The Gap!

The crack was still widening.

It wasn’t being flung open suddenly, nor was it being shoved aside by something from within. Instead, it moved at an agonizingly slow, incredibly heavy pace, shifting aside bit by bit.

“Clack...”

“Clack...”

The sound of the friction between the sarcophagus lid and its base was drawn out in the hollow main burial chamber.

The sound wasn’t sharp, yet it made everyone feel inexplicably uncomfortable, as if a rusty, dull knife were scraping back and forth through the marrow of their bones. With every sound, the faces of everyone standing in the chamber grew a shade paler.

Matthew stood behind a stone pillar, his body not fully exposed.

He held his short staff in one hand, while the other was pressed against the leather pouch at his waist.

The pouch contained the magic stones he had just gathered from the third secret room. He had tied the opening very tightly, but even so, he could still feel the heavy weight.

Moments ago, that weight would have only made his heart race with excitement.

It represented resources.

A sense of security.

A guarantee for his cultivation for a long time to come.

But now, that weight added an inexplicable pressure to Matthew’s heart.

He suddenly realized that in a place like this, the more one harvested, the less it might be a good thing.

There was no order in the depths of the tomb.

No rules.

No constraints from the academy.

Everyone here was surrounded by darkness, danger, and self-interest. As soon as the situation spiraled even slightly out of control, the person carrying the most items would likely be the first to become a target in the eyes of others.

And right now, the situation was clearly beginning to spiral out of control.

The giant sarcophagus in the center was opening on its own, without anyone having touched it.

Matthew pulled his gaze away from the sarcophagus and quickly scanned the people around him.

In this temporary team, only three people truly wielded the power of wizardry.

Herbert, Sutton, and himself. Among them, his own strength couldn't be considered top-tier; in a real magical battle, he was practically cannon fodder!

As for the five people Sutton had brought, though they weren't weak, they were merely Class holders and adventurers. Some were skilled in close-quarters combat, some used crossbows and traps, and others were experienced enough to identify tomb mechanisms and common poisons, but they were not wizard apprentices after all.

Faced with swords, beasts, bandits, or even ordinary magical beasts, they might still maintain their composure.

But faced with this change that clearly involved wizardry, curses, and ancient rituals, their confidence was obviously lacking.

Matthew first looked at Herbert.

Herbert stood not far from the sarcophagus. His posture remained relatively steady, but the expression on his face was completely different from before.

From the moment they entered the tomb until now, Herbert had always given Matthew the impression of being quite calm.

He wasn't the type to wear his ruthlessness in his eyes like Sutton, nor was he like the ordinary adventurers who lost their composure at the sight of a few resources. Herbert was more like a person accustomed to analysis, judgment, and using knowledge to control a situation.

But at this moment, Herbert’s brow was furrowed deeply.

The fingers gripping his casting medium tightened slightly, his knuckles turning white. It wasn't the tension of being ready to strike immediately, but rather a solemnity that came from a situation exceeding his expectations.

Matthew saw it clearly.

Herbert wasn't simply afraid.

He was making a judgment.

But precisely because Herbert hadn't reached a conclusion immediately, Matthew’s heart sank even further.

If this were just an ordinary mechanism, Herbert wouldn't have this expression.

If it were just an ordinary curse, he wouldn't be so silent.

The more he remained silent, the more it proved that the changes in this sarcophagus were not within his original scope of knowledge.

Matthew then looked at Sutton.

Compared to Herbert’s solemnity, Sutton’s reaction was far more complex.

His single eye was fixed intently on the central sarcophagus. The trace of gloom and composure he usually carried had vanished completely. In its place was a profound wariness, as well as an anger from having his plans disrupted by something.

That anger was suppressed very deeply.

If Matthew hadn't been observing him in secret, he would hardly have noticed it.

Sutton’s hands didn't move, and his body didn't retreat, but his jaw tightened slightly, and the muscles on the side of his face twitched minutely for a moment.

Matthew’s heart was immediately filled with a new layer of doubt.

This reaction wasn't right.

If Sutton were just an ordinary explorer, he should be like the others right now—shocked, alert, and guarded against unknown dangers.

But in his eyes, there was a sense of unwillingness.

It was as if he had already set his sights on something, even considering it his own harvest in his mind, but just as he was about to reach out and take it, something unexpected happened to that object.

Matthew couldn't help but think back to Sutton’s previous attitude toward the main burial chamber.

From the moment they entered this chamber, Sutton had never truly relaxed.

He had been watching the central sarcophagus.

Even when everyone else dispersed to search the surrounding secret rooms and stone platforms, Sutton’s attention never fully left that sarcophagus.

At first, Matthew thought it was simply because the central sarcophagus was too conspicuous and anyone would be wary of it.

But now, it seemed things might not be that simple.

Sutton might have known something from the very beginning.

His arrival here might not have been just to lead these subordinates in exploring the ruins and looting resources.

This sarcophagus might be his true goal.

At this thought, Matthew’s gaze grew even colder.

He didn't let this suspicion show, merely noting it in his mind.

In a situation like this, knowing too much might not be a good thing.

But if one knew nothing at all, they might die without even knowing why.

So he could only watch, only remember, and only push every unreasonable detail deep into his heart.

On the other side, the reactions of Sutton’s five subordinates were much more obvious.

Standing at the very front was a tall, shield-bearing adventurer.

He wore a heavily worn leather half-armor, with a round shield on his left arm and a short axe in his right hand. Since entering the tomb, he had been responsible for leading the way; whenever they encountered ordinary traps or stone puppets, he was usually the first to step up.

But now, this man, who looked the strongest, was turning pale.

His round shield was still held in front of him, but the edge of the shield trembled slightly. The vibration was very subtle; if the burial chamber hadn't been so quiet, no one would have even noticed.

It wasn't that he hadn't seen dead people or monsters before.

But this situation was different.

If a corpse really crawled out of the sarcophagus, or if some deformed magical beast rushed out, he would know exactly what to do.

Raise the shield, block, retreat, and buy time for the wizard apprentices behind him to cast spells.

This was the combat style he was familiar with.

But now, that sarcophagus was opening bit by bit on its own, without anyone touching it. This kind of thing had exceeded the range of experience for an ordinary Class holder.

The shield in his hand suddenly seemed much less reliable.

Next to the shield-bearing adventurer was a tall, thin scout.

The man wore a grey-brown short cloak, with two narrow-bladed daggers tucked into his waist. His boots were very light, and he walked almost without sound. He had previously been responsible for checking the ground, wall cracks, and hidden compartments; his movements were cautious, and his gaze was sharper than the others.

But now, his eyes were fixed on the sarcophagus, his pupils shrinking slightly.

He subconsciously took half a step back, his foot stepping on a piece of rubble and making a short grinding sound. As soon as the sound rang out, he seemed to be startled by it himself. His body froze, and he immediately looked down at his feet.

Such a reaction from an experienced scout was almost a loss of composure.

Because the greatest taboo for a scout was making meaningless noises in a dangerous environment.

But at this moment, he could no longer worry about such things.

The third person was a crossbowman.

He wasn't very old, and his face still carried the impatience often found in young adventurers. A small mechanical crossbow hung diagonally across his back, and a row of poisoned bolts was tucked into his waist.

Earlier in the peripheral passages, he had used this crossbow to shoot through a tomb bat that had lunged from the shadows. His movements had been fast and accurate, showing he had some skill.

But now, the hand holding the crossbow trigger was frozen in mid-air.

The crossbow was already cocked, and the arrow was aimed toward the central sarcophagus, but his finger didn't dare to pull the trigger.

Because he didn't know what to shoot.

The sarcophagus was opening.

But nothing was coming out.

No matter how fast the bolt was, it couldn't be shot into an unknown darkness.

The fourth person was a female adventurer carrying a long axe.

She wasn't tall, but her shoulders and back were steady, and the lines of long-term training were visible on her arms. She had been taciturn and rarely spoke after entering the tomb, but every time Sutton gave an order, she executed it quickly.

At this moment, her reaction was slightly more composed than the others.

She didn't retreat or speak, but silently took the long axe from her back. She gripped the handle with both hands, the axe blade lowered slightly, looking like a beast driven to the edge of danger.

But Matthew still saw her throat move.

She was also nervous.

It was just that she was used to pushing fear into her body rather than wearing it on her face.

Finally, there was an older, experienced adventurer.

His hair was greyish-white, and he had an old scar running diagonally from his brow bone to the corner of his mouth. Numerous small pouches hung from his clothes, containing oil, ropes, iron nails, medicinal powders, and various other tools.

This kind of person was usually the most experienced and knew best when to take risks and when to bow their head.

Earlier, when everyone dispersed to search the secret rooms, he had found a well-preserved black crystal in a crack in the stone.

He was currently gripping that object tightly in his hand.

In normal times, such a harvest would have been enough to make him smile.

But now, he seemed to have forgotten he was even holding anything. His palm hung rigidly in mid-air, his fingertips white from gripping too hard.

Wealth was in their hands.

But everyone’s attention was no longer on wealth.

Because at this moment, everyone could feel that the thing truly deciding their life or death was no longer the small harvest in their hands, but the sarcophagus in the center of the chamber that was slowly opening.

“Just now... who touched it?”

Someone whispered.

The voice wasn't loud, yet it sounded exceptionally clear in the deathly silent burial chamber.

The one speaking was the young crossbowman.

His voice carried a clear tremor. After speaking, he seemed to realize his question was redundant and immediately shut his mouth.

No one answered immediately.

After a moment, the old adventurer lowered his voice and said, “No one went over there. We were all searching the secret rooms just now. Who would touch the central sarcophagus at a time like this?”

“Then why did it open by itself?”

The crossbowman couldn't help but ask again.

Once those words were out, the surroundings fell silent once more.

Yes.

Why?

If no one touched it, why would it open on its own?

Could it be some kind of mechanism in the tomb?

But if it were a mechanism, who triggered it?

Was it because they had opened too many secret rooms?

Was it because someone took something they shouldn't have?

Or had this sarcophagus been waiting for a certain moment since the moment they entered the tomb?

Many thoughts flashed through Matthew’s mind in an instant.

He even couldn't help but wonder if it was because he had opened three secret rooms in a row, triggering some hidden rule of the tomb.

But soon, he suppressed that thought.

It wasn't necessarily him.

Up to now, eight secret rooms around the main burial chamber had already been explored, and the others had taken quite a few things as well. If taking resources really triggered a mechanism, it wouldn't necessarily be related to him alone.

However, this thought didn't make Matthew feel much more relaxed.

Because regardless of who triggered it, the result was the same.

The sarcophagus had opened.

And danger had already appeared.

Sutton suddenly raised his hand.

His movement wasn't large, but it caused his subordinates, who had been about to continue whispering, to immediately shut their mouths.

“Don’t move.”

Sutton’s voice was very low.

And very heavy.

This time, there was none of his usual faint mockery in his tone; there was only a wariness suppressed to the extreme.

“No one approach the central sarcophagus.”

Hearing this, the expressions on everyone’s faces did not relax.

They couldn't approach.

These words sounded like a command, but to them, it was more like a confirmation of the danger posed by that sarcophagus.

The young crossbowman couldn't help but shrink back behind the shield-bearing adventurer, as if only by hiding behind that round shield could he feel a bit more at ease.

The tall, thin scout quietly looked toward Herbert.

In a time like this, Sutton represented strength and deterrence, while Herbert represented knowledge and judgment.

If Herbert could say something, perhaps they could have a bit of confidence.

But Herbert didn't speak.

He remained staring at the black seal marks peeling off the edge of the sarcophagus lid.

Those seal marks had long since dried and hardened, their color turned black, looking as if they had been applied with something mixed with blood and potions. As the lid continued to move, the seal marks cracked piece by piece and then peeled off piece by piece, making a very faint sound as they fell to the floor.

...

...