Meng Qianzi’s mind went blank with shock, and she almost rushed forward, when suddenly she felt her arm tighten—Jiang Lian had grabbed hold of her, whispering, “Calm down, he truly doesn’t know.”

Indeed, that expression of surprise and joy, along with his delighted questioning, he genuinely had no idea.

Seeing no response, Shen Gun curiously looked up.

Although Meng Qianzi had stopped in her tracks, her face showed a mix of emotions. Jiang Lian’s expression also seemed off. Shen Gun asked curiously, “What’s wrong with you two?”

Meng Qianzi couldn’t contain herself and asked harshly, “What did you do?”

Accustomed to giving orders, her angry gaze carried its authority, especially when her tone and expression were severe—it was quite intimidating. Shen Gun was startled: “I… I didn’t do anything.”

Nonsense! Her family’s mountain gallbladder showed no reaction to her, but played interactive games with a person of unknown origin. It was like her own son hugging someone else and calling them mother—how could she stay calm?

She wanted to storm over there again, but Jiang Lian’s grip was firm. However, his tone remained calm: “Miss Meng, frightening him to death won’t help. You can see he didn’t do anything.”

Only after sensing that her anger had subsided somewhat and her arm no longer struggled against his hand did Jiang Lian release his grip.

Shen Gun felt uneasy under their gaze, suddenly realizing the atmosphere had turned strangely tense, perhaps related to the mountain gallbladder—the gallbladder he was holding suddenly felt like a hot potato. He stammered to Meng Qianzi: “Then… Miss Meng, you can put it back.”

Meng Qianzi almost laughed from anger: among her golden bell symbols, only one was called “Gallbladder Severance.” Putting it back… was probably impossible.

She replied: “You put it back.”

Shen Gun was bewildered but, seeing her fierce expression, didn’t dare ask further. So he extended his hands to return the mountain gallbladder to its original position.

The gallbladder nestled in his palm, motionless.

Shen Gun cleverly thought this might be like raising chickens—whether attracting or shooing them away, one always needed to say something. So he pointed upward at the gallbladder and chanted: “Up!”

No response.

He tried another phrase: “Rise!”

Still no response.

Seeing him so pitiful, Meng Qianzi felt she might have been too harsh.

As she brooded, Jiang Lian said, “Miss Meng, you said the mountain gallbladder has been enshrined by the Mountain Ghosts for thousands of years… but I don’t think that’s the case.”

Meng Qianzi was in a foul mood, ready to snap at anyone who spoke to her, immediately taking a confrontational stance: “Why not?”

Jiang Lian smiled. Over these days, he had somewhat figured out Meng Qianzi’s temperament. He wouldn’t use force against something soft like cotton—the more irritable she became, the calmer he would remain. If both of them became agitated, popping like frying beans, the pot would have exploded long ago.

He said, “It’s easier to understand if you think of the mountain gallbladder as a person: it didn’t choose you, didn’t choose me, but chose Shen Gun, indicating it willingly approaches him.”

“But just now, in the ninth mountain level, that tongue was chasing and attacking Shen Gun—the mountain gallbladder is drawn to Shen Gun, yet the tongue desperately tried to prevent Shen Gun from getting close. The tongue doesn’t seem to be protecting the gallbladder but rather imprisoning it.”

Meng Qianzi couldn’t listen anymore: “Are you suggesting the mountain gallbladder has become our hostage?”

What a dramatic shift! How had the mountain gallbladder fallen from being their revered sacred object to an imprisoned captive?

Jiang Lian said, “Don’t preset your position, and don’t rush: put yourself in an observer’s position, from a fair perspective, and consider whether what I’m saying makes sense.”

Meng Qianzi remained silent, her mind rapidly reviewing scenes since meeting Shen Gun.

—At the telecommunications office, he heard Xian Qionghua mention “mountain gallbladder” and immediately determined it was related to him, traveling thousands of miles to reach Xiangxi;

—He said that since then, he often had a dream about finding a box;

—Upon seeing that stone at the third mountain level, he immediately said it was “fake”;

—The tongue relentlessly pursued Shen Gun, yet the mountain gallbladder willingly fell into his palm;

…

Meng Qianzi’s breathing quickened: Shen Gun hadn’t lied; between him and the mountain gallbladder, there truly existed a mysterious connection.

While she was caught in this emotional turmoil, Jiang Lian had already walked toward Shen Gun.

Shen Gun wasn’t foolish; listening to their exchange, he had guessed something of the situation. His scalp tingled, and his heart pounded as he stammered to Jiang Lian: “I really didn’t do anything… this is my first time… seeing the mountain gallbladder.”

In his nearly thirty years of traveling north and south, he had indeed experienced many things and met many extraordinary friends. But the “extraordinary” always belonged to others; he could only watch with wide eyes and silently record from the sidelines, often feeling jealous and resentful, thinking that fate was too cruel: allowing him only to watch, never to participate?

Now this was… inviting him to join the dance? Damn, this was too sudden—he wasn’t mentally prepared, and seeing Miss Meng’s expression made him somewhat nervous…

Jiang Lian asked him: “How do you feel right now?”

Shen Gun stuttered: “I feel… complicated.”

Jiang Lian knew he had misunderstood: “No, I’m asking if you’ve had any strange intuitions.”

After all, when Shen Gun saw the fake mountain gallbladder, his mind instantly concluded, “It’s fake.” Now that the real mountain gallbladder was in his hands, perhaps it could trigger him to remember something.

Shen Gun shook his head: “No… no.”

He felt like sitting on pins and needles, as if thorns were pricking his back, wanting to quickly return the mountain gallbladder to its original position—he glanced furtively at Meng Qianzi.

Jiang Lian noticed this: “It’s all right, you’re just a bit panicked. Don’t worry about Miss Meng—she’s always like this, fierce in words but not fierce as a person.”

What nonsense was that? Meng Qianzi was angry and wanted to rebuke him for talking rubbish, but after thinking about it, she held back. She couldn’t rush over there shouting, “I am fierce as a person too”—that would be too childish.

Jiang Lian continued guiding Shen Gun: “Focus a bit, close your eyes, hold the mountain gallbladder with both hands… Miss Meng can connect with the mountain’s rhythm and breath, you should try too, perhaps you can find the mountain’s gallbladder rhythm.”

Shen Gun hesitated briefly, then followed the instructions and closed his eyes: once his eyelids lowered, all the confusion before him disappeared, and he could no longer see Meng Qianzi’s intimidating, gloomy face. The mountain gallbladder rested in his joined hands, warm and soft but not flaccid, seemingly moving, though it was hard to tell—perhaps it wasn’t moving at all, and his hands were unconsciously trembling from nervousness.

Gradually, his heart calmed down.

When he heard Jiang Lian’s voice again, it sounded distant and unfamiliar, as if coming from infinitely far beyond the sky.

“Now… do you feel anything?”

Shen Gun’s lips moved slightly: Nothing, just darkness—of course it would be dark with his eyes closed.

But in an instant, everything changed.

The surroundings remained dark, not because his eyes were closed, but because the sky was dark: piercing wind sounds came from all around, and above, gloomy clouds rolled and surged.

Not far away, there were countless torches and bonfires, their flames violently fluttering in the wind, sometimes all leaning right, sometimes all pressing left.

Shen Gun’s heart raced rapidly. He wanted to run over, but his legs wouldn’t obey, his steps remaining unhurried, moving forward one by one.

As he drew closer, it was as if he were enveloped by something, suddenly plunged into a huge, cacophonous wave of sound.

There were many people, but he couldn’t see them clearly—in his eyes, they were just black silhouettes, either squatting, standing, or moving back and forth. There were many boxes with open lids, and people continuously placed things inside them. He couldn’t see what they were placing, only that some boxes had just covered the bottom, some were half-filled, and some were nearly full, their lids closing with a bang.

What did it resemble? Like a family fleeing disaster—no, no, that was too small-scale. With so many boxes, it was like an entire clan… or even a city migration.

Shen Gun wandered bewildered amid this complexity and disorder, occasionally stepping aside to let someone pass, then letting another person pass.

Suddenly, a spine-chilling, long cry came from overhead. Before he could look up, his gaze was drawn to the scene at his feet.

A huge, elongated shadow was winding its way past his feet.

He knew it was just a projection, yet his entire being felt suffocated by this shadow alone: at first glance, it resembled a snake, but it was far more majestic than the giant snake they had seen earlier descending the cliff. Moreover, this shadow didn’t move straight—you could see its rises and falls, even the slow coiling of its body. At its side…

Shen Gun’s mind exploded in a chain reaction, as if experiencing a tremendous upheaval. Everything that existed collapsed entirely, bursting into countless fragments. These fragments, accompanied by whistling sounds, came from extremely far to extremely near, pressing against his eardrums, passing by and passing by again.

At its side were dancing, enormous, scaled claws.

Considering the long cry that had just echoed through the clouds…

Shen Gun stood stunned for a long while, then suddenly became excited: This was a dragon! A legendary dragon!

He quickly raised his head to look, but could see nothing: the clouds that had dispersed in the sky had gathered again, completely concealing the tracks from moments before.

As he stared upward in a daze, someone beside him urged: “Hurry up.”

Oh yes, hurry. Shen Gun quickly lowered his head and saw the translucent white mountain gallbladder cradled in his hands, with a half-open box directly in front of him.

Without thinking, he placed the mountain gallbladder into the box.

That person then announced, as if calling out items: “One mountain gallbladder.”

The sun was high in the sky as Liu Guanguo led seven or eight mountain residents, waiting expectantly halfway up the mountain.

Just as they were growing anxious, they heard the thundering sound of a large-displacement motorcycle, like rumbling thunder, rising from the foot of the mountain. Looking toward the sound, billowing yellow dust rose from below, resembling an ascending yellow dragon: Xiangxi was typically rainy and not so dry, and normal vehicles wouldn’t raise dust, showing just how powerful this motorcycle’s grip on the ground was.

Liu Guanguo’s spirits lifted, and the people beside him excitedly shouted: “Fifth Aunt, it’s Fifth Aunt coming!”

Soon, a powerful, sleek, and cool iron machine arrived before them.

This was a custom replica of the “Dodge Tomahawk” motorcycle. It was a replica because the Tomahawk, dubbed the king of motorcycles, had immense power with a top speed exceeding 600 km/h. Equipped with racing wheels, it could even outpace high-speed trains. Due to its excessive speed, it was illegal in most countries and not permitted on the streets.

Liu Guanguo quickly led his people forward to greet her.

The rider removed her helmet, spitting out sand from her mouth with a “phew, phew,” while complaining loudly: “I see Xiangxi has plenty of trees planted, so why is there still so much sand?”

This statement was difficult to respond to. Liu Guanguo’s face was full of smiles as he greeted her with some restraint: “Fifth Sister, you’ve had a tiring journey.”

This was Meng Qianzi’s Fifth Mother, Mountain Eyebrow Qiu Biying.

She had just turned fifty this year, but was full of vitality, looking only in her forties. She wore a boy’s haircut, with each short strand styled upright, was slightly plump with a prosperous appearance, and spoke with a booming voice that could make one’s eardrums vibrate: “Not tiring at all. Hunan and Hubei, how far is that? That silly Jinsong told me little Qian was fine and I didn’t need to come—I had already driven halfway, then turned back, then came again. Am I just driving back and forth for fun?”

Liu Guanguo nodded repeatedly: “That’s right, that’s right!”

Qiu Biying dismounted but didn’t forget to instruct the two helping to push her motorcycle: “There’s braised food and crayfish in the back package. I brought them for little Qian, don’t forget to take them up.”

The two acknowledged and continued pushing the motorcycle with all their strength, their faces turning red with effort: this type of motorcycle had an extremely heavy body—riding it was enjoyable, but pushing it was suffering, especially on this uneven mountain path. If they accidentally dropped the bike, Fifth Aunt would be furious.

Hearing about the food she had brought, Liu Guanguo couldn’t help but smile.

Everyone among the Mountain Ghosts knew that Fifth Aunt Qiu Biying had two great passions in life: motorcycles and crayfish.

Her preference for the latter exceeded the former. Whether garlic steamed, oil-braised, or ice-chilled, there was no method she hadn’t tried. Her eyes were sharp—one glance was enough to determine male from female, fresh from defrosted. Qiu Biying wasn’t from Wuhan: she had eaten Xuyi crayfish and found them mediocre; tried Shanghai crayfish and remained unsatisfied; then tasted Changsha spicy crayfish but still found something lacking. When she finally tried Wuhan crayfish, the flavors matched her preference perfectly, and with a satisfied sigh, she settled in Wuhan.

She had also invested in many braised food shops and crayfish restaurants, which was why she often gave away her products as gifts. Recipients could never say a word about them being “not good,” or she would argue with a red face and thick neck, endlessly.

Liu Guanguo led Qiu Biying upward: “Meng’s assistant is waiting above. He was going to come meet you, but knowing you wanted to see the cave, he went ahead to make arrangements.”

Qiu Biying made a sound of acknowledgment: “Are you sure little Qian is all right?”

“Meng’s assistant said she’s fine, just troubling Fifth Sister to ward off mountain beasts and lower some ropes, otherwise Miss Meng probably can’t come up.”

“What about that fire-setting woman? I heard she even eats bats?”

Indeed, just thinking about it gave one the creeps.

Hunan and Hubei were close, and Liu Guanguo had crossed paths with Qiu Biying several times, making them old acquaintances. After exchanging a few words, his earlier restraint disappeared: “When we found her, she was sitting there, just taking the bat away from her mouth, still swallowing and sucking… and giggling, extending her hand saying, come on, tie me up…”

“I’ve lived most of my life and never seen someone like that. Fifth Sister, tell me, how could I dare to tie her up? What if she had some evil intention, and tying her up played right into her plan…”

Qiu Biying spoke with full vigor: “Jinsong didn’t do wrong in this matter. I tell you, those who truly have substance and knowledge never engage in such flashy displays. The more elaborate, bizarre, and intimidating the scene they create, pretending to be supernatural, the more it shows they’ve reached a dead end and have no options left.”

Fifth Aunt’s words were naturally correct, and Liu Guanguo nodded attentively: “That’s right, that’s right.”

Qiu Biying suddenly remembered something: “Let me ask you, how much time passed between the fire starting and you finding that Bai woman?”

Liu Guanguo couldn’t discern her intention: “Not long, not long. Our Meng assistant reacts very quickly and immediately sends people down to find the mountain intestine. Although it took some time to find her, she was essentially trapped—we had our people surrounding every cave entrance at that time, so even if she left the cave, she had nowhere to run.”

Qiu Biying said, “That’s not what I mean. No matter how quick Jinsong’s reaction was, sending people down the cliff still takes time, right?”

Liu Guanguo hesitantly nodded: “Yes, at least… fifteen minutes.”

“Within those fifteen minutes, if she had left the cave immediately, she could have escaped, right?”

Liu Guanguo thought for a moment and nodded again.

“That’s where the problem lies—why didn’t she leave?”

Indeed. Liu Guanguo presented his view again: “That’s why I believe she stayed because she had a sinister plot.”

Qiu Biying’s answer was ambiguous: “That’s not necessarily the case. It’s also possible that she was hindered by something and couldn’t leave.”

As they spoke, they arrived at the entrance of the intestine-like cave. Several more people came forward to guide Qiu Biying up the steel ladder. Meng Jinsong had been waiting in the cave for some time, and hearing the commotion, he took several quick steps to receive her.

Qiu Biying nodded to him as a greeting, then surveyed the inside of the cave.

Bai Shuixiao was also present, probably because Meng Jinsong knew Qiu Biying wanted to see the cave and had brought her along for inspection.

This woman’s hands and feet were bound, and her expression had been somewhat dejected. Seeing Qiu Biying enter, she immediately straightened her back, her eyes showing vigilance and caution, but quickly smiled, her voice rather pleasant with a touch of coquettishness: “If you’re going to kill me, just get on with it. You’ve brought another old woman to intimidate me?”

She giggled.

Meng Jinsong angrily said: “Shut your mouth…”

Qiu Biying lightly patted Meng Jinsong’s arm.

Though her temper was fiery, she wouldn’t be provoked by a few words from a young girl. She stepped forward and said, “Child, don’t laugh at old women. Heaven is kind to you only if it lets you live to an older age. If it doesn’t favor you, you won’t even have the chance to grow old.”

Bai Shuixiao’s heart tightened, her lips moving slightly, but she said nothing more. Liu Guanguo and others standing behind, seeing Qiu Biying silence Bai Shuixiao with just a few sentences, all showed pleased expressions, feeling quite satisfied.

Qiu Biying carefully examined the mountain cave.

It was spacious, with a cave opening at the far end where two or three bats still hung sporadically. The stench had mostly dissipated, but that burnt smell still lingered faintly. Qiu Biying beckoned Meng Jinsong to come over and asked in a low voice: “Do you think it’s the ancestral tablet?”

Those among the Mountain Ghosts who knew the inside story had all heard about the ancestral tablet’s strangeness. This object seemed to affect people’s minds, instantly turning them into puppets without consciousness who only followed orders, taking at least an hour or two to return to normal. The reason Meng Qianzi was exploring the mountain gallbladder was ultimately because of the ancestral tablet’s influence, which was why Qiu Biying’s first thought was of the ancestral tablet.

Meng Jinsong didn’t dare to make a definitive judgment: “It seems somewhat similar, but it’s not the same thing, and we didn’t find any tablet in this cave.”

Qiu Biying scolded him: “How muddleheaded!”

“Since the ancestral tablet can influence people’s minds, does it have to render them unconscious? Can’t it communicate with you and brainwash you? Besides, the Water Ghosts call it the ancestral tablet because it’s an ancestral memorial tablet, but who told you it must be shaped like a tablet?”

Saying this, she turned to sit down, and someone with quick thinking had already set up a folding canvas chair for her.

Qiu Biying sat firmly in the chair and ordered those around her: “Search this cave inside and out, top to bottom, even if you need to climb ladders to reach higher places. Look for me, especially paying attention to inconspicuous crevices nearby—check if there’s any stone debris, which would indicate recent carving.”

As soon as she finished speaking, all the color drained from Bai Shuixiao’s face in an instant.