They sparkled with three dots on the model. Three points, one on the shore of the lake, the second on the bottom of the lake, and the third on the top. What could it be? Anything you want. Three gallant seekers. Each got his direction.
Shir Ali and Fang armed with drones began to explore the coast of the island and the bottom of the lake. Three hundred years ago, the level of the lake was lower. The treasure was buried on the side of the island.
Well, Dara, who didn't want to mess around in the mud and bottom sediments, chose the easiest place in his opinion to search for the treasure. In the old days, under the treasure, you could pummel anything you like, a piece of red coral, a piece of intricate stone, a crystal of a Gorgie crystal, a dried root of ginger, or 100-year-old ginseng, etc. In the 21st century, this treasure would only represent cultural significance, it would be difficult to sell it right away and to arrange an auction is to attract unnecessary attention.
Dara, hoping to find something more specific - coins, jewelry, or at least old books or maps. But Shir-Ali and Fang did not think about anything, they only wanted to find the treasure. They were more passionate about the search process itself.
Unlike the greedy Dara. He only wanted money! ... Dara climbed a small hill with difficulty. He was a city dweller, lazy, so the ascent was great torture for him. Cold sweat poured from him and his legs began to tremble. He walked and swore with bad words. Every step is a curse. Feet slid over rocks covered with brown moss.
Dara hit the stones with his knee several times. ... Fang also swore in Chinese, his water drone was constantly bogged down in the mud, visibility was low. At the bottom lay debris and protectors from tractors, steel tracks, some iron parts from agricultural machinery. Now and then I had to swim up on the boat and pull the drone out by the steel cable.
Chinese technology could not withstand the harsh conditions of the lake. Therefore, the search for the treasure was postponed all the time. ... Shir-Ali, using his power as a cultivator, through a spiritual search immediately discovered the place of the treasure.
After examining him, he was not impressed. Near the coast of the island, at a depth of 1 meter underwater, there was a wooden chest covered with iron strips. Inside which lay a piece of molten metal, it was not even a meteorite, but just a piece of slag when smelting iron. There was not a grain of spiritual power in him. Ordinary trash. But for some reason, the ancestors used to consider this piece a jewel. Shir-Ali scanned the two remaining treasure places ... and a sour smile appeared on his face. "Yes, the ancestors were not on friendly terms with their heads," he said out loud with displeasure.
Then Shir-Ali smiled, he saw how his cousin fell and swore in Russian, and a little in the distance Fang sprinkled his choice curses in the Mandarin dialect.
Two hoards left. It was the dried root of the Blue Hypericum, which almost turned into stone, and some kind of unsightly jug, the contents of which had long been spoiled by the water from the lake. Shir-Ali realized that this treasure was just an ancient technology for making steel, which the ancestors tried to preserve. And the steel was not the best, a copy from the Arabic.
Now, this knowledge was only of interest to historians, and there was nothing to sell. Just wasted time. But he didn't say anything to those two. Chuckling to himself, Shir-Ali slowly began to gather. Not all treasure hunting trips are successful.