Beyond the door lay no sea of flames or mountain of blades—just a narrow stone staircase spiraling down into darkness so profound we couldn't see the bottom.

The staircase seemed endless, coiling downward as if descending to the earth's core. A dry, ancient smell hung in the air—the scent of millennia sealed away from the world. We descended in silence, too mentally drained from the Eight Gates ordeal to speak, driven only by the desperate need to put distance between ourselves and that death trap.


After about ten minutes of descent, the staircase finally ended. The space before us suddenly opened up into a vast underground chamber that defied imagination.

We stood at the edge of an immense underground plaza—or more accurately, a massive sacrificial pit. Neat bluestone slabs paved the ground, while the surrounding walls bore intricate bas-reliefs of indecipherable scenes. In the center of the plaza, arranged in perfect military formation, stood terracotta warriors.

Over a hundred life-sized figures in Qin dynasty armor stood facing us, bronze weapons—halberds, spears, and swords—clutched in their hands. They waited in perfect stillness, as though they'd been standing guard for two millennia. The formation was arranged with military precision, creating a miniature version of the famous Terracotta Army from Emperor Qin's mausoleum.


"Holy shit…" Mike whispered, awestruck despite himself. "What would these fetch on the market? Just one of these babies would set me up for life!"

Leo ignored him, limping forward with eyes that reflected not greed but scholarly fascination mingled with profound dread.


"Something's wrong here," he murmured. "This isn't right."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Look at their armor," Leo trained his flashlight on a warrior in the front rank. "This isn't standard Qin military issue. The plate arrangement resembles imperial guards, but these cloud and thunder patterns would never appear on ordinary soldiers' armor. It's too elaborate, too ceremonial—like sacrificial regalia."

He stepped closer, illuminating a warrior's face. "And these faces… Ethan, look—each warrior has unique features and expressions. These weren't mass-produced from molds. These are portraits, sculpted individually from living models!"

Leo reached out with his gloved hand and gently touched a warrior's cheek, then yanked his hand back as if scalded.

"Not clay," he whispered, voice quavering. "The texture is wrong! Cold on the surface, but underneath… there's something… leathery…"

His face drained of color as realization dawned. "The 'Records of Divine Prodigies' mentioned a forbidden technique called 'Blood and Flesh Clay.' It uses living humans as the base material, infuses them with mercury and jade powder, then seals their bodily openings with arcane methods to create undecaying puppets of immense strength… Dear God…"

He stumbled backward, staring at the formation with horror. "These aren't terracotta warriors… They're 'Living Clay Figures'—made from actual human beings!"

As if responding to his revelation, the moment we reached the center of the plaza—

Click.

A soft, almost imperceptible sound.

The eyelids of the front-row warrior suddenly snapped open. Then, like a cascading wave—click, click, click—hundreds of clay soldiers opened their eyes in perfect unison.

Their eyes contained no whites—only a blood-red glow that froze the heart.

In the next instant, the Living Clay Figures emitted a collective groan—like massive stones grinding together deep underground. With stiff, heavy movements, they raised their bronze weapons and advanced toward us from all sides!

"SHOOT THEM!" I screamed.

Mike reacted instantly, shouldering his rifle and firing at the two lead figures.

BOOM! BOOM!

Two thunderous blasts echoed through the chamber. The slugs tore into the clay figures, shattering their chest armor and exposing dark red, leathery tissue beneath. The warriors staggered back momentarily, then resumed their advance as if the devastating shots were mere inconveniences!

"They won't go down!" Mike's face went ashen as he backpedaled, firing round after round. The bullets only kicked up puffs of dust from the warriors' bodies without slowing their relentless march.

His rifle clicked empty. With no choice left, we drew our entrenching tools and combat knives, preparing to face these tireless abominations in hand-to-hand combat.

CLANG!

I barely deflected a halberd strike with my entrenching tool. The impact numbed my arm to the shoulder and sent me reeling backward. These creatures possessed inhuman strength, and their rigid joints made their attacks wide and unpredictable—lacking finesse but terrifyingly powerful.

We formed a triangle, standing back-to-back, fighting desperately against the tightening circle of warriors. Leo's injured leg made him vulnerable, so Mike and I positioned ourselves to shield him. Mike swung his entrenching tool like a berserker, each blow powerful enough to shatter bone, yet it barely scratched the clay figures' surfaces.

At this rate, exhaustion would claim us long before we made a dent in their numbers!

As I dodged a bronze sword, rolling awkwardly to the side, my flashlight beam swept across the back of a warrior. For a split second, I caught a glimpse of something—a smooth green glow emanating from the gap between its helmet and neck armor.

A jade seal embedded at the nape of its neck!

"The neck! Jade seal at the back of the neck!" I shouted with desperate hope. "That's their weak point!"

Mike and Leo's heads snapped toward me.

"Worth a shot!" Mike roared. Instead of meeting the next warrior head-on, he ducked its swing, slipped behind it, and drove the pointed edge of his entrenching tool into the back of its neck with all his strength!

CRACK!

A sharp, crystalline sound split the air.

The jade seal shattered instantly.

The warrior, mid-attack just moments before, froze in place. The crimson glow in its eyes flickered and died. With a heavy thud, it collapsed to the ground like the lifeless statue it was meant to be.

"Got the bastards!" Mike shouted triumphantly.

We instantly changed tactics. Mike and I became decoys, drawing the warriors' attention while creating openings for attacks from behind. Leo, despite his injured leg, became our assassin, targeting isolated warriors with precise strikes to their jade seals.

The battle became a brutal test of endurance and coordination. A halberd sliced my arm open, blood soaking my sleeve. Mike took a crushing blow to his back that likely cracked ribs.

After destroying more than a dozen warriors and nearing complete exhaustion, I spotted a raised platform at the far end of the formation—a command dais like those used in military reviews.

"There!" I gasped, pointing. "Exit might be under that platform!"

Like drowning men spotting a life raft, we summoned our last reserves of strength. Abandoning any attempt at fighting, we covered each other's backs and carved a desperate path through the warriors' ranks. We scrambled onto the platform and found exactly what we hoped for—a narrow passage behind it, just wide enough for one person, leading downward into darkness.

We tumbled through the passage and collapsed in a heap on the other side. The moment we cleared the opening, the sounds of battle abruptly ceased, leaving only our ragged breathing in the sudden silence.

"What… the actual… hell…" Mike slumped against the wall, chest heaving. The back of his shirt was soaked with blood.

I examined my arm—the wound burned like fire, but at least the bone was intact. Leo was worst off. The gash in his leg had reopened during the fight, and he was silently binding it with a fresh strip of cloth, his teeth clenched against the pain.

After catching our breath, we pressed on. The passage opened into an even larger chamber beyond.