Whispers of the Pharaoh: Curse of the Undead

At noon in the Sahara Desert, the heat wave was like a red-hot iron, clinging to the exposed skin. Yellow sand was flying all over the sky, covering half of the sky. The outline of the pyramid in the distance was distorted in the mirage, as if it were a giant beast that had been sleeping for thousands of years, breathing slowly in the wind and sand. The off-road vehicle made a harsh friction sound as it ran over the gravel, and the air in the carriage was so dull that it was suffocating. Li Qiang clutched the archaeological notes in his hand, his knuckles turning white from the exertion. He kept staring at the boundless yellow sand outside the window, feeling a faint sense of uneasiness in his heart. As a doctor of archeology who has been deeply involved in ancient Egyptian civilization for more than ten years, he knows better than anyone else that the Valley of the Kings, where dozens of pharaohs are buried, has never been a peaceful and pure land. Those curse legends that have been passed down for thousands of years are not all groundless.