Prologue

Not even this fierce wind and rain could drown out the alternating cries of two infants beneath the thatched shelter.

The stone idol carved with the characters for “Mountain God” had long since split in two. The Mountain God’s upper half tilted helplessly in the muddy ground, its surface overgrown with dark green moss — it couldn’t even protect itself. No one came to this desolate mountain — not even woodcutters. They said too many wolves, tigers, leopards, and mountain spirits lurked here. Whenever rain fell, mountain floods would surge through, leaving nothing alive behind.

A young man in plain white robes leaped down from a snow-white steed. Before the crudely erected shelter could be blown apart by the raging wind, he reached inside and lifted out two swaddled infants.

Cradled in his arms, two apple-cheeked little faces had turned bright red, their soft little fists clenching with all their might, tears streaming freely. Even the white horse turned its head to look. The rain, as if infected by their cries, fell harder and harder.

The man secured one infant on his back and held the other against his chest, then mounted the horse, cast a glance toward the pile of scattered stones behind the shelter, and rode away.

The white horse was swift as the wind, and like its master, not a single drop of rain touched it. The howling storm, like a mouse before a cat, scattered and dared not offend.

Until the white figure of horse and rider vanished at the mountain road’s end, only then did the rustle of garments emerge from behind the stones — a young woman leaned back against the rock pile and slowly sank down. One hand pressed over her mouth, she forced herself not to cry aloud. Her coarse hemp hairpin and plain cloth skirt were no different from an ordinary village woman’s. Yet her face, even without any powder or rouge, made it impossible for anyone to look away.

Time was cut into formless fragments by the rain, making its passage imperceptible. Not until dusk descended did she finally rise, wipe the tears from her face, draw a deep breath, and sweep away that desolate, grief-stricken expression in an instant. In its place came a faint, shallow smile. She straightened her slender frame and walked slowly into the dense forest.

In the distance, the white horse galloped along a deserted, rugged road. Gradually, all four hooves lifted from the ground. Into the howling wind and driving rain it charged, surging into the highest reaches of the sky, transforming into a powerful, single-horned white dragon. Upon its back it carried three passengers — one adult and two small children — and flew eastward.

1.

I swear I’ve never swallowed this much water in my entire life. Good thing it had no foul taste — at least my stomach and intestines weren’t heaved out.

From the moment I opened my eyes until now, my mind was still drifting. The only thing I could make out clearly was a hand waving back and forth in front of my face.

“How many?” Jiu Jue’s voice drilled into my ear. “Give me a number!”

I pushed his hand aside and sat up, steadying myself. “Can’t you do something meaningful for once?”

“Giving you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation doesn’t count as meaningful?” Jiu Jue pinched his own sopping, disheveled hair — it looked like a blue jellyfish had been slapped onto his head. “The person who abandoned all concern for his own appearance just to save you — that would be me!”

I immediately scrubbed my lips hard. “I’ll need to brush my teeth several extra times today.”

“The fact that you can be this ungrateful means you’re fine.” Jiu Jue turned toward the tall figure standing nearby and said, “Thanks, man.”

The one being thanked was the handsome older man who had never looked at me favorably.

“Why thank him?” The words escaped me before I could stop them.

“Before giving you mouth-to-mouth, he fed you a heart-rescue pill.” Jiu Jue turned back to the older man. “It was a heart-rescue pill, right?”

The older man didn’t even bother turning his head. He stood with his arms folded, gazing into the distance as though admiring the scenery.

My vision grew clearer by the moment. Looking past the older man, I took in everything around us — the casino was gone. My last memories were of dark water, but what greeted my eyes now was an expanse of undulating, boundless earth. All manner of plants I had never seen before blanketed the dark brown soil. A stone-paved road, clearly laid by human hands, wound through the lush vegetation and stretched forward into an indistinct distance. At this moment, we stood on a low slope, with scattered rocks and thick, dense moss beneath our feet. I was soaked through, yet felt no cold. The light pouring down from above was like a perfectly calibrated heater, pleasantly warming all the drowned rats around me. I tilted my head back — a slowly drifting orange-red sky stretched overhead. No sun, no clouds, no wind, and yet brilliantly luminous. No matter how long I stared, it caused no discomfort to my eyes.

Bai Ju fluttered unsteadily to hover before me, shaking off droplets as he spoke. “It’s rather warm here. Feels like spring in March.” He paused. “Which is precisely why it’s suspicious.”

My fingers trailed across skin warmed by the light — it truly was an incomparably comfortable temperature and environment. To be within it naturally called to mind a greenhouse: completely enclosed, yet shielded from wind and rain.

At a glance: warm light, vegetation, mild and moist soil. Fine. Nothing to fault. But as Bai Ju had said — nothing to fault was itself suspicious.

“We are not aboveground,” I said, tilting my head to look at the “sky.” “After the casino vanished, we fell into water. I clearly remember a force dragging me deeper and deeper — that water had no bottom.”

“On the surface, we should have been in a casino ninety-nine floors above ground. The great winged serpent made it disappear, so we fell into the water.” Bai Ju settled on my shoulder. “But if that were truly the case, plunging from such a height without any magical protection to shield us — everyone here would have died on impact, or been crippled. The question is — did anyone feel the distance?”

The distance. Bai Ju had struck upon something. When we entered the elevator, the floor indicator lights suggested we were ascending, and so we all assumed we were going up. Thinking back now, in that elevator I felt no sensation of actually rising — we simply believed it was going up. As for the water — my knowledge of geography is poor, but even I know that beyond the rivers, lakes, and seas on the surface, beneath the earth lie countless unknown underground bodies of water. The only explanation that made sense: the Zenith Hotel was actually an entrance to some underground body of water. That elevator didn’t carry its passengers “up” — it carried them “down, into the deep.”

That casino had been constructed within the water by some extraordinary power — a space capable of deceiving the senses of all who entered. But this space was no illusion. It was one hundred percent real. And it was precisely this point that astonished even an old demon such as myself. In the art of sorcery, there does indeed exist a technique called “Space Creation” — the ability to conjure something from nothing through spells. On a small scale: vacant ground into a dwelling. On a large scale: flat plains into towering mountains. Any immortal or demon who possessed this skill could employ it for their own benefit.

But no matter who had built this underwater casino, that person was no small matter to be dealt with lightly.

Then there was that strange voice, telling me to go “upward.” Who had spoken?

Scattered memories slowly assembled. After falling into the water… a dragon? Yes! I had seen the shadow of a dragon — and it had saved me.

“I saw a dragon!” I spun around suddenly. “After I fell in the water, a dragon supported me on its back and drove away those little demons that were harassing me! You were all in the water too — did any of you see that great dragon?”

Jiu Jue pressed a hand to my forehead. “You swallowed too much water and hallucinated. You think you saw Ao Chi.”

“That was not Ao Chi.” I stated this firmly. “It was a dragon. I touched its scales.” I stopped, and looked at each person present, asking the question I should have asked long ago. “How did we get here?”

Jiu Jue shrugged. “No idea. I just woke up here. You were the last of us to wake.”

I suddenly thought of the other gamblers and asked quickly, “What about Old Huang and Lisa and the others?”

Jiu Jue pointed in the direction of the handsome older man.

I walked over quickly and looked. On the other side of the rocks, Old Huang was huddled into a ball, trembling, hugging his knees as he leaned against a stone, his eyes glazed and blank. His wife held his arm, glancing at him from time to time. The warmth between the couple was entirely gone. As for Lisa’s father — the most disagreeable of the lot — someone had bound his hands and feet with vines and left him sprawled on the ground, his blood-red eyes glaring furiously at anyone who looked at him.

Where was Lisa?

“The little girl was either swept away by the current, or she slipped off before everyone woke.” The older man wore an expression of complete indifference. “I dislike people who run about screaming. Tying him up was simply the most convenient solution. Any other questions?”

“None.” I took a breath, stood up, and said, “We are, in all likelihood, somewhere underground. How far from the surface is unclear. The danger level cannot be estimated. And we’ve lost a child.”

“You’re a demon — just fly up,” the older man said, pointing skyward.

Oh, so my identity had been uncovered?

“Don’t bother,” Jiu Jue muttered at me. “The moment you fly up to that orange ‘sky,’ an invisible force slaps you back down.”

Looking at the mud stains on Jiu Jue’s clothes, then back at that radiant “sky,” I shot upward in disbelief — well. Jiu Jue was right.

Every ability I possessed as a demon reached only as far as that sky. No matter how much strength I poured into it, I could not pass through that flowing orange light. Thin as a gauze veil as it appeared, it could not be breached.

Landing back on the ground, I understood — we had been cut off. Even knowing that “upward” was the only path out, even knowing the exit was just a single layer away, even with all our strength intact — we could not break through. And the closer I drew to that sky, the colder the temperature became, filled with a bone-chilling cold that made every hair on one’s body stand on end.

This was no sky at all. It was a defensive barrier — one of extraordinarily strange and powerful force.

So we had indeed become vegetables sealed inside a greenhouse.

“None of you can fly either, and I certainly can’t.” Bai Ju wisely retreated into my trouser pocket. “But staying here is certainly not an option. Let’s move forward — there must be another way out.”

“You think they can still walk?” the older man said, with not a trace of astonishment toward a talking fan, glancing at the frail and utterly exhausted old Huang and his wife. “Useless people are best discarded.”

“We carry them!” I shot him a fierce look. “Every person here is worth something — no one is disposable trash.”

The older man gave a cold laugh.

2.

In a room of excessive spaciousness, he sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion, eyes closed in quiet repose for a long while, until the serpent’s tail beneath him gradually transformed into a pair of human legs.

The window before him faced a stretch of sky within easy reach. In the warm, luminous orange light, threads of dark energy had begun to seep through — faint at first, then gradually thickening, though it was unclear when they had started.

Outside the door, Lü Yao spoke with cautious delicacy: “My lord, Shenjun — that group has already begun moving toward the divine hall. Shall I send someone to intercept them…?”

“How is the weather above?” he asked.

“My lord, messengers from all regions report that rainfall continues to increase — and the rate of increase is far greater than before. Beyond this, other disasters have begun to unfold: earthquakes, tsunamis, and contagious disease. Additionally, 4E’s agents are operating across all regions according to our plan, each fulfilling their assigned role. All proceeds as intended.”

“Splendid!” He exhaled with visible relief. “It is more than enough — far ahead of what we had projected. Lü Yao, go to the wine pool and oversee things there. Send every remaining measure of Final Path Wine to the Spirit Well. Not a single bottle is to be kept.”

“My lord, Final Path Wine is difficult to brew, and from the current situation, our plan has already succeeded. Why waste what remains?” Lü Yao’s distress was plainly visible. “Would it not be better to give it all to ‘the Source’ to consume? Would that not be far more beneficial for our brothers within the Underground City?”

“To use it on them — that would be the true waste. Do as I say.” His tone was mild.

“Understood.” Lü Yao paused, then frowned slightly before composing herself and knelt. “We have yet to locate Ao Chi. I await punishment, my lord.”

“Let him be. I find I’ve lost interest in him.”

“Ah?” Lü Yao startled. “Then… those gamblers who broke into the Underground City — how should we handle them?”

“Let them be as well. They’ve come all this way — let ‘the Source’ entertain them. It’s only fitting.” He smiled. “In any case, at this very moment, ‘the world above’ is already of no concern to them. They should be grateful I’ve provided them such an excellent refuge.”

Before his words had fully settled, his expression darkened abruptly. He seized his own throat with one hand. Instantly, his eyes lost all light, glazed over as though coated in wax. Beneath the skin of his throat, something grey and white writhed and struggled — and from it seeped clusters of dark light like spilled ink, flickering for an instant before vanishing.

His body swayed and collapsed to the floor. He appeared to have stopped breathing entirely.

“My lord! My lord?!” Lü Yao heard the commotion from outside but dared not enter without permission and cried out.

Roughly ten seconds later, his eyes snapped open. He sat up in a single motion. Hearing Lü Yao’s voice, he gave an instruction with complete composure: “I am tired and need to rest for a moment. You are dismissed.”

With that, he rose and walked toward the sleeping couch, coughing twice and pressing a hand to his throat.

These past few days, his throat had seemed to itch persistently. Could it be that even he was capable of catching a cold? What an absurd thought — that the great feathered serpent god could catch a cold!

He lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, with no recollection whatsoever of having just lost consciousness moments before.

In truth, there were many things he no longer remembered — blurred faces, distant laughter, drifting through his dreams from time to time.

Ze, come here.

Ze, you are exceptional.

Little Yu — your name is Little Yu? How is it you’re not frightened at all?

Little Yu, why would you do such a thing…

Ze… who was Ze? And who was Little Yu? Their names repeated over and over, endlessly, until it maddened him.

He pressed his fist hard against his chest. The brief confusion that crossed his face dissolved into his habitual cold smirk. Whoever they were, what mattered was survival — and besides, he would be leaving soon. He had waited so many years for this!

3.

I swear I will get that older man’s real name and birth date one day, and when I get out of here, I’ll make a voodoo doll and stab it front to back, every single day!

“Miss, if you’re tired, put me down. I don’t mind,” the old woman, Huang’s wife, said to me weakly.

It was the first thing she had said to me voluntarily. She was clearly a considerate person — far better than all these able-bodied men who refused to lend a hand.

Slightly ahead of me, Jiu Jue carried the dazed Old Huang on his back, grumbling as he walked: “This old fellow looks thin, but he weighs a ton. Hey! You up front — can we take turns or what?”

The older man, dragging Lisa’s father along on a vine like a man walking his own pet, waved a languid hand without looking back. “Don’t even think about it. You chose to carry your burdens — what does that have to do with me?”

That tone. That expression. Enough to infuriate even a demon to death!

If I could only remember the spell for turning leaves into a car, I would drive it right over him with all the dignity and authority I could muster! Unfortunately, I had gone so long without using such magic that I couldn’t manage a car — couldn’t even manage a donkey cart. I spent a good while trying, picking leaves and attempting transformations, cycling through a swimming ring and a feather duster before finally managing to produce a large supermarket push cart. I placed the old woman inside.

After descending the slope and onto the stone-paved road, the path turned out to be far longer than we had imagined. It rose and fell through the vast vegetation. To either side, the greenery grew denser and denser. Certain curiously shaped fern-like plants kept catching my eye.

“You noticed it too?” Jiu Jue was also watching one of the plants, a few feet tall.

“These plants don’t exist ‘up above,'” I said, gesturing with my chin toward a specimen with feather-arranged leaves on either side. “Something like the great feathery fern — a prehistoric plant, long extinct.”

“Truly a tree demon, so well acquainted with your own kind.” Jiu Jue’s eyes flickered. The nearby branches and leaves suddenly rustled, and several small creatures — something like kangaroos but with long trunks — peeked out at us with their tiny front paws raised, then bounded into the depths of the flowers and leaves. From the distance came a roar: not a tiger’s, not a lion’s, but unmistakably belonging to some large creature. My first association was with a dinosaur — specifically a tyrannosaurus rex — and a rather wild idea began to form in my mind.

“Legend has it that at the center of the earth lies another world,” the older man said, casually plucking a wildflower and twirling it between his fingers. “Hidden deep beneath mountains and waters, countless people have attempted to dig passages from the poles and elsewhere, hoping to reach this inner earth. There, a natural energy source comparable to the sun provides a stable climate, sufficient to sustain the growth and survival of all life. Many plants and animals long extinct on the surface have survived here.”

“Absurd!” I had no particular objection to his theory — I simply refused to have a civil conversation with him. This deep, instinctive dislike was a feeling I seemed to have experienced many years ago, toward someone else.

“You’ve already accepted that this is the legendary underground world,” he said, glancing back at me with a slight smile. “The great feathery fern. You’re not as unlettered as you appear.”

“Hey!” Jiu Jue’s expression turned distinctly sour. “I’ve read Journey to the Center of the Earth too! If this really is the underground world, escaping will be a nightmare — nine chances of death, one of survival.”

“It may be far worse than in the film. Essentially zero chances of survival,” the older man said, dealing another blow to Jiu Jue’s fragile confidence. He tilted his head back to observe the sky, which had deepened in color since earlier. “This place doesn’t seem to have any intention of letting people leave alive.”

I saw the old woman’s hand tighten visibly around the side of the cart.

“Not necessarily — where there’s an entrance, there’s an exit,” I said, staring at the back of the older man’s arrogant head. “You didn’t come here for gambling. Your purpose?”

“Whatever yours is, mine is probably the same.” He gave me a perfunctory answer, then yanked hard on the vine and barked at Lisa’s father. “Move faster! You were quick enough when you were selling your daughter.”

Lisa’s father stumbled and fell to the ground, scraping his knees bloody. The older man showed no pity whatsoever — he grabbed the man by the collar, hauled him upright, and forced him to keep walking.

For someone who had polluted the very word “parent,” a little physical suffering was nothing. I felt no sympathy. But the old woman was another matter — she looked at Lisa’s father through cloudy eyes and sighed. “No one comes to a place like this unless they’re at their last rope. Don’t be too hard on him.”

A place like a demon’s realm… One by one, playing cards flashed before my eyes. The emblems of the feathered serpent god and 4E leaped out, twining together. Calm down, calm down, I told myself. The immediate priority: find a way out, find Lisa, get these innocent people to safety. As for Ao Chi, I sealed away every thought of him for the moment. Because every time I thought of him, the clamoring of those malicious little demons in the water rang in my ears again.

An Eastern Sea dragon was not so easily done away with!

I took a breath and quickened my pace. Looking at Jiu Jue, that fellow was acting as if he’d struck gold — along the way, he’d picked a great many small green fruits the size of pigeon eggs, stuffing every pocket in his outer coat until they bulged. I asked him what he intended to do with them. He said they were treasures impossible to find up above, and that brewed into wine, they would yield wonders no one could imagine. What an optimistic fellow — even at a time like this, his mind was on his wine.

“Hey.” I called out to Jiu Jue.

“What?” He slowed down to walk beside me.

“I’m sorry — for dragging you into this.” I meant it sincerely. Every time serious trouble found me, he was the one who ended up caught in the middle because of me.

“Come again? Didn’t hear you. Let’s keep moving! If I hadn’t come here, I’d never have found treasures like these in my entire life!” He grinned, holding a fruit up in front of my face.

Someone once said: a friend is someone you can still sit down and eat hot pot with after a fight — no grudges, no complaints, only a hand that never lets go when you’re in trouble.

I think I should treat Jiu Jue better from now on — if we can make it out alive, that is. Even when he comes over to freeload and eat and drink without paying, I won’t scold him anymore.

The road grew harder and harder to navigate. The vegetation on either side grew taller and denser, some branches crossing over the path and tangling together. Eventually, we had no choice but to hack through the thorny branches continuously just to clear a way forward. The push cart was no longer usable. Fortunately, the old woman was very light, and carrying her on my back wasn’t too strenuous.

“My dear girl,” she murmured suddenly near my ear.

“Yes? Hungry?” I was actually the one who was hungry — we’d been through all of this and hadn’t eaten a single grain of rice. “Bear with it a little longer. Once we’re past this stretch, we’ll look for food.”

The old woman untied a cord from around her neck. From it hung an ordinary key. She then put her lips close to my ear and said a few quiet words.

I paused, looked at Old Huang slumped on Jiu Jue’s back, and said nothing in reply.

“Thank you, dear girl,” the old woman said, and carefully hung the key around my neck.

It was a light little thing — and yet it felt heavy as stone against my heart.

At that moment, the path ahead opened up suddenly. This sudden “opening” had nothing to do with light — it was an abrupt visual shift and jolt: a Maya pyramid-like structure, a good hundred meters tall, seemed to crash down before us. Around it, the ground was covered with innumerable exotic flowers and strange grasses, clustered so densely that what lay beneath them was impossible to see.

“Those white things are…” I set down the old woman. Between the end of this road and the outermost ring of plants around that structure lay a distance of perhaps seven or eight meters — and there, the ground was recessed, like a man-made trench. Not deep, only a little over a foot, but the color was peculiar: white, entirely at odds with the surroundings. How long this white “trench” extended was impossible to say — perhaps it encircled the entire enormous structure complex, like the equator girding the earth.

The older man crouched and pinched a small amount of the white soil between his fingers, rubbed it, and said: “Salt.”

I stepped forward and scooped up a little to examine. It was indeed salt.

“In some places, salt is regarded as a sacred substance for warding off and repelling evil spirits,” Jiu Jue said, setting Old Huang down beside the old woman and coming forward to study the salt trench. “It looks as though someone used salt as a defensive fortification — to prevent certain things from crossing over from the jungle on the other side.”

“Psychological comfort at best. Salt’s only real use is in cooking.” The older man gazed at the pyramid ahead. Its layered, dark grey stone blocks carried the breath of time’s erosion. Set against the warm orange light, the pyramid only appeared more stagnant and grim by comparison.

Jiu Jue thought for a moment. “I’ll go take a look over there. Rest here for a bit, find something to eat — we’re starving. You look after things.”

“The jungle is full of danger. You might end up becoming someone else’s food,” the older man said, still gazing ahead. “If danger comes: either save yourself, or end yourself. Don’t count on anyone else.”

“Well, you can say that sort of thing to me, but if you ever have children, don’t teach them that way.” Jiu Jue remained cheerfully unimpressed. “Self-reliance is essential, but as long as you haven’t committed every sin under heaven, there’s no harm in hoping for a little outside help. Family and friends aren’t just words — they mean something.”

“I’ll go with you.” I stepped ahead of Jiu Jue, then turned back to look at the older man. “As for teaching children — you’d need to have them first. A cold-blooded creature like you — what woman would ever take a fancy to him.”

“I won’t see you off. If you’re about to die, remember to shout — saves me the trouble of walking in the wrong direction.” The older man smiled and waved us off.

I swallowed my fury and lifted my foot to step over the salt trench.

Whoosh!

An object shot past my leg and buried itself in a plant half a person’s height ahead — a sharp arrow, its head made of finely polished stone.

Before I could even turn, another came. Its target was Jiu Jue, who had been about to step forward — it grazed his ear as it flew past, clipping several strands of hair. Somewhere behind us, dense grass and leaves shook violently. Something, using the natural cover, fled in the direction opposite to us.

“Watch them.”

Jiu Jue darted off in pursuit. But the older man was faster. The two of them, one after the other, disappeared into the thick vegetation. I positioned myself to shield the old Huang couple, while seizing the vine to restrain Lisa’s father. As usual, the man fixed his resentful eyes on me — and then he actually began clapping his hands, calling out in a bizarre, dissonant voice: “Kill them! Kill them all! Ha ha ha!”

I cast him a disgusted glance, but in the space of half a second I noticed something strange: the man’s silhouette flickered, like a television signal suddenly gone awry — but in an instant it was normal again. I blinked hard. Nothing seemed wrong.

“Mistress, something is off with this man,” Bai Ju climbed out and stood on my shoulder, speaking quietly. “I can feel it — he is turning ‘dark.'”

“What do you mean?”

“You are a demon, well acquainted with demons. But when it comes to the life force of humans, you may not be as perceptive as I am.” Bai Ju spoke with gravity. “From my several centuries of experience as a seasoned spirit of the dead, I can tell you that this man’s life is fading in a strange and peculiar way. How to describe it… though he stands living before us, I feel this life has no root. Put simply, it is like the relationship between a lamp and its power source. A normal life is its own power source — it radiates warmth and light naturally. But he is only the lamp, dependent on an external source. Once that source fails, he will fail with it. Do you understand what I mean?”

“I saw him flicker just now.” I grasped the general idea, though this phenomenon was unlike anything I had encountered before.

“This form of existence is extraordinarily rare. I do not know where this man’s power source lies.” Bai Ju warned with care. “You had best keep watch.”

As we spoke, a flash of violet light blazed past my eyes. Not far off, a cluster of plants shook violently — then, faintly, came a startled, low roar.

4.

The boy who sat on the ground appeared to be thirteen or fourteen years old. His features were like those of an indigenous person, his body wrapped in tattered animal hides, his chocolate-brown face daubed with colorful paint — look too quickly and you couldn’t find his eyebrows or eyes at all. He was clearly malnourished, both cheeks hollow. Even with his arrows confiscated, he still trained his empty bow on us with wide, round, black eyes — it seemed to be the only thing that made him feel safe.

“Why did you try to shoot us?” I made my tone as gentle as possible for a child. “Who are you? Do you live here?”

The boy’s eyes were bright and clear. Though he held a weapon, there was not a trace of ferocity in them. By contrast, the older man standing beside me, though unarmed and expressionless, radiated an unmistakable killing intent that could not be concealed no matter how hard one tried.

That man was inscrutably, thoroughly dangerous.

“You must not cross to the other side of the salt trench!” The boy stared at me in agitation, releasing one hand from the bow and pointing urgently at the structure before us, shaking his head hard.

Fortunately, as a demon, I can listen carefully and understand any human language — and make myself understood in return.

“Why not?” I suddenly realized he might not have been trying to kill us at all — but to stop us from crossing the salt trench.

“Man-eating monsters — more and more of them. My grandmother said salt keeps them from crossing to this side and causing harm. That’s why she had the trench dug here.” The boy spoke rapidly.

“What kind of monsters are over there?”

“Shh!” The boy covered my mouth. In the jungle on the other side of the trench, a few tall plants swayed unnaturally — then quickly returned to stillness.

“Follow me!” The boy gave our group a quick look and lowered his hands.

5.

Nothing remained of this place but crumbling ruins and desolation — and this was the boy’s home?

Wreckage everywhere. The buildings had long since ceased to be buildings, collapsed into piles of stone and weeds. Only one structure retained most of its roof — barely enough to keep out wind and rain. Judging by the scene before us, it bore more than a passing resemblance to the ancient Maya dwelling sites described in historical texts.

We followed the boy into the broken structure. Inside were a water jug and bowls, along with a few simple tools, neatly arranged in a corner. I noticed that the walls were covered all over with a spiral circular symbol.

A few corn cakes that appeared to have already gone stale were set before us. The boy said: “If you’re hungry, eat these. There’s water in the jug.”

The older man picked up one of the cakes, sniffed it, tossed it aside, and walked outside without a word. He returned quickly, tossing something before us — a small creature that resembled a wild boar. “Take this and roast it. Is that supposed to be food for human beings?”

“How did you catch it?” The boy looked truly astonished. “Even the bravest hunters in our village couldn’t catch one of those. They’re the fastest animals here!”

“None of your business. Hurry up and cook it,” the older man replied impatiently.

Even I was astonished by the older man’s speed. And more than that — he was apparently able to communicate with the boy as well.

The boy dashed out cheerfully to dress the catch.

Before long, the game had become sizzling roasted meat over a crackling fire, fragrant with rendered fat.

The boy’s name was Pakal. He told us it meant “shield” in his people’s tongue — his grandmother had given him the name.

“What do those circular symbols on your walls mean?” I asked, chewing roasted meat as I spoke.

“Whenever someone in the family goes on a journey, their family draws this symbol inside the home. It’s a protective household talisman, meant to keep the traveler safe and ensure their return,” Pakal said.

Everyone exchanged glances. Judging by the scene around us, the talisman had clearly done little good.

“Why have we only seen you so far?” Jiu Jue asked. “Where are the others in your village? Out hunting?”

“There are no others now.” The firelight danced in Pakal’s eyes. “None of them came back.” He looked at us. “And where did you all come from? You seem very different from us.”

“We fell from the sky,” the older man said, frowning. “The entire village — dead?”

“Only missing. Not necessarily dead.” Pakal gripped his fists tightly.

In the crackling fire, Pakal fell silent for a long while, then began to tell us of everything that had happened here:

His ancestors had been born here from the very beginning. But thousands of years ago, their ancestors’ ancestors had also lived “up above.” After a great catastrophe, the survivors followed the great feathered serpent god and migrated to the warm and luminous Underground City. After that, with reverence and gratitude toward the feathered serpent god, everyone settled and thrived here, generation after generation. The god had always protected and cared for them — driving away fierce beasts, clearing land for farming. No one wished to return to the surface. This world was a paradise a thousand times better than what lay above.

But this good life had ended thirty years ago. Near the center of the Underground City — the pyramid built both to commemorate the feathered serpent god’s great deeds and to serve as the god’s palace within the Underground City — mysterious monsters had appeared. No one could describe what they were. They consumed the animals here in silence, without a sound. Including humans.

Because the land near the divine hall was the most fertile, the villagers’ farmland and hunting grounds fell within that range. Those who vanished were never seen again — no living person, no body. Then came a vicious cycle: those who disappeared inevitably drew others to search for them. Those searchers also failed to return. Still unwilling to give up, more went. More disappeared. It was like a malevolent cord binding people together one by one, dragging each in turn into the abyss.

In their extreme grief, they prayed to the feathered serpent god and dug the salt trench at the foot of the divine hall — first, to warn the survivors not to venture to that side; second, in hopes that the salt would stop the demons from encroaching.

But it was useless. People continued to vanish. The only option was to live with great caution outside the salt trench, keeping clear of the divine hall — and for a brief time, that put an end to the nightmare. Yet in recent years, the survivors who remained had grown sicker and sicker. Strange illnesses appeared without cause, and no herbal remedy was of any use. The older and frailer among them died quickly. The younger ones lasted a little longer, but none could escape death in the end. When each person died, the space between their brows had turned black as charcoal. Then someone said that near the divine hall there was a kind of medicinal flower that could cure any illness — and perhaps it could halt the spread of the disease. So the remaining able-bodied members of the village risked going to that side. But they, too, did not return.

In this way, through every conceivable method, death had slaughtered the entire village until only a dozen or so people remained.

Not long ago, Pakal’s father gathered everyone who was left — including Pakal — and with a resolve born of desperation, set off toward the divine hall. Their purpose was twofold: to find the medicinal flower that might cure the illness, and to find those who had gone missing. But not long after entering the jungle beyond the salt trench, strange things began to happen. As they walked together in a group, one by one, people were suddenly dragged into the jungle. Whatever did it could not be seen at all. Panic set in quickly, and in the chaos, the group scattered. Pakal, alone, was calling out his father’s name when he suddenly heard his father calling back. He followed the sound, but instead of his father, he saw a long, slender, and boneless thing — a green “hand” — reach through the gaps in the flowers and grass and lunge at him.

He sat down hard in fright. He was almost caught when his father came charging from beside him, shoved him backward — and was seized by that green hand, which wrapped around his body and dragged him away at terrifying speed.

“Go back! Go quickly!” his father’s voice called out from deep within the jungle — and then silence.

Pakal scrambled and tumbled his way back and became the sole survivor.

“Do you intend to continue what your forebears did — that foolish, pointless act of going over there to search for them?” the older man asked, his tone flat.

“It is not a foolish and pointless act.” Pakal’s face was flushed red in the firelight. Word by word, he said: “That feeling — the desperate longing for a loved one’s return, the willingness to risk everything for it — you could never understand it.”

The older man said nothing.

I heard someone softly weeping. I turned — the old woman was wiping her reddening eyes. Old Huang lay with his head in her lap, his expression growing more vacant by the hour, a single glimmering teardrop on his cheek.

“Heh heh — demons! There are demons! Ha ha ha!” Lisa’s father pressed his face against the large stone at his back, a trail of saliva running from the corner of his mouth, laughing strangely.

“Has no one ever left this place — gone to the ‘outside’?” I still refused to give up hope. “Besides your villagers, are there others here?”

“Nothing can escape from this place — not even an insect. The only one who can come and go freely is the feathered serpent god.” Pakal shook his head. “Aside from you, I have not seen anyone else either. Though the elders did say they once glimpsed many people dressed in black near the divine hall — appearing and vanishing like ghosts.”

“Have you seen the feathered serpent god?”

“No. But my grandmother said she had. She said it was a kind and benevolent god, radiant with light from head to toe.” Pakal lowered his eyes. “If it is truly a god — why does it no longer protect us?”

It seemed that for the long stretch of time during which the feathered serpent god had been present, things had been well enough. The trouble began thirty years ago. What unexpected event, what sudden change, had transformed a god that once seemed competent enough into whatever this was? And I recalled — when Bai Ju had told me the story of the young man who grew wealthy and then disappeared, he had also said that the reputation of the Zenith Hotel had begun to grow in these past few decades.

The feathered serpent god. The Zenith Hotel. The Underground City. Missing people. What single thread was connecting these impossibly strange dots?

4E… That name came to me again.

Thinking back carefully on years past, that name had actually appeared in the stories of others like a specter long before now. But looking at it now, it was clearly no longer merely “someone else’s” story — it had drawn me into it as well.

6.

“Are you certain you want to come with us?”

Outside the salt trench, I looked seriously at Pakal, fully armed. We had eaten and drunk our fill, and our decision was this: proceed toward the divine hall. If there was a way out, it had to be there.

“If I hadn’t run into you, I would have gone on my own already.” The boy crouched down and drew a protective symbol in the moist earth. “I’ll come back. I don’t want to go on living in endless waiting and despair. I have to do something!”

“But what if…” I ventured, “they are no longer alive?”

“I will still come back.” Pakal sniffled. “Fix up the house. Tend the fields properly.”

“Alright.” I patted his shoulder. “Then let’s make an exchange of promises.”

Pakal looked at me, puzzled.

“You promise me: when you return, you will live well and rebuild your home.” I placed a hand on his head. “I promise you: every family member I am able to bring back — I will bring them back safely.”

“Deal!” He flashed me a smile, then broke into a fit of violent coughing.

I quickly patted his back.

As a demon, I could see clearly that the body of this human child was suffused with demonic poison. He and his relatives who had died inexplicably of illness were not afflicted with any contagious disease — they had absorbed demonic energy. For a human body, when demonic energy accumulates for too long, it turns into demonic poison. How quickly one’s life drains away depends on the constitution of each individual. Pakal was young, with a strong life force, so his condition was not yet critical. As long as the source of this demonic energy could be found and eliminated in time, Pakal would recover without the need for any medicine.

“Do you still believe in your god?” I asked Pakal, who was gradually calming down.

“It was the god who created this world,” Pakal answered.

“To create a world and love it more deeply than anyone else — that is what it means to be a god.” I patted his head, hoisted the old woman onto my back, and said: “Let’s go.”

The terrain inside the salt trench was far more complex than outside. There was no road at all — only enormous trees and strange flowers and grasses in every direction. One careless step and the thorny branches hidden within would draw blood. Along the way there were also small pools of standing water, murky with far more mud than water, bubbling and gurgling.

We kept careful watch on every corner as we went, looking for any clues about the missing people. Regrettably, we found nothing.

“Doesn’t something feel off to you?” I watched the plants as they brushed past me. Every single one was flourishing extraordinarily well — thick stems, plump leaves, and the blossoms they bore were especially large and vivid in color.

“Yes.” Jiu Jue wiped sweat from his forehead. Old Huang lay dozing on his shoulder, sleeping deeply and peacefully. “There are only plants here. No animals. Not even a mosquito.”

“Stay alert.” Pakal gripped his machete tightly.

“Where exactly are we headed?” the old woman asked me. “My dear girl, if the road is too long, put me down. You can’t move quickly carrying a burden like me.”

“We’re going to the divine hall. If there’s a way out, it must be there. Don’t worry — you have a fine figure, carrying you isn’t tiring.” I reassured her. “Once we’re outside, then we can talk about putting you down. Here is not a place you should be left behind.”

“You, girl…” the old woman sighed. “What were you doing at that hotel in the first place? That was no place for someone like you!”

Her words carried a deeper meaning. I played dumb. “What do you mean? It’s just a hotel.”

“A place for people with nowhere left to turn.”

“What do you know about that hotel? And why did you and your husband end up here?”

The old woman was quiet for a moment, then asked: “Would you like to hear an old woman’s story?”

“Of course. I love stories. Usually I sit while listening — this time I’ll listen while carrying you.” I smiled.

The first half of the old woman’s story was ordinary — even dull. A perfectly common man and woman: they fell in love, married, had a child. The husband ran a small general store; the wife kept house and raised their son. They watched their son grow up peacefully. The son was reasonably capable — he earned a place at a prestigious university. But before his parents had even recovered from their overwhelming joy, the son took the tuition money, never went to university, and instead followed some friends to another city to start a business. The father was both frantic and furious. He went and found his son and demanded he return at once and start school. But the son refused — he was already an adult, he said, and had the right to choose his own path. The father suppressed his burning rage and told his son that the path he’d chosen led nowhere, that he simply wasn’t cut out for business. And so the greatest argument of their lifetimes erupted between them: a headstrong young man insisting on his dream, and a father fighting with every ounce of himself to pull his son back onto the “right path.” In the end, the father clutched his pounding chest and declared to his son: Don’t ever come home again. The door of this family will never open for you.

The son truly never came home again. Over the following decades, he wrote his mother a letter now and then, at most. His business venture, as the father had predicted, came to nothing. Whatever friends he’d had ran off with all his money. He ended up as a worker in a small factory, married in that small city, had children, and transformed from a passionate young man into an unremarkable middle-aged one.

For years, the father never spoke of his son — treated him as dead. Even when his wife told him they had a grandchild, he simply said: I have no son. His wife could only sigh.

Just as his wife was preparing to visit the son alone in that city, illness struck her down. She had always known her health was poor. So when the doctor declared she had only three months left to live, she was not greatly surprised. Her husband, however, collapsed.

That night, he buried his face in her lap like a child, clutching her hands and refusing to let go, murmuring: It takes two strokes to write the character for “person.” Without you, I am nothing.

He searched desperately for doctors and sought out so-called miracle remedies and folk cures, but his wife’s condition worsened day by day.

With nothing left to try, he knelt before a carved idol of the feathered serpent god and told it: despair had eroded his entire heart, and he was only pretending to be optimistic. If there truly was a god, he hoped it would save his wife — even one slim chance was worth everything he had to offer in exchange.

The story, at this point, took a strange turn.

On the third day after Old Huang prayed before the idol, a man dressed entirely in black knocked at his door. Politely, he handed over an envelope. Inside was a playing card with an address written in the blank space. The signature read: “The Zenith Hotel welcomes you.”

The man in black asked whether he had ever heard the legend of the “Wishing Hotel.”

Old Huang had heard of it — but had always believed it was only a legend.

The man in black told him: take the address, bring your wife, come to the hotel together. If you’re willing, you can win back everything in the world. The back of the card held the details — read them, and if you’re interested, give it a try.

Old Huang was still deliberating when the man had already stepped out the door. Old Huang rushed to follow — but when he reached the doorway, it was completely empty. Only a snake-like shadow flashed across the corner of the wall and vanished without a trace.

On the back of the playing card were instructions for reaching the casino. The last line, Old Huang read dozens of times: The ultimate victor shall have every wish fulfilled, every desire granted.

He understood then — this was no ordinary playing card. Could it truly be the feathered serpent god answering his prayer?

A person on the brink of despair will not let go of any straw, no matter how absurd.

“When he told me all of this, I was seized with terrible fear,” the old woman said, pausing. “A formless dread — I simply felt something was very, very wrong. I tried to stop him. I said life and death are decreed by Heaven, and should not be forced. He wouldn’t listen at all. He said this was the only way to save me. He couldn’t give it up. I couldn’t win the argument, and so I agreed. I had heard the legend too, but — nine in ten gamblers lose. How many people could ever be the one lucky soul in a hundred? And besides, from the moment we walked into that hotel, a chill crept through my whole body. Something felt deeply, deeply wrong. And that playing card was strange — the instructions on the back kept changing. We followed the time it gave and stepped into the elevator. The sense of dread only grew. As for what happened after — you already know. That place truly is a demon’s realm.”

“I remember you lost a round. What did you put up as your wager?” I remembered the scene clearly. Those who lost ended up missing limbs — yet she had walked away with all her limbs intact. She appeared to have lost nothing.

“My husband’s feelings for me,” the old woman said calmly. “Everything he did, he did because his love for me ran too deep. After he gambled that away — look at him now, dazed and muddled — I have a feeling that once he regains clarity, he will no longer feel any attachment to me.”

“You didn’t want to go on living?” I asked.

“Only a fool wouldn’t want to go on living.” She smiled a little. “But if things are already decided, one may as well accept them with calm. People may not understand — but even facing death, I hold onto hope. I went along with my husband’s wishes to fulfill what he hoped for. But I knew that if things continued, they would only get worse. The only way to make him stop was to bet away that wager. That way, whatever happens to me later, at least he won’t be entangled in it on my behalf. My husband is a stubborn, deeply sentimental man. If I didn’t seize this chance to gamble away his feelings, his remaining years would be very unhappy.”

“If we hadn’t intervened and the game had continued — the next thing you’d have bet away would have been your own life. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. Neither you nor your husband will die here. I will bring you both home.” I wiped the sweat from my brow and spoke in earnest. “The matter you entrusted to me — do it yourself. I refuse to carry it out on your behalf.”

“You child…” the old woman’s voice grew a little thick. “But why did you come here? What wish were you trying to fulfill?”

“I came looking for someone.”

“Who?”

“My husband.”

“Ah?!”

At that very moment, Lisa’s father suddenly broke into a frenzy, running forward and shouting: “I’m back! Lisa! Open the door — Daddy’s here, I’m back!”

Somehow, Lisa’s father found the strength and speed to tear through the vines binding him. In the blink of an eye, he plunged into a cluster of enormous plants with saw-toothed giant leaves and disappeared.

The older man sprinted after him. We followed, running to the far side of the massive plant cluster — and then the ground simply disappeared beneath my feet. After what felt like a very long fall, there came a wet slap, and I landed in a pool of sticky, glue-like liquid. Opening my eyes, I found myself in an enormous square pit. The distance from the liquid’s surface to the top was immense — the sky overhead was reduced to a tiny bright point. The four walls were smooth, slick black stone. Bizarre creatures — a one-eyed cactus, a ball of embroidery with four long, strange arms, and others — poked out from cracks in the stone, greedily absorbing the odors the pool gave off. And floating and rolling around us were animal remains of every kind — bones of countless species and colors, including human skulls.

“Can you get up?” I shouted to Jiu Jue. I had already tried — flight was completely useless. It truly felt as though something had glued me in place.

“Even lifting my arm is a struggle!” Jiu Jue strained to hold Old Huang up, keeping his head above the surface.

Pakal simply retched. The smell of this pool truly defied every word in the language — not only unimaginably foul, but saturated with an almost unbearably concentrated demonic energy.

I felt we were drawing near to whatever had caused the deaths of the villagers.

Only the first to fall in — Lisa’s father — seemed energized. He swam frantically to the wall, clawing at the stone with both hands, shouting: “I’m back! Lisa, open the door — Daddy’s here, I’m back!”

Following the direction of his hands, I looked up. About two or three meters above us, there was a hole roughly a meter across. Liquid mixed with bones dripped steadily out of it.

The older man, without the slightest hesitation, leaped free of the water, planted one foot on Lisa’s father’s head, and vaulted straight into the hole. Then he poked his head out and asked: “Do you want my help, or are you doing this on your own?”

“Save it,” I said, and with a burst of force, I grabbed the old woman and launched upward — naturally, for maximum efficiency, I used Jiu Jue’s shoulder as a stepping stone on the way.

“Acceptable,” the older man said, leaning against one side of the opening with an expression hovering between a smile and something else.

I guided the old woman to stand behind him, then spun abruptly. Seizing the moment when his guard was completely down, I delivered a kick straight to his backside and sent that insufferable man plunging back into the water below. Then I leaned out over the edge: “Lisa’s father was your responsibility all along. Don’t expect us to fish him out.”

He wiped the foul water from his face and pointed at me furiously: “You insufferable, unruly creature!”

“Thank you for the compliment,” I said contentedly, and withdrew my head to examine the opening. Much like an ordinary drainage tunnel — very dim inside, coated all around with something resembling moss, which glowed faintly green and was extremely slippery. A steady trickle of foul water and bones ran underfoot. Estimating the direction and distance, I judged that the tunnel must connect to some part of the divine hall. The only option was to follow it. As long as we could reach the divine hall, there must be a way to leave.

The group pressed forward quickly.

At that moment, Pakal suddenly told us with startled delight: “I hear my mother’s voice! She’s calling my name! She’s still alive!”

Jiu Jue and I looked at each other. There was no voice anywhere.

Another ten minutes or so of walking, and we came to a sudden stop. Before us lay an enormous rectangular chamber. And in the very center of it stood something vast and immense…

It was too tall — a full six or seven meters — and its top could not be seen at all. But this was clearly no tree. Its trunk was so thick it would have taken seven or eight people with joined hands to encircle it. Dark green in color, it was covered with slender, supple, snake-like vines. Looking more closely — not merely snake-like, but like human ears, layered one upon another across the surface. On every “ear,” small purple-blue flowers bloomed in clusters — tiny, all still in the form of unopened buds. At its base, the soil was threaded with countless semi-transparent roots, like octopus tentacles, innumerable and beyond counting.

Moving closer to examine it, I saw that the massive body had already pierced through the stone ceiling above — whether it intended to grow all the way to the sky was impossible to know. And once we had entered, the entrance behind us had vanished — it was now a seamless stone wall, as though it had never existed.

I had never in my life seen a plant this strange.

“I hear it again! My mother’s voice!” Pakal started, and made straight for the creature.

“Pakal, stop!” I ran after him.

The older man stood at the greatest distance from it and said: “If I were any of you, I wouldn’t get that close.”

Before his words had fully settled, a flower bud floated lightly from the wall, drifting without a sound toward Pakal. In seconds, this unassuming bud had swelled to dozens of times its original size. From its fully open bowl-shaped petals, something emerged — like a headless green snake, its body covered in gleaming scales. It lashed around Pakal’s waist and began dragging him toward the creature’s trunk at lightning speed.

Could this be the “green hand” Pakal had seen dragging his father away?

My reflexes were swift. I dove and seized Pakal’s feet. But after barely a moment’s standoff, the enemy surged back ahead — dragging me along as well, with terrifying force.

In the midst of Pakal’s screams, I watched that body covered in ear-like growths rapidly close in on me. I was just about to strike when a woman’s face surfaced from within the massive trunk — her features blurred, yet faintly shot through with sorrow.

In that instant of distraction, a flash of light cut through the air. Jiu Jue’s blade rose and fell in a single stroke. The flower dropped to the ground. The headless thing wrapped around Pakal’s body crumbled instantly into white ash.

The secret, I now saw: between the trunk and the flower ran a thread as fine as spider silk. Sever it, and the flower went out like a bulb with no power — utterly useless.

I looked up again. There was no woman’s face. Helping the badly shaken Pakal to his feet, I said to Jiu Jue: “Thank goodness your eyes are sharp.”

“Naturally — these eyes of mine are specially trained for spotting beautiful girls!” Jiu Jue put away his fruit knife without ceremony, then turned and scolded me: “What happened to you? Since when are your reflexes this poor? Any simple spell would have finished off that little monster.”

“I saw a woman’s face — I was caught off guard for a moment,” I said honestly.

No one else had seen it. Only the older man’s expression shifted — just slightly.

At that moment, Lisa’s father let out a strange shriek and flung himself to the ground, tearing and clawing and biting at a section of green root half-exposed from the soil.

“Lisa! Daddy’s here to save you! Daddy will protect you!” He dug without mercy, even as his fingers began to bleed.

I looked closely. Through the semi-transparent green root, there did seem to be a dark shape — like the lower half of a human body.

“Someone’s in there! Help!” I knew there was a saying about the heart connection between parents and children. Perhaps the strange, inexplicable bond between blood kin — could it truly be Lisa in there?

This time I showed no restraint. I used a spell to sever the root. As it was cut, everyone heard a sharp, piercing cry. Many of the buds began to tremble, as though readying a collective attack — but still they hesitated, and did not move.

No time to worry about that. Jiu Jue and I worked together and pulled the severed section of root out from the ground. Now it was clearly visible: curled within it was a human figure.

Jiu Jue carefully split the root open with his knife. A rush of clear, viscous fluid poured out, and a golden-haired foreign girl who appeared to be around twenty rolled free. Her eyes were tightly shut, her breathing faint. At the center of her chest was a hollow the size of a bowl — no blood, and yet it arrested every gaze in the room.

Lisa’s father hurled himself at her in a frenzy, pushing us all aside, and gathered her in his arms. He wept and laughed at once: “Daddy’s here, Lisa — look, Daddy’s here!”

The man had clearly lost his mind — his daughter was only a few years old. This was plainly not Lisa!

But something quickly felt wrong to me, because — looking more carefully at this young woman’s features — she resembled Lisa to an almost perfect degree, as if she were an older Lisa to the letter. This was impossible. How could a child grow this much in a day or two?

“Feed her this. Otherwise she’ll be dead within moments.” The older man, who had been watching without expression, tossed me a white pill.

I didn’t hesitate. I pinched the young woman’s mouth open and placed the pill inside.

Moments later, the young woman’s eyes slowly opened. She fixed her gaze on the man before her, and smiled: “Dad… it’s been so long.”

“Daddy will take you away.” He reached out urgently to lift Lisa — and then suddenly discovered that his own two hands had vanished.

“I wanted you to take me away too. But you came too late.” Tears spilled from the young woman’s eyes. “I’ve woken up now. It’s time for you to go.”

“Lisa… I…”

The words were still in his mouth when his body contorted violently — just as I had witnessed before. Seconds later, as if he had never existed at all, he vanished before every watching eye.

Once again, I faced something I had no answer for.

“Are you Lisa?” I stepped forward to support her.

She glanced at me and smiled: “I remember you. The kind older sister.”

“You… how did you grow so much?” I was too astonished to speak properly.

“Actually, I’ve always been this size.” Lisa spoke weakly. “I was sent to an orphanage when I was five. Because my father, drunk, had killed my mother by accident. He was never a competent husband or father. When he was released from prison, I was already fifteen. We lived together for five years. In those five years, nothing changed. Drinking, drugs — beatings that came as often and as naturally as meals, for no reason at all. That was the whole of our father-daughter life.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “He wasn’t always like this. My life before I was five was very happy. The failure of his business turned him into a complete failure as a person. The fear and despair of those last five years — no outsider could understand. And yet I always refused to leave him. He was the only family I had. I hoped he would change — become at least normal. But he never stopped disappointing me. Half a year ago, he died. Drunk, he fell from a rooftop.”

“That’s impossible — that man was absolutely not a spirit of the dead!” Bai Ju leaped out, speaking with certainty. “If he were a spirit of the dead, I would have detected it immediately! He was living — a life-bearing creature!”

The young woman shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t understand how any of this is possible. After his funeral, I moved house. One day, I fell ill — a high fever. There was no one beside me. I lay in bed clutching a childhood photograph of the three of us. I thought back on those early years, on the moments my father and I had spent together. I tried hard to recall his smiling face. I felt such pain in my heart. How I longed to go back to those days, to have my father hold me in his arms again and tell me he would protect his little princess. I prayed to God — if my parents could come back, if my happiness could return, I would give anything. I prayed without stopping, as if I’d gone mad. After some unknown span of time, I was woken. There, at my bedside, stood my father. And in the mirror, I saw that I had become five years old again. My mind fell into confusion. Slowly, I forgot everything that had come before. It was as though my father had never left. Every day he cooked for me, washed my clothes, told me stories, and took care of me. And I became more and more like that five-year-old self — happily enjoying all of it. That went on until a stranger came to our home and handed us an envelope. The moment my father saw it, he said we absolutely had to go. We have to win — we have to win back what we lost, and your mother too!”

Everyone present was stunned. Only the older man remained unmoved.

“Then I fell into the water. When I woke, I was alone in a strange jungle. I was terrified. I ran everywhere. As I ran, I heard my father’s voice, and my mother’s — they told me to come quickly. I followed the sound and stumbled into a beautiful place: flowers, flowing water, a wooden bridge. At the end of the bridge was a lovely wooden house. I ran toward it, and a beautiful little flower flew out from the window. I reached out to catch it — and the flower turned into a monster. It wrapped around me and dragged me into the house. I was squeezed unconscious. Everything after that, I have no memory of. When I woke up just now, my mind suddenly cleared. Looking at my father before me, I suddenly understood — he has been gone from this world for a long time. The father who insisted on taking his daughter to the casino… was not him at all. It was me. Everything he did to win at any cost — that was the deepest desire of my own heart. As long as either of us won, my wish would have been granted.”

“So that’s what it was.” Bai Ju understood at last. “I told you — this man’s life had no root! Because he was a life-form sustained by this girl!”

“Not an illusion?” I asked.

“No — a fully real, physical entity!” Bai Ju said. “This can be called a Life Reflection. When a living person harbors an exceptionally powerful obsession — when they long for someone so desperately that the force of it reaches a critical point — that obsession can give birth to the object of their longing and bestow upon it thought and will, making it a kind of living being. To be precise, the thoughts this being possesses are in fact the subconscious of the one who created it — another aspect of the creator’s own psyche. As for this young woman, she not only created a father but also ‘created’ herself. She did not truly become five years old. The happiest period of her life was before the age of five — and so the power of this ‘Obsessive Reflection’ caused everyone who saw her to perceive, with full conviction, that she was a genuine little Lisa standing before them. Good heavens — this is a case in ten thousand. What depth of obsession must it take to accomplish all of this?”

“Her ‘father’ disappeared because her life force was failing?”

“Precisely. If the main power source is gone, how can the light bulb stay lit?”

“Sister… am I going to die? I thought this place was my hope, but it’s only more despair. Dad and Mom are calling me again — I want so much to see them…”

Lisa’s voice grew fainter and fainter, her words more and more fragmented and incoherent. I could feel her life drawing toward its end.

“Give me another pill!” I shouted to the older man.

“She’s finished. Not even an immortal could save her. Haven’t you seen — her heart has already rotted?” He said coldly: “My medicine only slows her death. I wanted to hear what had happened to her.”

I looked at the hollow in her chest. I was truly powerless. She was human — I could not use demonic power to extend her life. It would only make her die faster. But was I simply to watch her die?

“Give me another pill!” I shouted, suddenly and loudly. “Let her live as long as she can! What if we find our way out very soon? What if—”

“There is no ‘what if,’ young one.” The older man cut me off. “Life and death have their appointed time. Having made the decision to come here, one must bear whatever consequences follow. There is no reason to grieve.”

“You—” The words died in my throat. I felt the weight in my arms shift. Lisa’s eyes closed — forever. At the corner of her lips lingered a faint, heartbreaking smile of regret.

A deep silence fell. Every face around me had gone pale.

A small flame kindled in my chest, growing and growing, until it threatened to boil my blood.

8.

I set Lisa’s body down, stood, and looked at that enormous creature. “This hotel is nothing but a trap. It lures in every person in the world who has run out of options and is on the brink of despair. Then, through a game they can never win, it keeps them here. I suspect that everyone who loses in the end becomes food for that monster!”

At these words, Pakal’s face drained of all color. He fought to contain his feelings, gripping his fists so tightly his nails were nearly cutting into his palms.

“There were no living creatures anywhere we passed through, and that pool was full of remains — it must be the waste discarded by that monster’s digestion.” Jiu Jue looked down at himself, drenched in foul water, then started suddenly. “Oh no — what if Ao Chi got eaten?”

“He didn’t.” The words escaped me before I knew it. I had no idea where this certainty came from.

“Fair enough — his hide is too thick. Probably doesn’t taste good. But…” He looked at the buds still trembling steadily around us. “Why has it been so long and they still haven’t come to eat us?”

It was true — those flower buds seemed to be held back by some force. They strained toward us but could not act.

“Let’s deal with this monster’s foundation first.” I stepped forward, drew a deep breath, and poured every ounce of my spiritual power into my right palm. At the level of my cultivation, if I struck with the full measure of my strength, I might not be able to uproot it entirely — but I could at least do serious damage to its vitality. And with Jiu Jue’s help, even Pakal raised his machete.

“I know you won’t help. But please — keep an eye on the two elderly people.” I said to the older man without turning around.

“What a waste of effort,” the older man said, unhurried. “Whatever is most vital about this thing — it’s not below. It’s above.”

Jiu Jue immediately sidled over to him: “So you know something after all! Don’t be stingy — we’re all in the same boat! Get rid of this mutant plant, and it’s good for all of us!”

“This is not a plant — it is a demon creature.” He gave Jiu Jue a sideways look. “It is called a Tongue Thief — a shameless demon that eavesdrops on the desires within people’s hearts, then uses their voices to lure prey. But this one isn’t quite right. No ordinary Tongue Thief ever grows this large.” He pointed upward. “Whatever the case — to deal with it, go up first.”

The blade that had been drawn was put firmly away.

“If you give me false intelligence, I swear on my way back I will shave your eyebrows off!”

I strode to the creature’s side. The flowers were still held in place — now was the moment! “I’ll go up first. If it’s safe, come after me!”

I surged upward, scaling the creature’s body. At the top, I struck the stone ceiling with my palm. Stone fragments flew. A sliver of long-awaited light poured down from above. Before I could do anything more, a current of air rushed in through the gap and caught me like a vacuum tube, pulling me straight out.

After so long in the dark, the sudden light drove into my eyes like a blade. The tremendous suction pulled me higher and higher. Then, apparently deciding I had been pulled to a height sufficient to kill me, it released me all at once and left me to plummet back toward the ground. If I weren’t a demon — desperately gathering spiritual power to steady my fall — ten lives wouldn’t have been enough.

In the howling rush of wind, the blurred landscape below expanded at terrifying speed. Gradually I made out grey ground, a winding bridge, and brown wooden buildings.

A perfect landing! I let out a breath. Good thing I’d managed to dodge in time — what an embarrassment it would have been to fall back through the hole I’d just made.

Steadying myself, I let my gaze rise from the ground level upward. Blooms and green grass, a small bridge over flowing water, and at the far end, a distinctive wooden house. Its main door was ajar, its windows hung with thin gauze, and the overhead light fell upon it all, making it appear even more quiet and gentle. Compared to everywhere else we had been, it was the difference between heaven and earth. In both scenery and atmosphere, it gave one the impression of some enlightened recluse’s hidden sanctuary.

It was truly beautiful — but I had no admiration for this place. A paradise built on the head of a monster was not one I could trust. No figure was visible in any direction. Not a single butterfly or bird. Silence, as though the world had been frozen still.

I quickly ran to the edge of the broken hole, lay flat, and called down into it several times.

Soon, Jiu Jue and the older man emerged with Old Huang, the old woman, and Pakal. Whatever else might be said, being here felt far better than being in that foul, dark pit below.

Everyone was drawn to the scenery. Pakal stared in open wonder and said he had never seen such a beautiful place.

Only the older man’s expression was grave.

This had to be the place Lisa had described. She’d said — a strange flower had flown out from the window of the wooden house. That wooden house. What was hidden inside that seemingly unremarkable structure? I felt I was closing in on the answer I most wanted.

We crossed the winding bridge. The wooden house was close now. Light gauze, delicate as cicada wings, floated gracefully before the windows. Two wooden doors — which did not look especially sturdy — stood ajar, leaving a narrow gap.

We crept to the entrance like a band of thieves. I pressed my eye to the gap: only layer upon layer of gauze curtains. Not a sound from inside. It seemed to be an empty house.

I was still deliberating — was there danger within, should we enter or not — when the older man had already grabbed me by the collar, pulled me aside without ceremony, pushed the door open, and stepped inside with the easy authority of a man who owned the place. An air of complete fearlessness, utterly natural.

I watched his retreating figure and couldn’t shake the feeling that I had seen this man somewhere before. Who was it? Having lived as a human too long — my memory was growing worse. No matter. What would come would come. At worst, the mastermind of this entire situation would come charging out of that house, and at worst we’d fight it out.

I lifted my foot and entered. Treading on a smooth and even floor, I parted one layer of gauze curtain after another. After who knew how many, the world ahead was no longer pure white but had grown hazy and indistinct, like smoke. A tall, silent figure stood in the depths of that haze.

I swept the final gauze curtain aside — and nearly walked straight into the older man’s back. Before I could form a single question, my attention was wholly seized by the two people before my eyes —

In the four-walled room, there was not a single piece of furniture. Only at the very center of the floor, a simple low table had been laid. Two people — one man, one woman — sat across from each other on the floor, eyes locked, both their hands clasped tightly together.

I rarely find myself so stunned that my jaw simply won’t close. But this time, I couldn’t hold it. And it wasn’t just my jaw — my mind was starved of oxygen, my blood was turning to ice. If anyone touched me at that moment, I would shatter into pieces.

Though the room contained no furniture, every wall and the very floor itself were covered in those purple-blue flower buds — packed so densely it would have made anyone with a phobia of close patterns faint dead away. And among those flowers there also grew green fruits the size of ping pong balls, their shape somewhat irregular. Looking closely, they appeared startlingly like human heads — the coloring and patterns on the fruit’s surface serving as facial features, eyes, nose, and mouth all present, expressions included. Despair, grief, madness. Not a single smile among them.

But this was not what struck me speechless.

The woman was truly beautiful. No powder, no ornaments, dressed in rough cloth — and yet she was a beauty of a kind rarely seen in this world. A woman like this — you simply could not bring yourself to look away. Even blinking felt like a waste.

A Chinese woman in ancient dress, present in this underground city beneath what ought to be South America. This was not what struck me speechless either.

The man whose hands were wrapped tightly around hers was also exceptionally handsome. A plain white shirt and jeans — hardly an extraordinary outfit — and yet on him they looked magnificent.

A shirt I had bought. Jeans I had bought. And the person wearing them was not anyone else.

Ao Chi — I had crossed mountains and seas to find you, and this is how you choose to reveal yourself to me? Casually holding some other woman’s hands?

“Well — the boy has taste,” Jiu Jue said, popping up from behind me.

“Of course he does — would a man without taste find a wife like me?” I snorted.

You’re probably expecting that I grabbed the nearest stool or shoe and went at my husband with it. And years ago, I would have. But now — I felt remarkably little anger. The sheer joy at knowing he was alive dwarfed every other emotion.

I was just about to go to his side when the older man stepped ahead of me. He walked directly to the pair and stared at the woman’s slightly pale face, brow furrowing. “It is you, as I thought.”

A rogue flower bud drifted silently down from the wall. Pakal tensed and shouted a warning. The older man didn’t even glance at it. He simply curled one finger and flicked it at the bud — no one saw a thing on his fingertip, just that one motion — and the attackers dissolved into ash.

“More capable than before,” he lowered his arm and said, with a cold smile. “You’ve consumed all the people and animals in this vicinity, haven’t you? Truly, the nature never changes.”

“I don’t know — perhaps,” the woman said slowly, exhaling a long breath. She raised her eyes to meet his. Her extraordinarily beautiful eyes held undeniable exhaustion — and within that exhaustion, a trace of relief, as though a tightly drawn wire had finally been allowed to slacken. “Seeing you surprises me, but this is truly wonderful. I have always been grateful that I entrusted the children to you.”

Old acquaintances?! What kind of relationship could this be — the most alarming possibility, that Ao Chi had stolen this older man’s former love? And she’d even mentioned children? This was too much — too much!

I pushed my way to Ao Chi’s side. His eyes were wide open — but from the moment we had entered until now, he had not said a single word, had not so much as moved his gaze. He just stared at that woman!

“You — say something!” I panicked and smacked him on the head.

No reaction. But my palm was repelled by an intensely cold force, leaving my entire hand stinging and aching.

“Is this how you normally hit your husband?” the older man said, taking my hand and examining my swollen palm.

“This counts as gentle.” The words were out before I caught myself. I had never told the older man anything about my relationship with Ao Chi!

“A fierce wife. Consider this a small lesson.” He released my hand.

I choked on a mouthful of fury. What on earth did this man take me for?

“Shaluo, don’t be alarmed. Ao Chi is only saving me,” the woman said. Her voice was as light as a single thread. The look she directed at me held not an ounce of hostility — only warmth, full and overflowing. Warmth was the only word for it.

“I… you… how do you know who I am?” All my anger dissolved with her single sentence. A face like that, eyes like that — it was truly impossible for me to dislike her.

“Ao Chi told me,” the woman said, smiling. “How you met, how you fell in love and married, the shop you opened together — from Bu Ting Sweet Shop to Bu Ting Inn, and that very bitter tea called Fu Sheng — he told me all of it.”

Ao Chi was absolutely not the type of person to have the patience to recount his private life to someone else, detail by detail. For him to have done this — either his mind had broken, or this woman had cast some spell over him — or he loved her.

“You and he… were very close?” I kept my emotions well in hand. In my heart, I had already arrived at the worst possible answer.

The woman gazed at Ao Chi’s face, the unguarded love in her eyes so deep and plain it could have melted him—

“He is my son.”

Epilogue

She was accustomed to sleeping at the very top of the divine hall. When she opened her eyes, the entire Underground City lay within view — she stretched out her hand, and it felt as though she could touch the sky itself. The highest place was the only place she felt safe. This world was his kingdom, and anyone who was not permitted to leave would remain here, life after life.

“My lord, Shenjun!” Lü Yao stood carefully beyond the threshold of his sleeping chamber. “That group has reached the wooden house! I fear that if we don’t act, ‘the Source’ will be damaged by them!”

“Who let you in?” He merely turned over and said calmly: “Without my command, no one is to interfere at the wooden house.”

“But if ‘the Source’ is harmed, I worry that—”

“If you imagine the worst, things tend to become exactly that.” He yawned. “You worry too much.”

“My lord, if ‘the Source’ is damaged, there will not be enough karmic energy. Not only will the wine pool cease to function — all of us will…”

“Go. I need to sleep a little longer.” He waved a hand, dismissing Lü Yao. “Relay my command: close the hotel. See all current guests out. Recall all agents.”

Lü Yao was completely taken aback. “What are you doing? If we do this, the wine pool will rapidly run dry. All our brothers will weaken and fail. We…”

“Stand down!” His voice sharpened. “Do as I have commanded!”

Lü Yao trembled and hurried out.

He drew a breath and pressed his face into the pillow. His dream was not yet finished.

In truth — this could hardly be called his dream. More like the traces left behind in this shell, nearly spent.

In the dream, sometimes it was the deep blue sea, the singing of the pearl-diving women. Sometimes a shadowy thatched shelter, a woman busy within, the scent of medicinal herbs drifting through the air. He couldn’t make out her face — only knew that she smiled at him with great gentleness.

Then there were scattered fragments: one fierce battle after another, and he always charged at the very front, cutting down demon heads. Blood of every color stained the sea into a rainbow. Not one person failed to praise and admire him. Even the man who stood at the head of the others — stern-faced, rarely smiling — raised his thumb in his direction.

Be careful out there. Come back early. Every time he set out, someone had said the same words, in the same serious tone.

The sea surged again — ice-cold, piercing — sweeping the fragments away into nothing.

He drew a sharp breath and sat bolt upright. A familiar, violent pain crashed over him in waves. Every bone, every vein, was wrapped in the agony of knives and axes.

After a long while, he finally found the strength to stand. He wiped the cold sweat from his brow, walked to the enormous mirror before him, gazed at his own reflection, pressed a hand against his chest — and smiled, dark and cold: “You have made something within me soft. But this is wrong. Hope is only illusion. We are travelers bound for the underworld — and the time has come.”

He laughed — a great, broad laugh — turned, and walked toward the eastern wall. He pressed a remote control. The pitch-black wall lit up —

An entire wall made up of dozens of display screens. He stepped back a pace, folded his arms, and studied what played on the screens: laboratory after laboratory, workers in protective suits moving busily about. Strange devices churned at high speed. Demons of every shape and kind — some strapped to operating tables and cut open, others placed into different machines and transformed into something else entirely. New demons kept arriving, the shifting images dizzying to the eye.

When he had seen enough, he walked to the wall and withdrew from a hidden compartment a book with a leather cover. He opened it. On the title page: Complete Collection of Demon Species Modification Technologies. At the signature, a discreet, unremarkable mark — 4E.

He tucked the book under his arm, walked to the edge of the palace roof, stood with half a foot over the precipice, and gazed out at the orange sky — now slowly threading through with dark energy. Eyes closed, he breathed it all in, a look of bliss on his face…