When Tian Chengran clasped the bronze box in his palm, a cold "click" sounded in his eardrums. It's not the sound of a mechanism, it's the friction sound of cause and effect, like a knot being pulled. Feng Xinxi stood beside him, sweeping the flashlight along the wall of the tomb passage, and saw that the eyes of everyone in the mural looked like they had just blinked. She whispered: "Don't open the box, retreat first - something is wrong here."
But he had already pressed the button on the inside of the box cover, and what his fingertips touched was not the temperature of metal, but a kind of moisture like a living thing, as if blood was breathing hidden in the bronze. Before Tian Chengran could say another sentence, echoing footsteps came from deep in the tomb passage. It was clear that there were only two of them, but it seemed like there was a third shadow following behind.
