With a soft click, the mechanism finished its work, and the lion statue's head slowly twisted into place. The door groaned in response, stone grinding against stone as it shifted. Dust spilled from the cracks, and with a heavy thud, the door finally slid open, revealing what lay beyond.
A narrow corridor stretched out before us, dimly lit by some unseen source, the air stale and thick with the scent of stone and earth. The passage was cramped, with low ceilings and uneven floors, barely wide enough for us to move comfortably. "Looks like we're crawling," I muttered, glancing at Han Yihong, who just gave a short nod before moving forward without hesitation.
