This is the story of a good-for-nothing man who follows his buddies with great powers to do archaeology (robbing tombs). The writing style is definitely not as good as those tomb-robbing classics, but it won't be bloody or surprising. They are not fighting ghosts and gods, they are fighting each other. There are no bad ghosts in this book, but there are bad people.
There will also be emotional scenes in it, because this is not a happy story. No sacrifice? Impossible.
"My Dream, It's Very Cold" By. Xinglin Xianghai
——Recalling the things I tried to escape but finally let go of
That was a long-lasting dream
Disappeared in the mighty dense fog
Anxious south wind and flying birds
Carry sadness and go around me
Except for the bright moon above
I'm the only one in the dream
please tell me
this deserted road
Where to lead
Dawn is still far away
And I'm just waiting for the chance to escape
Through the night deeper than the night
Someone is calling me to come
The swamp beneath my feet slowly rises
A dying fish drowned inside
please tell me
Why hope in the distance
no trace
Many smiling people have left me
And I'm not weaker
Because they are expecting
The strong man who grew up slowly
I learned to squander
I gave up on escaping
I forgot that day
did i ever say
You are my ideal country
one day
i will break my promise
Lies exposed
I am cunningly silent
when i grow up
Only gradually did I understand
Chaos cause and effect
It turns out that the years when you were buried
The dust is all mottled
I finally got stuck
Cut off all the shackles with bare hands
with compassion
Back and forth in the silent prison
I am stubbornly looking for
Someone is willing to abscond with me
As long as she is willing to pray
I will stop
Time is willing to be quiet
I finally concealed my sword
Look at the ferry
There is no place to spend anything in this life
That unknown song
I wanted to grow old with it
Let the story draw out the note
Can wither branches flourish
I have no intention of ending
It was a long-lasting dream
When I wake up, I can no longer see clearly
I once doubted the memory at hand
I was frightened and returned to my dream again
The younger generations admire my efforts
But I know that has passed
Why belated courage
let me pack my bags
Oh because I want to go back there again