The tunnel was dark, wet, and cold, but Jack kept running. His body was tired and his clothes were torn, yet his eyes were full of fire. He had finally found the place he had been searching for all these years. Behind him, angry footsteps and loud voices echoed closer and closer. The gang had not given up. They wanted the same treasure he was hunting.
Jack reached the end of the underground path. A wall of rocks stood in front of him. The stones were arranged in a strange pattern. He remembered every detail from his notes. This was the test. This puzzle protected the secret to the lost Yamashita gold.
His hands were shaking as he touched the rocks one by one. First the left. Then the center. Then three taps on the cracked stone. And finally, the slightly twisted rock at the top. He pushed it with all his strength.
The wall trembled and a hidden opening appeared. Jack stepped back, shocked and relieved at the same time. Inside was an old metal box, covered with dirt and scratches from time. He opened it carefully, as if opening the box meant opening his destiny.
Inside the box was a map. It was old, brown, and marked with strange symbols, but it was clear enough to understand. It was the final clue to the lost Yamashita gold.
Jack didn't smile. He didn't scream. He only whispered one word that carried all the love he had.
"Hero."
At that moment, someone shouted from behind.
"He found it!"
Gunfire exploded inside the tunnel. Rocks broke and dust flew everywhere. Jack grabbed the map and ran to the other exit of the ruins, but someone was already waiting for him. A dark figure stepped forward and pointed a gun straight at Jack's chest.
"You should have walked away, Jack," the man said in a calm voice. "You can't protect the truth. The treasure will never belong to you."
Jack stared at him without fear. "Gold belongs to no one. But my son deserves to know what happened."
A gunshot echoed. Jack's body fell to the ground. The map slipped out of his jacket and disappeared into darkness with him. The tunnel became silent once again.
Twenty years later.
Hero sat alone in his small office. He was now a journalist, but he never forgot who he really was inside. He always had the spirit of an adventurer, but unlike his father, Hero tried to hide it. Every story he wrote was about truth, hidden events, and missing people. His co-workers said he was too serious. They told him he should write lighter topics, but he never listened.
Hero had dark hair that always looked slightly messy, like he was constantly thinking of something important. His eyes were sharp, the kind of eyes that notice small things that others ignore. He barely smiled, but he had a warm heart. He was the kind of man who would risk everything when he believed something was right. He spent years searching for clues about his father, but every lead felt unfinished, incomplete, and frustrating.
Today was his father's birthday. Hero could not stop thinking about him, so he drove back to their old family house. No one had lived there since Jack's death. Dust covered every corner. The silent walls felt heavy, but Hero walked inside, determined.
While he was inside the old library room, something strange happened. A wooden tile on the floor moved under his foot, making a soft click. The tall bookshelf beside him slowly shifted to the side. Behind it was a hidden doorway.
Hero's heart raced. He followed the narrow passage until he reached a secret room underground. Everything inside was untouched, as if his father had left only yesterday.
There were old photos of gold statues, buildings, and tunnels. There were maps covered in notes and red circles. There were pages of research about the lost Yamashita gold. But what caught Hero's eyes the most was the compass lying on the desk. It was his father's. It still had dried blood on it.
Hero stepped forward slowly and touched the compass with shaking hands. He didn't cry, but his heart felt heavy and hot.
"Dad… you didn't die by accident. Someone murdered you."
He began taking everything he could carry. Maps, journals, printed photos, notebooks, and every clue left behind. He knew exactly what this room meant. His father didn't fail. His father found the truth, and someone killed him for it.
Hero didn't pack as a treasure hunter. He packed as a son searching for justice.
He looked around the room one last time and spoke softly.
"I'm not afraid. I'll finish what you started."
Hero walked up the stairs, left the house, and disappeared into the night. His mind was calm, but his heart was burning. He already knew what he had to do next.
The hunt for the lost Yamashita gold had begun.