Xia Yingying's flashlight beam suddenly stopped at the end of the tomb passage.
Brass bell.
It was hanging on the corner of the bronze coffin at the end of the corridor. It was half the size of a palm. The surface was covered with dark green patina, but the bell tongue was abnormally bright, as if it had just been rubbed.
"Evil." He muttered and subconsciously touched the black donkey's hoof around his waist.
The barrage has exploded.
[Brother Ying, take it quickly! This product looks amazing!
[Something is wrong, there are copper bells hanging in the tombs of the Western Zhou Dynasty? The bell hanging on the corner of the coffin is to calm the soul!
[Don't be scary upstairs, Brother Ying has never seen anything like this]
Xia Yingying licked his chapped lips. After working underground for seven years, he had never seen a bell of this shape. But the professional greed still pushed him to take three steps forward.
The moment my fingertips touched the copper bell, it felt bitingly cold.
It's not the coldness of a tomb, it's the chill of a living thing that penetrates into the bones. He suddenly retracted his hand, but the copper bell shook on its own.
