Henderson knew very well that these workers couldn't stand against that group of Black-Robed Figures on horseback.
He planned to work hard for one more day, try to harvest something worth claiming credit for, then pack his bags in the evening and leave here tomorrow morning.
So, early in the morning, as soon as the Sun peeked out, the expedition team set off.
Mr. Henderson's blond hair had long since stuck together in strands, and his clothes were no longer as clean as when he first arrived. From time to time, he looked at the expensive watch on his wrist, urging the workers to continue speeding up the excavation.
"Those bastards in the desert might show up again at any time." He kicked away the gravel under his feet irritably. "One day! One day! We only have one day left!"
"Find some valuable antiques first; we'll take them back to Mr. Muska."
"And then?"
The man with thick glasses crossed his arms, a rolled cigarette still in his mouth.
"Then we'll hire an army to come and kill them all." Henderson said disdainfully, pulling out a similarly crumpled cigarette from his breast pocket and lighting it. He grabbed a crowbar and headed straight for the black coffin covered in golden hieroglyphs.
Clang!
The crowbar was inserted into the gap. The man bit the cigarette holder, the flesh on his face squeezed together, as he pressed down hard on the crowbar!
"Watch out!" The Egyptian scholar they had hired for a high price grabbed Henderson and growled while clutching his arm, "Be careful! Do you think Seti was an idiot?"
"I don't think anyone who puts gold in a tomb is very smart." Henderson put down the crowbar, the cigarette in his mouth moving up and down as he spoke. "Mr. Seti from a thousand years ago is no exception."
"You hired me, and I have to ensure your safety, Henderson!" The scholar straightened his hat and pushed him aside. "Get the workers to pry it open!"
"Get over here! You lot!"
Adjusting his glasses, the fellow countryman beside him also urged, "He has a point, Henderson. We should be careful."
Mr. Henderson irritably kicked the black coffin, grumbling as he stepped back. He beckoned three workers to take crowbars and pry along the seam.
"Heave!"
"Heave! Faster! We're not on vacation!"
"Hur-ry! Up!"
Hiss... "What was that sound?"
"Did you hear that?"
The sound, like leaking gas, grew from a faint hiss to a loud rush. As the three workers pried in succession, the black coffin suddenly burst open—a fan-shaped spray of white mist hit the three men right in the face!
The billowing thick smoke enveloped the three men in an instant, wrapping them tightly like a mass of viscous fog!
Hiss—!
Bang!
"My face!"
"No! Aaaaaargh!"
"Get back! Damn it! Get back!"
The thick white smoke was pungent and dense. As the three local workers emerged from the mist, the bones of their faces were clearly visible—their exposed skin had been corroded away by something.
All in all, they died quite painfully.
"Drag them out! Drag the three of them out and get new workers in here! Hurry!"
Mr. Henderson tugged at his tie, his face clouded with ill fortune.
They were just three workers; they didn't cost much—even less when converted to U.S. dollars. To be honest, if that Egyptian scholar hadn't told them that hiring a large number of people in the desert was suicide... these were just consumables.
Clatter, clatter.
Rummaging through tools, the workers were soon replaced. Pushing the lid off the black coffin from the gap, a large chest came into view.
It was square and brownish-red, with scriptures carved on every side.
"It seems Mr. Seti liked to write," Henderson stared fixedly at the chest. "Perhaps... this is what we're looking for."
"Haul it out!"
The chest hit the ground; it wasn't too heavy, and two or three workers could move it.
"Let me see if it's gold—"
"Wait! There's a curse on it!" The scholar grabbed Henderson in terror. "Let me look first!"
However, these Americans were truly fearless. "Curse my ass."
"Who cares? Open it, quickly!"
"Mr. Henderson, you should care." The scholar pointed a finger at the man's nose, looking displeased. "In a place like this, ancient curses are still very effective..."
The firelight reflected on their faces. Recalling what Evelyn had said the previous night, they looked at each other for a few seconds before shrugging in compromise. "Fine, please hurry up, Great Dr."
Only then did the scholar shift his gaze back to the chest and began to read haltingly.
'Whosoever...'
'Whosoever opens this chest...'
'...shall not escape death.'
Henderson quipped, "Most tombs of the dead have the same threat."
He continued reading.
'Once this chest is opened...'
'The vengeful spirit originally sealed by the sacred law...'
'...shall awaken.'
'It will kill all those who opened the chest...'
'Take their organs and blood...'
'And by this method, be reborn and return to the world.'
After reading, the scholar fell silent.
He felt a cold chill crawling up from his feet, and goosebumps broke out all over his skin. The firelight no longer felt warm, and there seemed to be a low moan calling from the crypt or some far-off distance... Bang!
Henderson kicked open the lid of the wooden chest.
"Finished reading, Great Dr.?" The man retracted his foot and crouched down again with a grin, patting the back of the scholar who was glaring at him. "We can't just turn back like superstitious idiots, can we?"
"Aren't you going to tell us what's inside?"
The scholar sighed and gently pulled back the old linen inside the chest—but then his face turned to one of disbelief and immense joy!
"Oh... no! It really exists!"
"The legends are true!"
Trembling, he unwrapped the cloth to reveal a thick, large black metal... book.
"It really exists... the book of the dead."
The scholar carefully held the book, his fingers tracing the patterns and characters carved on the cover. Aside from the recessed, blooming octagonal flower on the surface, the entire book was covered in symbols and lines he couldn't understand.
Pitch black and ice cold.
Ornate and solemn.
Except for one hard-to-accept detail... he couldn't open the book.
"A book?"
"Great." The Americans perfunctorily touched the book of the dead and asked, "Where's the treasure?"
"This is it..."
The scholar slowly stood up, solemnly holding the heavy metal book. He looked at the three men with devotion. "Gentlemen... gentlemen! This is the treasure!"
"It is a priceless treasure!"
"Give it a rest. I wouldn't take it even if you gave it to me..." Henderson bypassed the wooden chest and impatiently kicked the side of the chest with the tip of his shoe.
With a click, another lid was kicked open.
"Henderson!"
"Shh..."
"God..."
The four men leaned over to look: five or six small jars were neatly arranged inside the chest.
They had gilded edges and ivory-like bodies. The lids were carved with different animals—an eagle, a jackal, and a lion, each exquisite in its own way. Looking closely at the joints of the lids, one could still see some marks left behind by the carver's accidental slips.
Now, they were embedded with some sand and dust.
He picked one up and shook it; it rattled.
"This is our treasure..."
"It'll fetch a good price."
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