Huangshan, Mountain Osmanthus Studio.

Unlike the lavishly decorated wellness center in the city, this was the true headquarters of the Mountain Ghosts.

This was a very old building, located in a remote area deep within the mountains, first constructed during the mid-Tang dynasty. From its inception, it was designed with warfare in mind, so instead of ornate beams and painted rafters, it was built with heavy stone blocks. Underground spaces were extensively excavated. In case evacuation became necessary, everyone could leave with minimal belongings, while valuables were hidden underground. First, they would set fire to the ground level and deliberately damage doors and windows—the sturdy framework would prevent substantial damage. This preemptive measure showed potential troops and bandits that the place was already abandoned with nothing left to loot or burn. “Please look elsewhere.”

After the conflicts passed, they would tidy up and restore it to a solid, secure residence.

Moreover, Mountain Osmanthus Studio had mastered the art of “hiding a dwelling within mountains, and rooms within rooms.” Outsiders had never seen its true facade, and this remained the case today. The entrance appeared to be an ordinary resort, but after winding through numerous turns, the vehicle would approach the true core, and simultaneously, approach ancient times and uninterrupted heritage.

It was nearly midnight. Xian Qionghua walked along the winding cobblestone path of Mountain Osmanthus Studio. Though modern furnishings had been introduced, the place maintained its ancient ambiance to the greatest extent possible. The garden lighting, for instance, favored candles. Among the scattered rockeries, at various heights and positions, glowed soft candlelight protected by transparent windshields. Occasionally, one could hear the crisp snap of a candle wick.

Xian Qionghua loved this feeling: the outside world raced against time, but stepping into Mountain Osmanthus Studio made one feel that time stretched endlessly, and that this place alone offered a beautiful view.

She arrived at the door of a large room and knocked. Sister Liu quickly answered but didn’t bother greeting her, turning instead to announce to those inside: “Seventh Sister is here.”

The entrance opened directly into the living room, where Gao Jinghong and Qiu Biying sat around a table.

Gao Jinghong wore a green silk tied bathrobe and was gently stirring her tea with a small gilded shell-handled spoon. Qiu Biying, however, wore a loose black T-shirt and had beer, salted peanuts, and several plates of braised chicken feet, duck necks, and other cold dishes beside her.

Xian Qionghua greeted Qiu Biying: “Fifth Sister hasn’t left yet?”

Qiu Biying said, “When I’m away, I never think of this place; when I’m here, I want to stay forever.”

She beckoned: “Come try my shop’s braised dishes. They just arrived by express today.”

Xian Qionghua had no interest in the braised food. She took out a cigarette and first looked at Gao Jinghong: “Elder Sister, do you mind?”

Gao Jinghong chided her: “You should smoke less.”

As she spoke, she fanned her nose as if the smoke had already reached her, and instructed Sister Liu: “Turn on the earth air conditioner to freshen the air.”

Sister Liu acknowledged, first bringing an ashtray for Xian Qionghua, then bending down to stick her fingers into the floor and forcefully lift a stone lid about the size of a dish.

Cool air whooshed up from below.

This was an earth air conditioner popular among wealthy households in old Huizhou. It worked by digging a basement one or two meters square below, utilizing the constant earth temperature, channeling mountain spring water to create air circulation that affected the room temperature. While it couldn’t compare to modern air conditioners in cooling efficiency, it was naturally refreshing.

The wisdom of the ancients was not to be underestimated.

After completing these tasks, Sister Liu walked to a chair in the corner on the other side of the room. She turned on the desk lamp, put on her reading glasses, and picked up an embroidery hoop and needle. She was skilled at embroidery; her daughter sold her pieces on Taobao, with many customers queuing to buy them.

She didn’t need the money, but being appreciated by people she’d never met gave her a sense of accomplishment.

Xian Qionghua returned her gaze from Sister Liu, took a drag of her cigarette, slowly exhaled, and looked down at the white vapor rising from the earth air conditioner opening. In her ears, the light sound of the teaspoon hitting the cup.

Gao Jinghong asked her: “Is Zi’er asleep? That injury—it’s not serious, is it?”

Xian Qionghua murmured in agreement: “All those mountain delicacies and rare treasures she ate since childhood weren’t for nothing. We’ve practically raised her into a medicine person. An injury like this, she can handle.”

Qiu Biying asked: “That Jiang Lian, he saved little Qian’er again?”

Xian Qionghua nodded: “If not for him this time, I’d be delivering the news of her death to you.”

Qiu Biying murmured: “That’s twice now.”

Xian Qionghua tapped ash into the ashtray: “In the future, if Zi’er truly becomes involved with him, I can’t say much against it. I’ve said before, either prevent something from happening, or once it happens, can you still stop it? This time is different from the last.”

Gao Jinghong paused, slowly removing the tea spoon and placing it on the rest: “Ge Da… still hasn’t been found?”

Qiu Biying snorted: “Elder Sister, stop thinking about him. A vagabond—here today, there tomorrow, wandering all over China with no fixed abode. How could anyone find someone like that? Even with two or three more Wan Fenghuo helping, it would be impossible.”

Gao Jinghong corrected her: “He’s not wandering all over China. Mr. Ge Da only roams north of the Yangtze River.”

Qiu Biying poured herself a drink: “North of the Yangtze… is that small? If Ge Da is still alive, calculate his age—he must be seventy-something if not eighty. Perhaps he’s already passed on. Besides, he couldn’t see it even when his eyes were good. Now that he’s blind, how could he see anything?”

Gao Jinghong sighed: “I just want to ask what those words meant. What we did back then wronged Zi’er. With her temperament, she’s still holding a grudge—can’t you tell?”

Xian Qionghua smiled bitterly: “How could I not tell? When you’re indebted to someone, when you’ve eaten their food, when you’ve done something dishonorable, your back bends. When Zi’er speaks harshly to me, I don’t dare talk back.”

Qiu Biying empathized: “We’re all the same.”

Gao Jinghong pondered for a moment, then had a thought: “What do you think… about that Shen Gun? Is he suitable? Seventh Sister, you were the one who investigated his background initially. What’s your impression?”

Xian Qionghua thought for a moment: “His character is fine, and his friendships and relationships all seem genuine…”

Gao Jinghong interrupted: “The key is ability.”

“In terms of ability, he’s certainly experienced in this field. Like Elder Duan, he’s spent half his life investigating strange occurrences. Although he can’t cast divinations or read fortunes, he has more connections than we do. Didn’t Zi’er also say that our mountain gallbladders kept falling into his hands? Appearances can be deceiving—I think he has a significant background.”

Gao Jinghong nodded slightly, hesitated, then tentatively suggested: “Maybe we should let him investigate?”

The plane had been delayed the previous night. By the time Jiang Lian reached the hotel, it was already midnight. After briefly greeting Kuang Meiying and checking in, he collapsed into bed. When he opened his eyes, the sun was already high.

Fortunately, breakfast was still being served. After washing up, Jiang Lian passed by Shen Gun’s door and knocked: if he was in, they could go together; if not, he had probably already gone down to eat.

After two knocks, the door opened.

Jiang Lian was startled by Shen Gun’s appearance: his hair was disheveled, his gaze vacant, his glasses slightly askew, and two huge dark circles under his eyes suggested a sleepless night.

Jiang Lian had a sudden thought: “Did you have a dream last night?”

Shen Gun snapped: “Little Lian Lian, don’t you have anything else to say besides asking if I’ve had dreams? I was doing research.”

Jiang Lian peered inside: the research scene was indeed chaotic, with papers strewn everywhere.

But one wall caught his attention: four A2 papers were taped together to form a large chart, filled with writing and lines in various colors.

Jiang Lian nodded in that direction: “What’s that?”

Shen Gun proudly declared: “The result of my night-long struggle—a synthesis of all our current progress, with some newly deduced connections.”

Intrigued, Jiang Lian moved closer and immediately noticed a large mountain drawn in the center of the chart.

Before he could ask, Shen Gun had already grabbed the hotel room’s shoe horn and pointed at the mountain: “Kunlun Mountains—the source of everything, where it all began, and where everything will return and end.”

Jiang Lian folded his arms, giving Shen Gun a skeptical sideways glance: “What makes you say that?”

Shen Gun responded: “Little Lian Lian, I’ve said from the beginning that you need a global perspective. Everything started at the Kunlun Mountains, where several key events occurred.”

“First, the Divine Race gathered there, seemingly conducting a great evacuation or mourning. They counted boxes, placing important items inside, including mountain gallbladders, beast bones, the original ‘Classic of Mountains and Seas,’ and Nüwa’s clay figurines. They didn’t want these things to circulate outside—they wanted to send them away or seal them forever.”

“Second, the golden-winged phoenix died, the great dragon perished, and before that, the last qilin died as well.”

“Third, one box was stolen, indicating the Divine Race had adversaries. Remember my dream? Two people speaking furtively in a cave, mentioning boxes with phoenix and luan bird patterns—forty of them—and inquiring about craftsmen…”

Jiang Lian interjected: “The craftsman’s surname was Kuang. Are you suspecting that Meiying’s ancestors were craftsmen?”

Shen Gun nodded: “When ordinary people move, they pack boxes. The Divine Race’s great evacuation certainly required many boxes—boxes that needed to be especially secure, that ordinary people couldn’t open.”

“They arranged for special craftsmen to manufacture them, not just one family but several, each with their skills. The Kuang family was responsible for forty of them, and the stolen box happened to be one made by the Kuang family. I suspect the Kuang family’s blood is a special code, like modern fingerprint or retinal scan boxes. Blood-opening must have been a crucial part of the Kuang-made boxes. That’s why after stealing the box, the adversaries couldn’t open it and had to inquire about the craftsmen.”

Jiang Lian realized: “So the cave conversation scene occurred after the box was stolen?”

Shen Gun affirmed: “These adversaries must have found the Kuang family, promised them something beneficial, and brought them into the scheme, thus successfully opening the box. Now we know the box’s contents are scattered, while the Kuang family ended up with just an empty box—that’s what happened at Kunlun Mountains back then.”

Jiang Lian said softly: “Hearing it this way, the Kuang family ancestors sound like traitors.”

He looked at the chart. From the Kunlun Mountains at the center, four major lines extended in four directions.

Shen Gun pointed the shoe horn at one of them: “This is the Xiangxi line. It divides into two branches. First is the Loudi Kuang family. They lived in Loudi for generations, appearing as an ordinary family. The only unusual aspect was their duty to guard an empty box. If they failed and lost the box, they would suffer a terrible illness as retribution—essentially tied to the same vine as the box.”

Jiang Lian felt an indescribable emotion: the Kuang family had fulfilled this duty well for generations, until that family evacuation more than seventy years ago…

Then again, if the Kuang family hadn’t encountered misfortune, Jiang Lian wouldn’t be standing here today.

Shen Gun continued: “Second is Suspended Gallbladder Peak Forest, involving bronze supports, mountain gallbladders, knotted rope records, and cave spirits.”

Jiang Lian examined the chart closely. Each item Shen Gun mentioned had its corresponding note.

Bronze supports — Chiyou tribe

Mountain gallbladders — Mountain Ghosts

Knotted rope records — Huayao people

Cave spirits — water essence, Bai Shuixiao

Moving on from the Xiangxi line, Shen Gun pointed to the second line: “This is the Guangxi line.”

The Guangxi line had unfolded just days ago and remained fresh in memory, requiring no elaboration.

On the chart, the Guangxi line also had two branches: one leading to Dragon Suppression Mountain, with dragon bone fragments; the other to Phoenix Mountain, with phoenix feathers.

The Phoenix Mountain branch had numerous connections: fixed-water yuan corresponding to Water Ghosts, coffins and remains corresponding to the Nine Bells Sheng family, and the bronze lid corresponding to the Chiyou tribe.

Shen Gun said, “Remember the fallen dragon at Kunlun Mountains? I believe its skeleton was burned—otherwise, there wouldn’t be mentions of dragon bone ash and fragments. Only flames from phoenix feathers can ignite dragon bones. Dragon bones were the fuel, and phoenix feathers were the ignition.”

Jiang Lian had a sudden thought: “In Phoenix Eye, Elder Duan took one phoenix feather, and fifty or sixty remained in the underwater cave. But a phoenix would have far more feathers than that!”

Shen Gun praised him: “Exactly, Little Lian Lian! Liberation and I were once close companions. Though just a pheasant, it had over a thousand feathers. How could a golden-winged phoenix have only fifty or sixty feathers? The only explanation is that these fifty or sixty were deliberately left behind. The question is—why leave them? Phoenix feathers are used to burn dragon bones. If some phoenix feathers were left, then some dragon bones must have been left as well.”

Indeed, Jiang Lian recalled the cave conversation from Shen Gun’s dream.

One person asked: “What about the dragon bones? Why are they just a packet of ash?”

The other replied: “These are burned ones. I scraped them all up. The others couldn’t be found—who knows where they hid them?”

This conversation indicated that somewhere in the world, some dragon bones remained hidden.

Dragon bones, phoenix feathers, boxes…

Jiang Lian’s heart suddenly raced as an idea rapidly formed. He blurted out: “Could those boxes have been burned?”

Shen Gun didn’t follow immediately: “Huh?”

Jiang Lian’s heart pounded faster: “Weren’t there many boxes? All along, we’ve only been searching for one. Where did all the others go?”

“Dragon bones are the fuel, phoenix feathers the ignition—but what was the purpose of burning dragon bones? Could it be that they wanted to consign everything in those boxes—all their research and discoveries—to flames? And the reason some phoenix feathers and dragon bones were left behind was because one box had been stolen!”

The remaining phoenix feathers and dragon bones were meant for that stolen box.

Following this line of thought: “Remember our discussion? Someone deliberately dismembered this box, having different people take away its contents, even assigning someone to keep the empty box, ensuring these people never interacted. Why would they do this?”

Shen Gun drew in a sharp breath.

What they couldn’t understand then has become somewhat clear now.

It was because if these items came together, were placed in the box, and then dragon bones and phoenix feathers were added, flames would rise, and everything would be incinerated, vanishing into smoke.

That’s why the box’s contents were scattered. Less important items, like beast bones and bells, were allowed to disperse, while critical ones, like mountain gallbladders and phoenix feathers, were hidden meticulously…

Shen Gun suddenly thought of something: “What about the dragon bones?”

Jiang Lian contemplated: “The dragon bones… these adversaries probably never obtained them. In your dream, there was a scene of disembowelment. It appears to be a punishment for betrayal. That person was likely a spy who helped the adversaries steal the box and obtain phoenix feathers, but hadn’t yet discovered the location of the dragon bones before being exposed. Otherwise, think about it—among many boxes, with forty looking identical from the outside, how could those hands reaching from the fog so precisely take the exact box they wanted to steal? It would be impossible without an insider’s guidance.”

Shen Gun was dumbfounded for a long moment before remembering there was more to the story. He pointed the shoe horn at the third line: “This is the seven-beast bones line. It’s my interest, listed separately because it relates to several of my friends, but it’s also the line with the fewest clues.”

“I suspect that when the seven beast bones left the box, seven malevolent energies were released directly into the world, never returning to their proper place. Those seven beast bones were also discarded carelessly. Their whereabouts are only hinted at in the line interpreted by Master Bamei.”

—Eyes may be deceived, but hands will help you recognize them.

Shen Gun looked at that line with near melancholy. He still hadn’t told those friends about this, because Cao Yanhua, the grand-disciple of Plum Blossom Nine Maiden, had a famous saying: “May all inevitable frights in this world turn out to be false alarms, and all received joys never be empty rejoicing.”

With things still uncertain, he didn’t want to carelessly give his friends false hope.

He sighed, turning his gaze to the fourth line: “This is the Water Ghost line, also with two branches: one to Golden Moat Cave, the other to Drifting Underground Cavern.”

“This is the current framework of the entire event. The matter essentially exploded from the Water Ghost point. Originally, following their ancestral master’s dying command, they had obediently acted as puppets. But the tragic expedition to the Drifting Underground Cavern twenty-some years ago changed everything.”

Jiang Lian continued: “They began to doubt their ancestral master, sought out the Mountain Ghosts, and Qianzi went to Xiangxi to investigate mountain gallbladders to help them. And I happened to be there fishing for mirage scenes for Meiying.”

Thank heavens, like tributaries joining a great river, he found the right path there. Otherwise, he might still be at Yuling Mountain today, desperately fishing for mirage scenes, scrutinizing broken images in vain.

Shen Gun exhaled deeply: “I haven’t finished yet. These events have hidden connections between them. For instance, the cave spirit, before dying, sacrificed Bai Shuixiao to transmit an important message—likely warning ‘them’ in the Drifting Underground Cavern that something was wrong. The entire Drifting Underground Cavern has probably now been hidden in the most secure place, beyond the Water Ghosts’ ability to find.”

“The whole affair involves three extremely important people.”

“First is Yan Luo. He was never part of the grand scheme—he was an accident, stumbling in as a Kuang family branch line. He obtained the box, got directions regarding phoenix feathers and dragon bone fragments, and even went to the Kunlun Mountains, consuming the qilin crystal. But his experience gave us insights. If those grape-like clusters in the Drifting Underground Cavern are qilin crystals, Yan Luo could never have entered the cavern. Water Ghosts lost so many lives going in—how could Yan Luo manage? Yet Yan Luo entered the Kunlun Mountains, which suggests there must be some passage there leading to the returned Drifting Underground Cavern.”

“Second is Miss Duan. She must have a special role, which is why Yan Luo went to such lengths, even willing to surrender great secrets, to trick her into going to Kunlun with him. We still don’t know what this role is.”

“The third person is me.”

At this point, his eyes filled with bewilderment: “Who exactly am I? What role do I play in this whole affair?”