Twelve hours later.

Sophia Laurent and Frederick Vanderbilt's convoy arrived at the ancient northwestern city.

The weathered city walls bore the marks of centuries, whispering tales of a thousand years.

The Vanderbilt family cemetery lay at the foot of Phoenix Peak in the northern outskirts.

From a distance, the mountain resembled a phoenix spreading its wings—an exact match to the treasure map's illustration.

"It's definitely here," Sophia murmured.

Frederick tucked away the treasure map photo on his phone. "Our ancestors' clues never lie."

They rested overnight at the finest local hotel.

At dawn the next day, the convoy headed toward Phoenix Peak.

Amidst the surrounding mountains, Phoenix Peak stood distinct.

The mirror-like lake at its base reflected the summit perfectly.

"This is the Commander's Peak feng shui formation," Sophia observed, studying the distant ridges.

Frederick nodded. "Our ancestors did produce military strategists."

At the family cemetery, a problem arose.

The pine tree marked on the map had long vanished.

Newly planted trees altered the original layout, obscuring the location of the crucial cross symbol.

"We need an expert." Sophia dialed Iris Evans.

Iris's cheerful voice answered. "I recommend my brother Shane Prescott. He's a master at locating burial sites."

"Shane?" Sophia blinked in surprise.

Simultaneously, Frederick lowered his phone. "Kyle Grant recommended Silas Prescott's son—Shane."

They exchanged knowing smiles.

Shane arrived faster than expected.

His towering frame carried an oversized hiking pack with military precision.

The olive-green T-shirt hinted at defined muscles beneath.

His bronzed skin accentuated sharp, angular features.

Those eyes commanded attention—pitch-black, slightly upturned at the corners.

"Let's begin." Shane wasted no words.

From his pack, he assembled a three-meter-long Luoyang shovel with practiced ease.

"You three—run back and forth." He directed the bodyguards.

Meanwhile, he pressed his ear to the ground, listening intently.

Sophia noticed his subtle ear movements—like a panther sensing prey.

Thirty minutes later, Shane stood abruptly.

The shovel plunged into a precise spot.

"Here." His voice rumbled.

As Frederick prepared excavation orders, Shane glanced skyward. "Wait till nightfall."

"No need." Frederick dismissed the concern.

After transferring $100,000, Shane packed his tools to leave.

Pausing, he studied Sophia. "Iris's friend?"

At her confirmation, he said cryptically, "This place gets restless after dark."

Dusk draped Phoenix Peak in eerie shadows.

Sophia tightened her jacket unconsciously.

"Stay safe," she told Frederick.

The old man waved dismissively. "I brought enough manpower."

During the return trip, Shane maintained a careful distance.

At the parking lot, he suddenly spoke. "You restore antiques?"

Sophia halted warily. "Only items delivered to my studio."

Shane pulled out his phone. "Your number."

His fingertips bore calluses from years of shovel work.

Their elongated shadows intertwined on the cobblestone path, painted gold by the setting sun.