Since they were going to see Yanluo, Shen Gun absolutely couldn’t be left out. Meng Qianzi sent someone nimble-footed back to notify him while she led the others following Jiang Lian forward, marking the trail with stones or inserted branches along the way.

Wubai Alley wasn’t small in area, but like most cities, only certain sections were suitable for habitation. Apart from the “alleys” with slightly larger flat areas, other narrow lands hadn’t been visited for three to five years, even when the place wasn’t abandoned, let alone now.

Seeing that they were walking into increasingly remote areas, Lu Sanming asked curiously: “Can people live in places like this?”

Jiang Lian replied: “That depends on what kind of ‘living’ requirements this person has.”

Listening from the side, Meng Qianzi felt contemplative, thinking that Yanluo truly had no requirements for living conditions. But she was genuinely puzzled: that black-hearted advisor who once pursued wealth and profit, abandoning his wife and children to live in seclusion, after so many “sacrifices,” wasn’t it all for the better enjoyment of life? How had he ended up in such a state?

After walking for about half an hour more, Jiang Lian stopped and pointed toward the middle of a nearby zongzi-shaped mountain, saying: “There.”

Everyone looked in that direction but didn’t notice anything unusual. These zongzi mountains, with their thin mud covering, couldn’t support tall trees. They were covered with short grass and damp moss. This season was when vegetation flourished exuberantly, growing vigorously, wrapping the mountain in a lush green blanket.

Meng Qianzi knew there must be something unusual. She took a telescope and examined the mountainside carefully. After a moment, she exclaimed, “Ah!”

The principle was the same as the green cover on the cliff at Xuandanfeng Forest—that spot wasn’t solid but had an opening concealed by vines and branches. Without someone pointing it out, plus the telescope’s magnification, they wouldn’t have noticed it.

Climbing the mountain proved challenging. This type of mountain wasn’t meant for climbing. Tang Zhuang went up first, lowering a long rope from the opening as a simple handhold, making it relatively easier for the others to ascend.

At the entrance, Meng Qianzi pulled aside the green covering, expecting to see a cave with a small mouth and a large interior. Instead, she found only a passage two or three meters long, just wide enough for one person to crawl through, and they would need to keep their heads down to avoid hitting them.

Before she could ask, Jiang Lian explained: “Legs first, inch your way in. When you reach the end, just go straight down. The cave is below, though it’s not large. Those not directly involved shouldn’t all enter.”

With that, he went in first.

Now she understood. The cave’s structure resembled blowing bubbles with a straw, with the “big bubble” attached below the end.

Meng Qianzi went second. Before entering, she raised her telescope to look back, spotting Shen Gun in the distance among the scattered zongzi mountains. He was riding a mule, looking anxious, repeatedly urging it forward, obviously afraid of missing something crucial—the mule handlers and others lagged behind him.

Meng Qianzi estimated the distance: no time to wait for him; she would look first.

Following Jiang Lian’s method, she squeezed into the passage. At the end, her feet met the space. Prepared for this, she braced against the edge with her hands and jumped down lightly.

Jiang Lian had been waiting for her, sitting composedly. Seeing her arrive, he didn’t say much, just jerked his chin toward a corner, indicating she should look for herself.

Meng Qianzi looked in that direction. Her first thought was comically summed up in four characters:

Transforming metal warrior!

During the years when the “Transformers” movies were popular, many enthusiasts online attempted imitations. But since steel materials were difficult to work with, they settled for approximations—for instance, putting cardboard boxes on arms, legs, torso, and head created a poor man’s cosplay.

Yanluo was similar, except he didn’t use cardboard boxes but a frame welded together from iron bars.

More precisely, Yanluo lay inside a human-shaped iron bar frame.

Meng Qianzi saw his chest rise and fall, indicating normal breathing. “What is he…?”

Jiang Lian said, “I knocked him unconscious.”

So that’s what happened. Meng Qianzi examined the frame carefully, increasingly feeling that it was a variant of a coffin.

A coffin is rectangular, while this was human-shaped, with dedicated frame positions for the head, arms, and legs. Once inside, movement was severely restricted.

A coffin has top and bottom pieces that close together; this had the same.

A coffin is enclosed on all sides; this one, being made of welded iron bars with spaces between them, allowed Meng Qianzi to see Yanluo lying inside.

That wasn’t all. The human-shaped iron frame had seven or eight chains connecting to the stone wall, which had pulley and gear mechanisms. Meng Qianzi also spotted an electric bell—considering there was no electricity here, it must run on batteries.

Looking around the cave, there were indeed signs of habitation, along with some particularly worn items. Meng Qianzi intuited they must have been scavenged from abandoned Wubai Alley.

She had a rough concept in mind, but became increasingly confused. She turned to Jiang Lian: “As you tracked him here, what did you see?”

Tracking Yanluo hadn’t been difficult for Jiang Lian, as Yanluo wasn’t particularly skilled. Before entering the cave, Jiang Lian hadn’t known this person was Yanluo—in the pitch-dark, who could recognize whom?

When he reached the cave entrance, he patiently waited outside until he was sure the person hadn’t noticed him. Seeing a faint light from the end of the passage, he crawled through.

The passage end had a wooden cover with several holes drilled in it, presumably for ventilation. Jiang Lian peered through these holes.

First, he saw a candle lit in a corner of the stone cave, only about two finger joints in length.

Then he saw a dripping wet person.

Truly dripping wet—though not dramatically so, with water streaming down his entire body, it was obvious he had been immersed in water. Jiang Lian immediately recalled the frightened mule handler who had insisted he saw someone floating underwater, only to be mercilessly mocked by the accompanying mountain dweller.

This meant that previously, this person had been… swimming?

He quickly corrected himself: Who would swim in a muddy pond where mules drank? This person must have been “soaking” himself.

But soon he stopped debating whether the person was swimming or soaking, because he recognized the face.

It was Yanluo!

Jiang Lian had personally drawn his facial features and had used computers to generate his appearance at different ages. He was extremely familiar with this face, having viewed it repeatedly, and was confident in his identification.

Yanluo now appeared to be in his forties or fifties, meaning that, if Shen Gun’s conjecture was correct, Yanluo had “given birth” to a younger, prime version of himself at the crematorium.

At first glance, Yanluo’s expression seemed unstable, possibly disturbed by the unexpected visitors—the mountain ghosts. After pacing worriedly for a few steps, he prepared to sleep. He initially considered blowing out the candle, but, seeing how little remained, probably couldn’t be bothered. Instead, he lay down directly.

The cave was a bit cool, but since it was late summer, sleeping on the ground without a pillow or blanket was tolerable. But lying inside a human-shaped iron frame—what was that about?

At that moment, Yanluo reached out to pull a chain connected to the iron frame.

A harsh electric bell suddenly rang out. Jiang Lian froze, his scalp tingling, thinking he had been discovered. But soon he heard the clanking of chains, followed by another human-shaped iron frame slowly descending from the cave ceiling, apparently designed to fit together with the one below.

Yanluo, as if accustomed to this, had already closed his eyes, not even glancing at the descending frame.

…

Meng Qianzi had been listening quietly until this point before interjecting: “So it’s two iron frames that fit together?”

Jiang Lian nodded, gesturing for her to look closely: “See how he’s perfectly framed in the middle? It’s similar to a coffin—he lies inside, then uses a simple mechanism to lower the cover.”

Meng Qianzi frowned: “But why have a… bedtime bell? He lives alone and doesn’t need to remind anyone.”

Jiang Lian smiled: “I was puzzled about that for a long time. After careful examination, I realized it might be due to Yanluo’s limited abilities—this mechanism was the best he could design. When pulling the corresponding chain, the upper frame would rise or fall, making the electric bell ring. What he needed wasn’t a bell at bedtime, but rather…”

Meng Qianzi continued: “Rather… a bell when waking up?”

But that didn’t make sense either. This electric bell was the most basic type, without timer functionality. It could only ring if Yanluo woke up and pulled the chain himself to raise the upper frame. If he was already awake, why need an alarm?

Jiang Lian said, “Don’t rush. Listen as I continue—this is the most bizarre part of the whole affair…”

Before he could finish, a head suddenly appeared at the cave entrance, shouting anxiously: “What’s bizarre? What’s bizarre about it?”

Shen Gun might arrive late, but he would never fail to arrive.

Since Jiang Lian had mentioned that “the space below isn’t large; those not directly involved shouldn’t all enter,” Lu Sanming thought it proper to be considerate. He kept his people guarding outside, ready to respond to any sound from within.

When Shen Gun arrived in a hurry and heard people were inside the cave, he immediately scrambled in, moving so quickly that Lu Sanming couldn’t even say “legs first” in time.

So his head came down first.

This was awkward—legs first allowed for jumping down, but head first…

Neither Jiang Lian nor Meng Qianzi made any move to help him, letting him hang there like a large gourd growing from the cave ceiling.

Jiang Lian didn’t explain the previous events to Shen Gun—that’s what he got for being late.

He continued his narrative.

Jiang Lian hadn’t acted rashly or disturbed Yanluo. He intuited that for someone to go to such lengths to confine themselves in an iron frame while sleeping, there must be a reason.

He wanted to wait for that reason to reveal itself.

So he patiently remained prone, enduring minute by minute, until the candle extinguished and Yanluo’s snores filled the air. Yet everything seemed normal.

On second thought, Jiang Lian realized how foolish it was to keep watching someone sleep: if Yanluo slept until dawn, would he stay there all night? Besides, he had been gone long enough that Meng Qianzi would likely be worried.

He considered it safer to bind Yanluo first, then return to get the others.

So he slowly backed out, head first, planning to reverse direction before re-entering.

After retreating about one-third of the way, he sensed something was wrong.

The snoring had stopped.

Not only had it stopped, but a throat-clearing cough could be heard.

Had he… awakened?

Jiang Lian crawled back to see what was happening below. He pressed his eye to the hole, only to realize his foolishness: the candle had gone out, making it too dark to see.

Fortunately, having been in the passage for a while, his eyes had somewhat adjusted. He could dimly make out Yanluo’s head swaying side to side, making strange humming sounds, with fingernails constantly scratching at the iron frame—unsettling to hear.

What was going on? How had Yanluo suddenly changed, as if becoming a different person?

Jiang Lian desperately wanted to see what was happening. After brief consideration, he decisively pulled out a portable light stick, quickly broke it to activate it, lifted the wooden cover slightly, tossed it in, and immediately replaced the cover.

Shen Gun inhaled sharply upon hearing this and said, “Little Lian Lian, your courage is too great! And why did you replace the cover? Isn’t that like taking off your pants…” Suddenly remembering a lady was present, he opted for more refined wording: “…an unnecessary action?”

Jiang Lian smiled: “I thought at the time, he’s alone, and the cave has only one exit, which I was blocking. I wasn’t afraid of alerting him; I just didn’t want to reveal myself immediately. I wanted to observe how Yanluo would react.”

In a sense, a person’s reaction to unexpected situations somewhat reflects their capabilities—if Yanluo had screamed and trembled, he would be no threat at all.

The light stick emitted a pale green glow, coating the entire cave with a faint green luminescence.

Jiang Lian saw Yanluo freeze momentarily, looking puzzled at the cover—yet the cover remained silent, with no intruder appearing.

He then stared at the light stick, with an expression…

Jiang Lian found it difficult to describe, but had a strong intuition: this wasn’t the same Yanluo as before.

The previous Yanluo had been worried, sorrowful, and dull, but this one gave an impression of cunning, intelligence, nonchalance, and self-satisfaction.

Jiang Lian decided not to wait any longer, nor did he have time to change direction—he jumped straight down, flipping in mid-air to right himself. When he landed, Yanluo startled, staring at him directly, his face showing fear and uncertainty.

Jiang Lian approached step by step, noticing that Yanluo kept looking at the chain beside his hand. Logically, if he pulled it, the iron frame would lift, freeing him from his restraint. Why did he only look without pulling?

Jiang Lian asked: “Who are you? Are you Yanluo?”

Yanluo didn’t answer, only smiling eerily. Jiang Lian had never encountered such a situation. Steeling himself, he threatened harshly: “You won’t talk? Do you believe I’ll…”

At that point, another bizarre event occurred.

Yanluo’s body twitched, like someone disturbed during sleep, on the verge of waking but not yet awake.

Then, Yanluo’s eyeballs rotated rapidly—a truly terrifying sight. Several times, they rolled back until only the whites showed. Despite his courage, Jiang Lian broke into a cold sweat. Before he could process this, the rolling stopped.

This time, fearful eyes looked back at him, truly the previous Yanluo’s expression. He opened his mouth wide as if to shout, but could only make guttural sounds.

A thought flashed through Jiang Lian’s mind. He quickly grabbed Yanluo’s jaw, forcing his mouth open, only to discover that his tongue had been cut out at the root.

The electric bell rang as Yanluo triggered the chain during his struggle. Jiang Lian swiftly knocked him unconscious with a punch, then pulled another chain to lower the iron frame that had just risen.

This explained why he said the mission was “extremely smooth”—indeed, from start to finish, his only exertion was that single punch.

While Jiang Lian narrated, Meng Qianzi, concerned that Yanluo might be feigning unconsciousness, checked his eyelids several times to confirm he was truly out cold.

After the narration concluded, the room fell silent.

Shen Gun, uncomfortable hanging his head down, had already withdrawn. Now, only his voice floated down from the entrance: “Two people—it does feel like two people.”

Jiang Lian nodded, looking at Meng Qianzi: “I suspect Yanluo knows about this. He constrains himself in the iron frame and sets up the electric bell to prevent the other one from wandering freely—because if the other one pulls the chain, the bell will ring, waking the original Yanluo, just as my loud threat woke him.”

Meng Qianzi suddenly understood. She looked at the still unconscious Yanluo: “Is this… a dual personality? Through rebirth, he gained another personality?”

Jiang Lian pondered: “It doesn’t seem like it. He’s confined himself so severely, using an iron frame and electric bell, as if facing a great enemy…”

Shen Gun’s head reappeared: “It could be a dual personality, or it could be two different people. Don’t assume two different people can’t share one body. I know a friend, Old Shi, who lived with me and experienced such a thing. His situation was even worse…”

He vividly described: “At least for Yanluo, he’s himself when awake, and the other only emerges during sleep. For our Old Shi, it was terrifying—the two individuals coexisted. When conscious, they would argue—one making this expression, the other making that expression, one shouting halfway through, suddenly changing to the other’s voice. A face simply couldn’t withstand such distortion. Over time, his face became horrifying, like two faces overlapping, or split down the middle. People called him ‘Yin-Yang Face’…”

He continued exclaiming for quite a while before realizing he had digressed. Getting back on topic: “To understand what’s happening, wake Yanluo up. Got any cold water? Just splash him awake and ask. His tongue may be gone, but he can write. He’s an educated man—since he recognized Baishi Laoren’s paintings, he certainly can write…”

At this point, he managed to turn his head, calling outward.

After a while, Pixiu’s voice faintly transmitted through the passage: “There’s no water nearby, not even a water tank. What does Miss Meng need it for? Is dirty water acceptable?”

Meng Qianzi responded irritably: “Yes, even if it’s filthy.”

“Then… would mule urine work?”

Meng Qianzi paused briefly, then nodded: “That will do.”

This Yanluo had robbed and murdered the Kuang family, had significant connections to her Grandma Duan’s death, and had indirectly caused the crematorium worker Da Fei’s death. A ladleful of mule urine as warm-up would let him know that heavenly principles were clear, retribution is infallible—no matter how many years delayed, regardless of rebirth, what you deserve to suffer, you ultimately will suffer.