Meng Qianzi shifted her gaze: “What about the others?”

There was so much she wanted to ask, but she didn’t know where to begin. However, seeing Ni Qiuhui’s calm expression, her heart settled somewhat: the casualties couldn’t be too severe, right? If they were significant, Third Mom’s expression would be… more solemn?

Ni Qiuhui sat down by the bed, helped Meng Qianzi adjust her blanket, and then explained the situation one by one.

Ni Qiuhui had reunited with Jing Rusi.

In Jing Rusi’s group of thirteen people, four had died—one at the hands of the snow people, later devoured by stone worms until only dismembered limbs remained, and three had slipped into the ice blood vessels.

Because that slope was too strange, the naked eye couldn’t detect where the problems were. In the end, Jing Rusi and her group tied ropes and climbed along the mountain wall to get around—this was why they had desperately waved to stop Jiang Lian’s group when they saw them about to descend the slope.

Xian Qionghua had reunited with Meng Jinsong. In Meng Jinsong’s original group of eight people, one had died and one was severely injured, both victims of the stone worms.

He Shengzhi and Shi Xiaohai had been separated, and later confirmed dead—one at the hanging sheep corpse painting location, and one beheaded by the Xingtian people.

This was the casualty report after Jing Rusi’s group entered the mountain’s intestines. The previous team of eight could essentially be considered annihilated. So calculating downward, the Kunlun Mountain expedition had, up to now, fourteen dead and one severely injured, not counting those with minor injuries.

Ni Qiuhui sighed: “Such casualties haven’t been seen in decades. Big Sister is also taking it hard. She said if she had known it would be like this, she wouldn’t have sought Lady Duan’s corpse—but these things can’t be undone.”

Meng Qianzi fell silent.

Yes, it couldn’t be undone. The Mountain Ghosts had a grand legacy and reputation for their inheritance and abilities, yet they left an elder’s corpse exposed in the wilderness without retrieving it. Insiders would find it incomprehensible, and outsiders would mock their weakness.

Searching wasn’t wrong, but when everyone departed full of hope, they had merely expected to find Old Lady Duan’s body in some corner or under a pile of snow. Who could have imagined they would enter the Nine Twists and Turns?

“Then… Third Mom, how did you all get out later?”

Ni Qiuhui smiled: “For that, we have to thank you all.”

The two groups had been searching for paths within the mountain’s intestines, but by coincidence, they never managed to reunite. Fortunately, since they had all previously waded through blades and shed blood, they were aware of the mountain intestines’ dangers and remained vigilant, preventing further major casualties.

Ni Qiuhui and Jing Rusi’s group had reached the hanging sheep corpse painting location, where they saw He Shengzhi’s body, Meng Qianzi’s letter, and the characters Lady Duan had carved on the door. But by then, it was no longer twilight, and there was no door beyond the door. When they looked through the doorway, they could only see a deep, bottomless pit.

Xian Qionghua’s group had reached the ice blood vessels. Fortunately, Ni Qiuhui had witnessed the dangers of this area and, fearing that later arrivals might wade through the blades, had people mark long ropes with luminescent rock chalk, then tie them to bow arms and shoot them out, creating a specific cross-shaped line network above that slope to divide the space—when Xian Qionghua arrived, the crossing lines had mostly collapsed, possibly gnawed through by stone worms, but the luminescence and general line pattern remained, making the danger obvious. She immediately retreated, not daring to cross that area.

Later, they experienced the “intestinal contraction.”

…

Ni Qiuhui said: “The path you took was the true exit, different from the intestines where we were. According to Jiang Lian, your path was just rather bumpy, possibly affected by the contraction. Ours… that was truly like being tossed inside a human intestine.”

According to her, quite suddenly, that intestinal passage began to shake. If previously it had been gently undulating, it later became a churning, tumultuous motion.

Moreover, the intestine began shifting from horizontal to tilted.

Anyone would know that in such a situation, people would slide downward, and in this place, downward meant many terrifying things.

Fortunately, Mountain Ghosts were still Mountain Ghosts, with crisis response abilities far exceeding ordinary people. As soon as the intestine showed signs of movement, Ni Qiuhui ordered everyone to tie ropes, linking the dozen or so people together like a giant centipede to prevent separation during the chaos.

Later, when the intestine tilted, everyone used daggers to stab into the rock wall, moving in unison, truly climbing upward like a centipede. The situation was chaotic—rocks fell, people lost their footing, but thankfully, everyone was tied together, preventing serious consequences. There were also swarms of stone worms, rustling and crunching, pouring down like a tide from above. Due to the lingering effect of the “Mountain Beast Repellent,” they automatically flowed around people when encountered. The scene, even now, made one’s scalp tingle to recall.

Meng Qianzi murmured, “These stone worms probably can only survive inside the mountain intestines. They sensed the intestines were contracting, so they were rushing desperately toward deeper areas.”

Ni Qiuhui sighed: “Yes, they were frantically flowing downward, while we were desperately climbing upward… It’s almost funny when you think about it, each heading to our examination halls, each returning to our hometowns.”

As they struggled to climb, a spine-chilling cracking sound suddenly came from about ten meters ahead.

Meng Qianzi listened with her heart pounding and flesh trembling, unable to resist grasping Ni Qiuhui’s hand: “Third Mom, what… happened then?”

Ni Qiuhui smiled. Meng Qianzi had always been like this since childhood—loving stories and easily getting immersed in them. Gao Jinghong once said of her: “Our precious Zi won’t be lured away with candy or fine clothes, but tell her a story, and she might just follow you away.”

She withdrew her hand, clenched it into a fist, and covered it with her other hand at some distance: “I later realized that the mountain had two nested layers—an outer shell and an inner core. That core was the contracted mountain intestine.”

“The mountain shell originally had nine entrances. When the intestines expanded, the nine intestinal passages would connect to these nine entrances, but during contraction, the connection points would break.”

Meng Qianzi suddenly understood: “The cracking sound you heard was the connection point of that intestine breaking?”

Ni Qiuhui nodded: “Fortunately, we weren’t too far away at the time. One glance and I understood—this intestine was twisting, but that broken section remained motionless, indicating safety on that side.”

At that moment, Ni Qiuhui was also desperate, commanding everyone to climb for their lives: the gap at the fracture was still small but would inevitably grow wider. Once it reached a certain size, they would never be able to cross.

In this life-or-death moment, no one lagged. Everyone climbed with all their might. By the time they reached the fracture, the distance between the two sides was already more than a body length. However, “centipedes” can also leap: under the commands of the two aunties, the rear half of the “centipede body” arched up, throwing the front half across with all their strength, while the two people at the front firmly grasped the fracture on the opposite side.

Recalling it now, Ni Qiuhui still felt lingering fear: “You should have seen it—it was so dangerous. That intestinal passage retracted instantly, leaving only our string of ‘centipede people’ hanging in midair at the fracture. Honestly, we almost couldn’t hold on.”

After all, there were more than a dozen people, and only two or three at the front—how could they possibly support everyone?

Fortunately, she had left enough people outside: Huang Song and his group of twenty-some people were guarding the entrance. Hearing the catastrophic changes inside, Huang Song bravely entered to investigate and happened to see Ni Qiuhui’s group hanging at the fracture, about to fall. He rushed forward to grab them, shouting for people outside. Those outside rushed in, and so one grabbed another, quickly tying ropes in sequence, pulling like a chain of radishes, and finally stabilized Ni Qiuhui’s string of people.

At this point, Ni Qiuhui sighed: “Sometimes, a second too late or a minute too early just won’t do. At that time, we were fortunate to still be hanging there.”

All Mountain Ghosts used the same emergency techniques. Xian Qionghua’s group had also formed a “centipede person” chain and were frantically climbing upward. But perhaps because their starting point was too deep, by the time they reached the fracture, that intestinal passage was already too far from the corresponding cliff entrance.

Meng Qianzi listened until cold sweat emerged: “Then, they happened to see you still hanging, so they…”

Ni Qiuhui nodded slightly: “We also called out to them, telling them to jump quickly.”

It was like aerial acrobats. Xian Qionghua’s group, in the tumbling and twisting intestine, gauged the position and angle, made a unified coordinated leap, and grabbed the “centipede tail” of Ni Qiuhui’s group.

Consider that Xian Qionghua’s group comprised eight people—the momentum of eight people leaping across was extraordinary, pulling everyone sharply downward. Even though the people pulling from above were fully prepared, six or seven of them were instantly dragged down below the cliff edge.

Cliff top to cliff bottom, more than forty people formed one long chain, with over half suspended in midair, like engaging in the most dangerous tug-of-war. The people below couldn’t exert force and were terror-stricken, while those above gritted their teeth, using every ounce of strength to pull upward.

Meng Qianzi could barely connect her breaths, raising a hand to wipe the fine sweat that had seeped from the tip of her nose: “But that doesn’t make sense—theoretically, there were more people below, right?”

Third Mom and Seventh Mom’s two “centipede chains” together had about eighteen people, with twenty-one or twenty-two guarding outside the cave. Originally, those above had a slight advantage, but after six or seven from above were pulled down, the power disparity suddenly became immense. How could they possibly win with fewer against more?

Ni Qiuhui looked at her for quite a while before revealing the answer: “Have you forgotten? We also had several yaks carrying supplies up the mountain and waiting outside the cave. For such a task requiring strength, would we not use these large beasts and save them just for meat?”

Meng Qianzi suddenly realized. Only then did she exhale a long breath, collapsing back against the headboard as if she, too, had participated in this life-or-death struggle: “Third Mom, your story has scared half the life out of me.”

Ni Qiuhui smiled, about to say something, when they felt the house darkened and brightened again. Someone lifted the curtain, and before they entered, their voice preceded them: “Third Sister, since Big Sister is coming, I think I should leave first…”

Meng Qianzi recognized this voice: “Sixth Mom?”

It was Qu Qiao who arrived.

She hadn’t expected to hear Meng Qianzi’s voice and paused momentarily before gracefully smiling, her voice characteristically gentle and melodious: “Qianzi is awake! Earlier, even thunder couldn’t wake you—I forgot I should lower my voice when speaking.”

As she spoke, she walked to the bedside, her posture and demeanor as beautiful as when she was on stage. Meng Qianzi wondered if she was seeing things, but felt that her cheeks were somewhat flushed, with more charm than when she had last seen her.

However, the information content of that previous sentence was substantial. Meng Qianzi had no time for pleasantries with Qu Qiao and quickly asked Ni Qiuhui: “How is it that my Big Aunty is also coming?”

One thing at a time. Ni Qiuhui proceeded unhurriedly, her tone gentle: “I forgot to tell you just now. Fourth Sister and Jinsong went to meet Big Sister—they should arrive today or tomorrow. Since Lady Duan’s body was found, Big Sister couldn’t wait. She said she hadn’t contributed during the search, and now that we’ve found her, she couldn’t just sit idle. Plus, with the significant casualties among the mountain dwellers this time, she also wanted to come see.”

Meng Qianzi was indeed the Queen’s Seat, but Gao Jinghong was the most senior among the Mountain Ghosts. Her arrival had a different significance.

After saying this, Ni Qiuhui turned to look at Qu Qiao: “Sixth Sister, don’t be so stubborn. It’s been several years. That matter—either discuss it openly or let it go. At Big Sister’s age and with her health, how many more years can she last? Will you keep this grudge until death?”

Qu Qiao’s eyes reddened: “It’s not that…”

Meng Qianzi was curious: “What matter?”

Her Big Aunty and Sixth Mom didn’t seem like petty people. What significant grievance had been harbored for years?

Ni Qiuhui answered indirectly: “I’ve become a monastic now, and see things more clearly than before. Each person has their fate, their karma. Why insist? Insistence is like grasping water or chasing wind—you can’t hold it tight, can’t keep it, can’t catch it. Water has its path, wind has its direction. Coming and going, they all leave impressions on our lives. Let it be, just remember.”

Meng Qianzi didn’t understand: “Third Mom, I know you have high enlightenment, but when speaking to us common folk, could you be more straightforward?”

Ni Qiuhui didn’t respond, but her gaze slid toward the doorway.

It was Jiang Qiaoqiao who had pushed through the door curtain. Having completed its mission, its posture carried a hint of haughtiness and impatience, as if saying: How annoying! Always making me run errands!

But there was no one following behind it.

Ni Qiuhui’s gaze peered through the gap under the door curtain. Sure enough, she saw a shadow pacing outside, and a pair of feet that wanted to enter but kept stepping aside.

Meng Qianzi followed her gaze and guessed it was Jiang Lian. Her cheeks inexplicably warmed, her hands fidgeting with the blanket, while her face maintained a pretense of not noticing anything, acting unconcerned.

Ni Qiuhui refused to let her have her way, nudging Qu Qiao with her elbow: “Sixth Sister, how long do you think he can stand out there?”

Qu Qiao said, “Not wanting to face us, he can keep pretending. Last time, Seventh Sister and I walked past him, and he pretended to look down, searching for something, hurrying away.”

Ni Qiuhui said: “I don’t have horns or claws—is he afraid I’ll scare him?”

Qu Qiao burst into laughter: “Who knows? There’s a generation gap, maybe he’s shy.”

Meng Qianzi still said nothing, the spot in her blanket almost worn threadbare from her fidgeting.

Ni Qiuhui looked at her, her heart suddenly softening as she recalled when she first adopted her—that soft little pink bundle. It seemed like just a blink of an eye, and she had grown so much.

The older they get, the harder it is to see through their fate. Water has its path, wind has its direction. Once the water goes, it’s no longer visible; once the wind leaves, it can no longer be felt.

Her eyes grew slightly moist, an almost imperceptible sigh slowly dissipating in her chest. She reached out and tugged at Qu Qiao’s sleeve: “Let’s go, Sixth Sister, we have things to do.”

Jiang Lian heard footsteps coming out and quickly circled to the side of the felt house, watching the two aunties walk away before breathing a sigh of relief, then lifting the curtain to enter.

Looking up, he smiled.

Meng Qianzi sat on the bed, wrapped in her blanket, casting a sidelong glance at him.

Jiang Qiaoqiao stood on the canvas chair, her small eyes slightly rolled back, as if asking: What took you so long to come in!

Meng Qianzi deliberately asked him: “My Third Mom and Sixth Mom just left, did you see them?”

Jiang Lian was surprised: “Really? I didn’t see them, I just arrived.”

He sat down by the bed, cleared his throat, paused a moment, then reached out to hold Meng Qianzi’s hand.

Meng Qianzi curled her fingers, and he grasped empty air.

Jiang Lian said nothing, paused briefly, then reached out again.

Jiang Qiaoqiao stood nearby, busy watching, her small eyes darting from one to the other, seeing one trying to hold, one refusing, one insisting, one resisting. The man’s hand was broad, the woman’s hand delicate, fingers able to speak—curling and extending, advancing and retreating, welcoming and rejecting, with so many implications.

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, he grabbed hold.

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, he even embraced her.

After Meng Qianzi and Jiang Lian played around for a while, she finally giggled and nestled into his embrace. Jiang Lian held her, glancing at Jiang Qiaoqiao watching intently, and without thinking, kicked the canvas chair, spinning it around.

Caught off guard, Jiang Qiaoqiao tumbled off the chair, fortunately grabbing the edge with her claws. After dangling and flapping about for a while, it finally climbed back onto the seat, its feathers bristling with anger.

This ungrateful man!

Meng Qianzi remained oblivious to this little side episode. Suddenly remembering something, she raised her head: “Was the box brought back?”

Jiang Lian smiled: “How could we not bring it back?”

“Then how is Meiying now?”

Jiang Lian smiled: “Hard to say. While we were away, Meiying had two more episodes, adding four or five cuts to her arm. After bringing back the box, her wounds stopped worsening, and her blood no longer boiled—whether she’ll fully recover, I think we need to observe for a couple more days.”

Meng Qianzi felt a stirring in her heart and sat up straight.

In these days, she and Jiang Lian had become quite familiar, and she could detect his subtle emotions: she felt he wasn’t quite as excited as expected.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Jiang Lian didn’t hide it from her: “It’s not me, it’s Shen Gun. After we got out to a place with communication, he excitedly notified his friends. I expect they’ll arrive in the next couple of days.”

Meng Qianzi helped transition his thought: “But…”

Jiang Lian smiled bitterly: “But Shen Gun can’t open the box.”

Can’t open it? Meng Qianzi was stunned: “Wasn’t it said that some fierce fire, blood, could…”

That’s right, Jiang Lian completed her thought: “Master Bamei’s prophecy was that fierce fire rolling over boiling blood could unlock the mechanism’s knot. These past days, we’ve tried every method.”

Kuang Meiying’s blood, dripped into the engraved pattern of the phoenix-luan knot, indeed boiled. When fire was applied, the fierce fire indeed “rolled” over the blood’s surface, but afterward, the box remained unchanged.

Fearing the fire wasn’t “fierce” enough, they had a sudden inspiration and lit a phoenix feather. However, lighting the phoenix feather only confirmed their previous knowledge: phoenix feathers are impervious to fire.

Moreover, the “fierce fire” lit by the phoenix feather wasn’t particularly fierce. The box remained silent as stone, showing no reaction.

Jiang Lian sighed: “Shen Gun is frustrated, pulling at his curly hair in deep thought. Now he’s blaming the environment, saying air and water pollution have altered the Kuang family’s physique, making Meiying’s blood less sensitive to the mechanism.”

Meng Qianzi was silent for quite a while before saying: “I remember the Kuang family made forty boxes?”

Jiang Lian nodded: “Kuang’s ancestor personally handled one or two, I believe.”

“Once the boxes were made, they were given to the Yellow Emperor, essentially delivered?”

Yes, Jiang Lian looked at Meng Qianzi: “Do you have any idea?”

Meng Qianzi answered indirectly: “Have you and Shen Gun ever used a combination lock box?”

Jiang Lian’s first reaction was: Who are you looking down on?

But after reflecting, he frankly admitted defeat: “No, I was poor. From childhood to adulthood, what precious things did I have worth putting in a combination lock box? Never used such high-end items.”

Meng Qianzi said, “I’ve used them since I was little. I always keep combination lock boxes handy and have used all sorts of styles. Some have initial combinations—the first thing I do after getting one is change the combination. Others have dual combinations: they give you a unique code at the factory, and you add another, forming a combined set. Combination codes are harder to crack.”

Jiang Lian slowly began to grasp the meaning.

Yes, Kuang’s ancestor was skilled in “using blood as a medium to open sealed boxes,” but if only Kuang family blood was used, how insecure would the customer feel? My combination lock box can be opened with just a drop of your blood and some fire—how could my property be safe?

He hesitantly said, “So opening the box requires another person’s blood? Or a combination, needing Meiying’s blood plus someone else’s? But who is this other person?”

Meng Qianzi said, “I don’t know who this other person is. But I can guess—though it’s just a guess. Who has the deepest connection to the box, dreams of finding it, and has been incessantly talking about the box since it first appeared?”