The witching hour finally arrived.

Leo placed the Celestial Box in the courtyard and gazed skyward. When the handle of the Big Dipper aligned with his calculations, a gleam flashed in his eyes, and his fingers danced across the box's surface like shadows.


Click!

The box opened with that soft sound, releasing the musty scent of dust sealed away for millennia.

Inside lay a beast-skin map, its mountains and valleys intricately rendered in gold thread. Leo lifted it with reverent hands, his fingertips barely grazing the surface.


"This material… it's not cattle or sheep hide," he closed his eyes, as if sensing through touch alone. "Too flexible, too dense… it's almost like… human skin."

"That's bullshit," Mike snorted, slurping his tea. "Human skin would've rotted away centuries ago."


"Then it must be some kind of reptile skin," Leo replied, unfazed.

"That's even more ridiculous!"

Leo ignored him, his attention captured by four imposing seal characters inscribed at the bottom of the map.

"Gate… of… Immor… tality…" he pronounced each character slowly, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper.

"What's that?" Mike craned his neck. "Gate of Immortality? Pretty damn ambitious. Let's hope it's not a 'Gateway to Hell' instead! Look, Professor, we agreed—if things get hairy, we bail. No treasure's worth dying for!"

Leo ignored him, transfixed by the map, his eyes burning with fervor. "He didn't just seek immortality—he wanted godhood! He didn't build a tomb; he constructed a gateway to the divine realm! A mind like this… we must see what world such a person created for himself!"

I glanced between Leo's manic enthusiasm and Mike's "how-did-I-get-roped-into-this" expression, feeling an icy chill crawl up my spine. Whatever we were about to face would be an abyss crafted by equal parts genius and madness—something beyond conventional understanding.

Following the map's guidance, we drove our beat-up jeep through the Qinling Mountains for a full day. Paved roads gave way to dirt tracks barely visible between wheel ruts, flanked by ancient forest so dense that sunlight filtered through in mere slivers.

"Christ, was this guy some kind of hermit?" Mike gripped the wheel, swerving around potholes and cursing steadily. "My back's about to snap from all this damn bouncing."

"Shut up and drive," Leo snapped from the backseat, eyes locked on his compass and the map. "This location is perfect for concealing the 'Gate of Immortality.' See the mountain formations? Rising dragon on the left, crouching tiger on the right—classic feng shui for gathering spiritual energy. But notice it's not aligned north-south like imperial tombs. Instead, it cuts obliquely through these peaks. Our tomb builder clearly didn't want to challenge the emperor directly."

"No shit. Who would? Which dynasty are we talking about anyway?"

"Based on the calligraphy and materials, Qin Dynasty."

"Ha! That explains everything. Nobody in their right mind would cross Qin Shi Huang."

I remained silent, fingers wrapped around the protective talisman in my bag, my palm slick with sweat.