Several hours earlier.
Deep within a dim corridor near the tomb's entrance, the air felt thick with dust. The faint beam of a flashlight cut through the darkness, revealing uneven stone walls and scattered debris.
Every sound seemed amplified in the confined space—their breathing, the faint scrape of shoes against the ground, even the subtle shift of loose gravel.
Ye Chen leaned against the cold wall for a brief moment. His clothes were torn in places, and bruises covered his arms and shoulders. He clicked his tongue in irritation, his voice low but sharp. "Damn it… what kind of monster was that old man?"
The memory of their encounter still lingered vividly in his mind. That monstrous speed and strength, the sheer killing intent—he had never faced something like that.
He had fought soldiers, mercenaries, agents, and even trained operatives. But that old man… he was something else entirely; he had inhuman powers.
