Zheng Rong quickly descended the floating bridge with Xiang Yu.

"I..." Xiang Yu asked, "I still don't understand. Are we in two different locations than where we were standing just now?"

“No, let me use a metaphor,” Zheng Rong explained as he walked. “Imagine you're standing in an open field. You close your eyes, and when you open them, you find yourself in a city. Would you feel like you’ve been transported?”

Xiang Yu nodded in confusion. Zheng Rong continued, “Now assume you’re standing in one spot, never taking a step. Thousands of years ago, it was a city that was later destroyed, leaving flat land that eventually became overgrown with plants. If time were to shift, what you'd see is the scenery from thousands of years ago.”

Xiang Yu finally understood. “So, the place doesn't change—only time does.”

“Exactly,” Zheng Rong gestured. “Time is like a river, and when we step into it, it washes back and forth. This movement could span minutes, years, or even thousands of years.”

“But then why don’t we disappear?” Xiang Yu asked.

“In all theoretical models of time, there’s a paradox, and that paradox is what makes time travel impossible,” Zheng Rong replied.

“When a closed model is constructed, and an external variable enters—like a person who starts to observe—it raises the question of whether this new variable will interact with the model’s time or remain independent.”

“At the moment, time in our bodies and in the space within the tower are two separate systems. The time flowing through us is forward-moving; using you and me as a point of reference, we don't grow younger or vanish as the tower's time rewinds. On the other hand, the tower’s time affects only things that originally exist within it.”

“To put it more simply, you might see a brick from thirty years ago...” Zheng Rong pointed to the tiles in front of the two sculptures near the floating bridge, “...and another one from a hundred years ago.”

“And we are still the people who entered the tower at that moment. What we just saw was not ourselves, but the light reflecting off our bodies after we stepped into the tower.”

Xiang Yu finally understood fully, and Zheng Rong continued:

“When we moved up ten meters, light reflected off our bodies and was temporarily caught by the tower’s cyclic time. It wasn't until we reached the fifty-meter mark that we observed ourselves again from a specific angle. Since the speed of light and sound are different, we could only see people, but couldn’t hear any sound.”

“The disappearance of Lance and the others happened because we were standing at the central point of the tower at a high elevation.”

“They passed the tower’s center,” Zheng Rong explained further. “With the whole tower's center as the focal point, the time at the far end of the floating bridge reached its limit and reversed for the first time. That's why we couldn't see the light reflecting off their bodies or hear their voices. The rope was cut cleanly, leaving a small portion in our time and the majority in theirs.”

Zheng Rong stood at the tower entrance. The time outside had shifted. He took a telescopic stand from Xiang Yu’s military bag and placed it at the center of the tower’s entrance. The setting sun cast its shadow slanted across the ground.

“Follow me,” Zheng Rong instructed. “Use the angle of the sundial as our reference point. Connect me to the teacher,” he said into the communicator.

“Copy,” came the reply.

Xiang Yu held the communicator for him, and Zheng Rong asked, “What’s the cycle of a single time flow reversal?”

“The cycle is twenty-four hours, relative to external time,” the communicator responded. “The closer you are to the tower's center, the shorter the oscillation period.”

Zheng Rong exhaled. “Connect me to Joseph. I’m near the first machine.”

They stood beside the closest sculpture.

“We entered at noon,” Zheng Rong said. “So we need to stop all the machines when the sundial’s shadow is shortest... Joseph, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Zheng Rong,” Joseph said, laughing. “It sounds like you’re having some trouble.”

“Believe me, I can handle it,” Zheng Rong replied. “We need to turn off the machines now. I think there might be a switch... Please find the 2007 edition of the Sumerian Vocabulary Handbook. Damn, it’s a book Eve compiled.”

Joseph answered from the other end, “Ah, I’ve attended her lectures. What page?”

“There’s only one line of cuneiform here,” Zheng Rong explained. “There's a symbol on the base—it's the Wheel of Fate… orange-yellow. What does that represent? The cuneiform symbols are on page eleven, line six, character three, and page seventeen, line one, character five…”

Joseph noted it down as Zheng Rong quickly dictated the rest of the symbols on the base.

Joseph struggled. “It doesn’t seem to be instructions... This is quite puzzling…”

“Translate it literally,” Zheng Rong insisted.

Joseph hesitated. “Path, god, dwelling, attempt…”

Xiang Yu studied it for a moment and then abruptly turned his head.

“What’s wrong?” Zheng Rong sensed something was amiss.

Xiang Yu was staring intently at the sculpture on the opposite side of the tower. “There... is someone over there?”

Zheng Rong stood up and followed Xiang Yu’s line of sight, but saw nothing.

Xiang Yu observed for a while longer, then squatted down. He noticed that the orange symbol on the sculpture’s base seemed to move, so he tried pushing it with his finger. The switch recessed into the base, and a deep rumbling sounded as all twelve sculptures simultaneously rotated.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Zheng Rong: “...”

Xiang Yu: “...”

Joseph: “What was that noise?”

Zheng Rong closed his notebook, tossed it to Xiang Yu, and said into the communicator, “You’re done here, Joseph.”

“Activate all the mechanisms,” Zheng Rong commanded, running toward the next sculpture.

“Wait! Zheng Rong!” Xiang Yu shouted suddenly.

Zheng Rong and Xiang Yu's steps overlapped as they stepped over two different floor tiles. As Zheng Rong turned back, his expression froze in surprise as if he suddenly remembered something.

But he was already in motion, unable to stop. He stepped into a different zone and vanished before Xiang Yu's eyes.

Xiang Yu stood stunned, staring blankly for a long moment before yelling, “Zheng Rong!”

No one answered; only Xiang Yu remained.

The communicator crackled faintly, along with a distant rumbling. Xiang Yu furrowed his brow, squinting into the distance.

“What’s happening over there?” he asked.

“Oh no…” Joseph’s voice was trembling. “It’s not good. Zheng Rong, are you there?”

“He’s gone!” Xiang Yu shouted.

Collecting his thoughts, Xiang Yu shut off the communicator and ran to the next sculpture. He recalled Zheng Rong’s words repeatedly in his mind.

He pressed the second symbol, then immediately stood up, racing back and forth between the twelve sculptures inside the tower. Every time he activated a mechanism, the sculpture would rotate by a small degree, until finally reaching the last one.

Xiang Yu clearly remembered Zheng Rong’s instructions about the time and the sundial. He nervously watched the night outside the tower.

The night faded, and dusk fell. Time began to flow strangely backward, and the sundial's shadow lengthened. Xiang Yu knelt before the statue and suddenly looked back.

He saw himself and Zheng Rong standing at the first sculpture.

“Zheng Rong!” Xiang Yu couldn't hold back and shouted.

The past Xiang Yu seemed to hear, suddenly turning his head, looking across time, and locking eyes with the present Xiang Yu.

Regaining his composure, Xiang Yu called out to them, “Press the mechanism under the pedestal!”

Then, the past Xiang Yu and Zheng Rong vanished.

As the sundial’s shadow shortened, reaching noon, Xiang Yu pressed the final symbol.

With a loud boom, all twelve sculptures returned to their original positions.

Xiang Yu quickly stepped aside, and the symbols on the bases of the sculptures emitted different colors of light, all converging toward the center of the Tower of Babel. The beams formed a sparkling ring, crackling with electric energy, and within the ring, a pedestal-like altar appeared!

A silver-glowing circular box materialized on top of the pedestal.

“Did you activate all the mechanisms?” Zheng Rong’s voice came.

Xiang Yu breathed a sigh of relief, glancing around and looking up before shouting, “Lance!”

“What’s going on?”

The helicopter engine roared as it hovered above the Tower of Babel. “Zheng Rong, Xiang Yu, do you hear me?” Lance called.

“We’re fine!” Zheng Rong looked up and said. “What about you? Come down!”

“We left the tower as soon as you disappeared! We’re searching by helicopter!” Lance shouted back.

Zheng Rong walked over to Xiang Yu, who asked, “Is it really you now?”

Zheng Rong smiled. “Of course.”

Wiping away sweat, Xiang Yu explained, “I remembered you said to turn everything on. What are you doing? Is it all finished now?”

“This device connects the focal points of the two light cones. It collects all the light and particles, gathering time towards itself. Originally, it was invisible, but now that we see it, the time tide should have stopped.”

Xiang Yu gripped Zheng Rong’s hand firmly to confirm it was really him. “What were you doing when you disappeared?”

“Waiting,” Zheng Rong said. “Waiting for you to turn off the machines.”

“I thought you were shutting them down too,” Xiang Yu replied.

Zheng Rong chuckled. “I knew you’d turn them off. I didn’t dare intervene… If we both operated them at the same time, toggling the mechanisms on and off could have… well, it’s a good thing you didn’t sit around.”

“What would have happened?” Xiang Yu asked.

“It would’ve caused an explosion,” Zheng Rong explained. “A massive one, destroying everything—similar to a particle generator my brother once found.”

As the rest of the team descended, Zheng Rong announced, “It’s safe now. The anomaly was caused by this, and there will be no more mazes in the city.”

They quietly stared at the circular box on the altar. It wasn’t even the size of a palm. Zheng Rong approached it, observing closely.

“Should we take it down?” Xiang Yu asked.

“Is this a particle converter?” Lance asked.

Zheng Rong nodded. “You’ve seen one too? My brother speculated that it was an alien device left in history when he first saw it.”

“This needs to be handed over to the military right away. It’s extremely important,” Lance said.

“Hold on a moment. Give me the communicator,” Zheng Rong said.

When he pressed the communicator, only static crackled from the other side. Frowning, Zheng Rong spoke, “This is Zheng Rong. The exploration of the Tower of Babel is over. Alaska, please respond.”

“We’ve found another particle converter. Alaska, please provide the next instructions.”

Only dissonant static replied, as if something on the other end was shrieking. The sound of metal grinding was endless, as if the transmission was being jammed.

“Interference?” Zheng Rong put away the communicator and examined the metal box before reaching out to take it—only to be stopped by Xiang Yu.

Lance stepped forward and picked up the metal box, which felt surprisingly light.

Where the box had been, the altar revealed a movable disk engraved with twelve symbols.

“This might be the most important thing,” Zheng Rong murmured.

“Don’t mess with it,” Hugos said, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“Where’s the old lady?” Zheng Rong asked.

“She... wasn’t feeling well and stayed in the helicopter,” Anthony replied.

Zheng Rong shrugged regretfully. Jin Puai examined the disk carefully. “This seems to be a kind of activator.”

Nodding, Zheng Rong observed the bases of the minotaur sculptures around them. He adjusted the disk's angle to align the symbols on the disk with those on the sculptures. With a click, it sounded as if some mechanism had been triggered underneath the altar.

“Careful!” Xiang Yu warned.

Zheng Rong stepped back, but nothing happened.

The surroundings remained silent, and Zheng Rong said, “Put the box back and see what happens.”

Xiang Yu placed the metal box back at the center of the altar.

The box hummed, reactivating as the tower began to rotate rapidly. Bricks scattered and crumbled, disappearing into the void beyond. The sky cleared, sunlight poured down, and the indistinct scenery faded, revealing an endless expanse of fertile land.

At last, the legendary Hanging Gardens of Babylon appeared before them. Floating terraces came into view, surrounded by birds, flowers, and crystal-clear skies. The vast plains were covered in the green of spring.

Floating buildings hung suspended in the air, waterfalls shimmering with sunlight cascaded freely, and all around were beautiful stone pools. The area was so tranquil it resembled Eden itself.

The team stood around the altar, looking around in amazement.

“Welcome to four-thousand-year-old... ancient Babylon’s Hanging Gardens,” Zheng Rong said. “Set up camp. We’ll rest for a bit before continuing the exploration.”

Lance stowed away the particle converter. “Careful with that; don’t damage it. We’ll need it to open the channel when we leave.”

“Joseph, can you hear me?” Zheng Rong pressed the communicator.

Only static answered.

Hugos took out his camera, the flash flickering continuously. Zheng Rong stood before a large gate supported by white stone columns, examining the cuneiform written on it.

“Brother, do you remember those characters?” Zheng Rong asked. “The words on the statue bases are almost identical to these. How did Joseph translate them?”

Xiang Yu thought for a moment. “God, dwelling.”

“Attempt, path,” Zheng Rong added, furrowing his brow in thought. “But there’s one character missing. Which one is it? I think it should be ‘path.’”

The team gathered around, looking up at the majestic stone gate. Beyond it was a high bridge that soared into the air, connecting to the grand plaza of the Hanging Gardens.

“Guess the wordplay. God, dwelling, attempt—what could it form?” Zheng Rong asked.

Anthony shrugged. “Those who attempt to enter the gods’ dwelling are cursed?”

“No, I think it’s...” Zheng Rong’s eyes lit up.

“The Laboratory of the Gods.”