Bai Nian once again saw the Gate of Calamity, just like the one at school—still grand and awe-inspiring.
Only this time, the protective shield that once blanketed the sky was gone.
The area around the gate had been completely sealed off.
People from the Heavenly Dynasties Nine Provinces had set up a stronghold here, prepared for any disaster that might arise.
The vehicle stopped outside the stronghold.
Zhang Kun held a document from the Hunter’s Guild and handed it to the guard on duty.
After a moment, the iron gate opened, and the guard greeted Zhang Kun enthusiastically with a fist bump.
“Squad Leader Zhang, welcome back.”
“Likewise,”
Zhang Kun replied, waving his large hand and leading the three inside toward the gate.
Sure enough, as a member of a hunter squad, Bai Nian’s profession aroused no suspicion at all.
Zhang Kun stopped at the gate, turned to the group, and reminded them once more:
“Generally speaking, solo dungeons are more dangerous than group ones. Without teammates to coordinate, the weaknesses and limitations of a single profession become magnified—especially for support professions.”
He glanced at Shigao and Bai Nian, though his main focus was still on Bai Nian.
“Remember, prioritize your own safety above all else. Don’t be reckless. As long as even one person clears it, everyone will be able to get out.”
“Understood!”
The three answered in unison.
Zhang Kun nodded and took the lead through the gate.
The three exchanged looks before following him inside.
The scenery before Bai Nian’s eyes rippled like a lake’s surface folding and distorting.
After a moment, the vision stabilized.
Dim yellow light cast uneven shadows on the rough walls.
Beneath their feet lay a pebble-paved road.
Bai Nian calmly scanned her surroundings and realized she was inside an old tunnel.
On both sides were numerous pieces of construction machinery, and above, the curved vaulted ceiling was illuminated by the orange glow of sodium lamps.
“An unfinished tunnel?”
she wondered, stepping forward.
Judging from her first experience entering the Gate of Calamity, there should be some kind of “document” here as well.
She shifted her gaze to the nearby construction equipment, which was covered in thick layers of dust, clearly abandoned long ago.
A rotten iron door creaked with a grating metallic screech.
Bai Nian opened the door of an excavator and inspected its interior.
Sure enough, on the driver’s seat lay a yellowed letter.
Bai Nian picked it up and found it covered in traditional Chinese characters, but that did not hinder her reading.
“A construction team mysteriously disappeared while digging the tunnel on a rainy night. Official personnel searched for days and finally found a worker involved in the excavation on a nearby hill, but the others were nowhere to be found.”
“Though he survived, his mind was disturbed—he became deranged and incoherent. No matter how the officials questioned him, he repeated only one phrase.”
“He said: ‘Don’t enter the temple, don’t enter the temple.’”
“You are a renowned investigator, here to uncover the truth of the incident.”
At the same spot where the signature would be was a handprint.
Bai Nian pressed down without hesitation, and the yellowed letter turned to ashes in her hand.
“An investigator?”
She stepped down from the excavator, pondering, “Since I’m here to uncover the truth, it looks like I have to go up that hill.”
Having confirmed her objective, Bai Nian strode forward.
The empty, silent tunnel echoed only with the sound of her footsteps.
Neither ahead nor behind could she see any light from an exit.
She clearly remembered it wasn’t dark before entering here, but the cramped, oppressive environment made her uneasy.
Instinctively, Bai Nian quickened her pace, eager to get out of the tunnel as soon as possible.
At that moment, the old sodium lamps flickered erratically as if their circuits were unstable.
Amid the shifting light and shadows, Bai Nian vaguely saw a figure wearing a safety helmet standing ahead.
Her heart suddenly pounded.
In a stunned moment, the flickering ceased, and the figure had vanished—as if it had been a mere illusion.
“Damn.”
Bai Nian was startled and immediately sped up, wanting to leave quickly.
The hurried footsteps echoed throughout the tunnel.
After walking for several minutes, the sodium lamps flickered again.
Bai Nian’s gaze locked onto the front.
This time, no figure appeared.
She exhaled in relief and kept her head down, moving briskly forward.
A cool breeze brushed past her face, signaling the exit was not far ahead.
Suddenly, her eyes locked onto a chilling detail on the ground.
The dim yellow light stretched her shadow long, but it reflected not just one shadow, but a dozen!
Something is following me?!
Bai Nian’s hair stood on end, a chill rushing to her head, and goosebumps broke out all over her body.
She dared not linger and immediately dashed forward.
Soon, she saw the tunnel exit and burst out into the open.
Bai Nian leaned on her knees, breathing heavily.
The clear, cold moonlight poured down.
Those shadows had not followed her out.
She looked back.
The tunnel lay pitch black inside, without a trace of light.
The endless darkness resembled a ravenous beast ready to devour.
Around her stretched a wild mountain area.
Only a winding, rugged path led upward—a road climbing the hill.
She steadied herself and looked ahead.
Under the moonlight, trees wove shadows together, making it impossible to see the path’s end.
Bai Nian withdrew her gaze and stepped onto the hill road.
After a dozen steps, she nervously glanced back toward the tunnel entrance.
There, a line of ragged figures wearing safety helmets stood.
They lingered in the shadows beyond the moonlight’s reach, seemingly watching Bai Nian’s departure.
She quickly turned her head and hastened her pace.
Though it was midsummer, Bai Nian felt no warmth—instead, a coldness seeped through her.
The surrounding silence was eerie—no birdcalls or insect chirps disturbed the stillness.
Within the dark mountain woods on both sides, she felt unseen eyes watching her.
Beads of fine sweat formed on Bai Nian’s forehead.
She wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or fear.
Finally, she reached the end of the path, and the view suddenly opened wide.
Before her sat a dilapidated Ancient Temple, looking long abandoned.
The temple walls’ gray bricks were mottled and cracked, the roof tiles loose and falling off.
The main door was tightly shut, its paint weathered black by erosion, the original color lost.
Using the moonlight, Bai Nian saw a broken door lock lying on the ground before the door.
“Just as expected, the missing workers entered this temple,”
she murmured, gritting her teeth as she approached.
This was her task.
There was no way around the Ancient Temple.
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