Tomb raiding live stream: Starting as the mute Zhang

The car drove through the desert for a whole day.

Yellow sand, nothing but yellow sand. The sun was so scorching it could dry the last bit of moisture from a person's body. The wind picked up, and the sand rustled against the car windows.

They set up camp for the night. The convoy formed a circle, with tents pitched in the center. Soldiers took turns keeping watch, never letting go of their guns.

Wang Jizong and his three old men, along with their bodyguards in black suits, stayed in the largest tent. The thirty special forces soldiers were in a ring of smaller tents around it, making the large tent look like an iron barrel.

Wu Xie and his group were placed on the other side of the camp, far away.

After dinner, Zhang Qiling stepped out of his tent. He stood on the sand dune, looking up at the sky.

The sky wasn't completely dark yet; a faint crimson glow lingered in the west. The wind, blowing from the northwest, carried sand that stung my face.

Zhang Qiling also came out and stood beside him. Neither of them spoke, they just looked at the horizon.

After a long while, Zhang Qiling spoke up: "The wind is not right."

"Hmm," Zhang Qiling replied.

"There will be a black sandstorm tomorrow at noon," Zhang Qiling said in a low voice.

Zhang Qiling turned to look at him. Zhang Qiling's eyes were deep in the twilight, like two deep wells.

"You calculated that?"

"Um."

Zhang Qiling didn't ask any more questions. He knew that the Zhang family's feng shui secrets could observe celestial phenomena and predict good or bad fortune. If Zhang Qiling said there would be a black sandstorm, then there definitely would be.

The two returned to their tent. Wu Xie and the others were organizing their equipment.

"Hey buddy, what are you looking at?" the fat man asked.

"There will be a sandstorm tomorrow," Zhang Qiling said.

"A sandstorm?" The fat man was taken aback. "How big is it?"

"Black sandstorm." Zhang Qiling added three words.

A silence fell over the tent. In the desert, black sandstorms are deadly.

"Can we avoid it?" Xie Yuchen asked.

Zhang Qiling shook his head.

"When are you coming?" Black Bear asked.

"Noon."

Wu Xie glanced at his watch: "That's tomorrow noon. Is there enough time to prepare?"

"It's too late," said Zhang Qiling.

Huo Xiuxiu thought for a moment: "When the sandstorm comes, the camp will be in chaos. Those three people..."

"An opportunity," Zhang Qiling said.

Zhang Qiling nodded.

The meaning is clear: Sandstorms are a good time to kill.

The wind howled louder at night, sounding like ghosts wailing and wolves howling. The tent rattled loudly, and sand seeped in through the gaps.

Nobody slept well.

As dawn broke, the wind picked up. The sky was a hazy yellow, and the sun looked like a pale, lifeless disc, offering little warmth.

Wang Jizong and his team began packing up their tents, preparing to set off. They wanted to advance a short distance before the sandstorm hit.

The convoy started moving again. The wind was too strong, and the cars were moving slowly, like crawling through a sea of ​​sand.

By 10 a.m., the weather had completely changed.

The sky to the northwest was dark and heavy, rolling in like a wall. It was the vanguard of a sandstorm, and you could hear its rumbling roar from afar, like tens of thousands of wild beasts howling.

"Stop the car! Stop the car!" Lin Guoce yelled into the walkie-talkie, "A sandstorm is coming! All vehicles, form a circle! Get out of the cars! Lie down!"

Cars stopped one after another, forming a semi-circle. People scrambled off the cars, covered their mouths and noses with their clothes, and lay down beside the cars.

The wind was like a knife, the sand like bullets. Visibility dropped to less than five meters, and the world was shrouded in chaos.

A black sandstorm has arrived.

Zhang Qiling and "Zhang Qiling" didn't lie down. They stood by the car, their black clothes fluttering in the wind, sand hitting their faces and bodies, but neither of them blinked.

Wu Xie lay prone on the ground, squinting as he called out, "Brother! Lie down!"

Zhang Qiling didn't move.

"Zhang Qiling" didn't move either.

The two looked into the depths of the sandstorm, then glanced at the chariot formation on Wang Jizong's side.

The best time to visit is when the sandstorm is at its fiercest.

Amidst the howling wind, intermittent shouts came through the walkie-talkie; it was Wang Jizong calling for people to reinforce the tent.

Several special forces soldiers ran towards the large tent against the wind and sand.

Just then, Zhang Qiling moved.

He ducked low, pushed off the sand with his feet, and shot out like a black arrow. The sandstorm was so strong that his figure blurred in a flash.

"Zhang Qiling" moved almost simultaneously, slightly off-center, the two of them like two knives cutting into the sandstorm.

Wu Xie only saw two dark figures flash by and then disappear.

"They..." The fat man was interrupted before he was given a mouthful of sand.

Black Bear lay on the ground, his sunglasses long since removed. His eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at the direction the two had disappeared, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth: "Dumb Zhang has made his move."

At the eye of the sandstorm, visibility was less than three meters.

Wang Jizong's large tent was shaking violently in the wind, and several bodyguards in black suits were using their bodies to brace the tent poles. The thirty special forces soldiers were scattered around, lying on the ground with their guns pointed outwards—even though they couldn't see anything.

Zhang Qiling arrived first.

He emerged from the sandstorm like a ghost, appearing behind a special forces soldier. The soldier, squinting ahead, was completely unaware.

Zhang Qiling covered his mouth with his left hand, drew his black-gold ancient sword with his right, and with a flash of light, severed his throat. The movement was clean and silent. The body slumped down, quickly half-buried by the sandstorm.

He didn't stop, his foot slipped, and he fell towards the second one.

The second team member heard a commotion and turned around, only to find Zhang Qiling already in front of him. The knife slashed upwards, piercing his jaw and skull. The team member fell to the ground, eyes wide open.

The third team member sensed something was wrong and raised his gun, firing in Zhang Qiling's direction. The bullets thudded into the sand.

Zhang Qiling moved before the gunshot rang out. He dove to the side, rolled, and the bullet grazed his back. The knife slipped from his hand during the roll, spinning and embedding itself in the teammate's chest. The teammate groaned and collapsed.

Zhang Qiling stood up, drew his sword, and lunged at the next one.

On the other side, "Zhang Qiling" also arrived.

He was more direct. He rushed out of the sandstorm, kicked a lying team member to the ground, and before the team member could cry out, he pressed his knee down on his chest and crushed his throat with his left hand in a claw shape.

Hearing the commotion, the two team members beside him turned their guns around. "Zhang Qiling" grabbed a corpse from the ground and used it as a shield, firing all the bullets at the body. He charged forward, pushing against the corpse, and once he got close, he threw the body aside. His blade flashed, and blood spurted from the necks of both men simultaneously.

The fifth team member, a little further away, spotted Zhang Qiling's figure and raised his gun to aim. Instead of retreating, Zhang Qiling advanced, his body almost skimming the ground. Just before the bullet was fired, his knife flew from his hand, embedding itself between the team member's eyebrows. Before the man even fell, he had already rushed forward, drawn his knife, and turned to slash at the sixth.

The sound of the sandstorm drowned out all other sounds.

Wang Jizong, pale-faced, huddled together with Li Guoliang and Zhao Yongnian in the large tent. The wind was too strong for them to hear the gunshots and screams outside, but they could sense that something was wrong.

"What's going on outside?" Wang Jizong shouted at a man in a black suit.

Just as the man in the black suit lifted the tent flap to look inside, a figure rushed in.

It's Zhang Qiling.

He was covered in sand, his black clothes clung to his body by the wind, his face was expressionless, only his eyes were as cold as ice.

The man in the black suit reacted swiftly, drawing his gun and firing. Zhang Qiling dodged to the side, the bullet grazing his shoulder and striking the tent. He grabbed the black suit's wrist holding the gun with his left hand, twisted it, and the gun fell to the ground. A flash of light appeared in his right hand, and the black suit's neck spurted blood as he collapsed.

Three other men in black suits lunged at them simultaneously. Two drew their knives, and one drew his gun.

Zhang Qiling didn't retreat, charging towards the man who had drawn his gun. The instant the gun was pointed at him, he ducked, slipped under the man's arm, and with a backhand slash, the blade pierced through his back and emerged from his chest. The man froze, Zhang Qiling withdrew his sword, and the corpse fell to the ground.

Two more men in black suits, each wielding a knife, were already in front of him, their blades flashing as they slashed down. Zhang Qiling parried the first blow with his scabbard, then spun around to avoid the second, simultaneously slamming the scabbard into the first man's temple. The sound of skull shattering was masked by the wind. The second man's knife came at him again, but Zhang Qiling didn't block it. Instead, he charged directly into the man's arms, striking his Adam's apple with his left elbow while his right hand plunged the knife into his heart.

Four men in black suits collapsed in ten seconds.

Wang Jizong and the other two were so frightened that they collapsed to the ground, and Li Guoliang even lost his glasses.

"What...what are you going to do?" Wang Jizong's voice trembled.

Zhang Qiling didn't speak, but stepped forward, and his blade flashed again.

Wang Jizong felt a chill in his throat. He tried to shout, but no sound came out, and blood gushed from between his fingers. He stared at Zhang Qiling, as if he couldn't understand how this man dared to kill him.

Zhang Qiling drew his sword, and Wang Jizong fell to the ground.

Li Guoliang scrambled to his feet and tried to run, but Zhang Qiling kicked him in the back of the knee. Li Guoliang fell to his knees as Zhang Qiling's knife pierced his back, protruding through his chest. Li Guoliang opened his mouth, spat out a mouthful of blood, and lay motionless.

Zhao Yongnian was the most ruthless; he pulled out a miniature pistol and fired three shots at Zhang Qiling.

Zhang Qiling moved before the gunfire. He shifted to the side, and all the bullets missed. Zhao Yongnian was about to fire a fourth shot when Zhang Qiling's knife was already in front of him. Zhao Yongnian raised his hand to block, but the knife severed four of Zhang Qiling's fingers and, without slowing down, sliced ​​across his neck.

Zhao Yongnian clutched his neck and backed away, blood spurting from between his fingers, before collapsing to the ground convulsing.

The tent fell silent, save for the sound of the wind and the hoarse cries of the three dying men.

Zhang Qiling shook the blood off his knife and turned to leave the tent.

Outside, "Zhang Qiling" had also dealt with the remaining special forces members. He was even more ruthless in his killings, each strike aimed at a vital point; none of the thirty members survived. The sandy ground was littered with corpses, and sand was being piled on top of them.

Black Bear emerged from the sandstorm, his clothes stained with blood. He gave Zhang Qiling a thumbs-up: "Dumb Zhang, quick and efficient."

Zhang Qiling nodded and shook the blood off his knife.

Zhang Qiling walked over, and the three of them joined together.

"Is everything resolved?" Black Bear asked.

"Mm." Zhang Qiling.

"Three of them are dead." "Zhang Qiling."

Black Bear grinned: "Once the sandstorm passes, all the corpses will be buried. Even a god couldn't find them."

As they were talking, the sandstorm suddenly subsided.

The wind was still blowing, but not as fiercely. The sky gradually brightened, and one could see the surrounding mess—tents had collapsed, vehicles were half-buried, and bloodstains were everywhere on the sand, but they were quickly covered by fresh sand.

Wu Xie and the others climbed up from behind the car, shaking off the sand. They were stunned by the sight before them.

All thirty special forces soldiers were dead. The tent of Wang Jizong and his two companions had collapsed halfway, and there was no movement inside.

Lin Guoce ran over with several soldiers and turned pale when he saw the corpses all over the ground. He looked at Zhang Qiling and the others, opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything.

"The sandstorm was too fierce," Black Bear patted him on the shoulder, "It's normal for people to die."

Lin Guoce's throat moved, but he only said one sentence in the end: "Clean up the scene and count the casualties."

The soldiers began moving the bodies and digging through the sand. No one asked how they died—anything could happen in a sandstorm.

A levitating live-streaming sphere emerged from the sand dunes, wobbling as it flew up. The camera panned across the campsite, capturing a scene of utter chaos.

The comments were sparse.

[Prophet: Is the sandstorm really that fierce?]

[A Cure for Disagreeing Experts: Something Doesn't Look Right]

[Brother's fan club: Where is he?]

Wu Xie walked to Zhang Qiling's side and asked in a low voice, "Is everything... resolved?"

Zhang Qiling nodded.

Zhang Qiling nodded as well.

The fat man leaned closer and whispered, "Those three old bastards..."

"He's dead," Zhang Qiling said.

The fat man grinned, wanting to laugh, but held it back.

Xie Yuchen and Huo Xiuxiu also came over and watched the soldiers clean up the scene without saying a word.

Lin Guoce walked over, his expression complicated: "Mr. Zhang... Mr. Zhang, were you alright during the sandstorm?"

"It's alright," Zhang Qiling said.

Zhang Qiling shook his head.

Lin Guoce looked at them, then at the corpses on the ground—the fatal wounds were all knife wounds, clean and swift, not the kind of injuries a sandstorm could cause. But he said nothing, only nodded: "It's good that you're alright. The sandstorm is over; we need to leave this area quickly to avoid coming back."

He turned and went to give instructions.

Wu Xie watched Lin Guoce's retreating figure and whispered, "He figured it out."

"So what if he figured it out?" Black Bear laughed. "Does he dare say it?"

dare not.

Wang Jizong and two others are dead, along with thirty elite soldiers. Who would believe it if word got out? And even if they did, what difference would it make? Sandstorms are natural disasters; death is normal. Even if there are doubts, given the current situation, Lin Guoce can only suppress the matter.

The team was reorganized. The bodies were buried on the spot—the most convenient method in the desert. The bodies of Wang Jizong and the other two were buried separately in a sand pit, marked with simple markers, and told to report back later.

No one objected. The soldiers worked in silence, while Kun and his men stayed far away, their faces pale.

In the evening, the convoy set off again.

This time, without Wang Jizong and his two companions interfering, Lin Guoce became the supreme commander. He ordered a full-speed advance to leave the area.

Inside the car, the fat man finally couldn't hold back and chuckled, "That was great! Those three old bastards should have died long ago!"

Wu Xie glared at him: "Keep your voice down!"

"What's there to be afraid of?" the fat man said in a low voice. "It was the sandstorm that killed them, what does that have to do with us?"

Xie Yuchen looked at Zhang Qiling and "Zhang Qiling": "What's next?"

"Continue," Zhang Qiling said.

"Let's go to the ghost town," said Zhang Qiling.

Black Bear whistled: "Let's go then."

Outside the car window, the setting sun dyed the desert blood-red.

In the distance, the sand dunes undulate like the back of a giant beast.

The Ghost City of Jingjue is still ahead.