For a moment, Shen Xuefeng wondered if he had seen a ghost.

But Ji Wu was clearly standing right in front of him, alive and breathing just like him. His clothes were also torn and ragged, his expression calm.

Shen Xuefeng reached out his small hand and grabbed the hem of Ji Wu’s robe to make sure it was real. Only then did he choke out, “I clearly remember rolling down the hillside after jumping out of the carriage. Why would I see Your Highness here? Don’t tell me… did Your Highness roll to the same place as me? That… that doesn’t sound very likely.”

“……”

Ji Wu raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think I couldn’t have ended up in the same place as you?”

“Because—” Shen Xuefeng said weakly, “Because Your Highness said you’d be fine.”

Back then, the situation had seemed like Ji Wu would escape unscathed. No one expected him to end up here as well.

Ji Wu gave a small laugh. In the dim cave, it wasn’t very obvious, but his voice was calm—under the moonlight, it even sounded a bit gentle. “Then what were you crying about just now?”

Shen Xuefeng lowered his head, playing dumb. No way he was going to admit how scared he’d been waking up all alone.

“I wasn’t crying. My eyes just hurt,” he mumbled, his tone carrying an unintentional trace of familiar grievance. “While I was unconscious… where did Your Highness go?”

“Looking for a way out.”

“Did Your Highness find one?” Shen Xuefeng raised his face, looking at him timidly, eyes full of hope. “Can we go back?”

Ji Wu looked down. “Mount Cuihua is only one of the main peaks here. We fell into a ravine. It won’t be easy to get out.”

At that, Shen Xuefeng slumped back over his knees in disappointment. “Oh.”

Ji Wu continued, “You should think about who you’ve offended. Someone clearly wants you dead.”

“Who did I offend?” Shen Xuefeng was completely confused. “I stick close to Your Highness every day at the Chongwen Institute—you know that. The few people I get along well with have never had any conflict with me. Who could I have possibly provoked?”

He curled up in the corner, visibly disheartened. Then, for some reason, his eyes welled up again and tears started flowing. This time, since Ji Wu was right there, he didn’t dare make a sound, but his clothes were quietly soaked with tears.

“Your eyes hurt again?”

How Ji Wu noticed he was crying was unclear, but he bent down again and lifted Shen Xuefeng’s chin. “How come I never realized before—you cry this much?”

“I wasn’t crying. I just don’t understand why someone would hate me this much, enough to want to kill me.” Shen Xuefeng’s long lashes were damp and clumped together, his almond-shaped eyes misty, the tip of his nose red. He looked just like a helpless little pup—pitiful and endearing.

Ji Wu brushed away the tears under his eyes, gaze dark. “Maybe it’s because Xuefeng is just too likable. It makes others jealous.”

That explanation sounded almost convincing. Shen Xuefeng thought for a moment, then nodded, scooting back to avoid Ji Wu’s hand. “If that’s the case, there’s no point dwelling on it. Why don’t we focus on getting out of here first?”

Ji Wu glanced at his fingertips, expression unreadable.

Shen Xuefeng supported himself against the rock wall and tried to stand up. He managed a few limping steps before crying out and squatting down again, clutching his ankle.

This time, the tears weren’t from feeling wronged—it really hurt.

“Your Highness…” he looked helplessly at Ji Wu, hoping for a solution. “I… I think I twisted my ankle.”

Now he remembered to act obedient again.

Ji Wu crossed his arms and looked at him. “Find a spot where there’s light and sit down. Take off your boots.”

Shen Xuefeng hopped around the cave looking for a place, and in the moonlight, he finally got a rough view of the area.

The ground was damp everywhere, soaked with spring water, except for a flat, waist-high boulder in the center.

That spot had the best light and visibility. He decided to sit there and placed his hands on the stone, trying to jump up using his strength. But he failed several times, pulling at his injured ankle in the process.

Ji Wu silently watched his every move. After a long struggle, Shen Xuefeng finally turned around, panting and discouraged. “Your Highness, I… I don’t think I can get up.”

Before he finished speaking, Ji Wu had already walked over. He wrapped his arms around Shen Xuefeng’s waist and effortlessly lifted him onto the boulder.

At the same time, Ji Wu held the boy’s knee steady, bending down slightly. His fingers reached for his ankle.

“T-this isn’t proper,” Shen Xuefeng blushed, trying to pull his leg back. But when his knee bumped into Ji Wu’s waist, he quickly shifted away, flustered. “I-it’s not what it looks like—I didn’t mean to take advantage of Your Highness!”

This didn’t really count as anything improper.

Ji Wu calmly lifted his right leg. His movements were steady and unhurried. He examined the injury and spoke in a low warning tone, “Don’t move.”

He held Shen Xuefeng’s calf with one hand and slowly removed the boot with the other. Then he hooked a finger into the white sock and began to pull it off gently. “Does it hurt?”

“Not… not really,” Shen Xuefeng said, gripping his robe tightly, watching his movements without blinking.

Once the sock was removed, Ji Wu carefully rolled up the pant leg.

The injury was exposed.

Shen Xuefeng’s skin was fair and delicate. Since he rarely walked, his legs were soft to the touch. Now, his lower leg was covered in purple bruises—left and right, all over—but thankfully none were bleeding.

Even Shen Xuefeng gasped when he saw the state of his own leg, and Ji Wu’s gaze lingered on the bruises like a tangible caress. His fingers gently traced over them, and Shen Xuefeng immediately pleaded in a small voice, “It hurts, it hurts—Your Highness, be gentle…”

Ji Wu looked up. The boy was holding up the hem of his disheveled robe with both arms, as if trying to be helpful, but his eyes were glistening with tears as he stared at him pitifully.

“It hurts?”

He grasped the boy’s slender ankle, his fingertips carefully probing the joints.

The ankle bone wasn’t dislocated. With a few days’ rest back at the Shen residence, it should recover. The swelling and bruising likely came from jumping hastily off the startled carriage.

Young Master Shen had been pampered since childhood and was not used to knocks or scrapes. So the wound, while not too serious, looked rather alarming.

When pressure was applied, Shen Xuefeng cried out in pain and, eyes brimming with tears, said, “Ah—Your Highness, I—I haven’t offended you, have I? Please don’t bully me…”

At that, Ji Wu let go of the injured ankle and said slowly, “I was only checking the injury. How could I bear to bully you, Xuefeng?”

If this counts as being gentle, then what was that earlier…?

Shen Xuefeng clutched at the hem of his robe and decided it was best to say nothing more.

It wasn’t a serious sprain—probably just that the pampered young master feared pain, which made him cry more often than not. Ji Wu still held his leg at the knee but avoided touching the bruised area again. Then he said, “Take off the other shoe as well.”

Shen Xuefeng blinked. “Why?”

“To check for injuries, of course.” Ji Wu leaned closer with a faint smile and offered him a choice. “You can do it yourself, or I’ll help you.”

Shen Xuefeng also thought it necessary to check, but he felt a little embarrassed. He quickly waved his hands in refusal. “No, no, no—there’s no need to check!”

As he let go, the robe’s hem fell down again between them. Ji Wu glanced down, his expression unreadable.

Shen Xuefeng tried pushing against Ji Wu’s strong arm with both hands but found he couldn’t budge him. With one injured leg, he was at quite a disadvantage.

“Your Highness…”

“Hmm?” Ji Wu leaned in closer, watching the boy lean back in a fluster, amusement in his voice. “If you’re unwilling, ‘Your Highness’ can take care of it.”

As he said this, his free hand slid past Shen Xuefeng’s waist and braced against the stone surface, his entire body leaning in with a calm and leisurely air as he studied him.

Shen Xuefeng instinctively closed his eyes and pleaded, “Alright, alright, I…”

Before he could finish saying “I’ll do it myself,” he felt a heavy thud beneath him—the stone beneath them shifted under their combined weight and began to move.

Startled by the unexpected tremor, Shen Xuefeng yelped and immediately clung to Ji Wu’s waist, shrinking into his arms. “Aah! Something moved—something moved!”

The giant stone took a while to shift aside and finally came to a stop. Ji Wu, sensing something unusual, seemed intrigued and redirected some of his attention.

A pitch-black opening appeared beneath them—a narrow stairway leading underground to who-knew-where.

Peeking from Ji Wu’s arms, Shen Xuefeng gaped in astonishment, lips parted slightly.

Whatever mechanism they had triggered just now, it had somehow managed to move that massive stone slab.

“Your Highness, what is that?” Shen Xuefeng pointed to the shadowy staircase below. A gust of cold wind blew from the entrance, hitting his face.

It carried the damp, musty scent of rotting wood and mildew.

“This place isn’t a natural cave,” Ji Wu said, eyes lowered as he examined the dark entrance, fingers lightly tapping the stone. “Someone set up this mechanism here to keep others away.”

For such a cleverly hidden device to be built into such a small mountain cave—it surely meant something extraordinary was hidden below.

Thinking of that, Shen Xuefeng felt a surge of awe.

After all, the mountain range stretched endlessly, and there were countless natural caves, yet by some coincidence, they had stumbled into this particularly special one.

One couldn’t help but admire Ji Wu’s luck as a true-born dragon emperor. Just look—he even managed to trigger a hidden storyline while trapped in a mountain valley.

“Th-then what should we do now?” Though fear still lingered, curiosity had started to outweigh it. Shen Xuefeng tentatively asked, “Should we go in and take a look, or wait here for someone to find us?”

Ji Wu raised an eyebrow as if amused. “There’s one main peak here, and more than twenty surrounding ones. Do you really think anyone could find us?”

Shen Xuefeng’s heart sank, and he spoke gloomily. “If that’s the case… if we can’t get out, wouldn’t we be trapped in the mountains forever?”

“Indeed,” Ji Wu nodded unhurriedly, though he showed not the slightest hint of worry. “Which means the two of us will simply have to settle down here.”

That would mean living with Ji Wu—eating, sleeping, and surviving together like mountain hermits or, well… recluses.

Shen Xuefeng shook his head to chase away such dangerous thoughts. “Then… maybe let’s not, Your Highness.”

He placed his hands on the stone, seemingly wanting to jump down, but when he looked down, he saw his clothes were a mess. His right leg was exposed, trouser rolled up, bare shin gleaming, and he had no shoes or socks on.

So Shen Xuefeng bent down to retrieve them. But perhaps because he’d hurt his back during their tumble down the slope, the motion sent a sharp pain shooting through his shoulder and neck.

“Y-Your Highness…”

After several failed attempts, sweat gathered on his brow. He looked up and gave Ji Wu a flattering smile. In a soft voice, he said, “Your Highness, please help me…”

He had only meant for Ji Wu to hand him his boots and socks. But unexpectedly, Ji Wu bent down and did it for him.

Stunned, Shen Xuefeng watched that hand grasp his ankle again, warm fingertips brushing against his tender skin, making him shiver slightly.

Having the future emperor put on his shoes and socks—he would never have dared imagine it before.

Feeling dazed, Shen Xuefeng thought vaguely, Maybe I really do have some talent for being a treacherous courtier…

Ji Wu’s expression remained calm as he finished. Seeing the boy still staring at him in a daze, he smiled faintly and asked in an unreadable tone, “Was it nice to watch?”

That snapped Shen Xuefeng back to reality. His cheeks flushed slightly, and he obediently hopped down from the stone on one leg.

Moonlight spilled down like silver.

The stone stairway grew narrower the deeper it went. Soon, not a single sliver of moonlight could reach them, and a faint, chilling wind blew steadily from within.

Shen Xuefeng was already feeling timid upon entering. The narrow steps could only fit one person at a time, so he couldn’t walk beside Ji Wu. Now trembling with fear, he dared only to cling quietly to Ji Wu’s arm like it was a hidden treasure.

He didn’t dare hold hands—what if Ji Wu hated that kind of behavior?

They descended one behind the other. Ji Wu’s boots clicked crisply against the stone steps.

The sound of their footsteps echoed far into the dark. Though they could barely see ahead, they could tell they were in a long, narrow corridor.

The air reeked terribly. Dust swirled thick in the stale air, making Shen Xuefeng cough uncontrollably, lips pressed to his sleeve. “Cough, cough—cough…”

When he coughed, an echo immediately responded from afar, sounding ethereal and hollow.

“Your Highness,” Shen Xuefeng pressed a hand to his chest, trying to steady his breath, “where does this path lead?”

Ji Wu said, “We’ll only know once we get there.”

They followed the passage to its end, where the surroundings suddenly became much clearer. On both sides of the stone walls, several ever-burning lamps were embedded. The candle flames flickered faintly, but they never went out.

Ji Wu’s gaze settled briefly on the gently swaying flames before silently retracting his gaze.

As they continued forward, the green stone bricks on the ground gradually darkened with moisture. Soon, puddles began to collect on the floor, the bricks cracked, and slippery moss grew in the crevices.

At the end of this path was a massive hall.

This hall, which appeared to have been abandoned long ago, had been submerged in water for some time. Cracked stone pillars stood at the four cardinal directions, barely supporting the structure. In the center of the hall, crystal vessels were arranged in a perfect square, each containing a long, narrow object.

Water trickled in the direction the two of them walked. Curious, Shen Xuefeng stepped into the water and approached to take a look—only to freeze in place after just one glance.

Those were not vessels at all. They were crystal coffins fashioned in the shape of vessels, each one containing a corpse. From a distance, the bodies appeared remarkably well-preserved, but the sight was eerie and unsettling.

Shen Xuefeng’s scalp tingled. He quickly backed away and hid behind Ji Wu, whispering, “Your Highness, I think we’ve accidentally barged into someone’s tomb.”

“We don’t know for sure if this is a tomb,” Ji Wu narrowed his eyes, “this place wasn’t constructed like a traditional mausoleum.”

After saying this, he showed no sign of fear and walked straight toward one of the coffins across the water.

Shen Xuefeng didn’t dare to be left alone, so he followed closely behind, covering his eyes with both hands and inching forward with difficulty.

Once they got closer, he shut his eyes tightly, waiting quietly for Ji Wu to speak. But a long moment passed with no sound.

After about a quarter of an hour, Shen Xuefeng cautiously opened his eyes and saw Ji Wu bent slightly, observing one of the crystal coffins with great interest.

What’s so fascinating about a corpse? It still just has two eyes and a mouth…

Though he thought this, he still moved to Ji Wu’s side and followed his gaze downward.

The coffin was layered, with an inner and outer casing, carefully constructed to protect the body. But the unique feature of the crystal was that no matter how many layers there were, one could still clearly see the corpse inside.

Shen Xuefeng squinted as he examined it, and when his gaze reached the face of the corpse, his eyes involuntarily widened.

“Your Highness, this person is—”

Inside the crystal coffin lay the body of a boy, around eleven or twelve years old, dressed in a four-clawed python robe. His body showed signs of dehydration, but thanks to some unknown method, the corpse remained uncorrupted.

The boy’s expression was peaceful, as if in deep sleep. What shocked Shen Xuefeng most was that the boy bore a striking resemblance to Ji Wu.

Could this boy be a relative of Ji Wu?

A chill wind seemed to blow from nowhere, sending a shiver down Shen Xuefeng’s back.

Ji Wu met his gaze and said slowly, “If the body inside this coffin isn’t a fake, then this is my royal brother.”

“Your—your brother?”

So this was the Second Prince? Just a boy around eleven or twelve?

Shen Xuefeng was amazed. “What a strange coincidence, that we stumbled upon Your Highness’s brother’s tomb by chance. But… why would he be buried here?”

It didn’t look like a water burial or an earth burial—just strange all around.

Ji Wu didn’t respond.

Shen Xuefeng thought back and realized he had never heard of this person before. During festivals and ceremonies, no one in the palace ever mentioned the Second Prince.

“Besides, shouldn’t the Second Prince be buried with proper rites in the imperial mausoleum at Mount Jiujun? And yet here he is, placed so haphazardly in the center of a hall, not even accompanied by a single burial item.” It all seemed rather crude.

Ji Wu caught a word: “Mount Jiujun?”

“Naturally, Mount Jiujun. My father personally oversaw the construction of the imperial tombs there. The mechanisms inside are marvels of design—I even secretly helped with part of the layout!” As he spoke, Shen Xuefeng’s almond-shaped eyes sparkled with pride.

“What a pity then,” Ji Wu said—though his tone lacked the slightest trace of regret—“the true bloodline of the Ji clan was never buried in Mount Jiujun.”

Shen Xuefeng was stunned. “But that tomb was built specifically for the royal family. If not there, where else would they be buried?”

If this question had been asked in the past, Ji Wu would never have known the answer. But now—

“They’re likely buried here, beneath some unknown valley at the base of Mount Cuihua.”

“You mean to say, all the coffins here… they’re all of royal lineage?” Shen Xuefeng mused. “Leaving them just out in the open like this—it’s kind of careless.”

Though Mount Cuihua was a maze-like terrain, hard to access and easy to defend, it still didn’t justify building such a crude tomb.

“If you don’t believe me, see for yourself,” Ji Wu said casually. “The Ji clan has always maintained two imperial mausoleums—one aboveground and one hidden. But only one is real. It’s not exactly a closely guarded royal secret.”

There was only one possible conclusion: they had accidentally discovered this hidden yin tomb.

Shen Xuefeng glanced around. In each of the neatly arranged coffins lay bodies dressed in dragon robes, symbols of the Son of Heaven. It seemed to support Ji Wu’s words.

“So… Your Highness’s grandfather, and his grandfather, and his great-grandfather… they’re all here?”

Ji Wu: “…Yes.”

Shen Xuefeng hesitated. “If this really is a royal mausoleum, then isn’t it bad for an outsider like me to know about it?”

As soon as he finished speaking, Ji Wu curled his lips into a cold smile and said darkly, “Shen Xuefeng is indeed quick-witted. Anyone who enters here without permission… there’s only one fate—death.”

“…”

Shen Xuefeng’s eyelid twitched just as Ji Wu lazily continued,
“But just like Xuefeng, I’m also someone who has trespassed into a forbidden place.”

He paused slightly, then chuckled.
“So we might die together.”

Did he have to make it sound so horrifying?

Shen Xuefeng clenched his sleeve tightly and quickly tried to change the subject.
“Haha, haha, Your Highness must be joking. You’re of royal blood—how can entering your own ancestral tomb be considered trespassing?”

Ji Wu went on,
“The Yang Tomb built on Mount Jiujun doesn’t carry such taboos, but the Yin Tomb is different.”

“Oh?” Shen Xuefeng’s curiosity was piqued. He couldn’t help leaning in to whisper,
“Your Highness, tell me secretly—what’s the difference?”

Even in the damp, gloomy air, the boy still carried a faint scent of patchouli, barely perceptible.

Ji Wu leaned down beside his ear and said clearly, word by word,
“Only the Crown Prince is allowed to enter the Yin Tomb. Anyone else—will be executed without mercy.”

Shen Xuefeng was startled at first, but then slowly relaxed.

Wasn’t this a happy accident?

Ji Wu was clearly the future Crown Prince. He was just coming here a little early to familiarize himself with the terrain. What was the harm in that? Touring his future burial site—it actually sounded perfectly reasonable.

But then he thought again—wait a minute, something didn’t add up.

Logically, he should remember a plot point this important. But from what he recalled, the events at Mount Cuihua mostly centered around Ji Changran. Ji Wu should still be lying low at this stage, not making public appearances.

He touched the area over his heart, telling himself to remain cautious.

Drip. Drip.

Two drops of water fell into the pool, sinking into the surface with a clear plop.

The previously still water of the pool suddenly began to ripple, as if something was silently moving beneath the surface.

Maybe he’d been underground too long, but Shen Xuefeng felt a bone-deep chill creeping over him. Fortunately, Ji Wu didn’t seem interested in the corpses resting in the coffins. Shen Xuefeng carefully tugged on Ji Wu’s sleeve,
“Your Highness, we should hurry and find a way out.”

Since there was flowing water in this tomb chamber and an ever-burning lantern, that meant there had to be an exit, right?

He took the lead, lifting the hem of his robe, now damp from the water, and waded step by step across the shallow cold pool.

At that moment, it felt as if an invisible hand had reached up from below, brushing up along his ankle and firmly gripping his calf.

Then it yanked—hard.

It grabbed right where he was already injured. Shen Xuefeng bit down hard on his lip from the pain, his right foot slipping, and he stumbled toward the crystal coffin of the Second Prince.

In a flash, Ji Wu reached out and caught him by the waist, one arm shielding the boy’s forehead just in time to prevent a disaster.

“Your Highness, I think something in the water grabbed me,” Shen Xuefeng squeezed his eyes shut, frozen in place, his voice shaking.
“N-no, wait—it’s crawling up, it’s inside my robe now!”

“Don’t move,” Ji Wu’s low voice came from above his head.

Shen Xuefeng watched as Ji Wu lifted his robe and reached inside. With a swift motion, a small, wriggling water snake burst out from under the surface. In just a moment, its slender neck gave a twist, and it fell limp in Ji Wu’s hand.

Ji Wu casually tossed the dead water snake aside like trash. He looked mildly displeased, though his tone remained as calm as ever:
“Why does Xuefeng always wander off?”

…How was that me running around? Shen Xuefeng grumbled inwardly. It was clearly that water snake crawling around on its own.

The next moment, Ji Wu slipped both hands around Shen Xuefeng’s waist and gently untied the silk sash of mulberry silk from his robes, then tied it in a knot around Shen Xuefeng’s wrist, holding the other end in his own hand.

“If it happens again, this sash won’t just be tied to your wrist,” Ji Wu said, his tone laced with a hint of threat.

Shen Xuefeng silently tightened the knot on his wrist, wishing he could stick to Ji Wu like glue. He hastily promised, “Don’t worry, Your Highness. I absolutely won’t move around again.”

As he shifted his wrist slightly and followed the trail of the sash with his gaze, he noticed blood seeping from Ji Wu’s arm, staining one corner of the sash.

“Your Highness, when did you get hurt?!” Shen Xuefeng turned around, and in the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of blood smudged on the transparent crystal coffin. His voice turned anxious. “Did I just injure you somehow?”

Ji Wu glanced coldly at his own arm.

He couldn’t even remember when he got the wound. Probably scraped it when tumbling down the mountainside. It must have been aggravated while moving around in the tomb, which is why it was bleeding again.

Just as Shen Xuefeng was growing more flustered, the crystal coffin beside them suddenly shifted.

Somehow, blood had seeped into a crevice of the coffin. Without a sound, the entire lid split cleanly in two and slid aside like a cleverly built mechanism. The inner coffin plank also cracked down the middle, and the body inside sat upright — stiff-backed, eyes closed, pale-faced, lips tightly pressed together.

It wasn’t exactly terrifying. If anything, it looked… a bit ridiculous.

Shen Xuefeng: “……”

Ji Wu: “……”

After years immersed in Shen Lan’s engineering education, Shen Xuefeng’s focus was abruptly diverted: “What’s going on? Why did the second prince suddenly sit up like that?”

Ji Wu glanced at the arm Shen Xuefeng had just released. His gaze darkened.

Shen Xuefeng straightened and moved closer to the coffin, looking like he was about to examine it thoroughly. Ji Wu, however, raised a hand and firmly pushed the corpse back down without a word, his voice cold: “Just a child of eleven or twelve. Nothing more than some gaudy mechanical trick.”

That push set off a reaction — the coffin began to shake violently. One triggered two, two triggered three, and soon the surrounding coffins began to shift in unison.

Then, all of them slowly slid to either side — deliberately clearing a path for them.

Shen Xuefeng was curious. What just happened?

It seemed the movement of the second prince’s body triggered the adjacent coffin. But what triggered him?

Shen Xuefeng pondered. Could it have been… His Highness’s blood?

While he was still mulling over the mystery, a sudden commotion erupted ahead.

He looked up to see the stone wall at the front of the ruined hall slowly shifting. A dry, well-lit passageway appeared before their eyes.

Before he could marvel at this strange twist of fate, Ji Wu had already stepped inside.

Shen Xuefeng hurried to follow. As soon as they entered, the stone wall behind them closed automatically, revealing what felt like an entirely new world.

They were now in an ancient temple. A solemn, mysterious statue stood silently smiling. Its left hand was raised, right hand lowered. The left hand was broken, while the right hand held what looked like half of a jade token.

On both sides of the temple, dozens of eternal lamps burned brightly, illuminating the space with flickering light.

Shen Xuefeng stepped forward behind Ji Wu — and his heart skipped a beat.

If he remembered correctly, that half jade token in the statue’s hand was the most, most, most, most, most OP, god-tier, ultra-cool item in the original game. Whoever possessed the full token could summon the Iron Slayer Cavalry — soldiers capable of taking on ten enemies each, loyal only to the one who held the jade token. Living, breathing human weapons of mass destruction.

…

But why on earth had such a brokenly overpowered military talisman been so easily found by Ji Wu?!

Shen Xuefeng was utterly stunned. If Ji Wu was already this overpowered, then just how insane would Ji Changran’s upcoming opportunity at Mount Cuihua be?!