttered under his breath, not loud enough to be heard. His plan wasn’t fully revealed yet.
Mr. Ni continued, “I did come for the ultimate secret of the Taiping Army. But I don’t know the secret of the Taiping Jing. I’m searching for it, just like you.”
“You’re searching for what?” Liu was half-skeptical. “Your name isn’t in the book.”
Mr. Ni smiled faintly. “We’re after the same goal, but for different reasons.”
“What’s your reason?” Liu was puzzled.
“My goal is the same as the Heaven General’s,” Mr. Ni said.
Immortality! Liu immediately thought. It made sense—why he had robbed graves before, and why he had survived the whirlpool and gained eternal youth. It wasn’t strange he was seeking it again.
But why was it all tied to the *Taiping Jing*? What role did Liu play in this mystery? If immortality was real, then the curse on his name in the book wasn’t so far-fetched.
Every time he thought about it, Liu got a headache. Suddenly, his phone rang. It was Diao Shu. Liu felt relieved—Diao was still alive. He answered, “Diao Shu, what’s going on?”
He heard chaotic noise at first, then Diao’s voice: “Have you found the underground river?”
“Yes, we’re at the riverbank…” Liu hadn’t finished when Diao shouted, “Get out! Don’t stay there!”
Then came Lao Wu’s voice: “Qiyeh, we’re out of time!” Then static, and the line went dead.
What the hell? Liu was confused. Why had they told everyone to come to the river, only to tell them to leave now? And why had Lao Wu said there was no time? Liu concluded—Diao’s group was in trouble.
Without hesitation, Liu ordered everyone to evacuate the river. They looked puzzled, but Liu repeated Diao’s warning. Their expressions changed, and they quickly packed up, loaded their guns, and prepared to move.
Liu signaled them to follow, but as he turned, a thunderous boom echoed behind them. A massive wave surged into the river like a dam had burst. The water crashed in waves, finally subsiding.
Four figures emerged from the water—Diao Shu and the others. Before Liu could react, Diao shouted, “Didn’t I tell you to leave? Did you think I was joking? Don’t stand there—run!”
Everyone hesitated, exchanging glances. But Diao’s tone was serious. Liu looked behind him and saw a small waterfall forming behind Diao. Before he could even guess, a giant white serpent burst from the waterfall.
It was about ten meters long, with a blood-red eye on its head. Liu’s heart sank. What the hell kind of snake was this? Without hesitation, everyone turned and ran.
Diao and his group sprinted like their lives depended on it, overtaking everyone. The serpent followed closely, making Liu’s sweat pour. He ran as fast as he could.
Fan Debiao carried Wang Zhicai, but his speed was limited. The serpent chased him relentlessly, and Fan cursed all the way.
Liu realized running wasn’t the solution. They had guns—why not shoot the snake?
He abruptly stopped, turned, and fired two bursts from his shotgun. The bullets hit the serpent, causing it to pause. He fired again. Fan and Jackson joined, each unloading several rounds.
The serpent staggered and collapsed. Everyone exhaled in relief—until the snake suddenly lunged back to life. Liu raised his gun, but—*click!*—a jam. Fan and Jackson also jammed. Liu cursed under his breath—what were the odds all three jammed at once?
Just then, Mr. Ni leaped forward. With a flash of cold steel, the serpent’s head rolled to the ground. The body twitched and died.
Mr. Ni sheathed Chuling Sword and said, “Don’t be surprised. This is the second one I’ve killed.”
He continued, “We encountered one behind the mysterious gate. Everyone panicked, couldn’t shoot straight. I was the only one who survived.”
Liu was stunned. There was more than one? Their weapons were better than the ones they had now—automatics, not just shotguns. If even they couldn’t kill it, this one must be weaker.
“So the other team might be wiped out?” Diao lit a cigarette, leaning against the wall.
“Perhaps. These serpents might be guardians. Each gate has one,” Mr. Ni said.
Everyone exhaled in relief and sat down. Liu stared at the serpent’s head. The blood-red eye seemed alive, making him shudder. He turned his back to it.
“So there’s another one. What kind of snake is this?” Liu asked Mr. Ni.
Mr. Ni closed his eyes. “There’s another one. It’s in the main chamber. This species is the same as the one in the coffin room, but I don’t know why it grew so large and turned white.”
Liu thought—so the *Shanhaijing* wasn’t wrong. Those snakes must have come from here. But how did中原 snakes end up guarding the Golden Queen’s tomb? It must be related to the Chinese-style tomb passage they had seen earlier.
Liu noticed Mr. Ni’s injuries—they were severe. He asked how powerful the serpent had been when they encountered it.
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