Come.
Daylight faded, and the lush trees were painted by the night into clawing, monstrous shapes, making the surrounding environment feel eerie and strange.
She Lang was well aware that this feeling was mostly psychological, yet the faint burning sensation from the circular marks on his body kept reminding him of the genuine strangeness of this place.
She Lang had weathered storms and traveled far, seen many things in his life, but even so, the experiences on this mountain still left him uneasy.
After She Lang fell into an uncharacteristic silence, one of the men in black suits spoke up first: “Do you still remember the exact spot to descend into the tomb?”
She Lang took out an antique-style compass and, using the light from his miner’s helmet, tried to discern the direction of the needle: “I need to figure it out…”
Unnoticed by him, the men in black exchanged glances and subtly moved their lips, completing a silent communication.
Can: “How about we just lead him there directly? We know the entrance inside out anyway. If he asks, we’ll say it’s the Ji Ting sect’s place.”
Baozi: “I think that works. Who knows how long it would take him to find it on his own? Didn’t they spend over half a month just searching for this mountain before? That’s way too inefficient.”
Li Yishu nodded.
Can stepped to the front, addressing She Lang who was busy fiddling with the compass: “I know the way, follow me.”
She Lang paused his compass-checking and looked at the black suit in front of him: “You can also read feng shui points?”
Can led the way, dodging the question with the prearranged excuse: “Ji Ting… the boss taught me.”
She Lang’s doubt instantly dissipated, and he quickened his pace to follow Can, unusually excited: “So the rumors really are true? The old man really was one of the top ‘experts’ in our field back in the day?”
The Tiānshū Squad perked up, eavesdropping intently on these so-called rumors, but due to their roles, they kept indifferent expressions and busied themselves with their tasks.
In fact, apart from She Lang idly fiddling, the Tiānshū Squad was setting up signal relay stations and light markers along the path they had traveled.
The signal relay stations reinforced network nodes to prevent signal loss that would disable their earpieces and miniature cameras.
The light markers served both as illumination and coordinate references.
She Lang sensed movement behind him and glanced back.
A glowing path stretched behind him, dissipating the darkness and lighting the way forward.
He stopped and stared at the line of lighting equipment extending far into the distance, unable to hide his astonishment: “This is way over the top.”
The black suit stiffly replied, “Better safe than sorry.”
But was this level of preparation a bit excessive?
For a moment, She Lang wondered if his own previous performance was unprofessional.
He was a seasoned expert, truly.
Yet before the massive machinery of the state, any individual or group paled in comparison.
The connected lighting nearly turned the entire mountain into a tourist attraction, robbing the night of its fearful atmosphere.
The clawing trees returned to harmless silhouettes.
She Lang touched the rough skin just below his neck.
The faint burning sensation was barely noticeable but persistent.
It reminded him that they were indeed on Jimo Mountain, right above the mysterious ancient tomb.
“I wonder how Zhang Chen is doing now,” She Lang muttered, his complicated thoughts masked by lighthearted laughter as he leaned toward the black suit leading the way and almost coaxed him again: “Hey, can we talk some more? I’ve also heard a rumor—apparently the old man can communicate with those zongzi… is that true or not?”
“Nonsense, of course not.”
Can quickened his pace in silence; he could already see a familiar landmark.
They were close to the tomb entrance.
“There’s an even crazier rumor,” She Lang started again, but before he could finish, he suddenly looked around suspiciously: “Did you hear that? A buzzing sound, like some kind of electrical contact failure.”
Can pulled out a small piece from his ear.
Their earpieces malfunctioned unexpectedly; the original communication cut out, replaced by a barrage of sharp static that made the Tiānshū Squad’s eardrums ache.
At the same moment, the scene in front of them shifted abruptly—from the area near the tomb entrance to a long stretch of glowing path.
Can was the one leading, and all the light markers should have been behind him, never ahead.
Yet now, right in front of him was a very familiar path lined with signal stations and light markers.
Baozi and the others quickly removed their ruined earpieces and checked their miniature cameras, confirming they had also inexplicably broken.
“That sound just vanished suddenly. Weird.”
A few steps ahead, She Lang was performing a one-man show, seemingly oblivious to the situation, talking to empty space beside him: “You’re walking so fast…”
He strode forward, chatting away as if talking to someone, his expressions lively and his tone full of emotion—a bizarre little drama.
The Tiānshū Squad exchanged glances, and Li Yishu silently gestured for everyone to quietly follow his pace.
She Lang appeared to be wandering in circles, repeatedly treading the same path as before.
He cheerfully ‘communicated’ with the “unknown entity”: “Oh, right, the rumors say he could foresee the future… too exaggerated? Then hey, why don’t you tell me what’s not exaggerated?”
The Tiānshū Squad couldn’t hear what the “nonexistent person” said, but they clearly caught She Lang’s replies.
The hacker quickly pulled out a small camera from his bag, turned it on, and began recording this invaluable firsthand footage.
That was the reason he was here—considering the unique worldview of this novel, they had prepared countless contingency plans in advance for signal interruptions.
As always, their main goal wasn’t to solve the strange events on Jimo Mountain, but to record the patterns and collect firsthand data of these special occurrences.
She Lang’s solo act continued.
His voice suddenly rose, a mixture of surprise and shock: “What? He really can communicate with those things?”
The Tiānshū Squad perked up, listening intently.
“So amazing?! No wonder he’s the old master,” She Lang’s voice climbed higher again: “What?! He’s been to this tomb before? No wonder he told me earlier this was just a small trouble…”
She Lang never expected that the previously silent black suit, once he started talking, would reveal so many astonishing secrets.
Normally, upon hearing such claims, She Lang would have doubted if the other was bluffing.
But after witnessing Ji Ting’s unfathomable background with his own eyes, he elevated Ji Ting’s image in his mind to almost mythical status.
Even such incredible information from his mouth was met with unquestioning belief, leaving She Lang utterly stunned.
The black suit seemed to have caught his stride, chatting away: “Do you know what’s actually inside this tomb?”
She Lang shook his head, eyes wide: “You know?”
The man gave an overly enthusiastic smile: “He saw it with his own eyes, so… I do know.”
She Lang gasped, unable to hold back his question: “What exactly is down there? And what are those circular marks on us?”
The man explained with unusual enthusiasm: “You disturbed a Sleeper. Those marks are its way of watching you.”
She Lang paused, puzzled by the term.
Usually, they just called those things zongzi, or if they differentiated, big zongzi and little zongzi.
The term “Sleeper” seemed odd.
But he couldn’t pinpoint why, so he muttered the word again: “Sleeper?”
The black suit murmured: “A powerful existence that has lived for countless years…”
She Lang noticed the man was staring at him through his sunglasses with a strange gaze.
A chill ran down his spine, and he instinctively glanced behind him.
The others in black silently continued their work, laying down the reassuring light path along the route they took.
But beyond the light lay the darkness—deep, heavy night.
As She Lang’s mind drifted, the black suit suddenly stopped and said ahead: “We’ve arrived.”
She Lang looked forward instinctively, and there it was—the familiar robbery tunnel right in front of him.
Could it be unfamiliar?
They had dug it out themselves, shovel by shovel.
But he clearly remembered that after they went down, a trap collapsed the tunnel.
She Lang rubbed his eyes, confirming that the pit looked exactly as he remembered, even the mud beside it was fresh, as if dug recently.
“Go down,” the black suit said beside him, voice dripping with a creepy enthusiasm, “They’re all waiting for you down there.”
Hearing this, She Lang’s heart trembled violently; fear and strangeness stirred up a storm inside him.
Before he could react, he was suddenly grabbed and shaken wildly.
When he finally regained clarity, he was standing on a dark cliff, bright lights behind him, the black suits silently watching.
The scene was terrifying, especially after what had just happened.
She Lang gasped inwardly, unsure if these people were friend or foe, and whether the scene before him was illusion or reality.
The next second, a hard object was thrust in front of him.
She Lang’s breath caught unexpectedly.
He instinctively glanced at the dark device: “A camera?”
The hacker said sincerely: “You can watch it and see what just happened.”
After watching the footage of his own one-man show, She Lang had no doubt left about what was real or illusion.
He had just one question: “Why did you bring a camera into the tomb?”
Silence fell for two seconds before the hacker pushed up his sunglasses: “Because we anticipated something like this might happen, so we prepared for it.”
She Lang’s respect deepened.
This—that’s what a professional looks like!