Chapter Thirty-Six: The Genetic Lock (Part Two)

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The pitch-black, narrow passage was as silent as death. Mo Han and Fang He exchanged glances, feeling the icy, unsettling wind blowing from ahead, and for a moment, neither spoke. Something unknown seemed to be drawing and summoning Guan Qian from the darkness before them, yet neither of the two perceived anything amiss. The mystery of the unknown—whether it was fortune or doom—left them both with a vague sense of unease.

“Guan Qian, can you tell what’s up ahead?” Mo Han tightened his grip on the glowing bone in his hand, frowning as he spoke.

“I don’t know. I can only sense a powerful stimulation in my mind. There’s definitely something there—it makes all the blood in my body feel like it’s starting to boil!” Guan Qian’s pale eyes flared with an eerie light.

“I think we should turn back. If we run into danger, we’ll regret it,” Fang He took a cautious step back, his face tense and drawn.

“Coward!” Mo Han ignored Fang He’s words, dismissing him mercilessly. Whenever danger arose, Fang He was always the first to think of running. Mo Han found it increasingly hard to tolerate.

“Damn it, Mo Han! Who are you calling a coward? Say that again if you dare!” Fang He’s face turned livid as he jabbed a finger at Mo Han’s nose.

“So what if I call someone a coward? Why are you so worked up? I didn’t name any names. If you’re so quick to admit it, that’s on you,” Mo Han grinned, brushing Fang He’s hand away, his tone full of mockery.

“You—” Fang He’s words caught in his throat, his face flushing from blue to red in anger, but he couldn’t manage to get another word out.

“What about you? You’re already limping on one leg and still so hot-tempered. You’d better watch out in the dark, or you’ll end up hurting your other foot. Hmph—” Mo Han’s words were sharp, leaving Fang He utterly humiliated.

“…” For a moment, Fang He was speechless, the veins on his forehead bulging as if they might burst at any second.

“All right, you two wait here. I’ll go ahead and take a look. Tang Ruyan is in your care—no telling when she’ll wake up. Be careful, the both of you. Whatever’s ahead isn’t far. If anything happens, just shout, and I’ll hear you,” Guan Qian said, gently settling Tang Ruyan on the ground, making sure she was comfortable leaning against the wall.

“Don’t worry. Take care, Guan Qian!” Mo Han nodded, giving Guan Qian a big hug. Whether ahead lay fortune or peril, their concerns and care were all expressed in that simple embrace.

“Guan Qian, if you find anything valuable, don’t forget my share!” Fang He hooked an arm over Guan Qian’s shoulder, whispering in his ear while casting a wary glance at Mo Han.

“…” Guan Qian was speechless, suddenly seized by the urge to smack this lecherous man.

“Damn you, Fang He! Were you talking bad about me?” Mo Han’s face darkened, his anger barely contained as he glared at Fang He’s irritating expression.

“What’s it to you? I was talking to Guan Qian—it’s none of your business. Damn you, Mo Han, don’t look at me like I owe you a million bucks. I’m not buying it!” Fang He hugged his bundle tightly, snorting in defiance.

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“Not wasting my breath on you!” Mo Han relented, crouching on the ground with his glowing bone.

Guan Qian could only give a wry smile. With these two clowns together, if one wasn’t exasperated, he’d be driven mad with annoyance.

“All right, be careful. I’m going to check ahead!” As he spoke, Guan Qian’s figure vanished in a flash.

The pitch-black underground passage did nothing to hinder Guan Qian’s vision. He could clearly distinguish the winding, twisting corridor, moving as swiftly and silently as a breeze as he approached the unknown presence ahead.

The closer he drew, the more his blood surged within him, as if some subtle call was about to merge with his very being, leaving Guan Qian both amazed and bewildered.

A cold wind poured from a newly revealed passage, clear and biting as a blade against his face, stinging and numbing him with its chill.

In the blink of an eye—

Guan Qian appeared at the entrance, where two new passageways opened before him.

The fork ahead was identical on both sides—two deep, black mouths, cold wind laced with frost hissing faintly from their depths, lending the place a menacing, uncanny air.

But Guan Qian didn’t hesitate; with a burst of speed, he headed straight for the uneven wall between the two new corridors.

In the next instant, his figure vanished as if he’d evaporated into thin air.

White Eyes!

Able to pierce through appearances and grasp the workings of cause and effect!

When Guan Qian arrived at the fork, he’d immediately noticed a hidden passage concealed between the two new ones. Anyone else, even with a torch, would have been fooled and missed it entirely.

The mysterious Maya had hidden this passage with an illusion, a testament to the astonishing advancement of their civilization.

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Imagine, when the Maya first built this underground complex, it must have been ablaze with light. Now, abandoned and pitch-black, the darkness had become the underground city’s greatest flaw.

For an ordinary person—even a blind one groping in the darkness—the illusion would be easy enough to detect.

Now, this illusion was little more than a useless trick for any passerby. If the long-dead Maya were still alive, they would surely have improved upon it at once; gifted with boundless creativity, they had always pursued perfection and higher realms of civilization.

Inside the illusion, the air was dry and deathly still. Guan Qian swept every corner with his white eyes. Yet in this space of barely a dozen square meters, there was nothing but an ancient, rough-hewn stone coffin.

The old stone coffin was crude and weathered; its lid, cold and unyielding, felt heavy to the touch.

But in that instant—

A look of utter astonishment crossed Guan Qian’s face as his white eyes flickered.

Wiping away layers of dust from the coffin lid, he revealed a lifelike carving of an eye at its very center.

That familiar eye seemed to see straight through a person’s soul, radiating an air of mystery and illusion.

It was identical to the eye carved on that palm-sized stone left to him by his ancestor—the First Prophet!

And beneath that vivid eye, there was an inscription in ancient oracle bone script. Though the characters were blurred, their meaning could still be discerned.

“Gene Lock!”

Guan Qian’s white eyes fixed on those three words, and within him a storm of shock was unleashed.